

Dyywl^w' 





ikn:l': 



;!):''';;M:; 



flSiO. iV ■ 'i 



:i:.;.Si 



IP 
m 



i3i;*' 






" Mill".')'.'!!.!!'.. 

lAi'.l|il',ii 




Book 7&n'6 



J--i**fe? 



...-V 







1 '.MRS, HOV^AKD *HULHERT,il Y. 



A NEW LIBRARY OF POETRY AND 
SONG: EDITED BY WILLIAM CUL- 
LEN BRYANT^^WITH HIS REVIEW 
OF POETS AND POETRY FROM THE 
TIME OF CHAUCER^^^-^^^^^^^^ 




REVISED AND ENLARGED WITH RECENT 
AUTHORS, AND CONTAINING A DIC- 
TIONARY OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS 



pictorial an5 portrait Ullustrations 



New York : THK BAKER TAYLOR COMPANY 
33-37 East i 7th Street, Union Square North 






Copyright, 

In 1S70 AND 1877, By J. B. Ford and Company. 

In 18S0. 1S86, 1S95, and 1900, 

By Fords, Howard, and Hulbert. 

- , .1 ' 






PUBLISHERS' PREFACE. 



Standing by general consent in tlie front rank of its class, since its first 
issue in 1870, Bryant's "Library of Poetry and Song" is one of the 
perennial standards. 

The name " Library," wliicli was given it, indicates the principle upon 
whicli tlie book lias been made, namely : that it might serve as a book of 
reference ; as a comprehensive exhibit of the history, growth, and condition 
of poetical literature ; and, more especially, as a companion, at the will of 
its possessor, for the varying moods of the mind. 

Mr. Hryant's broad sympathies and pure taste secured in the original 
edition a selection at once full and choice. Yet, in the desire to better it 
and keep it fresh, almost the latest literary labor of his life was a thorough 
revision and enlargement of this " Family Library," as he was wont to call 
it ; and since that time it has been again revised, and made more useful 
by the addition of certain valuable features and representative poems from 
authors of more recent fanu!. In all this labor, the chief aim of the collec- 
tion — to present an array of good poetry so widely representative and so 
varied in its tone as to offer an answering chord to every mood and phase 
of human feeling — has been carefully kept in view, both in the selection 
and the arrangement of its contents. So that, in all senses, the realization 
of its significant title has been an objective point. 

In pursuance of this plan, the liighest standard of literary criticism has 
not been made the only test of worth for selection, since many poems 
have been included which, though less perfect than others in form, have, 
by some power of touching the heart, gained and maintained a sure place 
in the popular esteem. 

In its present form, this " Library " is believed to be the most complete 
of all the anthologies. 

I'erhaps the most notable of the new features, aside from the new 
poems, is the addition to each of the Departments (as "Childhood and 
Youth," " Love," "Nature," etc.) of a number of briefer poetical quotations 
under the general head of "Fragments." These, in their careful classifi- 
cation, include, together with the conijilete poems in the work, nearly every 
well-known passage and phra.se in the poetical literature of the language. 



iv PUBLISHERS' PREFACE. 

being the result of nuich original reading, as well as consultation of 
Addington, Mrs. Hale, Watson, Allibone, Bartlett, and other collections 
of such passages, — Bartlett being easily the chief. To make them readily 
accessible, — either in finding a specific "fragment" or in searching i'or 
quotations on particular .subjects, — there is also an analytical index, or 
Dictionary of Poetical Quotations, giving some fifteen thoisand references 
under alphabetically arranged key-words. 

The Tublisliers desire to return their cordial tliauks for the courtesy 
freely extended to them, by wliicii many copyrigiited American poems have 
been allowed to a]ipear in tliis collection. In regard to a large number 
of them, permission has been accorded by the autiiors ■ themselves ; other 
poems, having been gathered as waif's and strays, luive been necessarily 
used witliout a special authority ; and, wliere ilue credit is not given, or 
wluM-e tlie authorship may have been erroneously ascribed, future editions 
will afford opportunity for correction, which will be gladh^ made. Particular 
acknowledgments are offered to IMessrs. D. AlTLKTOX & Co. for extracts 
from the works of Fitz-tireene Halleck and from tlie poems of "William 
CuUen Bryant; to Messrs. Harper & Brothkrs, for poems of Charles 
G. Halpine and Will Carleton ; to Messrs. J. B. Liri'iNCOTT & Co., for 
(piotations from the writings of T. Buciianau Head ; to Messrs. Cii.\RLES 
SruiDNKii's Sons for extracts from Dr. J. G. Holland's poems; to Messrs. 
Roberts Brothers, for poems by Jolin W. Cliadwick, Louise Chandler 
Moulton, and Joaquin Miller, besides certain English poets for whom they 
are tlie authorized American publishers, — Sir ICdwin Arnold, Jean Ingelow, 
William Morris, the Bossettis, and others ; and more especially to the 
house of Messrs. Houoiiton, IMiffun & Co., for their courtesy in the liberal 
extracts granted from the writings of Aldrich, Emerson, Holmes, Longfellow, 
Lowell, P'lorence Percy, Saxe, Mrs. Stowe, Stedman, Bayard Tajdor, Bret 
Harte, Trowbridge, ]\Irs. Thaxter, Whittier, and others of their unequalled 
list of poetical writers. 

In the present edition, poems from a number of writers, whose chief 
fame has grown during recent years, or who were inadequately represented 
in tlie earlier editions, have been included. By way of giving a special 
attractiveness to them, these poems have been illustrated, — either pictori- 
ally or by portraits of the writers. In this connection, thanks are rendered 
to the following houses for ])ermission to use poems by the authors whose 
names are given : Messrs. HoroirroN, Mifflin & Co. — Helen Gray Cone, 
Margaret Deland, Edgar Fawcett, Louise Imogene Guiney, Emma Lazarus, 
Edna Dean Proctor, Sarah M. B. Piatt, James J. Boche, E. B. Sill, Edith 
M. Thomas, and George E. Woodberry ; The CEXTriiY Comiwxy. — 
Charlotte Fiske Bates, Ricliard Watson Gilder, Robert U. Johnson, Irwiu 
Kussell; Messrs. Roberts I^rothers, — Arlo Bates, Emily Diokiusou; 



PUBLISHERS' PREFACE. 



Messi-s. C11ARI.KS Scuibnek's Sons, — H. C. liuuner, Eugene Field, Sidney 
Lanier, Robert L. Stevenson ; Messrs. Stone & K;mbaix, — Bliss Carman, 
Kicliard llovey, George Sanlayaiia ; Jlessrs. G. 1*. Putnam's Suns, — 
Elaine and Dora Goodalc; Mr. David Mackay, — Walt Whitman, Charles 
H. Liiders; The Bowen-Mekiull Company, — James Whitcomb llilcy; 
TllK FliKDEUICK A. Stokks COMPANY, — Dr. Samuel Minturn Peck and 
Clinton Scollard; Messrs. Haui'KK & Hkotiikks, — Dr. Jolm Allan Wyetii; 
Messrs. Macmillan & Co., — William Watson; The W. B. Conkey Com- 
pany, — Ella Wheeler Wilco.x ; while .some of the selections representing 
the Dominion of Canaila have been drawn from Mr. George 15. Itobcrts'a 
Canadian Appendix to " Youngt-r American Poets," edited by Mr. Douglas 
Sladen, and published by the Cassei.i, Publishing Company, New York. 

Messi-s. D. Ai'i'LETON & Co. and tlie author have granted permission to 
insert " The Coa.stwise Lights of Kiiylaml," by Kudyard Kipling, from Lis 
book of poems, " The Seven Seas." 

The DouBi.KDAV & McCmiiK Co. and the author allow the in.scrtion of 
"The JLin with the Hoe," by Kdwin Markliam. 

In addition to the above acknowledgments, readers will see in the 
"Index of Authors" reruren(^es enabling them to find the publishers of 
the works of American writers to whom their attention has been called by 
any fragment or poem. Tiiis "Library" contains specimens of many 
styles, and it is believed that, so far from preventing the purchase of 
special authors, it serves to draw attention to their merits ; and the 
courtesy of their publishers, in granting the use of some of their poems 
here, will find a practical recognition. 

With these explanations and acknowledgments, Bryant's Family 
LiBUAUY OF Poetry and Soni; is placed anew before the public. In this 
revised and enlarged form, it represents above seven hundred authors by 
their best productions. 



New Youk, 1900. 



Classification of 
POEMS AND FRAGMENTS. 



CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH. 

1 Poems 75 co 106 

I Fragments : 

The Baby 107 

Early Death 107 

Child's Prayer 107 

Prophecies 107 

Boyish Ambition 107 

School Days 107 

Work and Play 108 

Quarrelling loS 

Careless Childhood 108 

Childish Days 108 

Merry Youth 108 

THE AFFECTIONS. 

Friendship. 

I'OEMS Ill to 120 

I RAUMENTS: 

Friendship .... 120 

Choice Friends 120 

Faithful Friends 120 

Summer Friends 120 

Friends to be Shunned 121 

Friendship and Love 121 

Quarrels of Friends lai 

Hospitality 121 

jsod Counsel 121 

QpMPLIMENT AND ADMIRATION. 

' ■ ^ 122 to 133 

\ 

JulltS 133 

133 

91 Charms 133 

AfTection 134 

fits from Nature 1 34 

Admiration 134 

"34 

Love. 

Forms ^ 135 to 20: 

Fragm: 

Powe. \ and Beauty 203 

Love's \ i» 203 



Love's Pains 204 

Sighs, Tears, and Smiles 204 

Shyness of Love 204 

Arts of Love 204 

Idle Love 204 

Discriminating Love 205 

Love's Dangers 205 

The Sweets of Love 205 

Mutual Love 205 

True Love 206 

Tender Affection 206 

Constancy 206 

Inconstancy and Jealousy 207 

Possession 207 

Marriage. 

Poems 208 to 214 

Fragments: 

Forelookings 214 

Warnings 214 

Mercenary Matches 215 

Possibilities 215 

Certainties 215 

Advice 215 

The Happy Lot 215 

Home. 

Poems 216 to 231 

Fragments: 

The Wife 231 

The Married State 231 

I nconstancy 232 

Completion 232 

Home Life 232 

Mother- Love 232 

Home Pleasures 232 

Parting. 

Poems 233 to 240 

Fragments; 

Farewells 241 

Absence. 

Poems 241 to 247 

Fragments: 
Memory in Absence 248 



via 



CLASSIFICATION OF 



Hope Deferred 24S 

Absence Strengthens Love 24S 

Time in Absence 24S 

The Unwelcome Lover 248 

Presence in Absence 24S 

Disappointment and Estrangement. 

Poems 24910 270 

Fragments: 

Fragility of Love 271 

False Hope 271 

Inconstancy of Man 271 

Inconstancy of Woman 271 

The Disappointed Heart 271 

Bereavement and Death. 

Poems 272 to 308 

Fragments: 

The Lot of Man 308 

Early Death 309 

Death's Choice 309 

Death-Beds 309 

Death and Sleep 310 

Fear of Death 310 

Death — Conventional and Natural. . . . 310 

The Grave 310 

The Peace of Death 311 

Longing for Death 311 

After Death 311 

Mourning 311 

SORROW AND ADVERSITY. 

Poems 315 to 344 

Fragments: 

The Lot of Mankind 345 

Sympathy and Scorn 345 

Disappointed Ambition 345 

World-Weariness 346 

The Memory of Sorrows 346 

The Memory of Joys 346 

Bad News 34^ 

Varied Misery ; 346 

Consolation in Adversity 347 

Loss of Property 347 

The High and the Low 347 

Hope in Misery 347 

Briefness of Joys 347 

Despair 347 

Resignation 348 

The Uses of Adversity 348 

RELIGION. 
Poems 353 to 394 



Fragments: 

Deity 394 

Atheism 395 

Preaching and Missions 395 

Sin 395 

Conscience 395 

Remorse 396 

Fleeting Good 396 

Hell 396 

The Devil 396 

Respectability 396 

Hypocrisy 396 

Ecclesiasticism 396 

Theology 397 

The Bible 397 

Belief and Doubt 397 

Jesus Christ 397 

Virtue 398 

Truth 398 

Charity 398 

Prayer 398 

Religious Meditation 399 

The Christian Life 399 

Heaven 399 

NATURE. 

Poems 403 to 4S8 

Fragments: 

God and Nature 489 1 

Country Life 489' 

Fair Exchange No Robbery 489 

Light and the Sky 4S9 

Morning 49° 

Evening 49^ 

Night 49t 

The Moon ^ji 

The Stars 491 

The Seasons 492 

Sounds of Nature 493 

The Mountains / 493 

Water • 493 

Rain and Storm '. 494 

Trees / . 494 

Flowers - ■ ■ 494 

Animate Nature 495 

PEACE AND WAR. 

Poems 5,oo to 53S 

Fragments: ' 

Warfare •/■ 539 

Dangers of Peace ' 539 

Pleasuies of War ;. 539 | 



POEMS AND FRAGMENTS. 



IX 



The True Soldier 539 

I Challenge and Defiance 540 

Preparation ami Battle 540 

I Defeat 540 

ICouragc and Fear 540 

[Horrors of War 541 

l^riminality of War 541 

Peace 541 

TEMPERANCE AND LABOR. 
*s 545 to 55S 

liCMENTS: 

the Intoxicating Cup 558 

femperance 558 

robacco Smokers 558 

Labor 559 

Overwork 559 

Work and Song 559 

Prudence 559 

Nobility of Labor 559 

PATRIOTISM AND FREEDOM. 

Poems 5O3 to 600 

Fragments: 

The Love of Country 601 

Evil Times 601 

The Tyrant's Plea 601 

Soldiers of Freedom 602 

Humanity's Heroes 602 

Freedom 602 

England 602 

Switzerland 603 

America 603 

The Ballot-Box 603 

" Centennial " Echoes 604 

THE SEA. 

Pol'"'^ 607 to 631 

Fra'Ments: 

The Sea-Shore 631 

Pe.ice on the Sea 631 

|nd Waves 631 

631 

pd Shipwreck 632 

He Low Countries 632 

^Engli I'd. . i. 632 

Ari'F' "UlE AND RURAL SPORTS. 

I' .A 63510670 

Fi " 

I Adventure 670 

" - : 670 

1 671 

Hun: 671 




Shooting 671 

Swimming 671 

Angling 672 

Skating 672 

Rural Life 672 

• DESCRIPTIVE. 

Poems 675 to 718 

Fragments: 

The King of Day 719 

Sunset in the Mountains 719 

Indian Summer 719 

The Poet's Retirement 719 

Eden 719 

Athens 719 

Rome 720 

Temple of Clitumnus 720 

The Fall of Terni 720 

Venice 720 

An Italian Ravine 720 

The River Thames 720 

Macbelh's Castle 720 

Personal Appearance 720 

Conditions of Life 722 

Personal Characteristics — Women.... 722 

Personal Characteristics — Men 723 

Moods 725 

Battle 725 

Panic 725 

Distance 725 

St. Peter's at Rome 726 

The Apollo Belvidere 726 

A Lady's Chamber 726 

Music 726 

Perfection 726 

Anthology 726 

SENTIMENT AND REFLECTION. 

Poems 729 to 791 

Fragments: 

The Course of Life. ' 

Time 791 

Life 792 

Mankind 792 

The Past 792 

The Present 793 

Fate 793 

Youth 793 

Manhood 793 

Old Age 794 

Death 794 

Immortality 794 



CLASSIFICATION OP 



TllK Skxi'.s. 

Woman 795 

Mail— Woman 795 

t'llAKAlTKK AND Al'llciN. 

Virluc 7'/' 

Noble Livinu 797 

Duty 797 

Honesty 797 

Falsehooil 797 

Hcnevolc'iue 797 

Mercy 79S 

Folly and Wisdom 798 

Good Niilurc and Ufckli'ssnoss 71)8 

Fornivcness and Kcsfntmenl 798 

Aniliition 79S 

The Ruling Passion 799 

ScK-Conccit 799 

Pride and Vanity 7<)9 

I'liASi'.s OK Fkkmni:. 

I'ain :iiid Weariness 799 

Remorse and Relribntion 791) 

Desiiair 800 

Fear and Doubt 800 

Hope 800 

Disappointment 801 

Memory 801 

PllASI'.S OK FoRTt'NK. 

Fortune 801 

Elements of Success 802 

A Prophecy of F.ntcrprise 802 

I'overty />. 802 

Riches 8o2 

iNTKi.i.KiriiAi, Arnvirv. 

Conversation 803 

Argument 803 

Oratory S04 

The Stage 804 

Learniiijj S04 

Authors S05 

Books S05 

Criticism and Satire 806 

Poets and Poetry 806 

The Mind 807 

Philosophy 80S 

Music SoS 

Sculpture SiX) 

TiiK Proi-kssions. 

The Clergy and the Pulpit 809 

Medicine and Doctors 8o<) 



Lawyers and the Law S09 

The Press 810 

The Jester 810 

PkKSONAI. AN1> Plllll.IC Ol'INloN. 

Praise 810 

Flattery 810 

Scandal and Slander 811 

Reputation 811 

Fame 811 

Class and Casi'k. 

Aristocracy 812 

Snobbery 812 

Statecraft 812 

Abuse of Authority 813 

Tile People 813 

MlSCl.l.l.ANKOl'S. 

SoliUule 813 

Social Pleasures 814 

Manners and Customs 814 

DilTering Tastes 814 

Quarrelling S15 

Tritles 815 

Craft S15 

Temptation Si 5 

Prudent Speech .' 815 

Moderation 815 

Idleness and Ennui S 1 5. 

Hang Sorrow! Si(, 

Night and Sleep Sli> 

FANCY. 

PoKMS 819 to 8()- 

Fkacmknts: 

ImaginnTlon 867 

Conception and Execution sbj 

Cloud-Visions , 867 

The Mind's Eye I 867 

Spirits S6S 

Ghosts of the Dead 868 

Witches , 868 

Fairies 868 

Water Sprites gfiQ 

Wood-Nymphs , . . . S69 

TRAGEDY. 

I'OKMS Syj to S98 

Fracmknts: 

The First Tragedy 899 

Effects of Crime And Grief. . , 899 

Portents and Fe irs 899 

The King's Enemv 89(> 



POEMS AND FRAGMENTS. 



XI 



Revenge Sgg 

ForethouKht of Murder 900 

Aderwards <)00 

The Hardened Criminal qoo 

Suicide </x) 

PERSONAL. 

POF.MS 903 to 937 

Frac.mknts: 

Chaucer 938 

The Earl of Warwicic 938 

The Uuke of Gloster 938 

Galileo 938 

Sir Philip Sidney 938 

Edmund Spenser 938 

Christopher Marlowe 938 

Lord Bacon 938 



Hen Jons.in 939 

William Shakespeare . . 939 

Abraham Cowley 939 

Earl of Marlljorough 939 

John Wicklifle (j3(j 

John Milton 93^ 

Oliver Cromwell 939 

King Charles II 940 

James Thomson cj^o 

William Hogarth 940 

William Wordsworth 940 

Richard Brinslcy Sheridan 940 

Amos Cottle 940 

The Duke of Wellington 940 

Nathan icl Hawthorne 940 

HUMOKOUS. 

l'l>KMS 943 to 1 01 6 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



Full Page Portraits. 



1. William Cullen Bryant, Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

2. RuDYARD Kipling . . . xvi 

3. The Jansen Shakespeare . 145 

4. John Greenleaf Whittier . 158 

5. James Russell Lowell . . 424 





tacinq 


PAGB 


6. 


Ralph Waldo Emerson . 


589 


7. 


Robert Browning . 


617 


8. 


Edgar Allan Poe 


714 


9. 


Goethe, at Eighty 


825 


10. 


Oliver Wendell Holmes 


977 



Homes of Poets. 



Bryant in his Library at Cedarmere sviii 

Reverse: Poem, "The Dead Master," by Richard Henry Stoddard. 
Longfellow's Home in Cambridge 45 

Reverse: Poem, "In Memoriara," by Austin Dobson. 
Birthplace of John Howard Payne 175 

Reverse: Poem, " Inscription on Monument," 

Whittier's Home in Amesbury 26S 

Reverse: Poem, "Whittier," by Louise A. McGafEey. 
Lowell's Home in Cambridge 544 

Reverse: Poem, " Lowell," by Sarah K. Bolton. 
Home of Alfred (Lord) Tennyson 597 

Reverse: Poem, " The Poet," by Aubrey De Vere. 
Emerson's Home in Concord 673 

Reverse: Poem, " Concord," by Susan Coolidge. 
The Old Manse in Concord (Hawthorne and Emerson) 94(V 

Reverse: Poem, " Hawthorne," by Edmund Clarence Stedman. 
xii 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



With Poems by Recent Authors. 



CbilliboolJ ant) goutfj. 

A Dutch Lullaby Eugene Field ... To front page 80 

Portrait of Author. Photograph by Stein, Milwaukee, Wis. 

The Witch in the Glass Sarah M. B. Piatt 81 

From Photograph of little Gekmaine Rejane, by AiMfi Dupont. 

Wixos Mary Louise Ritter lOtV 

" The Boat aud the Birds." Drawn by Thomas R. Manley. 

The First BLUF.niun James Whilcomh Itiley .... 107 

Portrait ol'.Vuthor. Photograph by Patton, Indianapolis, Ind. 

ILofar. 

Perfume Edmund \V. Gosse 140 

" Latakia, Attar, and Old Wine." Drawn by Harrt Fenn. 

Affaire r'Amour Margarelta Wade Deland ... 141 

Portrait of Author. Photograph in Boston. 

My Sweetheart's Face Dr. John Allan Wyelh .... l&O 

Drawn by John Nelson Mauble. 

A Knot of Blue Dr. Samuel Minturn Peck . . . 191 

After Photograph from Life by Moreno. 

CoNFESSlo Amantis Richard LeGalliennc 228 

" My Books in the Twilight." Drawn by William H. Dkake. 

TiiK House Beautiful Robert Louis Stevemon .... 229 

Portrait of Author. Photograph by Notman, Boston. 

Parting anti Absence. 

Memory Charles H. Liiders 268 

" The Spirit Leaf." Drawn by Harry Fens. 

Parting Coventry Patmnre 26& 

Portrait of Author. Photograph by London Stereoscopic Co. 

xiii 



xiv ILLUSTRATIONS. 



!3Er£afactiunt anti Dcatfj. 

Augury Edith M. Thomas 300 

" The Horse-Shoe " ; " Tlie Garden " ; " The Grave." Drawn \>y Haery Fenn. 

Ik I Should Die To-Night Belle E. Smilh 301 

"Memento Mori." Drawn by J. B. Feasklin. 

Sonobo anil atibcrsttg. 

Fkom "Sonnets in Shadow " . . . . Aj-Io Bales 322 

"Memorials.' Drawn by Hakky Fenn. 

Life Ella Wheeler Wilcox .... 323 

Portrait of Author. Photograph by Eockwood, New York. 

ISdigion. 

Faith George Sanlayana 388 

" Columbus and the Santa Maria." Drawn by Harry Fenn. 

Poems Emily Dickinson 389 

" The Shadow on the Grass." Drawn by Thomas R. Manley. 



Nature. 

The Silence of the Hills William P. Foster 404 

"Summer Afternoon." Drawn by Thomas K. Manley. 

Evening Archibald Lampman 405 

"The Great Night Comes On." Drawn by Thomas K. Manley. 

GoLDENROD Elaine Goodale Eastman . . . 432 

"A Fence Corner." Drawn by Hakry Fenn. 

A Twilight Fancy Dora Read Goodale 433 

"Winter Landscape." After Photograph by Berlin Photographic Co., from 
Painting by L. Matifas. 

A September Violet Robert Underwood Johnson , . . 460 

Drawn by Harry Fenn. 

The Joys of the Road Bliss Carman 461 

Portrait of Author. Photograph by Rice, Windsor, N. S. 

A Yellow Pansy Helen Gray Cone ...... 494 

Drawn by Harry Fenn. 

To AN Oriole Edgar Fawcett 495 

Portrait of Author. Photograpli by Dummei:, Jamaica, L. I. 

Peace anl) EMar. 

At Gibraltar George E. Woodberry , . . • 634 

" The Sunset Gun." Drawn by Harry Fenn. 

An Old Battlefield Frank L. Stanton 535 

Drawn bv Edwin Forbes. 



ILLUSTRATIONS. XV 



liabor. 

The Man with the Hoe • Edwin Markluivi 552 

"Labor." After Jean FRAS501S Millet. 

Patriotism anU jFrrtliom. 

Canada not Last William D. Lighthall 570 

Venice; Kome; Florence; Canada. Drawn by Harky Fknn. 

Gifts Emma Lazarus 571 

Portrait of Author. Photograph by Kurtz, Ne\? York. 



2r[)E Sea. 

To .A.LL IN Haven Philip Bourke Marston .... 630 

" On the Thames." After Etching by G. C. Walters. 

TuK Coastwise Lights of England • Rwhjard Kipling 631 

" The Lighthouse." Drawn by Habrt Fenn. 



IScscriptibc. 

The Brooklyn Bridge Edna Dean Proctor 684 

Drawn by C. J. Meeker. 

London John Davidson , . 685 

"Old St. Paul's above the Smoke." Drawn by Harry Fenh. 



Sentiment anti Kcflrrtian. 

A Fancy from Fontenelle i usiin Dohson .730 

Portrait of Author. Photograph by London Stekeoscopic Co. 

The Wild Ride Louise Imotjene Guiney .... 731 

"Straight, grim, and abreast." Drawn by Edwin Forbes. 

The Booestall Clinton Scollard 766 

"Old London Bookshop." Drawn by William H. Drake. 

For an Old Poet Henry Cuyler Bunner .... 767 

Portrait of Author. Photograph by Rockwood, New York. 

Among the Redwoods Edward Rowland Sill .... 800 

" The Columned Trees." Drawn by Hakry Fenn. 



iFancD. 

Beethoven's Third Symphony .... Richard Hovey 830 

Portrait of Author. Photograph by Rice, Washington, D. C. 

The Voyage of Sleep \rlhur W. U. Eaton 881 

" Fishing Lugger, at Night." After Painting by Emile liii^TON. 



XVI 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



CoKN Sidney Lanier . . . . 

"The I'hmied Captain." Drawn l>y Hahky Fknn. 

VVordswouth's Grave William Watson . . . 

Portrait of autlior. I'liotograpli by London Stebkoscopic Co. 



8G(> 



Personal. 

Life-Mask of Lincoln Richard Watson Gilder .... 930 

VoLK's Bronze Cast from Life-Mask. By permission of the Centuuy Co. 

My Portrait Walt Whitnum 931 

Portrait of Author. After Engraving by W. J. Linton. 



J^umoroua. 

The V-a-s-e James Jeffrey Roche 974 

The Bryant Vase. Designed by James H. Whitehouse, of Tiffany & Co., 
N. Y., the makers ; presented to VVm. Cullen Bkyant, by popular subscrip- 
tion, in June, 1876, commemorating liis eiglitietli birthday in 1874. Now in the 
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City. 

Nebuchadnezzau Irxoin Rnsscll 975 

" He 's gentle as a chicken." Drawn by William H. Dhake. 



Manuscript and Autograph Fac-Similes. 



William Cullen Bryant (three 

page MS. "The Poet") . . xvii 

William Wordsworth ... 2 

Edmond Clarence Stedman . 74 

John Keats 74 

Edgar Allan Poe ... 74 
John Howard Payne . . .110 

" H. H." — Hklen Hunt Jackson 110 

Thomas Hood .... 314 

William Gilmore Simms . . 314 

Lkioh Hunt .... 350 

Josiah Gilbert Holland . . 350 

Alfred Tennyson . . . 350 

Julia Ward Howe . . . 400 

Walt Whitman . . . 402 

George H. Boker . . . 498 

T. Buchanan Read . . . 542 

Nathaniel Parker Willis . . 544 

John Greenleaf Whittier . 544 



Paob 

Francis Scott Key . . . 560 

Oliver Wendell Holmes . 562 

Fitz-Greene Halleck . . . 562 

Bayard Taylor . . . 606 

George Perkins Morris . . 606 

Elizabeth Barrett Browninq . 634- 

John Quincy Adams . . . 634 

Jean Inqelow .... 674 
George Gordon Noel, Loud 

Byron 728 

Henry Wads worth Longfellow 818 

Richard Henry Dana . . 870 

Ralph Waldo Emerson . . 872 

Thomas Gray .... 902 

Harriet Beecher Stowe . . 902 

Lydia Huntley Siqournky . 902 
John G. Saxe . . . .942 

Richard Henry Stoddard . 942 

James Russell Lowell . . 942 




'trail f'v CoUifr. 



Kefr;'.-{ii,<;-f fiy curCay •'/ MiCiiin's Magazine. 



RECESSIONAL. 

God of our fallxTS, known of old, — 

Lord of our lar-tlung l)attle line, — 
I5fnealh whose awful hand we hold 

Dominion over palm and pine, — 
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet. 
Lest we forget, — lest we forget ! 



Far-called, our navies melt away; 

On dune and headland sinks the fire. 
Lo ! .all our poni|) of yesterday 

Is one with Nineveh and Tyre ! 
Judi^e of the nations, spare us yet. 
Lest we forget, — lest we forget ! 



Che tumidt and the shouting dies. 
The captains and the kings depart : 

Still stands thine ancient sacrifice, — 
An humble and a contrite heart. 

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet. 

Lest we forget, — lest we forget ! 



If, drunk with sight of power, we loose 
Wild tongues that have not thee in awe, 

.Such boasting as the Gentiles use 
Or lesser breeds without the law, — 

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet. 

Lest we forget, — lest we forget! 



For heathen heart that puts her trust 

In reeking tube and iron shard, 
All valiant dust that builds on dust, 

And guarding calls not thee to guard, 
For frantic boast an<l foolish word. 
Thy mercy on thy people. Lord ! 

.Iiiii-it. RtmvAKii Kin.iNG. 



CHRISTMAS IN INDIA. 



Dim dawn behind the tamarisks — the sky 
is saffron-yellow — 
As the women in the village grind the 
corn, 
And the parrots seek the river-side, each 
calling to his fellow 
That the Day, the staring Eastern Day 
is born. 
Oh the white dust on the higlnvay ! 
Oh the stenclies in the byway ! 
Oh the clammy fog that hovers 
over earth ! 
And at Home they're making merry 
'neath the white and scarlet ber- 
ry— 
What part have India's exiles in 
their mirth ? 

Full day behind the tamarisks — the skv is 
blue and staring — 
As the cattle crawl afield beneatli the 
yoke, 
And they bear One o'er the field-path, 
who is past all hope or caring. 
To the ghSt below the curling wreaths 
of smoke. 
Call on Rama, going slowly, as ye 
bear a brother lowly — 
Call on Rama — he may hear, per- 
haps, your voice ! 
With our hymn-books and our psal- 
ters w-e appeal to other altars. 
And to-day we bid " good Christian 
men rejoice ! " 

High noon behind the tamarisks — the sun 
is hot above us — 
As Home the Christmas Day is break- 
ing wan. 
They will drink our healths at dinner — 
those who tell us how they love us, 
.And forget us till another year be gone ! 



Oh the toil that knows no breaking! Oh! 
the Hciinweh, ceaseless, aching ! 
Oh the black dividing Sea and alien 
Plain ! 
Youth was cheap-wherefore we sold it. 
Gold was good — we hoped to hold 
it, 
And to-day we know the fulness of 
our gain. 

Gray dusk behind the tamarisks — the par- 
rots fly together — 
As the sun is sinking slowly over Home ; 
And his last ray seems to mock us shackled 
in a lifelong tether 
That drags us back howe'er so far we 
roam. 
Hard her service, poor her payment — 
she in ancient, tattered raiment — 
India, she the grim Stepmother of 
our kind. 
If a year of life be lent her, if her tem- 
ple's shrine we enter. 
The door is shut — we may not look 
behind. 

Black night behind the tamarisks — the 
owls begin their chorus — 
As the conches from the temple scream 
and bray. 
With the fruitless years behind us, ai;d 
the hopeless years before us. 
Let us honor. Oh my brothers, Christ- 
mas Day ! 
Call a truce, then, to our labors — let us 
feast with friends and neighbors, 
And be merry as the custom of our 
caste ; 
For if "faint and forced the laughter, ' 
and if sadness follow after, 
We are richer by one mocking 
Christmas past. 



i^-yx-iJL^urt^c^Uc^- /^iJMM. Ou^ tj^£^rv^tCe^ MuUHitfiyA^ ctoM'iXKfui^/ 









afeh-Ce,-f-^y,o-£^^^AJzti< a.4,UtL — 









1 



BRYANT 

Frow '■ 'llu- /h;i,/ M,is/n-" 

To the last hour of liis loni;, lionored life, 

He never fiiltereil in his love of Nature. 

Recluse with men, her dear society, 

Welcome at all times, savored of content, 

liri^htened his hajipy moments, and consoled 

His hours of gloom. 

(k) where he would, he was not solitary, 

Flowers nodded gayly to him, wayside brooks 

Slipped by him laughingly, while the emulous birds 

Showered lyric raptures that provoked his own. 

The winds were his comiianions on the hills — 

The clouds and thunders — and the glorious Sun, 

Whose bright beneficence sustains the world, 

A visible symbol of the Omnipotent, 

Whom not to worship were to be more blind 

Than those of old who worshiped stocks and stones. 

Who loves and lives with Nature tolerates 
Baseness in nothing; high and solemn thoughts 
Are his, clean deeds and honorable life. 
If he be jioet, as our Master was. 
His song will be a mighty argument. 
Heroic in its structure to sui)port 
The weight of the world forever! All great things 
Are native to it, as the Sun to Heaven. 
Such was thy song, () Master ! and such fame 
As only the kings of thought receive, is thine; 
]>c happv with it in thv larger life 
Where Tinu' is not, and the sad word — I'arewell ! 

Rk HAki) Hfnrv SinnnAKD 



PufiHs/icfs : Cftar/t-s Scrrfiftfr^s Sons^ .Vt-w I'crit 



'Blessings be witli tlicm, and eternal praise. 

Who gave us nobler loves and nobler cares, — 
The Poets ! who on earth have made us heirs 

Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays '- " 

Personal Talk. 



Z^/^^^^-^^^^W-^-^ 



POETS AND POETRY 

ENGLISH LANGUAGE 

[MR. BRYANT'S INTRODUCTION TO THE FIRST KDITIOM] 



So large a collection of poems as this demands of its compiler an extensive 
familiarity with tlu' i)oetic', literaturu of our ]:iii,L;uii^je, botli of tlie early and 
tlie later time, and withal so liboral a taste as not to exclude any variety of 
poetic merit. At the request of the Publishers I undertook to write an Intro- 
duction to the present work, and in pursuance of tliis design I find that I 
have come into a somewhat closer personal relation with the book. In its 
progress it has passed entirely under my revision, and, altiiough not absolutely 
responsible for the compilation or its arrangement, I have, as requested, exer- 
fiised a free hand both in excluding and in adding matter according to my 
judgment of what was best adapted to the purposes of the enterprise. Such, 
liowever, is the wide range of English verse, and such the abundance of the 
materials, tliat a compilation of tliis kind must be like a bouquet gathered 
ii'om the fields in June, when hundreds of Howers will be left in unvisited 
spots as beautiful as those wliieli have been taken. It may happen, there- 
fore, that many wlio have learned to deligiit in sonu: ]iartieular ])oem will 
turn the.se pages, as tliey miglit th(Ase of other collections, without finding tlieir 
favorite. Nor should it l)e matter of surprise, considering the multitude of 
uutliors from wliom tiio compilation is made, if it be found that some are 
overlooked, es|iecially the more recent, of equal merit witli many whose poems 
appear in these pages. It may happen, also, that the compiler, in consequence 
of some particular association, lias been sensible of a beauty and a power of 
awakening emotions and recalling images in certain poems which other readers 
will fail to perceive. It should be considered, moreover, that in poetry, as in 
painting, different artists have different modes of presenting their conceptions, 
each of wliich may possess its peculiar merit, yet tliose whose taste is formed 
by contemplating tlio productions of one class take little pleasure in any otiier. 
Crabb Robinson relates that Wordsworth once admitted to him that he did not 
nmch admire contemporary poetry, not because of its want of poetic merit, 
but b(!cause he ]ia<l been accustomed to poetry of a different sort, and added 
that but for this he might liave read it with pleasure. I (piote from memory. 

39 



40 INTIiODUCTION. 



It is to 1)0 1io])(m1 tliiit every reader of tliis collrclinii, Imucvcr Im mav have 
lic'Oii traineil, will liinl in iJic urcat variety of it.s coiileut.s sniiH'tiiiiM^' (■oiil'oiiii- 
ulili^ to liJM tasl.c. 

I Mii|i|i(iHi^ it JH not n(M'i'ssarv lo i^ivi! a reason I'or aiiiliiiL; aiidllii'i' In llie 
collcctionH of thin nature, alrciuly in print. Tiu^y aliouml in I'very lanLSuaije, 
tdi' lli(^ sinipli^ riNiHon that thrrc is a. deniaml for 1-heni. (lernian literature, 
|ii'iihlii' as it. is in verse, has many of Iheui, and sonic of thiwn eonipiied by 
distintiuislu'd autiiors. 'I'iie ]iarlor tahlu and the winter hn^side rec|uire a hook 
whieh, when one is in liie humor for rcadinj^' ])oetry, and knows not what 
autlioi' tn lake nji, will suiipiy exactly what ho wants. 

I have known |)ersons who frankly said that tlu^y took no ])leasuro in read- 
ing poetry, and periiaps the numher of those who make this admission would 
be {.greater were it not for tlic tear of appearinj^ singular. I!ut to the great 
mass of mankinii poc^try is really a delight and a relicshmenl. To many, 
])erliai)s to most, it is not reipiisite that it slioidd Ik^ of the highest degree 
of mei'it. Nor, alllunigli it lu^ true that the iioenis which are most famous and 
niosl. Iiighly pri/.cd s\rc worlds of considcralilc lengtli, can it- be said tjiat- the 
pleasure they give is in any degree )ii'oportionate to tiie extent of their ])lan. 
it seems to me that it is oidy iiocms of a moderat(^ UMigth, or else jnirtions of 
the g'real:(M' works tn which I rclcr, that proibici' thi^ cllect upon the mind and 
heart wliicii make the charm of this kind of writing. The proper olliee of 
]ioetry. in tilling the mind wilii delightful images and awakening the gentler 
emotiiuis, is not aecomplislicd on a first and rajiid perusal, but requires that 
lh<' wiirds slaudd \n\ dwelt ujion until they bi'comc in a certain sense our own, 
and arii aitojited as the utterance of our own minds. A collection such as 
this is intended to be furnisluvs for this purpose portions of the best English 
ver.se suited to any of the varying moods of its readers. 

Such a work also, if suiliciently extensive, gives the reader an oii]iort unity 
of eomjiaring the poetic literature of one iieriod with that of another ; of 
noting the Ibicluatidus of tusle, and how the piu'lic forms w hich arc in fashion 
during one age are laid aside in the next ; of observing the changes w liieh 
take place in our language, anil the sentiments whieh at dill'crcut periods 
challonge the imblic appiobation. Specimens of the poetry of d'llcrent cen- 
turies, pi'escntcd ill this way, show how the great- stream of human thought in 
its luietii' form eddies now to the right and now to tlu^ left., wearing away its 
hanks first on (Uie side ami then (Ui the other. Some author of more than 
common faculties and more than common boldness eatelu's the jnililic atten- 
tion, and immediately he has n crowd of followers who form their taste on his 
and seek to di\ idc w ith him the praise. Thus Cowley, with Iiis undeniable 
f^onius, was the head ul a numerous class who made ]ioetry consist in far- 
fetched conceits, ideas oddly brought together, and quaint turns of thought. 
I'opc, following close upon l)ryden, and learning much from him, was the 



INTROnrCTION. 41 



founder ol' a school of Itiiiifer duratiou, which found its models in Boileau and 
other poets of the reign of Louis XIV., — a school iu wliich the wit ]ivedonii- 
nated over the poetry, — a scliool marked ijy striking oppositions (jf thouglit, 
fi'iM^uent hajiiiinesses of expression, and a carefully balanced modulation, — 
nundfcrs pleasing at first, but in tiie end I'atiguing. As this school degener- 
ated, tiie wit almost disappeared ; but there was no new infusion of poetry in 
its place. Wlien .Scott gave tlio public the Lay of the Last Minslvd, and 
other poems, which certainly, considered as mere narratives, are tlu; best we 
have, carrying the reader forward without weariness and with an interest 
which the author never allows to subside, a crowd of imitatois pressed after 
him, the greater part of wlioni are no longer read. Wordsworth had, and still 
has, his sciiool ; the stamp of his example is visible on the writings of all the 
poets of the present day. Even Byron showed liimself, in the tliird canto of 
Childc Harold, to be one of liis disciples, though he fiercely resented being 
called so. The same poet did not disdain to learn of Scott in comiiosing his 
narrative poems, such as the Bride of Ahydos and the Giaour, though he could 
never tell a story in verse without occasional tediousness. In our day the 
style of writing adopted by eminent living poets is ol'ten seen rellected in the 
verses of their younger contemporaries, — sometimes with an effect like that 
of a face beheld in a tarnished mirror. Thus it is that jjoets are formed liy 
their influence on one another ; the greatest of them are more or less indebted 
for what they are to tiieir jiredecessors and their contemporaries. 

While speaking of these clianges in th(; public taste, I am tempted to cau- 
tion the reader against the mistake ol'ten made of estimating the merit of one 
poet by the too easy process of comparing him witii anotiier. The varieties of 
jioetic excellence are as great as the varieties of beauty in flowers or in the 
female face. There is no poet, indeed no author in any department of litera- 
ture, who can be taken as a standard in jiulging of others ; tlie true standard 
is an ideal one, and even this is not the same in all men's minds. One 
deliglits in grace, anotiier in strength ; one in a fiery vehemence and enthusi- 
asm on the surface, another in majestic: repose and the expression of feeling 
too deei) to be iioi.sy ; one loves sim])le and olivious images strikingly em- 
ployed, or familiar thoughts placed in a new light; another is satisfied only 
witli novelties of thought and exjiression, with uncommon illustrations and 
images far souglit. it is certain that each of these modes of treating a subject 
may have its peculiar merit, and that it is absurd to re(|uire of tiiose whose 
genius inclines tliem to one that they sliould adopt its opposite, or to set one 
down as inferior to another because he is not of the same class. As well, in 
loiiking through an astronomer's telescope at that beautiful piienomenon, a 
doulile star, in which the twin flames are one of a roseate and the other of a 
goklen tint, might we quarrel with either of them because it is not colored like 
its fellow. Some of the comparisons made by critics between one poet and 



42 INTUODUCTION. 



miotlior arc scarcoly loss preposterous than would be a coiuiiaiisou between a 
I'iver and a. niouutain. 

The compiler of this collt'ction lias gono. as I'ar back as in tlio author wlio 
may properly be called the lather of English poetry, ami wlio wrote while our 
ianguasre was like the lion in Milton's aoooniit ol' tlie creation, when risint; 
from tlie earth at the Divine conunand and 

.... pawing to j;ot I'r'o 
His liimlir parts," - 

for it was still clogged by the iiiiassimihited perlions of tlio French tongue, to 
wliicli in ]iart it owed its origin. 'I'hest' wore to be thrown aside in after years. 
Tlie versilication hail also one characteristic of French V(Mse, which was soon 
alter t'haucers time laid aside, — the mute or linal c had in bis lines the value 
of a syllable by itself, especially when the next word began with a consonant. 
But tluuigh these peculiarities somewhat embarrass the reader, he still linds in 
the writings of the old poet a fund of the good old English of the Sa.xon fire- 
side, which makes them worthy to be studied, were it only to strengthen our 
hold on our language. He- delighted in describing natui-al objects which still 
retained tiieir Saxon names, and this he did witli great beauty and sweetness. 
In the sentiments also the critics ascribe to hiiu a degree of delicacy which 
one could scarcely have looked for in the age in which he wrote, though at 
other tinu's he avails himself of the license then allowed. Tiiere is no majesty, 
no stately march of numbers, in his poetry, still less is there of fire, rapidity, 
or conciseness; the French and Italian narrative poets from wliom he learned 
his art wrote as if the pei>ple of their time had nothing to do but to attend to 
long stories ; and Chaucer, who translated from the French the Bomatint of the 
Jioar. though a greater poet than any of those whom he took for his models, 
made small improvement upon them in this respect. His I'roi/lii^ atid Cry- 
sqide, with but little action and incident, is as long as either of the epics of 
Homer. The Ciniti^rbnn/ Talcs. Chaucer's best things, have less of this defect ; 
but even there the narrative is over-minute, and the personages, as Taine. the 
French critic, remarks, although they talk well, talk too much. The taste for 
this prolixity in narratives and conversations liad a long duration in Knglisli 
]ioetrv, since we find the same tediousness, to call it by its true name, in 
Sliakespeare's VotKS and Adonic and liis f.iinrre. written more than two hun- 
dred years later. Yet in the mean time the old popular ballads of Englaud 
and Scotland had been composed, in which the incidents follow each other in 
t(uick succession, and the briefest possible speeches are uttered by the person- 
ages. The scholars and court poets doubtless disdained to learn anything of 
these poets of the people; and the Pandrii< of Cowley, who lived three hun- 
dred yeai-s after Chaucer, is as remarkable for the sluggish progress of tiie 
story and the tediousness of the harangues as for any other characteristics 



INTUODUCTION. .13 



Between the time of Cliuiiccr ami tliat (iF Sidiu^y ami S] euser \vc liud little 
in the poetic literature of our lanj^uajfe to detain our atteutimi. That au(! 
]iro(luct'd many obscure vtn-silii'rs, and metrical romances continued to be 
written alter the fashion nf tlie French and Italian poets, whom Chaucer 
acknowliMl^ed as his masters. Durinii; tliis period ap])eared Skelton, the poet 
ami jester, whose sjiecial talent was facility in rliyniin;:,', who rhymed as if he 
ciiuld not- hel]) it, — as if lie had (inly tn i)ut ]ien to paper, and the words 
leaped ol' their own accord into reiijular measun; with an inevitable jint;le at. 
the endiiiirs. Meantime our lan^uane was undergoing a process which gra.du- 
'ally separated the nohlei- jiarts from the dross, rejecting the French additions 
for which there was no occasion, or which could not easily be made to taki^ 
upon themselves the familiar forms of our tongue. The prosody of English 
liecame also fixed in that period; the Ihial c, wiiich so perplexes the modern 
reader in Chaucer's verse, was no longer permittetl to figure as a distinct syl- 
lable. The poets, however, still allowed themselves the liberty of sometitnes 
making, aftwr the French manner, two syllaljles of the terminations Hon and 
ion, so that mdion became a word of three syllables and opinion a word of 
i'our. The Sonnets of Sidney, written on tlie Italian model, have all the grace 
and ingenuity of those of I'ctrarch. In the Fdcrie Queene of Spenser it seems 
to nu! that \vv. lind the English language, so far as .the purposes of poetry 
re(|uirc, in a degree of perfection beyond which it has not beon since carried, 
and I sujijiose never will bo. A vast assendilagc of jKxitic endowments con- 
triliuteil to the composition of the ]ioem, yvl I think it would not be easy to 
name one of the same length, and the work of a geiuus ei[ually great, in any 
language, which more fatigues the reader in a steady perusal from beginning 
to end. In it we have an invention ever awake, active, and apparently inex- 
haustible ; an allluence of imagery grand, beautiful, or magnificent, as the 
subject may reciuire ; wise observations on human life steeped in a poetic color- 
ing, and not without touches of pathos ; a wonderful mastery of versification, 
and the aptest forms of expression. We read at first with admiration, yet to 
this erelong succeeds a sense of satiety, and we lay down the book, not unwill- 
ing, however, after an interval, to take it up with renewed ailmiration. 1 ome 
heard an eminent poet say that he thought the second part of the Faerie Qiieene 
inferior to the first ; yet I am inclined to ascribe the remark rather to a falling 
nlf in the attention of tlie reader than in the merit of the work. A ])oet, how- 
ever, woiilil lie more likidy to persevere to the end than any other reader, since 
in every stanza he would meet with some lesson in his art. 

In that fortunate age of English literature, aro.se a greater than Spenser. 
Let me only say of Shakespeare, that in his dramas, amid certain faults im- 
jiutable to the taste of the Engli.sli ])nblic, there is to be found every conceivable 
kind of poetic excellence. At the .same time and immediately after him 
ilourished a group of dramatic poets who ilrew their inspiration from nature 



44 INTRODITCTION. 



and wrote with manly vigor. One would naturally suppose that their example, 
along with the more illustrious ones of Spenser and Shakespeare, would influ- 
ence and form the taste of the succeeding age ; but almost before they had 
ceased to claim the attention of the public, and wliile the eminent divines, 
IJarrow, Jeremy Tayloi', and others, wrote nobly in prose with a genuine 
eloquence and a fervor scarcely less than poetic, appeared the school of writers 
inverse whom Johnson, by a phrase the propriety of which has been disputed, 
calls the metaphysical poets, — a class of wits whose whole aim was to extort 
admiration by ingenious conceits, thoughts of such unexpectedness and singu- 
larity that one wondered how they could ever come into the mind of the author. 
I'or what they regarded as poetic eflect they depended, not upon the sense of 
beauty or grandeur, not upon depth or earnestness of feeling, but simply upon 
surprise at quaint and strange resemblances, contrasts, and combinations of 
ideas. These were delivered for the most part in rugged diction, and in num- 
bers so harsh as to be almost luiinanageable by the reader. Cowley, a man of 
real genius, and of a more musical versitication than his fellows, was the most 
distinguished example of this school. Milton, born a little before Cowley, and 
like him an eminent poet in his teeus, is almost the only instance of escape 
from the infection of this vicious style ; his genius was of too robust a mould 
for such petty employments, and he would have made, if he had condescended 
to them, as ill a figure as his own Samson on the stage of a mountebank. 
Drydeu himself, in some of his earlier poems, appears as a pupil of this school ; 
but he soon outgrew — in gi'eat part, at least — the false taste of the time, and 
set an example of a nobler treatment of poetic subjects. 

Yet though the genitis of Dryden reacted against this perversion of the art 
of verse, it had not the power to raise the poetry of our language to the height 
which it occupied in the Elizabethan age. Within a limited range he was a 
true poet ; his imagination was far from fertile, nor had he much skill in 
awakening emotion, but he could treat certain subjects magnificently in verse, 
and often where his imagination fails him he is sustained by the ^•igor of his 
understanding and the largeness of his knowledge. He gave an example of 
versification in the heroic couplet, which has commanded the admiration of 
■succeeding poets down to our time, — a versification manly, majestic, and 
of varied nu)dulation, of which Pope took only a certain part as the model of 
his own, and, contracting its range and reducing it to more regular jiauses, 
made it at first appear more musical to the reader, but in the end fatigued him 
by its monotony Dryden drew scarcely a single image from his own obser- 
vation of external nature, and Pope, though less insensible than he to natural 
bciuity, was still mei-ely the poet of the drawing-room. Yet he is the author 
of more happ}' lines, Avhich have passed into the common speech and are 
quoted as proverbial sayings, than any author we have save Shakespeare; 
and, whatever may be said in his disprai.se, he is likely to be quoted as long 



LON(}FELI.OW 

IN MEMORIAM 

Nee turpe}n sent-ctam 
Degere^ncc citkata curcntctn. 

" Not to be tuneless in old nge ! " 
Ah ! surely blest his pilgrimage, 

Who, in his winter's snow, 
Still sings with note as sweet and clear 
As in the morning of the year 

When the first violets blow ! 

Blest ! — but more blest, whom summer's heat. 
Whom spring's impulsive stir and beat. 

Have taught no feverish lure ; 
Whose Muse, benignant and serene, 
Still keeps his autumn chaplet green 

Because his verse is pure ! 

Lie calm, O white and laureate head ! 
Lie calm, O Dead, that art not dead. 

Since from the voiceless grave 
Thy voice shall speak to old and young 
While song yet speaks our F^nglish tongue 

By Charles' or Thamis' wave. 

Austin Dobson 



American Publishers : Dodd^ Mead fr' Co.. New York 




LUNGFiiLLOW'S HUMli AT CAMBRIDGE. 

Someivhat back from the village street 
Stands the old-/ashtoned country seat. 



Once~~ah ! once — ivtthin these halls 
One whom memory o/t recalls^ 

The Father of hts Country^ dwelt. 



INTRODUCTION. 45 



as the English is a living language. Tlie footiDrints of Pope are not those of 
a giant, but he has left them scattered all over the held of our literature, 
although the fashion of writing like him has wholly passed away. 

Certain faculties of the poetic mind seem to have shuubered fi'om the time 
of Milton to that of Thomson, who showed the literary world of Great Britain, 
to its astonishment, what a profusion of materials for poetry Nature offers 
to him who directly consults her instead of taking his images at second-hand. 
Thomson's blank verse, however, is often swollen and bladdery to a painful 
degree. He seems to have imagined, like many other vi^riters of his time, that 
blank verse could not support itself without tlie aid of a stilted phraseology ; 
for tliat fine poem of his, in the Spen.serian stanza, tlie Castle of Indolence, 
shows that when he wrote in rhyme he did not think it necessary to depart 
from a natural style. 

Wordsworth is generally spoken of as one who gave to our literature that 
impulse which brouglit the poets back from the capricious forms of expression 
in vogue before his time to a certain fearless simplicity ; for it must be 
acknowledged that until he arose there was scarce any English poet who did 
not seem in some degree to labor under the apprehension of becoming too 
simple and natural, — to imagine that a certain pomp of words is necessary 
to elevate the style and make that grand and noble which in its direct ex- 
pression would be homely and trivial. Yet the poetry of Wordsworth was 
but the consummation of a tendency already existing and active. Cowper 
had already felt it in writing his Task, and in his longer rhymed poems had 
not only attempted a freer versification than that of Pope, but had clothed 
his thoughts in tlie manly Englisli of the better age of our poetry. Percy's 
Beliques had accustomed English readers to perceive the extreme beauty of 
the old ballads in their absolute simplicity, and siiown how much superior 
these were to such productions as Percy's own Hermit of Warkworth and 
Goldsmith's Edioin and Angelina, in their feeble elegance. Burns's inimitable 
Scottisli poems — his Englisli verses are tumid and wordy — had tauglit the 
same lesson. We may infer that the genius of Wordswortii was in a great 
degree influenced by these, just as he in his turn contributed to form the taste 
of those who wrote after him. It was long, however, before he reached the 
eminence which he now liolds in the estimation of the literary world. His 
Lyrical Ballads, published about the close of the last century, were at first 
little read, and of those who liked them there were few who were not afraid 
to express their admiration. Yet his fame has slowly climbed from stage to 
stage until now his influence is perceived in all the English poetry of the day. 
If this were the place to criticise his poetry, I should say, of his more stately 
poems in blank verse, that they often lack compression, — that the thought 
suffers by too great expansion. Wordsworth was unnecessarily afraid of being 
epigrammatic. He abhorred what is called a point as much as Dennis is said 



46 INTRODUCTION. 



to have abhorred a pun. Yet I must own that even his most diffuse amplifi- 
cations have in them a certain grandeur that fills the mind. 

At a somewhat later period arose the poet Keats, who wrote in a manner 
which carried the reader back to the time when those charming passages of 
lyrical enthusiasm were produced which we occasionally find in the plays 
of Shakespeare, in those of Beaumont and Fletcher, and in Milton's Comus. 
The verses of Keats are occasionally disfigured, especially in his Enclymion, 
by a flatness almost childish, but in the finer passages they clothe the thought 
in the richest imagery and in words each of which is a poem. Lowell has 
justly called Keats " over-languaged," but there is scarce a word that we should 
be willing to part with in his Ode to the Nightingale, and that on a Grecian 
Urn, and the same thing may be said of the greater part of his Hyperion. 
His poems were ridiculed in the Edinburgh Eeview, but they survived the 
ridicule, and now, fifty years after their first publication, the poetry of the 
present day, by certain resemblances of manner, testifies to the admiration 
with which he is still read. 

The genius of Byron was of a more vigorous mould than that of Keats ; 
but notwithstanding Ids great popularity and the number of his imitators at 
one time, he made a less permanent impression on the character of English 
poetry. His misanthropy and gloom, his scoffing vein, and the fierceness of 
his animosities, after the first glow of admiration was over, had a repellent 
effect upon readers, and made them turn to more clieerful strains. Moore had 
in his time many imitators, but aU his gayety, his brilliant fancy, his somewhat 
feminine graces, and the elaborate music of his numbers, have not saved him 
from the fate of being imitated no more. Coleridge and Southey were of the 
same school with Wordsworth, and only added to the effect of his example 
npon our literature. Coleridge is the author of the two most perfect poetical 
translations which our language in his day could boast, those of Schiller's 
Piccolomini and Death of Wallenstein, in which the English verse falls in no 
respect short of the original German. Southey divides with Scott the honor 
of writing the first long narrative poems in our language which can be read 
without occasional weariness. 

Of the later poets, educated in part by the generation of authors which 
produced Wordsworth and Byron and in part by each other, yet possessing 
their individual peculiarities, I should perhaps speak with more reserve. The 
number of those wlio are attempting to win a name in this walk of literature 
is great, and several of them have already gained, and through many years 
held, the public favor. To some of them will be assigned an enduring station 
among the eminent of their class. 

There are two tendencies by which the seekers after poetic fame in our day 
are apt to be misled, through both the example of others and the applause of 
critics. One of these is the desire to extort admiration by striking novelties 



INTRODUCTION. 47 



of expression ; and the other, the ambition to distinguish themselves by 
subtleties of thought, remote from the common apprehension. 

With regard to the first of these I have only to say what has been often 
said before, that, however favorable may be the idea which this lu.\uriance of 
poetic imagery and of epitliet at first gives us of the author's talent, our 
admiration soon exhausts itself We feel that the thouglit moves heavily 
under its load of garments, some of which perhaps strike us as tawdry and 
others as ill-fitting, and we lay down the book to take it up no more. 

The other mistake, if I may so call it, deserves more attention, since we 
find able critics speaking with high praise of passages in tlie poetry of the 
day to which the general reader is puzzled to attach a meaning. This is often 
the case when the words tliemselves seem simple enough, and keep within the 
range of the Saxon or household element of our language. Tlie obscurity 
lies sometimes in the phrase itself, and sometimes in the recondite or remote 
allusion. I will not say that certain minds are not affected by this, as others 
are by verses in plainer English. To the few it may be genuine poetry, although 
it may be a riddle to the mass of readers. I remember reading somewhere of 
a mathematician who was affected with a sense of sublimity by the happy 
solution of an algebraical or geometrical problem, and I have been assured by 
one who devoted himself to the science of mathematics that the phenomenon 
is no uncommon one. Let us beware, therefore, of assigning too narrow limits 
to the causes which produce the poetic exaltation of mind. The genius of 
tliose who write in this manner may be freely acknowledged, but they do not 
w rite for mankind at large. 

To me it seems that one of the most important requisites for a great poet 
is a luminous style. The elements of poetry lie in natural objects, in the 
\'icissitudes of human life, in the emotions of tlie human heart, and the rela- 
tions of man to man. He who can present them in combinations and lights 
which at once affect the mind with a deep sense of their truth and beauty is 
tiie poet for his own age and the ages that succeed it. It is no disparagement 
■either to his skill or his power tliat he finds them near at hand ; the nearer 
they lie to the common track of tlie human intelligence, the more certain is 
lie of the sympathy of his own generation, and of those which shall come after 
him. The metaphysician, the subtile thinker, the dealer in abstruse specula- 
tions, whatever his skill in versification, misapplies it when he abandons the 
more convenient form of prose and perplexes himself with the attempt to 
express his ideas in poetic numbers. 

Let me say for the poets of the present day that in one important respect 
they have profited by the example of their immediate predecessors ; they have 
learned to go directly to nature ibr their imagery, instead of taking it from 
what had once been regarded as the common stock of the guild of poets. I 
liax'e often had occasion to verify this remark with no less delight than surprise 



48 INTRODUCTION. 



on meeting in recent verse new images in their luitaniisliud lustre, like cuius 
fresh from the mint, unworn and unsoiled by pas.sing from pocket to pocket. It 
is curious, also, to observe how a certain set of liackneyed plirases, whicii Leigii 
Hunt, I beliovo, was tlie first to ridicule, and which were once used for the con- 
venience of rounding out a line or supplying a rliyme, have disappeared from 
our poetry, and how our blank verse in the hands of the most popular writers 
has droiipud its stiff Latinisms and all the awkward distortit)ns resorted to by, 
those who thought tliat by ])utting a sentence out of its proper shape they 
were writing like Milton. 

I have now brought this brief survey of the progress of our poetry down 
to the present time, and refer the reader, for samples of it in the dilferent stages 
of its existence, to those which are set before him in this volume. 



WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT, 



INDEX OF AUTHORS AND TITLES. 



ADAMS, JOHN QUINCY. 

(juiiity, M.T,s,. 1767-1848. Page 

The Wants of Man 732 

ADAMS. SARAH FLOWER. 

'■ Nearer, my God, to thee" .... 373 

ADDISON. JOSEPH. 

Ln^liiml, 1673-1719. 

Sempronius*3 Speech for War {Caio) . . 570 
Soliloquy: On Immortality (C^/'(') . . 759 
"The spacious firmament on high " {Spectator') 376 

From: — Campaign, The, 539; ("ato, 310, 601, 
t'3'i 79'ii 799t ^00, 802 ; Letter from Italy, 807; 
Speciator, The, 724. 

AKENSIDE, MARK. 
kni:l^it.'l, i7-^c- 1770. 

Deliglus of Fancy {Pleasures of Imagination) 819 

"The shape alone let otiiers prize " . . 129 

Virtuoso, The 946 

/"rijw ; — I'leasures of the Imagination . . 814 

AKERMAN. LUCY EVELINA. 

AriR-rii .1. 

" Nothing but leaves " 370 

ALDRICH, THOMAS BAILEY. 

I'onsmoiilii. N. H.. I.. 1836. 

After the Rain 43© 

Bahy Hell 79 

Before the Rain 427 

Inta^ilio Head of Minerva, On an . . . 749 

Publishers ! Hnuylitnn. Mimiii, A Co.. Boston. 

ALEXANDER. CECIL FRANCES (Mrs.) 

Ireland, 18^3-1805. 

Burial of Moses 383 

ALFORD, HENRY. 

iintflaiid, 18IU-1J.71. 

" Rise, said the Master, come unto the feast " 301 
ALGER, WILLIAM ROUNSEVILLE. 

Freetown, M.iss.. Ii. 1821. 

Partine Lovers, The {Front the Chinese) . 236 
*'Ti) Heaven aiwroaclied a Sufi Saint '* (■^''<?w 
the Persian 0/ Dschelialeddin Rutni) , 365 

I'ublishurs : K'lierts Brothcfb, Uoitun. 

ALISON, RICHARD. 

liii^land, b. IMli <cnliiry. 

There is a garden in her face " (An f/oi^re's 
Recreation in Musicke, 1606) . . . 123 

ALLEN, ELIZAIiETH AKERS {Florence Percy). 

Strung', Me . I'. 1H32 

Left Behind ....... 230 

My Ship 318 

Rock me to Sleep 222 

Publishers: llou^titoii, Mifflin, Ar Co., Boston. 

ALLINGHAM, WILLIAM. 

Baliy sham urn, ircl.md, 1.. i8.;8, DIl-J in Loud., ling., 18&9. 

Dirty Old Man, The 253 

Fairies, The 836 

Lovely Mary Donnelly 198 

Touchstone, The 735 

ALLSTON, WASHINGTON. 

Ocorifttown, S. C , \^^<^-\H^\ 

America to Great Britain 588 

Bnyhood . 87 

Rosalie 317 



ALTENBURG, MICHAEL. 

(Jcriiiany. 1585-1640. 

The Hattle-Song of Gustavos Adolphus (Trans- 
lation) 5i() 

ANACREON. 

Greece, d. 476 Ii. C. 

Grasshopper, The (Cowley s Translation) • 484 
Spring {Moore's Translation) . . . 422 
ANDERSEN. HANS CHRISTIAN. 

iJeninark. 1805-1875. 

The Little Match-Girl (From the Danish) . 336 
ANDROS, R. S. S. 

Ilerkclcy, Mass., d. 1859. 

Perseverance . . .... 477 

ANGELO, MICHAEL. 

See BuoNARoTTi, Michael Angelo. 
ANSTER, JOHN. 

Ireland, b. about 1708; d. 1867. 

The Fairy Child 840 

ARMSTRONG, JOHN. 

ScoiUnd, tyi/c, - 1779, 

Building a Hrime (Art of Preserving Health) 445 
Frotn: — I'he Art of Preserving Health, 558, 8o<;. 
ARNOLD, EDWIN. 

tnyland. b. i8(i. 

Almond Blossom 457 

Secret of Death, The 298 

^row.* — Woman's Voice . .... 795 
ARNOLD, GEORGE. 

New V.jric. iHi4-i86s. 

Golden Fish, Tlie 1S5 

Jolly Old Pedagogue 70S 

September 43} 

Publishers : Houifhton. Mifflin, & Co.. Boston. 
ARNOLD, MATTHEW. 

i;rit,daiid, i82s-i8tf8. 

Desire 359 

Dover Beach , . , • . , ,611 

Forsaken Merman, The , . , . 826 

Heine's Grave 923 

Philomela 479 

ASKEWE. ANNE. 

HnLdand, 1529-1546 

Z'he Fight of Faith ....,, 366 
AUSTIN. SARAH TAYLOR. 

lini'land, 1793-1867. 

The Passage (Front the German of Uhland) 291 
AVERILL, ANNA B()YNT(JN. 

The Birch Stream .... 692 

AYTON, SIR ROBERT. 

Scotland, 1570-1638. 

On Love . . .... . 140 

Woman's Inconstancy 267 

AYTOUN, WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE. 

Scotland, 1813-1865 

Execution of Montrose, The . . 877 

Heart of the Bruce, The 504 

BACON, FRANCIS, BARON VERULAM. 

England, 1561 - i6'j6. 

From : — Life 320, 792 

BAILEY. PHILIP JAMES. 

England, 1816-1902. 

Aim of Life. The (Pestus) .... 742 
Poet of Nature, The [Festus) ... 766 

From : — Festus S04, sja 

49 



60 



IM)i:\ OF AUTHORS AND TITLES. 



BAILLIE, JOANNA. 

bcoll.ind, 1762-1851. 

Hcilli-Cock, The 477 

*'Up! Quit thy bower '* 408 

From : — Rayner 3 'o 

BALL, JOHN. 

liiikjlamt. executed at Coventry, m^'. 

From : — Lines used hi Wat Tyler's Rebellion 559 

BARDAULD, ANNA LETITIA. 

hnnl.iiul. 1743-1835. 

'* Life ! I kiiuw not what thou art . . 303 

Sabbath of the S-uil, The . . . . .^89 

Slimmer Evening's Meditation, A . . . 430 

To .1 Lady with some I'amted Klowcrs . 128 

From : — " C'ume here, fond Yontli " . . - 8cxj 

IJARHAM, RICHARD HARRIS {Thomas In- 

gohisl'y. Esq). 
Unuliiiiil. ii^i- :i{4j 

Citv Hells 716 

Jackdaw of Rheims, The 965 

Misadventures at Marjjate . . . • 966 

HARNARD, LADY ANNE. 

Si.oil-in.i. i7!;o- iSje;. 

vVuld Robin Cray 249 

BARNMELD, RICHARD. 

hli>;l.iiul, I.S74- "<>«> 

Address to the Nightingale .... 4S0 
BARON, ROBERT. 

l-.Ut;!.iiul, b, about 1630. 

/^»vwj ; — Mirza 3>2 

BARRETT, EATON STANNARD. 

Eii^tliiiut. 1785- 1820. 
From : — Woman : Her Character and Influence 795 
BARRY. MICHAEL JULAND. 

From : — " The Dublin Nation," Sept. 28, 1844 . 602 
BARTON, BERNARD. 

Iii>;limil. 17.^4-1840. 

Hruce and the Spider 573 

Caractacus 57' 

" Not ours the vows" 213 

Sea, The 607 

BASSE. WILLIAM. 

lii)>>l'iiKl. ibij- if>4'^- 

y^fvw .' — On Shakespeare .... 939 
BAXTER, RICHARD. 

From : — Love breathing Thanks and Praise . s^s 
BAYLY, THOMAS HAYNES. 

1-Ii>:l:iiui. 1707 -iSW. 

The Mistletoe Bough S91 

From : — ls.\c of Beauty, 248; The Pilot, 632 ; 
The Rose that all are praising, 205 ; Why 
don't the men propose ? 214. 

BEATTIE, JAWES. 
Scotl.-uul. 171=;- liSoi. 

Hermit, The 737 

Morning ( //it- Mnistrel ) . . . . 409 
/*>vwi ; — I'he Minstrel. 493, 559, S12. 

BEAUMONT, FRANCIS. 

l£ngl.nirl, 158&- 1016. 

From: — Humorous Lieutettant, 310 ; Letter 

to Ben Jonson, 939. 
BEAUMONT, FRANCIS, and FLETCHER, JOHN. 

Ln^l;iiiij, 15S0-1616. ami 1576-1035. 

Folding the Flocks 469 

'* Hence, all ye vain delights" (:V/Vrf Valour) 315 
From: — .\ King and no King. 395; Chaucer. 
So'j; Faitliful Shei^hcrdess, 134; Four Plavs 
in One : The Trunnpit of Honor, 34S : Knight 
of Malta. 204; Love's Cure, 107, 815: Wit 
without Money, loS. 
BEDDOES. THOMAS LOVELL. 

l-m:Iaiul, iS.xj- i(^4Q. 

*' If thou wilt ease thine heart" . . . 303 

"To Sea!" 630 

BEERS, MRS. ETHELIN l£.h\OT {EtM Lynn), 

l.O'.lu'u. N, v.. K \Ai^ llitM in Or.iiiyc. N. J., 1879. 

The Picket-Guard 524 

l'iibli--liers : Porter ..V Coatcs. rhiKidclphia. 

BENNETT. HENRY. 

Hn^LiU'l, b. .iboul 1-S5. 

St. Patrick wasa gentleman .... 1004 



BENNETT, WILLIAM COX. 

Orccinvicli. \-.nti., 1820-1895. 

Baby May 76 

Baby's Shoes 82 

Invocation to Rain in Summer . , . 438 

Worn Weilding-Riiig, Ihe .... 321 
liENTON, MYRON B. 

AMK-n.,., N. v.. b. US.4, 

The Mowers .... ... 552 

BERKELEY, GEORGE- 

kiijjIiUKl. 10^4-175^ ilislmp of Cloyne, Irel.ind. 

On the Prospect of planting Arts and Learning 
in America 587 

BETHUNE, GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

Neu' York. iSos- iSo?, 

Hymn to Night ...... 763 

BICKERSTAFF, ISAAC. 

En^lniu). -ibuiit 17^5- 1787. 

From : — Love in a Village, 559, Soo, 816. 

BLACKER, COLONEL. 

Ircl.iml 

From : — Oliver's Advice .... 602 

BLAIR. ROBERT. 

Ln^;l-nnt, Oj'j- 174;. 

From: ~ 'Ihe Grave, 107, 120, 30'-', 310, 346, 396. 
BLAKE, WILLIAM. 

lini.n.iiul. l7^;-I8.^7. 

Piper, The 85 

Tiger, The 468 

BLAMIRE, SUSANNA. 
E»v:ijuui. 1747 - 1744. 

The Siller Croun 155 

'' What ails this heart o' mine ? " . . 245 

BLANCHARD, LAMAN. 

En;.; 1,1 1 kI. iHui- 1845. 

The Mother's Hope 84 

BLAND. ROBERT, REV. 

EnybiKl. 177,1-1825. 

Home [From the Greek) .... 225 

BLOOMFIELD, ROBERT. 

tn);l.nnil, i7r* - 1823. 

Farmer's Boy, The 55;! 

Lambs at Play 469 

Moonlight in Summer ..... 432 

Soldiei's Return. The ..... 530 
UOKER, GEORGE HENRY. 

niil.«lcll'iu.l, f.i.. I8.'?-J8g.'. 

Black Regiment, The 595 

Countess Laura 886 

Dirge for a Soldier 531 

Prince Adeb ..... . . 652 

Publishers; J. H. I.i|>i>mcott & Co.. I'hiLiiielphia. 

BOLTON, SARAH T. 

Ncvvixiit, Ky.. 1815-1S93. 

Left on the Batile-Field 527 

BONAR. HORATIUS. 

Scoilan.l. b, IS.'-*. 

" Beyond the smiling and the weeping " . 2g6 

Master's Touch, The 3S8 

BOOTH. BARTON. 

Encl.uul. itv^i - i-ii. 

From : — Song .... . . 796 

BOTTA, ANNE CHARLOTTE LYNCH. 
iJcnniiij^ton, Vt.. b. iSij. Died in New York. 1691. 

On a Picture ..,-..,, 247 

BOURDILLON, FRANCIS W. 
l-ny;laiui, now livini,'. 

Light 135 

BOWLES. CAROLINE ANNE. 

Sec SOt'THKV, MRS. CAROLINE BOWLES 

BOWLES, WILLIAM LISLE. 
HnnLinil. 1763- 185a 

" Come to these scenes of peace " . . 403 

Greenwood, The 454 

Rhine. On the ■ . ... 447 

BOWRING, SIR JOHN. 

" From the recesses of a lowly spirit " . . 375 
Nishtingale, The (From the Portugese) . 479 
Nightingale, The From tht Dutch) 479 



INUEX 01'' AUTHORS AND TITLES. 



51 



DRADSTREET, ANNE. 

hii^l'iiid, I), lOiy, (1. AitiLTlc;!, iCi7a. 

From: — Contemplations (Pub. in 2d ed. of 
The Tenth Muse^ lately sprung up in A iuer- 

ica. Boston : 1678) 

BRAINARD, JOHN GARDINER CALKINS. 

New I.ondfiii, (.finii,, 17'/)- iH;;fj. 

*' I saw two clouds at morning " 
Niagara, TIic Fall of . • . 

BRANCH, MARY L. HOLLES. 

Brooklyn, N. Y,, b. New London, Conn., 1840. 

The Petrified Fern 

BKENAN. JOSEPH. 

]rc-l;iii.l. I.. \'':-', ; .1. in New Orlt.-mis, 1857. 

"Come tu me, dearest " . . . , 
URETON, NICHOLAS. 

iiii^l.in<l, issi- \fJJ^- 

'* I would I were an excellent divine" 
Phillida (ind Corydon .... 
Phillis the Fair ... 



863 



362 

136 

124 



BRISTOL, LOUD 

Sec DlC.liV. JiilIN. liAkl. OF likisioi.. 

BROOKS, CHARLES TIMOTHV. 

Salem, Miiss., iKi.j-i8Si. '" 

Alpine Heights {From the (h:>-man of Krum- 

inacher) 445 

Fislicr, The {From the German 0/ Goethr) . 825 
Good Night {From the German 0/ Kdrufr) . 51;^ 
Men and IJoys {h'rout (he Germnit 0/ Kdrner) 58^ 
Nobleman and llie Pensioner, The {From the 

German 0/ r/rffcl ) 520 

Sword Song, The {From the German 0/ 

Korncr) ^,g 

Winter Song {From the German of Ludwie 

flolty) .... . - 414 

riil.Ii^licrs! Moui:tilnu, MiHIlll. Si Co.. Hostoii 

BROOKS. MARIA VtO'^^'H {Maria del Occtdente). 

Medfurd. M;iss,, i?'**; - ik.j^. 

"Day, in melting purple dying" . . . 245 
Disappointment [Zophiel^ or the Bride 0/ 
Seven) 261 

I'uhlishcrs : Lcc fi Shc-patd. I3o<tton. 

BROWN, FRANCES. 

Ircljind. iHiH- 1HO4. 

Losses . 

*' O the pleasant days of old ! " 
BROWNE. SIR THOMAS. 

l-tinhnd. i6c:,5- 1682 

From: — Religio Medici .... 

BROWNE, WILLIAM. 
linifl.Tnd.iS'/j- I'-jj. 

My Choice 

Siren's Song, The {Inner Temple Afasijue) . 
"Welcome, welcome, do I sing" 
Front : -~ Britannia's Pastorals 
BROWNKLL, HENRY HOWARD. 

I'rovidi-iiLi.-. K. I.. iH,-.i- 1H7J. 

Lawyer's Invocalinn to Spring, The 
rnhlishcr'. : llou^dit'.n. Milllni. & Cu., Boston. 

BROWNING, ELIZABETH BARRETT 

liiiv:!.in<l. iK.«j-iHt.r. 

Court Lady, A 

George Sand, Sonnets To . 

Ladv^s Yes. The .... 

Lord Walter's Wife 

Motlier and Poet 

Musical Instrument. A . 

Parting Lovers (.SVc'wwrt) . 

Pet Name, Tlie .... 

Portrait, A 

Romance of the Swan's Nest, The 

Sleep 

.Siinnets from the Portuguese 
View across the Roman Campagna, A 
Wordsworth, On a Portrait of 
BROWNING, ROBERT. 



333 
699 



140 

126 

938 



Incident of the French Camp 

Meeting 

Pied Piper of Hamelin, The 

'I'hc King is cold ...... 

"The Moth's kiss, first ! " (/« a Gondola) . 
From: — One Word more, 399; Paracelsus, 801 
808. 
BRYANT. JOHN HOWARD. 

Luniminj^loti, M.iss,, 1807 1903. 

Little Cloud, The . . . . . 

Valley Brook, 'I'he 

Winter 

BRYANT". WILLIAM CULLEN. 

Cuiniiiiiiv;l'm, Mass., 1794-1878. 

America ....... 

Battle- Field, The .... 

Deadi (tf t/ie I'lowers. The 

Evenmg Wmd, The .... 

Faiiijia and Uaduan {From the Spanish) 
Flocjd of Years. The .... 

F'orest Hynm, A ... 

Fringed ucniian, To the 

Future Life. The .... 

Hurricane. The .... 

June ....... 

I>ove of God, The {From the Provcn(a/) 
Mosquito, To a .... 

My Autumn Walk 

"O, fairest of the rural maids" 

Planting of the- Apple-Tree, The . 

Pfi'-'l, The {Manuscript facsimile) . 

Rtibert of JJncoln 

Snow-Shower, The .... 

Song m Marion's Men . 
Thanatopsis ..... 

To a Waterfowl .... 



From: — Autumn Woods, 494; March. 492 
Scene on the Banks of the Hudson, 309. 
^ PublKlicrs: U. A|pijklon & Co., New V'-rk, 

BRYDGE.S. SIR SAMUEL EGERTON. 

Echo and Silence 



5'3 
170 

849 
8B4 

itiS 



593 
447 
4.18 



5S7 
514 
4.-0 
411 
166 
750 
45Z 
4'j5 
275 
686 

42s 
388 
487 
535 
',10 
457 
78 
476 
440 
589 
307 
481 



865 



5«^ 

'44 

217 
281 
865 
236 
81 
07 
T02 
7'.; 
I So 

r,,s, 

yl4 



Kvclyn Mope 2S4 

I'' lower's Nunc, The 14; 

Hervu Kiel . 617 

How they brought the Good News from Ghent 

to Aix 513 

111 ,1 Year 260 



BUCHANAN, ROBERT. 

Scoll;iii<l. I_i, 1H41 

Fr.'i Gi.lcomo 

Little Milliner, The 

BUCKINGHAMSHIRE, JOHN SHEFFIELD, 

DUKE OF. 
Ilntjiand, 1649- 1720. 

From : — Essay on Poetry .... 
BUNYAN, JOHN. 

Hiiv;l.uiil. iffiH- ifiHH. 

From : — Pilgrim's Progress 

BUONAROTTI, MICHAEL ANGELO. 

Italy, 1174 -IS'.*!. 

If it be true that any beauteous thing" {f. E. 

Taylor's Translation) 

"The might of one fair face " ( Taylor* s Trans.) 
From: — Soimcl (A/'^-.r. I/enry Koscoe's 'Trans.) 

BURLEIGH. GEORGE S. 
ri.iinlit;ld, L.mn.. i8)i- . 

A Prayer for Life 

BURLEIGH, WILLIAM H. 

Woodstock, Conn., i«ia-i87i. 

Deborah Lee ....... 

BURNS, ROBERT. 

ScotLind, I7i')- 17'/' 

Ae fond kiss before we part . 

Aflon Water 

Auld Lane .Syne .... 

Hanks o' Ooon, The 

llannockbiirn .... 

r.ard's ICpitaph. A . . . . 

" Ca' the yowes to the knowes " . 

Coniin' through the Rye . 

Cotter's Sattirday Nignt, The 

*' Duncan Gray cam' nere to woo " . 

Elegy on Captain Henderson 

" For a' that and a' that " 

" Green grow the rashes, O ! " 

I love my Jean .... 

"John Anderson, my Jo" . 



885 
181 



347. 80s 



■35 
■35 
809 



380 



233 
447 
118 
249 
573 



■S3 
187 

385 
.g6 

9'7 
34' 
191 
242 

222 



62 



INDKX OF Al'TUOUS AM) TITLKS. 



John Barleycnrn 

" Li't niu wonun e'er complain " 

Lniisc, To a ...... . 

M.iii w.is made to mouni .... 

M.ii'V m Hc."iveii, I'o ..... 

M.iry Monsoii ...... 

Mouni.iiii li.iisy, To a 

M ovist;, To a ...... 

My Heart 's in the Highlands .... 

'' Kly wife 's a winstmie wee thing " 
" O my luve 's like a red, red rose '* 
" C), saw ye bonnie Lesley ? " 

Tarn U'Sliauter 

*'Tht; day reiunis, my bosom burns " . 
Toothache. .'Xdiliess to the . . . . 

To the I'nco Ciiid 

" Whisile and 1 Ml come to you, my lad " 
/■fvwi .' — Despondency. ^45: Kpistle from Esn- 
nns to Maria. 346: Epistle to Davie, 34S ; 
Kpisile to a Young^ Friend, 395, 3'/'> 7^^^ ; 
Kpistle to J.imes bmiih, loS ; Jessy. 131; 
On L'aptain Grose's Peregrinations throuith 
Scotland, S05 ; Sensibility, 304 ; Vision, 
'I'hf, 3oy. 

BUTLER, SAMUEL. 

UdcIaiuI, Itvvi- iNki. 

Hudibras' Sword and Dagger .... 
H udibras, The Logic of ... . 
Hudibr.is, The Religion of ... . 
From: - Hudibras. loS. 2o«;. 215, 309, 347> 39Si 
3gb. 490, 540, 633. (>7i, S03, 804, S07, SoS, 809. 

BUTLER. \VILLL\M ALLEN. 

AllMiiy. N v.. 1695-1903. 

" Nothing to wear " 

rul>lislKr> : lloui;ln.in. MiUlin. \- Co.. Dostoi). 

BYRON, JOHN 

liliKl'Uxl. 1*^1 - '7t>.v 

A Pastoral 

ByRON. GEORGE GORDON NOEL. LORD. 

Enj;l«iul. 1784!- iHj4, 

" Adieu, adieu I my native shore " . 
Augusta, To ....... 

rollseum bv Moonliglu {Af<tnfred) 
i'oliseum, 'V\\c {ChiU.- Harcid) . 
ll.uucl Boone (Don JmiH] . . . 
Destrviction of Sennacherib, The {H^hrfu 

Mfhtiifs) 

Dream, The 

Evening {Dm yuan) .... 
" Farewell, if ever fondest prayer" 
Farewell to his Wife .... 

Filial Love (TA/AA- //rtrtfA/) 
First Love (Don 7"'"*) . . . ■ 
Greece ( TA^ Giaour) ..... 
Greece (rA/AiV HaroUi) .... 
Greek Poet. Song of the {Don yuaN) . 
Lake Leman, L aim and Storm on {CkiMe 

HuroUi ) 

Latest Verses 

'* M.iid of Athens, ere we part" 

^U\rM{Odf/romthe Fr^Hch) 

Napoleon {Childf Harold) .... 

Night 

Orient. The {Bruit 0/ Ahviios) . 
" O, snatched aw.iv in beaiitv's bloom " 
P.»ntheon (rA/AA- //.i^oA/) .' 
Picture of l^eaiS, .A { Tkf Gutonr) . 
Poet's Impulse (CAi/dr //aro/a') . 
Prisoner of Chillon, The .... 
Rhine. The ^CA/A/> Hnr,>M) 
Rover. Song of the { The Corsair) . 
Sea. The {ChihU Hariyiii) .... 
'* She walks in beauty " {,Htb*tw MeiotHts) 
Swimming ( /"«■*» Foscari) .... 
"The kiss, dear maid " . 

Thomas Moore. To 

Transient Heautv ( Tkf Giaour) 
W'Mcrioo (CAi/dr f/aro/,/) .... 
From: — Beppo, 731, 705, Soi, S14 : Bride of 
.Abvdos, 134, io6, 331, 309, ■;4i.7Jo: Childe 
H.irold, 133, i34,io6,a4i. a7i.396, 397. 490, 493, 
541, 720, 735, 720, 7i»2. 7g6, Soo, SiJ. Sij. 867, 
S6g : Coniair, '*4S, 812, 938 ; Death of Sheridan, 
940; Doge of Venice, 491 , l>on Juan, loa. 



4S(. 

1S8 
14') 

46S 

334 
'*- 
S47 
21S 

7S4 
156 



»38 
"3 

6S0 
681 
926 

501 
764 I 

4'^ ' 

J38 
333 

166 
58. 
58' 
580 

685 
3 SO 
334 

Q"l 
4'S 
45" 

iSS 
h'i3 
503 
7t'7 
70J 
446 
636 
607 
130 
6«9 

=34 
930 
367 



303, 304, 305, 315, jog, 310, 396, 400, 631, (.33, 
671, 704. 70'^. 805, SoS.Soq,8M : English Bards 
and Scotch Reviewers, 315, 397, 800, S04, S05. 
So(>. ()40 ; Giaour, The, 305. 307, 371, 313, Si6 : 
Island, The, S14 ; Lara, 346. 490 : Letter, 793 : 
Manfred, 107, loS, 493: Slazeppa, S99 ; Par- 
isina, 4i)i. S99 ; Sardanapalus, 241. 794 : Waltz, 
The, S14 : " When we two parted," 241. 
CALDWELL. W1LLL\M W. 

Ncwlmryport. ^l,l^^.. l> is.;?. 

Rose-Bush, The {From the German) 

CALID.VSA. 

liuHa. ist Century n. c. 

Baby, Tlie i^Sir ll'tVh'ttm Joftes^s Jraits.) 
Woman (//(»'(r<c // U'i/san's Trans.) 

CALLANAN, JKREMIAH JOSEPH 

Ircl.iiul, i;g<;- i(,JO. 

Gouganne Barra ...... 

CALVERLEY, CHARLES S. 

Liigtaiiil, 1811-1SS4. 

Arab, The 

Cock and the Bull, The .... 

Disaster 

Lovers and a Reflection .... 

Motherhood 

To Tobacco 

CAMOENS, LUIS DE. 

Blighted Love (L or d SfraM^/ord's Trans.) . 

CAMPBELL, THOMA& 
Scotlaml. 1777- 1844. 

Evening Star, The 

Exile ot Erin 

Hallowed Ground 

HiihcTiIinden 

Ht>pe \f'ifasures 0/ Hope) .... 

Kiss, i'he First 

Lochiel's Warning 

Lord Ullin's Daughter 

^Lud's Remonstrance, The .... 

Najwleon and the British Sailor . 

Poland 

River of Life, The 

Soldier's Dream, The 

" Ve mariners of England " ... 

From : — Drink ve to her, ,105 ; Gertrude, 494 : 

Pleasures of Hope, 204. J4S. 310. 347. jqs, 397, 

795, Soo, 80J, Sio ; To the Rainbow, 494. 

CANNING, GEORGE. 

Englaiui, 1-70- iS:j;. 

Et>itaph on the ^L-^rquis of An^lesea's Leg 
Friend of Humanity and tlie knife-Grinder 
From:— 'Hew Morality, 121,806; The Pilot that 
weathered the Storm, 632. 
CAREW. LADY ELIZABETH. 

Revenge of Injuries uV(iri<i/«) 
CAREW, THOMAS. 

Hltk;t-1IHt, I^Sy-lOJiJ. 

Compliment. The . .... 

" Give me more love or more disdain " 
" He th.»t loves a rosy cheek "... 
'• Sweetly breathing, venial air " . 
From : — Conquest by Flight, 205 : On the Duke 
of Buckingham, 309 ; " Think not 'cause men 
Hattering say," 203. 
CAREY, HENRY. 

liHgUuut. It*!- t-4(- 

Maiden's Ideal of a Husband {Contrivancts) 
Salty in our Alley 

From : — Choonon, SoS ; God save the King, 603. 

CARLETON. WILL M. 

Ohio. I*. iSw. 

New Church Organ, The .... 

Over the Hill to the Poor-House 
PuWisher^ ; H-irpcr & Uro*.. New York. 

CARY, ALICE. 

Near CiiKiimat'. O., 1820-1871. 

Dving Hvmn. A ..... . 

Make Believe 

Pictures oi Memory- 

Spinster's Stint, A ..... 
I\iblisht;rs, Hou^liton. Mit9in. ftCo., Bo«ton. 



7» 
776 



lOIO 

looS 
991 

1010 
991 
990 



4"» 

7^8 
5'3 
743 
.8s 
573 
33& 
144 
6i6 
5SJ 
74 < 
539 
63^ 



953 
95» 



7S.> 



136 
■44 
141 

433 



>4» 

19$ 



095 
34i 



3«' 
iSS 

'7» 



INDEX OF AUTHORS AND TITLES. 



53 



[.From the Latin of 



CARY, HENRY FRANCIS. 

^' The I'airest tiling in mortal eyes {From the 
French 0/ Churles, Duke of Orleans) 

CARY. LUCIUS (Li)KD F.M.KI.AND). 
tii^rl.iiul, iMo-1641 

Ben Jonson's Conimonnmct* liook . 
CARY, PHCEBE. 

Near Cinciiiiiali. (>., i8a4- ift/i. 

Dreams and Realities 

Lovers, The 

Nearer Home 

I-uhlisl'icrs : I'loiiflilon. Millliii. & Co., New York. 
CASIMIR THE GREAT, KING OF POLAND. 

'• It kindles all my soul {Fran: the Polish) 
CASWALL, EDWARD. 

lilliil-iiifl, I), i^;i4 

" My God, I love thee " 
St. Francis Xavier) 
CELANO, THOMAS A. 

Il.ily. .iLiiut i-s ,„ ... 

Dies Ira; (John A. Dix's translation) ■ 

CHADWICK, lOHN WHITE. 
Marbk-lic.ia, M.i-.^.. l-. i«4>i. 

The Two Waitings 

CHALKHII.L, JOHN(Prob.ibly Izaak Walton). 

The Aii^kr 

CHAMUKRLAYNE, WILLIAM. 

liiij,'l,ind. ir.h, - o^-'i. 

From : — Chastity 

CHANNING, WILLIAM ELLERY. 

BObtoll. Mass., 1918-1903. 

Our Boat to the W.aves , , . . . 
Publisliers : AiiK-ricaii Uiiitari.111 Association, boston. 

CHAPMAN, GEORGE. 

Enjfland. i;i57-ioi4. 

Camp at Night, The (iliad) . . _ . 
"Muses that sing Love's sensual empine" 
From : — Blind Beggar of Alexandria, 203 : Re- 
venge, 120; Widows* Tears, Qoo. 
CHARLES, DUKE OF ORLEANS. 

Frailer. 1)51 7 1465. . 

"The fairest thing in mortal eyes {Henry J". 

Cctry^s Translation 

Spring 

CHATTERTON, THOMAS. 

linylaild. 1752 1770. 

Minstrel's Song 

CHAUCER, GEOFFREY. 

ElltrlaiKl. lv-'8-I4^-^ 

Canterbury Pilgrims, The {Canteriury rales) 
Compleynte of Chaucer to his Purse . 
Viisy, The {Leiremi 0/ Gooil ll-'amen) . 
Mornil^fi in ^lay {A'ni^'htes 'Falei _ . 
Frotn : — Assembly of Koules, 48g ; Canterbury 
"Tales: Prologue, 8og : Clerkes Talc, 231: 
Frankleines Tale, 398 ; Knightes Tale, 490, 
492, 802; Manciples T.llc, 3g8 ; Nonnes 
Preestes Tale, 900; Troilus and Creseide, 108. 

CHERRY, ANDREW. 

England. 176.'- 1813. 

The Bay of Biscay 

CHESTERFIELD, EARL OF. 

iiliKtiilil. i6f,4-i7,7i-. , , . . 

From : — Advice to a Lady in Autumn . 
CHORLEY, HENRY FOTHERGILL. 

lingl.m.!. 18.8-1871- 

The Brave Old Oak 



113 
1005 
375 
533 



3(10 
353 

= 77 
668 

796 

630 



389 



388 
866 



991 



820 



CLARKE, JAMES FREEMAN. 

Hanover, N. H., 1810-1888. 

Cana 

The Caliph and Satan {Persian 0/ Thotuck) 
Publishers : tiou^ilitoii. Mililiii. & Co.. Boston. 

CLAUDIUS, MATl HIAS. 

Germany. 1741-1815. 

The Hen ( Translation) 

CLELAND, WILLIAM 

LiiKlanil, .il.i.iil ifj(ji-l689. 

Hallo, my Fancy 

CLEMMER, MARY HUDSON. 

Utica, N V . l839-i«fl4. 

By the Sea 743 

CLEVELAND, JOHN. 

liiigl.iiiil, ifti I- lOS',, 

To the Memory of Ben Jonson . . 906 

CLOUGH, ARTHUR HUGH, 
linglanii, i8ig-iH&i. 

QuS Cursuni Ventus 233 

COFFIN, ROBERT BARRY {Barry Gray). 

Ships .at Sea 261 

COLERIDGE, HARTLEY. 

Lllglaml, 179O- 1849. 

.Shakespeare . . . . . . . 906 

" She is not fair to outward view" . . 129 

COLERIDGE, SAMUEL TAYLOR. 

luii^lariH. 177.'- i8l4. , 

Answer to a Child's Question .... 474 

Epigrams 954 

Exchange, The ...... 192 

Fancy in Nubibus 822 

Good Great Man, The _ 739 

Hymn before Sunrise m the Vale of Chamouni 376 

Knight's Tomb, The 538 

Kubl.i Kban 834 

Love ......... 162 



454 
804 



CHURCHILL, CHARLES. 

Engl.iii.l. 17)1-1764. , „ . „ • J 

From : — Prophecy of Famine, 807 : Kosciad 

CIBBER, COLLEY. 

Engl.and, 1671- 1757. 

The Blind I'.ov 343 

From : — Richard III., Altered 204, 492, 539. 54'> 899 

CLARE, JOHN. 

Eiilaii.l. i-,j-i8ft4. 

Laborer, The 557 

Summer J-i «ds . . . • • ■ 4=7 



Quarrel of Friends, The (CAr/j/ditf/) . . 116 
Rime of the Ancient Mariner .... 854 
From: — Christabel, 30S, 721, 726: Christmas 
Carol, 492 : Day Dream, ,So7 : Death of Wallen- 
stein, 4(;o, 800; Devil's Thoughts, 396; Epi- 
taph on an Infant, 107 : Fears ill Solitude, 395 ; 
Homeric Hexameter {From Schiller), 631; 
Wallenstein, 207 ; Youth and Age, 120. 
COLES, ABRAHAM. 

Newark, N, J , |HI)-|89I 

Stabat Mater Dolorosaf/'ww^A^ Z.(2^/«), 
COLLINS, ANNE. 

KilKd.niil, ah..iil 161.7. . 

" The winter being over " ... 

COLLIN.S, MORTIMER. 

England. i8'..7 - 1878. 

Comfort 

Darwin 

COLLINS, WILLIAM. 

England. 1720- 1756. 

" How sleep'the brave" 5^3 

Passions, The ""'' 

From : — Ode on the Death of Thomson . 
COLMAN, GEORGE (The Younger). 

England. 1762- 18)6. 

Gluggity-Gliig {The Myrtle and the I me) . 

Sir Marmaduke 

Toby Tosspot ....-.• 
From : — Lodgings for Single Gentlemen 
CONGREVE, WILLIAM. 
Eiigl.'ind. 167.1- 1729. 

Silly Fair ., ' . ' 

Frotn : —Letter to Cohham, 793 : Mourning 

Bride, 207, 398, R09 ; Old Bachelor, 214. 
COOK, ELIZA. 
England, 1817-1889. 

Old Arm-Cliair, The 

COOKE, PHILIP PENDLETON. 

Mnrtiiislnirgli. \'a.. 1816- i8so. 
Life in the Autumn Woods 
COOKE, ROSE TERRY. 

llarlfnrd, ( uiin . i^;-(.-i892. 

Reve du Midi . ...... 

Publishers i Houghton. Mifflin, & Co., Boston. 
COOLIDGE, SUSAN. See Woolsev, Sarah C. 



355 



42a 



974 
99" 



773 
94 



946 
958 
958 
809 



7'3 



663 



Vro 



r>4 



INDEX OF AUTHORS AND TITLES. 



COOPER, JAMES FENIMORE 

Burlington. N. J,. 1789-1851, 

My Brigantine {T!ie Heater Witch) . . 626 

CORBET, RICHARD. 

Farewell to the Fairies 847 

CORNWALL, BARRY. 

See Procter, B. W. 
CORNWELL, HENRY SYLVESTER. 

The Sunset City ... .823 

COTTON, CHARLES. 
England. 1^130-1687. 

Conteniation 734 

Retirement, The ...... 737 

COTTON. NATHANIEL. 

i-nnl'iiul, 1^21- 1788. 

The Fireside 226 

COWLEY, ABRAHAM. 
EuKland, 1618-1667, 

Chronicle, The ....... 191 

Grasshopper, The [Greek of A nacreoti) . 4S4 

Hymn to Light, From the .... 407 

Invocation ^Davideis) ..... 772 

Of Myself . . . . . . .730 

From: — Anacreontiques, 494; Davideis, 793; 
For Hope, Soo ; Gold, 204 ; Motto, The, 811 ; 
On the Death of Crashaw, 39S ; Prophet, The, 
804 : Waiting Maid, The, 795. 

COWPER, WILLIAM. 

En^arnJ. 1731-1800. 

Boadicea 572 

Contradiction {Conversation^ . . . 780 

Cricket, The 485 

Diverting History of John Gilpin . . 959 

Duelling {Comiersatioii) 7S0 

England {'/V((.- Task: Book 11.) . . . 575 

Freeman, The ( yy^^r Tusk: Book V.) , . 600 
Happy Man, The {The Task: Book l^I.) . 715 

Humanity (7'//*^ Task: Book VI.). . . 782 

My Mother's Picture 92 

Nightingale and Glow-Worm, The . . . S63 
Nose and the Eyes, The . . . . 951 

Rose, The 464 

Royal George, On the Loss of the . . 612 

Slaverv ( '/Vit? Task: Book II.) . . . 593 
Sum o'f Life, The {The Task : Book I'l.) . 790 

" Sweet stream, that winds " . . . . 106 
Verses supposed to be written bv Alexander 

Selkirk . 738 

Winter Morning (r/i^ Task: Book V.) . 435 
Winter Noon {The Task: Book VI.) . 437 

From: — Conversation, 558,724, Exhortation to 
Prayer. 398 ; Fable, A, 394 ; Light shining 
out of Darkness, 632 : Motto of Connoisseur 
No. III., 107; Mutual Forbearance, 215; 
Needless Alarm, 671, 793 ; On Friendship, 
121 ; Pairing-Time Anticipated, 215, 495 ; 
Progress of Error, 793 ; Retired Cat, S02 ; 
Retirement, 120^ 396, 724, 815 ; Stanzas 
subjoined to a Bill of Mortality, 308; Table 
Talk. 601, 602; Task, The: Sofa, 493, 672; 
Timepiece, 232, S06, 809, S14. 815; Winter 
Evenuig, 492, 495, Sio : Winter Morning 
Walk. 394, 493, 539, 541 ; Tirocinium, 398 ; To 
an Afflicted Protestant Lady, 348; Transla- 
tion from the Greek, 271 ; Translation of 
Horace, S15 ; Truth, 397. 493. 

COZZENS, FREDERICK SWARTWOUT. 
New York. 1818-1S09. 

An Experience and a Moral . . . .253 

Publishers: Houijhton, Mifflin, & Co., Boston. 

CRABRE, GEORGE. 

Hnj^liirul. 1754- iS^^. 

•Approach of Age, The ( Ta/es of the Hall) . 323 
Quack Medicines {The Borough) . 7S3 

From : Birth of Flattery, 798 ; Parish Register, 
805. 
CRAIK, DINAH MARIA MULOCK. 

I-:n'^'l.iiul. i8-'(^i88-. 

Alma River, By the 516 

■' Buried to-day " ..... 272 

Dead Czar Nicholas, The .... 929 

Douglas, Douglas, tender and true . 2S9 



Fletcher Harper, To the Memory of . . 935 

Her Likenes-* ...... 130- 

Lancashire Doxology, A . . . . . 556 

Now and Afterwards ..... 295 

Onlv a Woman 25S 

Philip, mv King ...... 75 

CRANCH, CHRISTOPHER PEARSE. 
Alcx.mdria. D. C, 1813-1392. 

Thought 731 

Publishers : Houghton, Mifflin, & Co., and Roberts Bros., 
Boston. 

CRASHAW, RICHARD. 

England. 1600-1650. 

Nightingale's Song {Music'' s Duet) . . . 774 

Supposed Mistress, Wishes to fais . . 192 
The Cheap Physician {In Praise 0/ Lessius's 

Rule 0/ Health) 546 

" Two men went up to the Temple to pray.'* 362 

Water turned into W ine 362 

Widow's Mites, The 362 

CRAWFORD, MRS. JULIA. 

IrcLini!. 

" We parted in silence " . . . • 24a 

CROLV, REV. GEORGE, LL.D. 

Ireland. 1780- i860. 

Catiline to the Roman Army [Cati/itte) . . 501 
Genius of Death, The ..... 744. 

Leonidas, The Death of 564 

CROSS, MARIA EVANS LF.WF.S {George Eliot). 
Eniiland. 1819-1880. 

*' Day is Dying" (7^/^ ^/idw/j/i G/)ty) . . 411 
'*0, may I join tlie choir invisible " . . 760 

CROWQUILL, ALFRED. 

See Forrester, Alfred A. 

CUNNINGHAM, ALLAN. 

Scotland. 1784-1842. 

"Thou hast sworn by thy God, my Jeanie " . 20S 

Poet's Bridal-Day Song, The . . . 219 

Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea, A . . . 626 

CUNNINGHAM, JOHN. 

Irelaml, 1729- 1773. 

Morning 40S 

CUTTER, GEORGE W. 

Massacluiselts, b. 1801. 

Song of the Lightning 864 

Song of Steam ...... 555 

DANA, RICHARD HENRY. 

Cambridei.-. Mass.. 1787- 1870. 

Beach Bird, The Little 48? 

Husband and Wife's Grave, The . . 304 

Island. The {Th^ Buccaneer) .... 691 

Pleasure- Boat, The 666 

Soul. The 368. 

Publishers : Charles bcnbner's Sons. New ■\'ork. 

DANIEL, SAMUEL. 

Entjiand. i5(>2-i6i9. 

To Delia 4>4 

Love is a Sickness 136 

From : — On the Earl of Southampton, 34S ; Son- 
net, 204 ; To the Countess of Cumberland, S08. 
DANTE. 

Italy. i?65-i:i:;i. 
From: — Inferno . . . - 346,396. 

DARLEY, GEORGE. 

Ireland, 1785-1846. 

Gambols of Children, The . . . . Sj 
Song of the Summer Winds . . . 425 

DARWIN, ERASMUS. 

Kni;land. 1731 - 1B02. 

From: — Botanic Garden .... 802 
DAVIES, SIR JOHN. 

Ent.;land. i^-;o-WA. 

The Dancing of the Air 45* 

Frofn : — Contention betwixt a Wife, &c . .231 
DAVIS, THOMAS. 

Ireland. 1814-1K4S. 

Sack of Baltimore, The 880 

Welcome, The 152 

DEKKER, THOMAS. 

Hnijl.ind, about 1^-4 -about 1641. 

The Happy Heart {Fitient Grisself) . . 550 
From : — Honest Whore, The, 723 : Old Forluna- 

tus, 30S. 



INDEX OF AUTHORS AND TITLES. 



55 



DE LISLE, ROUGET. 

France. The Surni written at Strasburg. in 1792. 

The Marseilles Hymn {Abbrev. Translation) 5S4 

DENHAM, SIR JOHN. 

l-:jii,'l.ind. 1615- if/->S, 

From: — Cooper's Hill, 720, 723; Elegy on 
Cowley, 939- 
DE VERE, AUBREY THOMAS. 

Ireland, L.. 1814 

Early Friendship iii 

" Sad is our youth, for it is ever going " . 316 
DIBDIN. CHARLES. 

liii.^l.in-l. 1745- ■'■M. 

Heaving of the Lead, The .... 627 

Poor Jack 615 

Tom Bowling 629 

DIBDIN, THOMAS. 

bn'^'land, 1771 - i::;4'- 

All 's Well ( The Briiisk Fieei) ... 627 
/'r.jw ; — The Tight Little Island . . . 602 
DICKENS. CHARLES. 

England. 1812- 1870, 

Ivy Green, The ... . . 465 

DICKINSON, CHARLES M- 

Luwvilk. N. v.. h. 1842. 

The Children .230 

DICKSON, DAVID. 

hiii,dand, 158^-1662. 

The New Jerusalem 558 

DIMOND, WILLIAM 

Iin;^l.-inJ. 1S0D-1837. 

The Mariner's Dream 614 

DIX. JOHN ADAMS. 

bubCiw-.-n. N. 11,. i7^S-i8;g. 

Dies Irse [Latin of Thomas h Celano) . . 353 
DOBELL, SYDNEY. 

hn-Iand. 1824-1375. 

Home, Wounded 325 

How's my Boy? ... ... 616 

Milkmaid's Song, The 168 

DOBSON, AUSTIN. 

linj^'laiul, b. about 1840. 

Before Sedan ... .... 529 

For a Copy of Theocritus {Essays in old 

French Forms of Verse) .... 405 

Growing Gray 755 

On a Fan 749 

Romaunt of the Rose {Vignettes in Rhytmf) . 266 

Sun Dial, The 184 

DODDRIDGE, PHILIP. 

hiigland. 1702-1751. 

Amazing, beauteous change !" . . . 377 
From : — Epigram on his Family Arms . - 794 
DODGE, MARY MAPES. 
New Vurk City, 1838- 

The Two Mysteries 297 

DOLLIVER, CLARA G. 

America. 

No Baby in the House . ... 80 

DONNE, DR. JOHN. 

Enjilaiid, 1^71-1631, 

The Will . _ 791 

From: — Comparison. The, ^^95 ; Divine Poems: 
On the Sacrament, 39S; Triple Fool, The, 798 ; 
Valediction forbidding Mourning, 248. 
DORR, JULIA C. R. 

Charlebtnn. S. C, b. 1825. 

Outgrown 263 

Publishers : J. B. Lippincott & Co.. Philadelphia. 

DORSET, CHARLES SACKVILLE, EARL OF. 

En^jland. 1637-1709. 

The Fire of Love (Exatnen Miscellaneum) . 202 
DOUGLAS, MARIAN. 

See Green, .\nnie D. 
DOUGLASS, WILLIAM. 

Kirkeudbtijfhl, Scotland. 

Annie Laurie 155 

DOWLAND, JOHN. 
England. 1562-1615. 

Sleep . . . 762 

DOYLE, SIR FRANCIS HASTINGS. 

England. iRio-1888 

The Private of the Buffs , . , . 514 



DRAKE, JOSEPH RODMAN. 

New York City. 1795-1820. 

American Flag, The 592 

Culprit Fay, Ihe 840 

DRAYTON, MICHAEL. 

England, 1563 -1631. 

Ballad of Agincourt, The 502 

" Come, let us kisse and parte " . . . 239 
FroTH : — To Henry Reynolds .... 93S 
DRUMMOND, WILLIAM. 

Scotland. 15S5-1640. 

Nightingale, To a 479 

DRYDEN, JOHN. 

England. 1631 - 1700. 

Ah, how sweet ! {Tyrajtidc Loi'e') . . . 145 
Alexander's Feast ; or, the Power of Music. 771 
Character of the Earl of Shaftesbury (-4 ^ja?c?« 

a7td A chitopliel) 90S 

Portrait of John Milton, Lines written under 907 
Song for St. Cecilia's Day, A, 1687. 775 

Veni Creator Spiritus {From the Latin). . 357 
Zimri (Absalom and A chito/>/u-l) . . 905 

From : — Absalom and Achitophel, 490, 601, 79S ; 
All for Love, 207 ; Amphicirion, 2^8 : Aurung- 
Zebe, 793 ; Cock and the Fox, 4S9 ; Conquest 
of Grenada, 345, 798: Cymon and Iphigenia, 
204, 206, 671, 721 ; Don Sebastian, 813 ; Elegy 
on Mrs. Killigrew, 311 : Epistle to Congrtve, 
120; Hind and Panther, 39S ; Imitation of 
Horace, ^92, 793, 806; Marriage i la Mode, 
203 : CEdipus, 309; Oliver Cromwell, 930 ; On 
the Death of a very young Gentleman, 309: 
Palamon and Arcite, 207: Tempest, 725' 
Threnodia Augustalis, 725; Trans. Ovid'; 
Metamorjihoses, 493 ; Tyrannic Love, 539. 
DSCHELLALEDDIN RUMI. 

Persia. 

" To heaven approached a Sufi saint " ( W. R. 
Alger s Translation) ..... 365 
DUFFERIN, LADY (Helen Selina Sheridan). 

Ireland. 1607 -lyo;. 

Lament of the Irish Emigrant .... 292 
DUNLOP, JOHN. 

Scotlaiul, i755-i32lj. 

" Dinna ask me " i6i 

DWIGHT, JOHN SULLIVAN. 

Boston. Mass., 1813-131)3. 

Landlady's Daughter, The {From the German 

ofUhland) .142 

True Rest 557 

DWIGHT, TIMOTHY. 

Northampton. Mass., 1752-1817. 

Columbia 588- 

DYER, JOHN. 

Wales, 1 700 -1 758. 

Grongar Hill . 443 

Front: — Ruins of Rome 725 

DYER, SIR EDWARD. 

Eiiyland, about i54o-i'x>7. 

" My minde to me a kingdom is " . . . 729 
EASTMAN, CHARLES GAMAGE. 

Burlinmon. Vt., i8l6-it!6i. 

A Picture 229 

A Snow-Storm 440 

EDWARDS, AMELIA BLANDFORD. 

Enirland, 1831-1802. 

" Give me three grains of com, mother" . 33S 

ELIOT, GEORGE. 

See Cross, Maria Evans Lewes. 

ELLIOT, EBENEZER {The Com- Laiv Rhymer). 
England. 1781-1849. 

Burns 914 

Corn-Law Hymn, The ..... 557 
Spring 421 

EMERSON, RALPH WALDO. 

Boston. Mass . i^-^-ti^-^. 

Boston Hymn 597 

Brahma 746 

Concord Monument Hymn .... 589 

Each and All . .... 405 

Friendship 112 

Good By 744 

Humble-Bee, To the 484 

Letters 746 



m 



I.NliKX OK AUTllOUS AND TITLES. 



I'rolilcin, The . 
Klioili.ia, Tho 
Sea, 'I'ho . 
Srmw-Morm, 'I'Ir' . 



7:15 
4'.i 
f>io 
■IJ9 



I'lllillilli'IH, lluuulll'ill, Mlllllii. «!<'>, Il.i.,luii. 

I'.UASMUS. 

I\i'll< Khllll, 1407- l;^t^>. 

/■>■('#«." — ApciilicKiHH 540 

KVKUKTT, IIAVIl). 

l'ilii> .1,111. M;^^,, i;'>.j- iHi) 

/''row : LiiiTN wiittuu forn School Dci'l.unaium 107 

KVickKir, luiuAui). 

I>M..1 1.1, Ma-, . i;,j,i- iim^v 

niiKi* 111 Altilic Ulc VlHinnlli . 

KYTINHI.;, MAKliAUKT. 



78 



J74 

31)0 



61a 
778 
«1J 



554 
105 



ll.iliy l.imiHO ..... 

1''aiii.;k, I'Kkdkkhk wii.i.iam. 

l..iii:l I. I. iiii.i-.i»..i 

^'O. Iliiw llu' lliiiilulil 111 Coil UllT.lClll , 
'I'lln Uitillt luUHt Will .... 

li'Al.lONKU, WILLIAM. 

Sm.11,111,1. i,-|,,.1,.i.j. 

'I'llC SllipwiclU 

KA N SI I AW |.;, (Aril i.;k 1 n k. 

I iii..|,i,i.l. I .uii'i {..111 lit mill . I'litiiry. 
A Kulillc. (The l.oucr It.) . 
rUNNKk, (.OKNKLIUS UKOKGK. 

I'l.iU.l.iu... I< I . iHjj- 1H47. 

('.ull-VVood 

rEKl'.DSON, SIR SAMUEL. 

I1..I11111I. lKl<^. 

l.'.ii^ilirt nf llie ,.\iicluir, "I'hc . . 
I'li'dy (oil 111 l.iiili l>,in, riio 
li'IKI.IlINi;, IIKNUY. 

ImikI I. i.'.i,-' i,-,.i 

" A lunuiiifi wr will K*' .... 66j 

Koam Heel 111' Olil KiVjiLinil, 'The . . . 575 
Fri'm : rnvnit tl.inleu TiiiKeily, 8n_\ ; Tom 
'i'liumli llie I 111'. 11, 71;;. 
l.'ll.'I.DS, lAMI'.S TllllMAS. 

r.ili-iHii.iilli. N. II., iHir.-iilili 

N.uitiuUel Sl<i|ipci-, The 9SH 

Teinpesl, The (137 

I'ulilwIlilM II.1IH.I1I1111, Mlllllll. ,t til,. lIlnUlll. 

li'INC.Ml, KKANllS MILES. 

Illi.i. ,1. N. v.. I. iiur. 

The nine mill the lll.iv . . . • 5J3 

li'INI.KY, IKIIN, 
I 111. mil. 111. 11 

11,11 heliir'N ILtll , 1001 

li'LAlii;, WILSt)N, 

lU'Volly, Mti'..... i!lo,^-lHH4, 

The O'l.ini-iiln li'iiniily 47.S 

I'lililKli.'i... Iliiii,:li Mimili. *Oi., llniliiiv. 

iiLK.rciii.'.R, i;ii.i''.s. 

1-iiwl.iii.l. l^HH- ir.j, 

l>t'op, (hop, i*li>w toiirs" . , . . y<X} 

VLKTCIIKK, lOllN. 
Iiiul.iiiil. i.,-ii-'i..j:.. 

liniHintiiiii 10 .sleep ( /W/w^iW/rtw) , , ,761 
" 'l',iUo, (1, l.iUe those lip» nw.ty " . tf^S 

Frt>m : -- Nice \';iliuir, joO ; Qiioeu of Coiiiuh, 
,14^1 Upon nil Uonest Mnu'n l.'ortune, 7i>.ii 79;. 

FORI), lOllN. 

1 iii;l.iii.|, i-,:"i-.ili.iilt iflW, 

The Mimic.il Itiiel (7"*i» Lnvtr's MtloHCkofy) 694 
I'OURK.STKK, AllRKU II. (A irrrd CrowtNll/ ). 

iMlljIilllil. \\ IH.KI 

To my NiiMc lolj 

l.'OSini'K. WILLIAM WIIIIKMAN. 

CUi, iiin.ili. 11 . IK....- on. J 

The ^L\i>e 45,S 

I'OSTKR, SI'KI'IIK.N OH.LINS. 

l'lll.l.ll|^;. I'.i , i:.;i.-iSft4 

Mv Olil Kenuicky Home . . . 3.18 

|."0X, WILLIAM lOUNSllN. 

I lllll.lll.l. 1..«.-I!i04' 

The NlAi-tyv'H Hymn ((#/»-w>iM (•/ i^M/Vr) . 3(15 
KRANKI.IN. ill'.NJAMlN. 

PApur . 075 



KkKIMCKATH. FKRDINAND. 

i.Ltiiiiiiiy, i«i.r-i8;o. 

Licin'd Kldu, The {FroM th« German) . . 467 
GAI.LACIIKU, WILLIAM D. 

l>lllliHl>'lplll,l, l-.i., h. \H.M. 

Auliiinn, Tlio ..,.,.. 434 
(lAKUK'K, DAVIIJ. 

l;IH;l.ni,|, i;.(,- 1;;.,. 

J''roM : — lk'in(» of Oak, 631 ; Prologue on 
quiliinn llic Stanc in 1770, S04. 
C'.AKRISON, WILLIAM LLOYD. 

Now IniryiKiit, M.ii".., iM<i,(-i8;y. 

Somict written in Piinon 5<j3 

(lAUTll, SIR SAMUEL. 

Iliv;hili.l. K./n-i-i.j. 

/•>()/«;— '1 he Dispensary . . . jixj, 801 
GASCOIONK, GEORGii. 

hllljinii.l. i^i7-i5?7' 

I riiu V;inity uf the Hcanliful . . . •712 

From : — The Swiftness ol'Titne , . 7m 

GAV, inilN. 

I'.iikI'iii'Ii ir>HH- 17 (J. 

I llhuik-eycd Sus;ui 2.15 

I Ffotn : ~- Ucnniu'i* Opera, lai, i u* ^"5. 4')h Th 
. 7>/S < Dl(>iic,3u7 ; 1 late and M;niy Kriendn, 131, 

i^,( ; Mnther, Niiiho, ;nul l''.nry. 2\i : My "wn 
Lpilai)h, 79J ; P.iinlcr whu pk'.ised Ni>biidy 
»n»l I'A'i'i vlimlv, Sti5, Hio; Rui.il Sports, 671 ; 
Sht'phi-id .nul I'hilosnphcr, 804 ; Sick Man and 
I till- An^i'l, 7.>.( ; Stpiiro and his Cur, lai. 

GAVLOKD. WILLIS. 
\ LiiiL'K written in nn Album .... 1015 

GliUHAKDT, PAUL. 

Ciuriiiiiuy, itH); - i6;6, 

I The Dying Saviour 373 

GIBBONS, THOMAS. 

' liliKlriml. i^Jii-ijHs. 

Frotn : — when Tcsus dwell .... 797 
GITKORD, RUTIARD. . 

I UKlmi.l. i;j',-iH.>;. 

From I Gonteniplation .... 559 

GILBKRT, WILLIAM SfllWKNCK. 

iMiUlmiil. I'l iHtC 

Gapiain Recce 970 

To the 'rriretdial Glolu- .... loii 
V.n I. id ihi- " N.nuy lU-II." The {Bab liiUiatls) ghJJ 
GILDKK, RUHAUD WA I'SON. 

11.11. l.'Hiown. Ni J„ l>. iti44* 

Dawn 409 

rii1ill>>)it'i\ I (.'linrlcs Scrllmer't Suns. New York. 
GILMORK, lAMKS K. (Kiimumi Kirkt). 

lloHl.'li, Mi)ss , 1l iSji, 

j Three Days 751 

GLAZIKR, WILLIAM BKLCHKR. 

llallnwrll Mr., l>. i»j-,. 

\ Cape-Gottage nt Sunset 411 

I GLUCK, . 

Gorniiiiiv. 

I To Death ( TraHstatum) 295 

j GOKTHl-:, JOIIANN WOLKGANC; VON, 

ilcrniituv i:4v)- 0*11 
I Brothers, The ( TtaHslittum) .... 761 

i'"isher. The /('. T. Urooks's TftiHslittion) . 825 
Kinnod'hulc, Tho(//(ij'(m/ Tayior's TraHs.) S6a 
GOLDSMIIIl. OLIVKR. 

Deserted Vdlane. The dSft^ 

lleiniii, rhe{ Ikf Ih^utif "''i*«A#W) . 138 

ll..nuM/Vi/ rr.i(y//,-p) aag 

M.id.iinr Hl.ii/e, Klejiv on .... q^o 
M.id Hot;. F.lecv on the De.itli of a . . 048 

On Woin.ni I / i\:ir 0/ U'.iW/u/J) . 336 

Ftom : — Art ot Poetry on a New Plan, 540 ; t.'ap- 
livity. The, ,147. 34s, StK» , Good-natured Man, 
Si 3 : Retaliation, 7^4 ; Traveller. 3x3. i4S, 3o(», 
,^i>S, ('03, (>3J, Sog. 8ia ; Vicar ol 'Wakelield : 
On Woman, J71. 
GOULD. HANNAH FRANCES. 

The V'mst 96 

t'.RAHAM. JAMliS, MARQUESS OF MON- 
TROSE. 

Scv>tt,)nil, if>ij-ih^>. 

*' My di*ar and only love" .... 150 



INDKX OF AIJTIIOUS AND TITLES. 



67 



OKAHAM, ROHKKT, OK GAKI MOKK. 

'* li duu^lity dccdtt my lady plcanc " . . 1)0 
GRAHAM K, lAMKS. 

SM.ll.llj.l. l/'t',- lH(H, 

The Sabbiith 37« 

GRANT, SIR ROHKRT. 

SLf.lllllHl. 17Hr,-iH[H. 

Litany 358 

(;i<AY, IJAVII). 

" I)ic ddwii, () (liHinal day" .... 4"; 

HomcHick a^ t 

"{) winter, wilt tlum never go?" . . 44' 

GRAY. THOMAS. 

I-.iil/liiii'l, lytft- 1771. 

lilcKy written in a Country Cnurcnyard . (05 

SpritJK 4^' 

Fraf» : - Hard, The, io«, 206. Kf)H ; Difitnni 
PrnHpfctof Ki(m( (jIIckc, ioK, 7133, 8.^9; Kdii- 
C.itinn anrl (iuvertinicnt, JW. :W7 *■ I' "lid .Sih- 
tcrH. S4"; Hymn to AdvLTMity, 3-15 t <^t'*-' "" 
the I'IciiHiirr arisinK from ViciHuitude, 212, 34'., 
4^'^ 55'>; I'ronrenB of l'oL*«y, an^, 8^7, (^iv 

GREt:N, ANNIE IJ. [Mtirinn Dougias). 
IlrUt'.l, N. It. 

Two Pictures 22<i 

I'uliUNlirrH I lI'titKlKoii. MIIIIIti, At Co., Dotton, 

GREEN, MATTHMW. 

himliii'l. i'«/.- 17(7. 

\nyaKC nf Lite, The (///r.S'/Avw) . . .742 

GREENE, ALUERT GORTON. 

I'rovldfiicf-, K. I.. iH<.a-lH6H. 

llanm'H Lant Hanquct, Tlie .... 2if\ 
" Old GriincH in dead" .... 97''' 

I'uhllslHT I S S, Uldcr, I'r'.vldciicr. U. I, 

GRKKNIC, ROBERT. 

I [lijinii'l, !','»■>- \vy^. 

Content (h'arrweUto Follie) . . . ■ 7^' 
Slic|)licrd and the KiuK. 'I'lio . . i,i'' 

GREENWOOD. GRACE. 

Si;i! I.tl'l'IM ni I, SAHA J. 

GRK{;ORY THE (;RKAT, ST. 

It.lly, ■An-i-'.i. 

barkneHd IN llurininK(7' ^^- Nfnlf's 'f rnns.) . 360 
Vcni Creator SplritUH {Dryden's Trans.) 357 

HABINGTON, WILLIAM. 

kiini"!"'. I'-".- I'M*; 

/•Vcm ; — Canliira 3" 

HALLKCK, KITZ-GREENE. 

(iuilfnr'l, ' 'iiiri , i7'/i- iWiT, 

Alnwick Ca»tle ^'77 

Biir?iH 9' 5 

Fortune (Fantiy) 777 

JoHcph Rodman Drake .... 937 

Marct) Ho/zariH ...... 5^' 

Weehawkrn and the New York Bay [Fatitiy) 68s 

From: — Connecticut ...... <'<'\ 

I'lihlUlirr- I 1>. Appl< I..11 At Cn,, New York. 

HALI'INE, CHARLES G, {Miles O' Re illy). 

Qiiakerdnm —The Formal Call . . . IS^J 
PiililKlHTs i Harper rt( Urotli.T'.. N<;w Ynrk. 

HAMILTON, ELIZABETH. 

Si ml. in. I. v)'y,-\M<. 

My ain FinrBitlc 227 

HARRINGTON, SIR JOHN. 

]:iiulaii<l, IS''! - '''!■'■ 

Linen on Inabcll.1 Markham .... afiR 

Of a Ccrtaine Man 945 

Warren in Irfland, Of the (/i/zif^rtw/i) . . 503 

From : Eiiinr.min .... 801, 805, H12 

HARTE, FRANCIS BRET. 
Alt>nii;'. N Y . iH|<>-i9oa. 

Dickcnn in Camp ..... . 92'> 

Dow'n I'lat 9'/» 

Her Letter i99 

Jim W7 

Plain LanKua^c from Truthful Jamc(i(Heathen 

Chinrr) 9HS 

Plif.ccnf: Skull, To llic 90" 

Ramon 897 



Society uiKin the Staninlauv, The . 988 

I'liljlUlirrft I llfjiiiflituii, Mllllli), Hi Co., BoHtuii, 

HAKTE, WALTER. 

W..lr.,. ,;rn.,-,774. 

A Solilotfuy 484 

IIAKVKY, STKPHI'^N. 

lMli;l,U.r|. 

Front: - TranRlalioii of Jiivcnal'H SaiirL- IX. Hii 
HAY, JOHN. 

Srilcui, hid , li. iK^'j. 

Banly Tim 998 

Little Hreechen 91;'; 

Woman'w Love ^70 

I'lllillxlKT!. I Ilntlt^llloll. Mlllllll, \- Co., llf».t"n. 

HAYNK. PAUL HAMILTON. 

Cliiirlckluii, .S. C, iKjo- iHH(>. 

Love Rcoriiti Degrccn ( Mountain of the 

Lovers) i3'> 

Pro- existence ?('<> 

Puhllslicr-. I I'.. J. Male & Son. New V.jfk. 

IIEBER, REfHNALD. 

IjlKliilid, i7Hi-iHy.. 

" If thou wert liy my fiide, my love " . . 319 
Front: lOjiiphany, 397; Gulitian, 7^4; Linen 
writlcti toa March, 491 ; MiNhionary Hymn, 395. 

HKnGE, FREDERIC HENRY. 

Cmil.rldKc;. M.h.h., b. iH-ij. 

"A iniKh'y forticHw in our Grul " (From the 
German of Martin l.iithcr) . 371 

HEGGE, KOBKR'I". 

I'.D^hniil. i^-fn- t'lj'i 

Front: -On Love ...... 304 

HEINF;, HICINRICIL 

(icniiJiiiy, i7'j7- iH.!?. 

I''ihher't( Cottauc, The (C- O. Lelatid's Trans.) <^'i\ 
I. ore-lei, The [Translation) .... 8/5 

HICMANS, FELICIA D()koriII':A. 

I i.Hlim.l, 17'M-iHif;. 

(.'aHahianca ...... ^14 

HoinuN of {''upland, The .... 229 

LandiuK of ilif I'ilKrim Fathern, The , . 587 

MetituiK (tf 111'- Ship-i.Thc . . . 115 

MiKnon'H Sfnit idrrmun of Goethe) . . 789 

TreanureH of the I)ei-p, The, ^19 
Front: GravcK of a Hfnifiehold, 111 ; Hour of 
Death, The, V/K ; Wordnwtirth, 940. 

HERBERT, GEORGE. 

Church Porch, The 364 

Flf)wer, The 768 

GiftHof God. The 778 

Life 741 

Praiwr V>lt 

"Said I not no?" ^fi(> 

Virtue Immortal . . , . 301 

From: Annwer, The, 121; Church Militant, 
\')%: Coiuilry Par«r)n, 398 ; Devil's ProKrcM, 
:i7i ; Man, y-ii : Ptdley, 'I'hc, 395. 
HKRRICK, Kf)I{ER'r. 

f iiKl'ind, ivyt - "-Ti- 

Ben Jontion, (Jde to 907 

BIoHHomn, To ...... a^,^' 

DaffndilH 4'M 

Delinht in DiHordcr 7'3 

Holy Si.irit, The ^$') 

KJH^ 'Hie iHr, 

].rul, A True 3''»i 

" Sweet, lie not proml " .... 1^3 

Violetn 4'" 

VirninH, To the 7'!4 

'* When an in nilkn my Julia Eoeii" . 126 

/'Vow* ; — Cherry Ripe, 134: "Love mr liitic, 
love me huin^" 207 ; Ni^hl Piece to Julia, i.m ; 
Rock of Knhien and 0"''>''''ic "f Pearl", 134; 
Seek and find, 800; Upon her Feel, 721. 

HERVEY, THf)MAS KIBBLE. 
JitiKlnnd, iK<)4~ !«'/>■ 

I^ovc ......... 2t'H 

The Devil at Home (The DeviVt Progress) 951 
From: — The Dcvil'ti Progrcsit ... 371 

HEYWOOD, JOHN. 

I'tiKl'lli'l, rl. ir/,^. 

From : " Be merry, friends" . . ■ 347 



m 



IMHOX iiK Ali'l'IKillN AND TITI.IW. 



HKVWDOp, tHOMAH, 

^' I'mlt ilouili nwiiy" 

I'lMitiii, 'rii» 

PtTim : — A|iuliigv tut Ai'lun 

tllUltlN«. JIIHN. 

l--iiuliiii.|. liiii.j ..r Ui II I'llfiili^ili 

IIILI., AAUliN, 

f>'*r*m : — I'titllMBtip lit /ntrt, ^uq i Vecsen wili- 
li>h 1111 n VVIiiiliiw 111 Ruiillniiil, Bim, 

• 111,1,. lllilMAS 

Ni'iv |liiii|.iil,lt. N. I., Ii laio, 
I'lll' lliiliiilluk ... 

IIINKf^i MAMl'KL UllilluP ii|> NuRWii;l4|. 

l-iii>litll'l. irm ifl?-* 

Iliiliy Hli-cii" ,.,.,. 

hdhakt, mhs. cmawi.er 

l-liul;!!!'! 

The rlinniiCTl t 'ni«» . .... 
llll|i|'MAN, L'tlAHI.If.N |i-KNNn, 

f Viilk I IIVi 1B.«-1II8( 



4' "J 
Iff 



Hiiiiu'irilif Hlilfl, Tlie 
•' WMwl .■an 1 



« CimlM, f lillmkhilii « 



Nl'W Viilk I IIVi IB.' 

Mi.>"ierey , 

I'liliil.li.n t Pmli'l 

t, lAMIrS, 
ilhii,!, !::■• lOw. 
Jmk |mIiii«1iiiiI'i III!" 'I'lll 
KliiUPiiv U'fwy^f'i It'tiW 



MOUIt, lAMhS 
Bt"lhii'l, i: 



Mm 
I 



IV R"" 
SLvlnili. lli» 

WliPii ilii" Kvs iiime» llnme . 
Wi'iiisii I'li'li, 'rile , . , . 

ittii,i,ANH, jtmiAM lUi.ni'ur, 

Mi'l, hvUmvli, ^lll=^., l»w-l9»l 

(.'imll» Mi.'iiUl,«f')V«-S'ni.W) . 

l*llMUll>-Ut I ll.l^. H>|lUn..r,t ^nlW, NvIV Villi*, 

HOt.MK.H, (iLIVHIl WKNIIKI,!., 
Unllllilliliii'. Mil"., iftm-lftt*. 
11111 iiiiil liie , 
llin>«. Till" , . 1 ■ 
1 'liiiiiili.'ii<il Nrtu(llu»( "I'lie 
I'liiili'iiiiiii'iil , , , I 
I'linlcl \Veli«lev , , 1 I 
l<.>liilii 111 ilie HMItiulnua, Tli« > 
Knlviliil .,..>> 
I..il«l I, Pitt, The . , . I 
I lilf Itii i\ Rm-liil MeetlitR 
illil lniiiKlile" 
I Mil Mitii tii«iiiii<i, 'I'lie 
lliie-tlio'. slinv. 'I'lie 

IMtlllullHIIIll, I llP 



Ifl.l 



Ml 

<i,-n 
<•» 

'Kt 



.„., nil iilil Minn til) but tile, ** . • 
/•"tttm : MIqq KiliiiniineiiKt fii, Hot i l,nily'fi 
I tiPaiii, ;-jH. 

lliinl'li.K, l,tU'V. 

N,'iil,iin |ii>il, Mri44., inin^ 1041 
rllli'P l,iive« , , , 

l'lll,||.ll,'l,|| I. II. I l|i|,l> I .\ I'll,. I'llll,l,|rl,,lll,l 

llnl'KlNSDN. |(iH|i:i'll 

l'lill,i-l.-l|,lil,i, l',i' I-;., me 

/'•.•m lliiil I iiliiliiliin . , . . 

llnl'l'IN. \V1I,I,I.\M I 

I'liiiillii Miiilili'i- .... 

llllUAl'KllJIIIN lllr. llllH,\ IHIH M.Afl'tlSj. 
ll.illM'i n 111 , 

/■'#.'«* .' -■ noiili i , OiIp i| \Att/ttm's '/'»rt»*I,) . 

Ilnlllill ION, 1,(11(11 |Kiiii,\nii MiiNiKTiiN 

Mll.NPil) 
I'lluliiilil, tll,>^lrtH« 

1 iKlikllin 

(l.iiiil Nl|>lil mill C, I MiiiiiliiB . 

I.i'llilnil rliiiii lii>.> 

M1.11 ..I lllil . . .... 

/=>f»w ; - Tirtueilv 111 lliP I.ni- ikMinutie 

IlilVir,!, KIIWAKIl, 

Spp l.ilBIl TllliRlllW. 

iinwAun. nii.NUV. 

Hi'.. m'tiiii-\, l^\Ht lit*. 
imWAUli, NIK Udllli'.K'l'. 

r-iiuliiiiil. i'i"i' in-jii. 

Ftvm : The llllinl l.mlv . . . . 

iinwii;, I in. I A wAun. 

N.',. \..|l. 1 111. I' i»i.. 

Illtlllii llvillllUl llll> UplilllillL' . , . . 

Kiivnl lliii'nt, 'I'lie 

I'lililUli.'H 1 ll.iiiitlitiiii, Minllli, iV t'li., Ilinliiii. 

llDWni', MAUV. 






(•it 



11) J 
in 

74" 

4!»g 



I'ltHIBhl 

Uiivliiliili llip lleniUiiinii 
K^^m ■ — Ihiiiiin 1 
l>iiiiluli.-i. 1 M.iiiiilii.iH. Miillln. ,v 1 

Ht'ii,r\M.i'i>\vni.MKiNHH'iU'iiwisriini. 

1 , .1111.1111 . I'lll- 1***1. 



llv>MK, JOHN. 

BtiWIlil. Ir54-1** 



IVJO 



HtAMKU. 

Ul'-rr... tV. I I'lllllty, W, I" 

■nii't «m|in( Nl»linWiit.^f «:%«/•**»•* tWiM.> 414 
>iWm : — lllrtvl l/Nyi-'j /Vvtm-.j. un, fi>«i fi»4i Wf I 
t Vlvwev 1 r.^'« /V(»(»ji)i till 4lti>. 

MtWll, THOMAS, 



IsilUlflllil, l-'l»- Iftlv 

Alt Hi IliwkKeeiilH* 

Antiiw" 

PK.l' ■ riitf , 

Oi. , \\«m, Th«. 

I ,\ll'' ' ' IV . 

fiiiilii. , ■•,<iK \iKi\vn 

" t'HIVW^II. life I " 
l''lo«-ol< , 

I I ."IK The l.Hut 

lllMlll Son, 'INiHH' . 

'" I i>!iHei«lw,l wmewtlwi" 
Miniitim Muliimloiw 

Nil .... 

\m'iiiiMl5>Ki'l\l' 

Unili 



*«f 

4(V> 

OS 

li^M 



t'liulililil. i.-wj infts. 
(Ue 111 VliiweiB. 



'I'he , 



IIOWITT. Wll.l.lAM. 

luivililli,!, I -in -i»;o. 

Iip|inniiip 111 (he Swnlliiw. I'lie 

Siiiiiiiipi N111111, A ..... 

IIOWI.ANII. MAUV WOOI.SKV. 

iMlillilii.l, 1> IKVI.I \.,» Villi., 11W(. 

rli"i S|\viiin li'linveiK . . ■ ■ • 

Up«i 

riililLlwi. 1 |i. I". IliiHiiii .\ Viv. New Viwk, 

iiorr. uAi.iMi, 

Np« v.iiV, iPi«-ii>riv 

01,1 . . . 

SiiHW. - A WhUiM .Stielvh ... 

IHUtO. VU'ntK, 

llltlll..'. |l>.1-»-lPllT 

AViwt ,'— rhe lt|liiiii!(trA''irf<Vt>r«(«'* ?VrtiM.) 

ni'MK, Al,KXANl)li:U, 

R.-.illnil.l, i-u 1--^ 

'I'lie St«iv Hlo Simmiti I><iy . , . . 

IIUN'IN IflU A, 

7^hi#».'— .iHlimi 
HUNT, I.KUill 
p.iiatiii'i, i*ii -11*^ 

AliiMi Itpii Aitlipiw .... 

(.'Iillit ihiiiiifl SivWiie**, To n 

I'lipiil >vvnlTo\\p»t ..... 

ji'itivip*' Song U.<»lio <»f t'lk^^mts ffrf>t>A*4M() 

Oliivp mill llie l.diiin, The , , , . 

Owi«h>i|i|iei mill v'lickel, 'IVuh* . 

i«Hni ..... 

"> Iphhv kiwetl me" . , . 

j,o\« I eiierammle In Flo\\«y« , > 

Mnliiiiiiiul . . , , k 

SllPe»lll» ...... 

Tnimiwi" of l>>wllin«ii-lH. The 
AVv»» ISili\l>« nml INwtiv-K. 4S0 1 The St«« 

Kiniiiiii 4vit 
MDHtMS. tAMKS. 

^rtfttflll,!, ^-l^l -lA'i 

/%vi»i ; — I'he VillAiw Oiwte , 



<i>4 
iiri 



4fif' 



4ri' 
41.. 



««5 



44.1 



llftS 



4«P 



4ii.. 

6»> 



405 



INIlKX (IK Ali'l'lliiKS ANIi 'I'iri.KS, 



fiO 



INiil,l.()W, ll'.AN. 

I ni/l.i||.|, li, I'lr. 

Illi/li IIiIk "II III" I'lnal >i( l.llKiillinlflli! 

I.llti' « l.nv> Ii III III" MM 

M-ililiiM Willi •! Mlllillil! I'llll, A 

M.n.irniiii.1. < 

Si'Vflii 'llliii-n 'Iw'i . . , . 

hcVdii 'I iliicft 'I liinn , , , . , 

Nnvflii 'riiiino r mil 

Npvrn 'I'liMOfl Mi« 

INIKK.IiMMV, ■niiiMAH, 

hffft tUllMAM, M. 11 

JACKSilN, lim.KN HUNT, 

Aiiili^'nl, MtiM,, inii-iRiit). 

My l.nijni'y 

t'ul'luti'.fN I Mohorlq llfiiQ., ntiDl'iM. 

JACKMON, III^NKV U, 

nnvriiiii.ih, l.n.. I' lOi" 

My Wllpiiiiill'hllil 

JAini'ONK, IKA, 

llnlv, •■ I v>''i 

Hialwi Mnler I )iil(iriiiiii (f >/*»'» TniHiliillm) 
IKNKM, laiWAKI) A, 

N..*|."H, M, II , I., iiiiv 

(tiilUK n'l'l ( I'iMhiK 

JI'.NNKK. Iil< KliWAKI), 

I'lllllun'l, i;(v in.i 

Hl|ill> nf Uolll 



»l 1 



tdllNHDN. C, 

liiiu 

I'tiim : - W\{<,\\MiV 

JrillN'iliN, HliWAKII, M,l). 

I li,/l.ri..|, I'lil., in,/, 

^riio Wnltir llilnltor 

JOHNSON, hami;ki., 

I'ltuliiml, It"! i/"J 

(Ihiili.. XII (/'.iw//!- "/■//«/«,(« IVIthii) 

hll'llli'QIio.ltn , I . , I ( 

'III iiiiifiiiw ( Itetm] ■...., 

I'riim: Kiilliiiili, 'H" I Kplioiil «' I'lilllln.. 

Niii I MiiKDiiililitil liilliililtiiiillliS "'I'luvnlliii,'' 
M-i/ ; l.iiiiiloii, H^i ii'i'il Kaiiililni, Tim. v;4 . 
Vitiiily III tliliiMii WlallflQ, I'ti, ''.'14, VnioMt) 
nil Hiil."ii l.rn.1, en. 

JONI'.M, NIK WII.I.IAM, 
IiukI'IiiM, iiY' ifii 

Ilnliy, Till- lA/v/// //« Siuitlirll ,if CdlliUui) 
" Wlial iiiii»hlillo»it Hlnlnf" 
/^riiiH ! --^ A I'umlttii HiHiK "( I lull/ 

JONMON, IIKN, 

I'll/I.Mi.l, i-.M I'M? 

'Iliiiilt III Hi" "Illy Willi lliliio nyos " (/'>"!« 

//«■ OOf* .1/ I'lilhkliiillD) 
Kiillniili III! Klllnlitilli I, II. . . , 
K|))lll|>ll Mil II10 < 'iHllllPoa 'if I'nilllirollfi , 

Kaiiid , 

KmilnaVC/Vi/w ////W/4f/(/| , , , , 

KfHOllnln III lllnais ^/0*/f rrw*!) , , , 

" lliiw imitr III |/ijfiil h) wlml fnlr " , , , 
(li.iiil Mil', l,iili|/ Mil . . , , 

" ( I, ilii iiol Wrtiiliiii Willi lli(»*(i nyan " 
On llin I'MHliiil III 'ill.lltnalinnia , 

'I'll llin M'-iiiiiiy iti lllidLtnnptirttn 

Vmliiii III llmiiily, A 

f^riim ' ('yiilliirt * Kuviiln, i/ii; Mnti(|iiP4, '»/i ; 
Uiiilniwiiitit, Ml 1 Vnlpiiiie, Muij, 
jllimON. KMII.V l'lllfllllU(;K, 

I .ll'ill, N V , |H|; ■ lU-i, 

Walclllliii 

JtlVICNAI,, l)l«'IMliH JUI.MJH, 

llitlv. l>, l»l I Kill,, (I, if'l r Kill,, A, II 

I'lom: Mmln IX. (.V, ///(««;i'i '/Vrtwi ) 
KKA'I'H, JOHN, 

I'llUliiilif. I//'- iii'i. 

Kvn iilHl, Aiimn, 'I'lia 

Knlry H'uiij ,..,,,, 
I'li'Kiy . , I , • J I . I 
()iiis«li>i|i|ii>r mill rrli:l4el, 'I'lm . 
Oiln III! n ( iin irtit Hill 
Oiln li. n NluhliliKilIn , 

'I'llilia 1.1 llnHllly iQ n Jity fniiivct ( / mfi'mhill), 
J'fiun; llyjinlliiii, 4-/41 I.,iii,l.i, ^,,,,, K.,!'. [ On 
filal lii'ikiliK lii|i| (!lm[iiiiitli'n I Iiimipi, K,,^, 



H,,y 
.,1/ 

dl,, 

'/!( 
711 

IH., 



/'M 



KKiiMi;, JOHN. 

I lltflilllil, l/yi IMV., 

Kmiliitfln 

I'riiiH : lliiilnl III lliQ llnml, 1 ^,,i 'I'liit I lnlailnii 
Varti, yt't 

KKMIII.K MII'I'M'.K, I'kANl.'ICh ANNI'., 

I'.iiifliiii'l, inii-iil./.t. 

AllbPlllio ,..,,,, 
I'jIiIi , , . , . . 

K|i,NN|i,liV, ( KAMMONI) 

llxill i, I,. 1II41. 

Otnoliwiiilil I oilH'Idlv 

KKI'I'ia,, I.ADV < AKOMNI 

iimiiIiiimI. 

Uiililii Ailnlr 

KI',V, rilANCIM MCO'I"!', 

I'lui|..|l, 1, I M , M.I., I//., -1041 
'I'll" lilHi q|iiiii|jl»ll Hiiiiltfli' 



'11 



KINO, IIHNMV 

I iiJnii'l, i-«i I'.''/. 
hk ViU 

KINO, WIM.IAM 

i uhLiii'I, irf,\ 



'■A 
H'H 
,1"> 
f./« 
Hi 

,v. 

*<" 

Ci^l 
Ml* 
(HI 



jMli.l, IW, I7K 

/Oi/nn — l/iHili H Olimrej Aiiuliii(j . 

KINOlll.lCV.CIIAId.KH, 

I "nl , iiii'( iiir, 

■ lull lull III MniKltliil 

I'lllMWoll, A 

Mi'iiy I..11I4, 'I'lid , , . , 
I'miikIi Khviiin nil n KiiiikIi Mmisr, A 

■iiiiiil.ii' li" , 

'iiilili III 111" l<)v"i . . , , I 
rlii"" I'lnlmrq, Tlii, . . t 1 
KINNKV, COATHM, 

I V,|||, N Y , li, ,9*1), 

kniii mi llif, Uoiif , 

KNOWI.HH, JAMKH HIIKIUDAN, 

li'-liiiiit, i/tiA imj 

HwUm\«l»\{ll'<lll,im Jtll) .... 
KNOX, WIM.IAM. 

'1- ■lllilll'l, IIH; III,-;. 

" o, Why oltifiiiil llitinplill III mill I, it I," [tKriiil / " 
K/'iKNIi-.H, CIIAKI.KH '111 KODOKH; 

< l"r«l Wjljlil U: ■/'. //roe*.'* TrumMlim) . 
M1.11 mill lliiyi. " '' " 

Mwiiiil HiiiiB, 'I'll" " " 

KIMlMMACIIIi-.K, VUIV.DVMH'U Wir.ItlU.M 

1 17, i;/l iwn 

Alj-lno ll"liililol^'. '/'. Ihmf/t'* 't rinitfitltmt) 
Miiim Hiio", •nn.f/'>,i//./.,/^i«) . 

I.AMII, CIIAIU.KH, 

'■III'' I, i/r. 1*111 

I'lill'tliii'iil 

l'iii"W"ll I'l Tiilmiiiiii, A . , 

ll"<.i"i 

Il'iin,pl,p"|i"i, 'I'll" < 
Olil li'iinillliii I'nrpi,, 'I'lin . 

I.AMII, MAKV 

1 Ill/lrUPl. I/'.- 111,1/ 

riM/i/Qlii^ ,1 Nniii" ...... 

I.ANDON, I.Kri'l'IA I'.I.IZAIIIcril, 

I'iikIimi'I. iU'" 111,1. 

llpiilh mill III" V'liilli 

KpiiiiiIii (.'iiiivlit, 'I'tln .... 

I.ANDOK, WAI.'I'KH MAVAOK, 

I'lii'lnii'l. til; - iif., 

llilll|J"llU llll'l AljMIIIPIIIlliill . f , 

Mill iiiiliiy, 'I'll ..It,. 

MiiIiI'k I.HlllPllI, 'Ih" . , , , 

' III" Oiiiy I l.ili, 'llin , , . , f 

I.ANIKK, HlliNKV 

( liiiili>»ii/ii, 11, 1 ., iii4#-iiiiii. 

l^roml rpiilniiiilm Mmllltill'ili nf (liiliilillila 

I'lililltll.ia I I, 11, l.l|.|/lllii.ll NiM, I'llllmlull'lllil, 

I/AMCOM. I.IK'V. 

I.l/W.'il, IWiUtt, lll/1-llt.M, 

lly llm KliPulili 

I'llhllal I'I'.iiulil'Hi, Minllll, It I'm,, lltnluli, 

\,VM., NA'niANim,, 

I'imt , I'.-,-, >•;>. 

/''r.'m ; — A liimiiiilgr llin ( Irani . , fi\,nt 



1"» 

Jjit 

%i'i 



•I'M 



>,4H 

,1!, 

411/ 
'li 



*l)a 

'/.« 



>tj 



60 



INDEX OF AUTHORS AND TITLES. 



\\y 



LEIGH, HENRY S. 

ilnyland. 

Only Seven . ioo6 

LELAND, CHARLES G. 

l'Ililadcl|jhia, I'ii,, 1824-1901. 

Fisher's Cottage, The {From German of 

Heinrich Heine) ....-• 6gi 
Hans Breitmann's Party .... 999 
Ritter Hiico 1000 

Publishers : T. 13. Peterson & Bros., Philadelphia. 

LEONIDAS. 

Alexandria. 59-129. 

\iome{Roberi Biand^s Translation) . . 225 
On t!ie Pictureof an Infant(.S'. Rogers's Trans.) Si 
L'ESTRANGE, ROGER. 

Hngland, 1616-17^4, 

In Prison 731 

From : — The Boys and the Frogs . • 108 

LEVER, CHARLES JAMES. 

Ireland, i8..x>- 1872- 

Widow Malone 1003 

LEWIS, MATTHEW GREGORY. 

Enw;land, 1775- 181B. 

Alonzo the Brave and the Fair Imogine . . 861 

The Maniac 339 

LEYDEN, JOHN. 

Scolland, 1775- iSii- 

Daisy, Tlie 463 

Noontide 410 

Sabbath Morning, The 410 

LILLY, lOHN. 

England. 1553- 1600. 

From : — Endymion 120 

LIPPINCOTT, SARA JANE (Grace Greenwood). 

Ponipey. N. V . b. la-.'j. 

Horseback Ride, The 665 

Poet of To-day, The 767 

Publishers : Jas. R. Osgood & Co., Boston. 

LOCKER-LAMPSON, FREDERICK, 

England. i82i-i8o5. 

On an Old Muff 972 

Widow's Mite, The 282 

LOCKHART, JOHN GIBSON. 

Scotland. 17^1-1854, 

Lord of Butrago, The {From the Spanish) . 507 
Zara's Ear- Rings {./^r<;;« the Spanish) . . 171 

LODGE, THOMAS. 
England. 1556- 1625. 

Rosalind's Complaint 194 

Rosaline 127 

LOGAN, JOHN. 

Scotland, 1748- 1788. 

Cuckoo, To the 471 

"Thy braes were bonny " .... 288 

LOGAU, FRIEDERICH VON. 

Germany 

Retribution {Longfelloui's Translation) . . 747 
LONGFELLOW, HENRY WADSWORTH. 

Portland. Maine. 1807 -1882. 

Agnssiz, Fiftieth Birthday of . . . . 935 

Carillon 716 

Children's Hour, The 98 

Daybreak 408 

Divina Commedia ...... 707 

Excelsior 777 

Footsteps of Angels . . . . . 273 

God's Acre ....... 305 

Household Sovereign, The {Hanging 0/ tJie 

Crane) .....••. 79 

Hymn to the Night 416 

Maidenhood ....... 104 

Mnonlighton the Prairie {Evangeline) , 432 

Nuremberg 678 

Paul Revere's Ride 590 

. —Primeval Forest [Evangeline) . . . 453 

Psalm of Life, A 769 

Rain in Summer ...... 428 

Rainy Day, The 344 

Reaper and the Flowers, The . . . 276 

Resignation ....... 272 

Retribution (German 0/ F. von Logan), . 747 

Sea-Weed . . .... 622 

Snow-Flakes 440 

Village Blacksmith, The .... 550 



From: — Building of the Ship, 631 ; Endymion, 
345, 800; Evangehne, 492 : Fire of Drift-wood, 
801 ; Flowers, 494 ; Goblet of Life, 345 ; Gold- 
en Legend, 794 : Hawthorne, 940 ; Hyperion, 
348 ; Ladder of St. Augustine, 399 ; Light of 
Stars, 348, S02 ; Midnight Mass, 494 ; Sunrise 
on the Hills, 490 ; Day is done, 490, 8x3, 816. 

Publishers. Hoitgliton, Milflni, &l Co.. Boston. 

LOVELACE. RICHARD. 

England. 1618- lOs^- 

Althea from Prison, To 146 

Lucasta, To 242 

Lucasta, on Going to the Wars, To . . 235 

LOVELL, MARIA. 

T^ri'w.'—Ingomar the Barbarian . . . . 205 

LOVER. SAMUEL. 
Ireland, 1797- 1866. 

Angel's Whisper, The 81 

Birth of St. Patrick, The .... 1004 

Father Land and Mother Tongue . . . 77S 

Low-backed Car, The 197 

Rory O' More 196 

Widow Machree 200 

LOVERIDGE, RICHARD. 

England, Higliteenth Cenlnry 

Stanzas added to "The Roast Beef of Old 
England" ....... 575 

LOWELL, JAMES RUSSELL. 

Cambridge, M.ibs., 1819-1891. 

Abraham Lincoln ...... gjo 

Auf Wiedersehen ! (/^7-(7m 6'«ww/^r) . .170 

Courtin', I'he ...... 993 

First Snow-Fall, The 275 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, To 937 

June {The Vision 0/ S ir Laitn/al) . . . 424 

Sonnets 216 

Summer Storm ...... 429 

Washington ....... 927 

What Mr. Robinson thinks {Bigloiv Papers). 1)94 

William Lloyd Garrison .... 932 

Winter Pictures {Tlie I'ision 0/ S ir Launfal) 43S 

Winter Evening Hymn to my Fire . 228 

Yussouf . 76S 

From'. — Biglow Papers, 493, 539, 541, 55S ; 
I rent, 723 : Love, 215 : Ode to Freedom, 604 ; 
Rhcecus, 1^69 : Sirens, The, 631 ; Sonnet, 796, 
807 ; To the Dandelion, 495. 

Publishers : Houghtun. Mifflin. & Co,. Boston. 

LOWELL, MARIA WHITE. 

Watertown. Mass., 1821- 1853. 

The Morning Glory 280 

Publishers : Houghton, Mifflin. & Co.. Boston. 

LOWELL, ROBERT T. S. 

Cambridge, Mass., 1816-1891. 

The Relief of Lucknow 515 

Publishers : E. P. Dutton & Co.. New York. 

LUDLOW, FITZ HUGH- 
Poughkeepsie, N. Y., 1837-1870. 

Too Late 755 

LUTHER, MARTIN. 

Germany. 148? -1546- 

"A mighty fortress is our God" {F. H. 

Hedge s Translation) 371 

Martyrs' Hymn, The (IK J. Fox's Trans.) 365 
LYLY, JOHN. 

England, 1554- 1600. 

Cupid and Campaspe 1S6 

From : — Alexander and Campaspe . . . 495 

LYTLE, WILLIAM HAINES. 

Cincinnati. O.. iS.r6-i86^. 

Antnnv and Cleopatra 196 

LYTTLETON, GEORGE, LORD. 

England. 1708-1773. 

'"Tell me, my heart, if this be love" . . 137 

From : ~ Advice to a Lady, 2141 7951 Epigram, 
204 ; Irregular Ode, 215 ; Prologue to Thom- 
son's " Coriolanus," S06 ; Soliloquy on a 
Beauty in the Country, 13;? ; Stanza for 
Thomson's "Castle of Indolence," 940. 

LYTTON, EDWARD BULWER, LORD. 

England, 1805- 1S73. 

From : — Lady of Lyons, 203 ; New Timon, 
723,813; Richelieu, 541, S02, S05. 



INDEX OF AUTHORS AND TITLES. 



61 



LVTTON. ROBERT BULWER, LORD {Qwen 
Meredith). 
England. igji-iSji. 

Aux Iialiens 264 

Chess-Board, The itio 

Portrait, The 265 

Possession 202 

Froiti: — Lucile S14 

MACAULAV, THOMAS BABINGTON, LORD 

Horaiius at the Bridge 5^5 

Naseby 57& 

Roman tailier's Sacrifice, The {Virgmia) . 873 

MAC-CARTHY, DENIS FLORENCE. 

Ireland, i8i7-iS8ii- 

Ireland 579 

l^ahor 'Song {Beil-ftntnder) . . . . 55^ 

Love and Time 150 

Summer Longings 4^9 

MACDONALD, GEORGE. 

England, b. iSv.>4. 

Baby, The . 78 

Earl O'Quarterdeck . . . 646 

MACE, FRANCIS LAUGHTON. 
Banyor, Mc. 1816. 

"Only wainng "... • . . 368 

MACKAY, CHARLES. 

Scotland, 1814-1889. 

Cleon and I 732 

Small Beginnings ...... 779 

" Tell mcj ye winged winds " . . . . 369 

Tubal Cam ....... 537 

MAGINN, WILLIAM. 

Ireland, 1793- 184=. 

Waiting for the Grapes 190 

MAHONY, FRANCIS {Father Prout). 

Ireland. 1805- 1S66. 

Bells 01 Shandon, The 715 

Bonaparte, Popular Recollections of {From. 
Biranger) ....... 913 

Flight into Egypt, The . . ." . .382 

MALLET, DAVID. 

Scotland, 1700-1765. 

^ri3»:: — Mustapha 539 

MANGAN, JAMES CLARENCE. 

Ireland, 1803-1849. 

The Sunken City {German 0/ Mueller) . . 825 

MANNERS, JOHN, LORD. 

England, Pub. 1841. 

Frotn: — England's Trust, and Other Poems . 812 

MARLOWE, CHRISTOPHER. 

EnKlaiiil, 1564- 1593. 

The Passionate Shepherd to his Love . . 157 
Frotn: — Edward II., Sgg : Faustus, 134, 396; 
Hero and Leander, 203 ; Jew of Malta, 726. 

MARSDEN, WILLIAM. 

England. 1754- \'i'>P- 

What IS Time? 74S 

MARSTON, JOHN. 

England, Time of (Jueen Elizabeth and James I. 

From.'. — A Scholar and his Dog . . . 808 

MARVELL, ANDREW. 

England, 1620- 167S, 

Death of the While Fawn .... 259 

Drop of Dew, A 430 

Song of the Emigrants in Bermuda . . 625 

From: — An Horalian Ode: Upon Cromwell's 
Return from Ireland, 539; The Garden, 719, 
813 ; The Loyal Scot, 796. 

MARY. 

Queen of Hungary, d. 1558. 

Prayer 365 

MASSEY, GERALD. 

England, b. 182S. 

" O, lay thy hand in mine, dear" . , . 221 
Our Wee While Rose 83 

MASSINGER, PHILIP. 

England, 1584- 1640. 

From: — The Maid of Honor, 120, 900; A 

New Way to pay Old Debts . . . 541 



MAY, THOMAS. 

England, about 1594-1650. 

From: — Henry II., 248; Continuation of 
Lucan, 311. 

McMASTER, GUY HUMPHREY. 

Clyde, N. V. 1929-1887. 

Carmen Bellicosum .... 590 

MATURIN, CHARLES ROBERT. 

lingland, 1782 - 1S24. 
Front : — Bertram, 632, Soo. 

MEEK, ALEXANDER BEAUFORT. 

Culuinbia. S. C, 1814-1803. 

Balaklava 516 

MEREDITH, OWEN. 

See LYTTON, Robert Bulwer. 

MERIVALE, JOHN HERMAN. 

Englantl, 1779- 1844. 

The Vow {From the Greek) .... 268 

MESSINGER, ROBERT HINCKLEY. 
Boston, Mass., 1811-1874. 

Give me the Old iiS 

METASTASIO. PIERRE A. D. B. 

Italy. 1698- 1782. 

Without and Within {Translation) . . 757 

MICKLE, WILLIAM JULIUS. 

Scotland. i7-!4-i7^ 

The Sailor's Wife 246 

From : — Cumnor Hall ... . 491 

MILLER, CINCINNATUS HINER (7<'^?«/«) 

Indiana, b. 1841. 

People's Song of Peace, The . . . 598 

MILLER, WILLIAM. 
Sen I land. 

Willie Winkie 83 

MILMAN. HENRY HART. 

England, 1701 - i86g. 

t\ehr&\\ V^^AAm^i Fall o/yernsalem) . . 212 
Jewish Hymn in Babylon . . . 372 

MILNES, RICHARD MONCKTON. 

See HOUGHTON, LORD. 

MILTON, JOHN. 

England. looS- 1674. 

AAnm :\nd ILve {Paradise Lost) . . . 711 
Adam describing Eve {Paradise Lost) . 209 

Adam's Morning Hymn in Paradise . . 363 
Adam to Eve . . . . . . 216 

Battle of the Angels {Paradise Lost) . . 500 

Blindness, On his 366 

Blindness, On his own ( To Cyriack Skinner) 735 
Cromwell, To the Lord-General . . . gog 
Epitaph on Shakespeare .... 906 
Evening in Paradise {Paradise Lost) . . 413 
Faithful Angel, The (Paradise Lost) . . 387 
Haunt of the Sorcerer {Co?nus) . . . 830 

II Penseroso . _ 786 

Invocation to Light {Paradise Lost) . . 407 

L'Allegro 785 

Lady lost in the Wood {Comus) . . . 829 
May Morning ...... 422 

Nymph of the Severn {Comns) . . . 830 
Samson on his Blindness {Samson Agonistes) 321 
Selections from " Paradise Lost " . . 321 

From: — Comus, 491, 55S, 726, 796, 869: Ly- 
cidas, 203, 490, 404, 405, 812; On his Being 
Arrived to the Age of Twenty-three, 3Q5 ; On 
the Detraction which Followed my Writing 
Certain Treatises, II,, 601 ; Paradise Lost, 
121, 203, 204, 205, 206, 207, 215, 232, 310, 346, 
348) 394i 395. 396, 398, 3V9t 490. 49i» 492. 494, 
496, 539. 540. 558, 6oi, 719, 722, 724, 725, 794, 
798, 799, 801, 803, 807, 808, 812, 814, 815, 816, 
868, 899; Paradise Regained, 107, 490, 720, 
800, 804, 811; Samson Agonistes, 631, 794; 
To the Lady Margaret Ley, 939; To the 
Nightingale, 496; Translation of Horace, 632. 
MITCHELL, WALTER F. 

New B,,-<ifi-.rd. M,iss.. h. i8a6. 

Tacking Ship off Shore . • . . 619 



62 



INDEX OF AUTHOUS AND TITLES. 



MITFORD, MARY RUSSELL. 

Hiii^laiHl. 1786- 1H55. 

Rienzi to llic Romans [Rienzt) . . 572 

MOIR, DAVID MACUE'l'H. 

Scotlaiui, 17(38-1851. 

Casa Wappy 279 

Rustic Lad s Lament in tho Towti, 'I'lie . 243 

MONTA(;U, LADY MARY WORTLKY. 

From : — Answer, The, 205 ; To the Imitator uf 
the First Satire of Horace, Sob. 

MONl'GOMERY, JAMES. 
Scotl.iiul, 1771 - 1H54 

IVirds {Pf/icafi Island) 470 

Common Lot, The 308 

Coral Reef. Tlie {FeiiaiH Isiami) . . .624 
Daisy, The ....... 463 

Forever with the Lord 389 

" Make way for Liberty t " . . . . 584 

My Country 563 

Night 4»6 

Ocean, Tlie ....... 608 

Parted Friends . ' . . 114 

Pelican, The {Pelican Island) . . . 480 

Sea Life {Pelican Isl<ind) .... 623 

From : — Earth Full of God's Goodness, 399 ; 
Grave, Thcj 794 : Issues of Life and Death, 
311,399; Little Cli)ud, Soi ; Mother's Love, 
232 : Wliat is Prayer? 398. 

MONTREUIL, MATHIEU DE. 

I'rancc-. idii - itHji, 

To ^L^dame de Sevignt^ 914 

MOORE, CLEMENT CLARKE. 

New York City, 1770-18=,:. 

St. Nicholas, A Visit from .... 96 
MOORE, EDWARD. 

liiijillniul. i7u>- 1757, 

P'rom: — Fables: Happy Marriage, The, 215 ; 
Spider and the Bee, Ihe, 134, 795. 
MOORE, THOMAS. 

Irclaiiil. i77t)- 1^52. 

*' Alas ! how light a cause may move" . . 264 
"As by the shore, at break of day " . . 577 
*' As slow our ship " ..... 237 

"Believe me, if all those endearing young 

charms '* 174 

Black and Blue Eyes 131 

Campbell, To 920 

Canadian Boat-Song, A 665 

"Come, rest in this bosom "... 1S5 
" Farewell, but whenever " . . . . 240 
** Farewell to thee, .^niby's daughter " {Fire- 

li 'or shippers) 294 

" Fly to the desert, tly with me "{From Light 

0/ Ihe Harem) ...... 151 

Go where Glory waits thee .... 237 

"I knew by the smoke that so gracefully 

curled " 22S 

Linda to }\AitA{Fire-li''orskippers) . . 251 

Love's Young Dream 262 

"Oft. in the stilly night" .... 31S 
" O, breathe not his name" .... 921 

Orator Puff 962 

Origin of the Harp. The 865 

Sprmg {From the Greek of AnacreoH) . 422 

Svria ( Paradise and the Peri) . . . 451 
'I'emplc to Friendship, A . . . . lao 
" The harp that once through T.ira's halls " . 577 
"Those evening bells" .... 716 

" *T is the last rose of summer " . . . 465 

Vale of Avoca, The n6 

Vale of Cashmere, The {Light of the Harem) 452 
Verses written in an Album .... 133 
From : All that 's bright must fade, 793 ; Blue 
Stocking, 816; "How shall I woo?" 121; HI 
Omens, 205; "I s;iw thy form," 24S : Lalla 
Rookh : Fire- Worshippers, 34S, — Light of the 
Harem, 203, — Paradise and the Peri, 396, — 
Veiled Prophet of Khorassan, 120, 397. 793 : 
Lines on the Death of Sheridan, 940 ; Nly Heart 
and Lute, 7q5 ; " O, the sight entrancing," 539, 
602: "Rich and Rare," 721: Sacred Songs, 
348, 399; The Time I 've lost, 203, 204 ; To 
., 204; "While gazing on the Aloon's 
Light," 491 ; Young N^ay Moon, 205. 



MORE, HANNAH. 

Eilt^laild. 1744- 18?^. 

Frotn ; — Florio 812 

MORLAIX, BERNARD DE. 

I'Vaiicc, lalh Century. Bciietlictine Monk., 

The Celestial Country {Joliti Mason Nettle's 
Translation) . . . . . • 35i 

MORRIS, CHARLES. 

Uiii^laml. 1739-16(2. 

From : — Town and Country. . . . S14 

MORRIS, GEORGE PERKINS. 

Phil.i.iclphi.i. I'a.. iSu;-i864. 

My Mather's Bible 100 

Tlie Retort , , 996 

" Woodman, spare that tree " . . . . io« 
MORRIS. J. W. 

America. 

Collusion between a Alegaiter and a Water- 

Snaik ........ 1000 

MORRIS. WILLIAM. 

liii^ilan.l, li. i8u. 

Atalanta Conquered ( The Earthly Paradise) 165 

Atal.inta Victorious ** '' " 164 

March 418 

Riding Together. 883 

MOSS, THOMAS. 

En^laiul. almul 1740 -1808. 

The Beggar 340 

MOTHERWELL, WILLIAM. 

Scotland. 1797- 18^5. 

Jeanie Morrison ...... 242 

" My heid is like to rend, Willie " . . 269 
''They come ! tlie merry summer months" . 423 
MOULTON, ELLEN LOUISE CHANDLER. 

Fomfrct, Ctmii.. b. i,si5. 

Late Spring, The 322 

MOULTRIE, JOHN. 

England. Hub. 1839. 

Forget thee 16 r 

The Three Sons ....... 00 

MUELLER, WILLIAM. 

Oeriiiaiiy. 1704- 1SJ7. 

The Sunken V\\y {yames Clarence Mangan's 

Translation^ . . . .825 

MULOCK, DINAH MARIA. 

SeeCK.MK, Dinah Mulock. 
MUNBY, ARTHUR J. 

England. 

Apris 776 

NABB. 

From : — Microcosmos 34S 

NAIRNE, CAROLINA. BARONESS. 

Scutland, 1776- 1^4=;. 

Laird o' Cockpen, The ..... 200 

Land o' the Lea!, The agfr 

NASH, THOMAS 

England, 155S-1&00. 

" Spring, the sweet Spring " . . . . 432 

NEALE, JOHN MASON. 

England. iSiS-ise*. 

Art thou Weary ? {From the Latin of St. 

Stephen the Sabaite) 364 

Celestial Countn.*, The {From the Latin of 

Bernard de Morlaix) .... 351 
*■ Darkness is thinning" [From the Latin of 
St. Gregory the Great) . . 360 

NEELE. HENRY. 

England, 179S-1S28. 

" Moan, moan, ye dying gales" . . . 315 

NEWELL, ROBERT HENRY (0^-//ic;« C. AV^). 

New York City, 1836-1901. 

Poems received in Response to an Advertised 

Call for a National Anthem .... 1007 
Publishers : Loc & Slicp.ird. Boston. 

NEW ENGLAND PRIMER. 

Quotations 107, 30S, 397 

NEWMAN. JOHN HENRY. 

England, i8oi-i&». 

r'lowers without Fruit 7S9 

The Pillar of the Cloud 364 

NICHOLS. MRS. REBECCA S. 

Greenwich. N. 1. l'ul>. 1S44. 

The Philosopher Toad 694 



INDEX OF AUTHORS AND TITLES. 



63 



NICOLL, ROBERT. 
Scutl.miJ, 1814-1837. 

We are Brethren a* .••*.. 117 
NOEL, THOMAS. 

Hmjlancl. \'nb. 1841. 

The Pauper's Drive 341 

NORRIS. JOHN. 

Hii>^l.iini. i'j'i7- 1711. 

My Little Saint i;?! 

Frotn : — The Parting 347 

NORTH, CHRISTOPHER. 
See Wilson, John. 

NORTON, CAROLINE ELIZABETH S., HON. 

England, 1808- l^^t. 

Arab to his Favorite Steed, The . . . 664 

Bingen on the Rhine 521 

King of Denmark's Ride, The . . . 293 

Love Not 320 

Mother's Heart, The 83 

" We have been friends together" . , 116 

Frotn: — The Dream 232 

O'BRIEN, FITZJAMES. 

IrelanrJ, b. 1829 ; d. wounded, in Virginia, 1862, 

Kane 913 

O'KEEFE, JOHN. 

Ireland. 1747 - 1833. 

*' I am a friar of orders gray " {Robitt Hood) . 964 
OLDMIXON, JOHN. 

England. i(j7-!-i742 

From: — Governor of Cyprus . . . . 271 
OLIPHANT, THOMAS. 

EngLind. 

'* Where are the men ? " {From tJie Welsh of 

Talhaiarn) ....... 530 

O'REILLY, JOHN BOYLE. 

Ireland, 1844-1890. •' 

My Native Land 579 

Publi^ncrs ! Roberts Brothers, Boston. 

O'REILLY, MILES. 

SCL- HALPINE. CHARLES G. 

ORRERY, CHARLES BOYLE, EARL OF. 

England, 1676- 17)1. 

From. : — Henry V. 120 

OSGOOD, FRANCES SARGENT. 

Boston, Mass., 1812-1850. 

To Labor is to Pray 556 

OSGOOD, KATE PUTNAM. 

Fryebur^, Me., b, 1843. 

Driving Home the Cows ..... 531 
Publishers 1 Houghton. Mifflin, & Co.. Boston. 

O'SULLIVAN, JOHN L. 

America. 

From: — The Djinns (Fro?n the French 0/ 

Victor Hugo 868 

OTWAY, THOMAS. 

England, 1651 -1685, 

JafBer parting with Belvidera {Venice Pre- 
served ........ 239 

From : — Caius Marius, 725 ; Don Carlos, 108 ; 

Orphan, The, 23a, 795; Venice Preserved, 

133, 206. 

OVERBURY, SIR THOMAS. 

Eniiland. 1581- !6ii. 

From : — A Wife, 232, 796. 
OVID. [PuBLius OviDius Naso.] 

Italy. 43 B, C. -18 A. D. 

From : — Metamorphoses {DryderCs Transla- 
tion), 493; Metamorphoses (r^^fr attd Stotte- 
street^s Translation), 395. 
PAINE, THOMAS. 

England, 1736- iftn^^. 

The Castle in the Air 823 

PALMER, JOHN WILLIAMSON. 

Baltimore. Md., b, 1825 

'* For Charlie's sake " 277 

Thread and Song 104 

Publishers : Charles Scriboer's Sons, N*w York. 

PALMER, RAY. 

Rhode Island. 1808-1887. 

" I saw thee " 393 

The Soul's Cry 394 

Publisher : A. D. F. Randolph, New York. 



PALMER. WILLIAM PITT. 
Stockbridge. Mass., i8os>i884. 

The Smack in School 90 

PARKER, MARTYN. 

England, XVII. Century. 

From : — Ye Gentlemen of England . . 632 
PARKER, THEODORE. 

Lexinjjton. Mass., iSiu-iBbfj. 

' • The Way, the Truth, and the Life * ' . .389 
Publishers : D. Appltton & Co.. New York. 

PARNELL, THOMAS. 

England, 1679- 1717. 

" When your beauty appears "... 185 
From : — An Elegy to an Old Beauty, 134 ; Her- 
mit, The, 399, 490 ; Pervigilium Veneris, 207. 

PARSONS, THOMAS WILLIAM. 

Boston, Mass., 1810-1892. 

On a Bust of Dante 90S 

Publishers : Houghton, MifHin & Co., Boston. 

PATMORE, COVENTRY. 
England, 1823-1896. 

Rose of the World, The 12a 

Sly Thoughts 186 

Sweet Meeting of Desires .... 170 
Tribute, The 126 

PAYNE, JOHN HOWARD. 

New York City, 179.- 1852. 

Home, Sweet Home (Clan\ the Maid of Milan) 225 
Brutus's Oration over the Body of Lucretia 
{Brutus) 875 

Publisher ; S. French & Son, New York. 

PEALE, REMBRANDT. 

Near I'liiladelj.hia, Pa., 1778 -i860. 

Faith and Hope 231 

PEELE, GEORGE. 

England, 1552-1598 

From : — The Arraignment of Paris : Cupid's 
Curse 307 

PERCIVAL, JAMES GATES. 

Berlin, Conn,, 1795-1856. 

May 423 

Coral Grove. The 624 

Seneca Lake 449 

From : — The Graves of the Patriots . . 601 

Publishers : Houyhton, Mifflin, &c Co., Boston. 

PERCY, FLORENCE. 

See ALLEN. Elizabeth Akers. 

PERCY, THOMAS BISHOP. 

England. 1728- i8ir. 

Friar of Orders Gray, The 

*' O Nanny, wilt thou gang wi' me ? *' . 

From : — Winifreda 

PERRY. NORA. 

Providence, R. I., 1841-1896. 

Love-Knot, The 190 

PETTEE, G. W. 

Canada. 

Sleigh Song 670 

PFEFFEL. 

Germany. 1736-1809. 

The Nobleman and the Pensioner (C^r/« T. 
Brooks's Translation) 520 

PHILIPS, JOHN. 

England, 1676-1708. 

The Splendid Shilling 947 

PHILLIPS, AMBROSE. 

England. 1675-1749. 

" Blest as the immortal gods " {From the Greek) 184 

PHILOSTRATUS. 

Greece. Second Century. 

" Drink to nie only with thine eyes " ( Trans- 
lation 0/ Ben yonson) 125 

PIERPONT, JOHN. 

Litchfield, Cnnn.. 1785- 1866. 

My Child 278"- 

Not on the Battle-Field • • • • 534 

Warren's Address .... . 500 

Whittling 979 

Frofn : — A Word from a Petitioner . . . 604 

PINKNEY. EDWARD COATE. 

Annapolis, Md., 1802- i8a8. 

A Health , . 129 



137 
156 
215 



64 



INDEX OF AUTHORS AND TITLES. 



PITT, WILLIAM. 
England, d. 1840. 

The Sailor's Consolation 



630 



POE, EDGAR ALLAN. 

Baltimore. Md.. 1811-1849. 

Annabel Lee 285 



Annie, For 

Bells. The 

Raven, The 

From ; — To F. S. O 

Publisher : W, J. Widdleton, New York. 

POLLOK, ROBERT. 

Scotland, 1709- 1827. 

Byron (Course of Time) . 

Ocean " '' . . 

Froin : — Course of Time 



299 
714 
852 
796 



. 918 

610 

3461 797 



POMFRET. JOHN. 

England, 1667- 17C3. 

Froitt : — Verses to his Friend under Afflic- 
tion, 312, 347. 

POPE, ALEXANDER. 

England. 1688-1744. 

Addison {Frolog^ie to The Satires) . . . 9'o 
Be]\nd3i { T/ie Fape 0/ the Loci) . . . 12S 
Dying Christian to his Soul, The . . . 365 
Fame (Essay on Man) . • . . 780 

Greatness " " 7S1 

Happiness '* *' .... 736 

Nature's Chain C£'ij«>' *?« jl/aw) . . . 405 

Ode to Solitude 225 

Poet's Friend, The {Essay on Man) . .911 
Reason and Instinct " " . . 781 

Ruling Passion, The (-■l/fnz/^j.frty.r) . . 779 
Scandal (Prologue to the Satires) . . 7S1 
Sporus, — Lord Her\'ev " . . . . 909 
Tg\\^\,'Y\\g {Rape 0/ the Lock) . . . Til 
Universal Prayer, The . . . . _ • 37° 

From : — Dunciad, The, 396, 724, 803, 807 ; Eloisa 
to Abelard, 215,248 ; Epigram from Boiieau, 
810; Epilogue to Satires, 797 ; Epistle IL, 107 ; 
Epistle to Mr. Addison, 120; Epistle to Dr. 
Arbuthnot. 107, 805,815; Epistle to Robert, 
Earl of Oxford, 801 ; Epitaph on Gay, 724 ; 
Epitaph on Hon. S. Harcourt, 120; Essay on 
Criticism, 798, 799, S03, S05, S06, S07, S12 ; 
Essay on Man, 107, 394. 395) 397( 39S< 399. 489. 
496, 792, 793, 796, 799, 800, 801, 803, S07, 808, 
812, 815, 938, 939 ; Imitations of Horace, 793, 
796, S03, S04, 806, 807, Sii, S14 ; Martinus 
Scriblerus on the Art of Sinking in Poetry, 
205 ; Moral Essays, 215, 231, 232, 396, 723, 795, 
797. 798, 799, S05, 804, S05, 80S, S12. 814 ; Pro- 
logue to Addison's Cato, 602 ; Rape of the Lock, 
203, 799, 810, Sii, 814, S15 ; Temple of Fame, 
811 ; To the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady, 
311, 312 ; Translation of Homer's Iliad, 120, 
792, 797 ; Translation of Homer's Odyssey. 121, 
207, 4S9 ; Wife of Bath : Prologue, S05 ; Wind- 
sor Forest, 671, 672, S15. 

PORTEUS, BEILBY. 

England, 1731 - 1S08, 

From : — Death, 311, 539, 541, 559, 794- 

PRAED, WINTHROP MACKWORTH. 

Entjland, 1802-iSw. 

Belle of the Ball, The 97' 

Camp-bell 920 

From: — "I remember, I remember," 108; 
School and Schoolfellows, 309. 

PRENTICE. GEORGE DENISON. 

I'rt'ston, Conn . 1S02- 1870. 

The Closing Year 752 

PRIEST, NANCY AMELIA WOODBURY. 

.\iiii.Tica, 1837 - 1870. 

Heaven ........ 3^S 

Over the River 276 

PRINGLE, THOMAS. 
Scotland, 17S9-1834- 

*' Afar in the desert " 319 



PRIOR. MATTHEW. 

England. 1664-1721, 

"To the Honorable Charles Montague . 73° 

From: — Henry and Emma, 721 ; Upon a Pas- 
sage in the Scaligerana, S03. 



PROCTER. ADELAIDE ANNE. 

En>;land, 1826-1864. 

Doubting Heart, A ji8 

Judge Not 784 

Lost Chord, A 760 

Woman's Answer, A .... . 143 

Woman's Question, A .... . 143 

Front : — Hearts 271 

PROCTER, BRYAN W. {Barr}' Cornwall). 
England, 1787-1874. 

Address to the Ocean 611 

Blood Horse, The 467 

Golden Girl, A 132 

History of a Life 741 

Owl, The 483 

Poet's Song to his Wife, The . . . 219 

Sea, I1ie 625 

" Sit dowTi, sad soul " ..... 369 

" Softly woo away her breath" . . . 296 

Song of Wood Nymphs .... 835 

Stormy Petrel, The 483 

White Squall, The 629 

PROUT, FATHER. See Mahony, Francis. 

PULTENEY, WILLIAM, EARL OF BATH. 

England. 1682-176.1. 

/'?-£77K ; ^ 1 he Honest Jury .... Sio 

PUNCH. 

Published in London. 

Bomba. King of Naples, Death-Bed of , . 922 

Collegian to his Bride, The .... 992 

Jones at the Barber's Shop . . . .1011 

Roasted Sucking Pig 1013 

QUARLES, FRANCIS. 

Eii^'laiul. 159^-1044- 

Delight in God 360 

Vanity of the World, The . . . _ . 743 

From: — Emblems, 214, 309, 489, 79S ; Divine 
Poems, 309. 

RALEIGH, SIR WALTER. 

England. 1552-1618. 

Lines found in his Bible 745 

Nymph's Reply, The 158 

Pilgrimage, I'he 361 

Soul's Errand, The 745 

From : — The Silent Lover 204 

RAMSAY. ALLAN. 

Scotland, 1685- 175S. 

'■ At setting day and rising morn" . . . i6r 
Lochaber no more 237 

RANDOLPH, ANSON D. F. 
Woodbruli^e. N. J.. 1820-18961 

Hopefully Waiting 39' 

RANDOLPH, THOMAS. 

England. n>..>-i634. 

Fairies' Song {Lei^h Hitnfs Translation) . S35 
To a Lady admiring herself in a Looking- 
glass 125 

RASCAS, BERNARD. 

I'rovence, Erance, 

The Love of God { IV. C Bryants Tram.) . 3S8 

RAY, WILLIAM. 

England, pub, 1752. 

Frofn : — History of the Rebelhon . . 540 

RAYMOND, ROSSITER W. 

Cinciiinali, O . I' 1840. 

Troop*it's'Dt!iih,T\\s [From the German) . 518 

READ, THOMAS BUCHANAN. 

Chester. Pa.. i82-;-i872. 

Angler, The 669 

Br.ive at Home, The 563 

Closing Scene, The 710 

Driftinp 684 

Sheridan's Ride 594 

Publishers : J. B Lippincott & Co.. Philadelphii. 

REQUIER, AUGUSTUS JULIAN. 

LliJriestoii. S. C. 1^^^-1*87. 

Baby Zulma's Christmas Carol ... 81 
RITTER, MARY LOUISE. 

New Vork City. b. 1837. 

t'erished . . 3JI 

Why? 148 



INDEX OF AUTHORS AND TITLES. 



65 



ROBERT 11. (5o«o/ Hugh Capet). 

Veni Sancte SpiritusiC. IV ink-worth's Trans.") 356 
ROBERTS. SARAH. 

rort^mouth, N II. 

The Voice of the Grass 4^5 

ROCHESTER. JOHN WILMOT, EARL OF. 

"Too late, alas, I must confess" . . . 160 
From : — Song, 134 ; Written on the Bedchamber 

Door of Charles II 940 

RODGER, ALEXANDER. 

Scotl.liui. 1-84- i84t>. 

" Behave yoursel' before folk "... 157 
ROGERS. SAMUEL. 

Eniiland, 1703- 1855- 

Descent, The 446 

Ginevra 890 

Italy 679 

Jorasse (//rt/v) 651 

JVIarriage {.Human Life) 212 

Naples {Italy) 6S3 

On the Picture of an Infant {Greek 0/ Leon- 

idas) 81 

Rome {Italy) 680 

Sleeping Beautv, A 130 

Tear, A 789 

Venice (Italy) 679 

Wish, A 225 

From : — Italy, 248, 493 ; Human Life, 311, S09 ; 

Jacqueline, 34S. 

RONSARD, PIERRE. 

l-rance. 154-- 'S*"? 

Return of Spring { 7'?'(Z«j/<i//o«) . . .421 

ROSCOE, MRS. HENRY. 

Hn^'land, I'lib, i%b^. 

From : — Sonnet {Italian of Michel A ngeld) . Sog 

ROSCOMMON, WENTWORTH DILLON, EARL. 

Irt;Iand. .ibout 16^- 10^4, 

From: — Essay on Translated Verse, S05 ; 
Translation of Dies Irse, 304. 

ROSSETTT, CHRISTINA GEORGINA. 

England* i830-i8c>4. 

Miiking-Maid, The .... . . 132 

Up-Hill 363 

ROSSETTT, DANTE GABRIEL. 

En^'Iand, i828-i8S.\ 

Blessed Damozel, The S24 

Nevermore, The . . . ■' . . 744 

ROWE, NICHOLAS. 

England. 1673- 1718. 

From: — The Fair Penitent . . . 134, 347 
ROYDEN, MATHEW. 

Enyi-ind, abuut i^f^o. 

Sir Philip Sidney 904 

From : — An Elegie on a Friend's Passion for his 

Astrophill 133 

RYAN, ARRAM T- 

Norfolk, Va.. 1840-1886. 

Rosary of my Tears 742 

Sentinel Songs 532 

The Cause of the South 596 

RYAN, RICHARD. 

Hii^;laiid, i796-iH4<], 

"Oh, saw ye the lass" 149 

SANGSTER, CHARLES. 

Kingston. Canada, b. 1822. 

The Comet ■ 863 

The Snows 666 

Publisher : Juliii Lovell, Montreal, Canada. 

SANGSTER, MRS. MARGARET E. M. 

New Kochelie, N. Y.. b. i8j8 

" Are the children at home " . . . , 281 

SAPPHO. 

Island of Lesbos. 600 B. C. 

"Blest as the Immortal Gods" [Ambrose 
Phillips^ s Translation) . '. . . 1S4 

SARGENT, EPES. 

Glcjiicester, Mass., 1814-1380. 

A Life on the Ocean Wave .... 630 



SAVAGE, RICHARD. 

England, 1696-1743, 

From: — The Bastard 812 

SAXE, JOHN GODFREY. 

Highgate, \'x., 1816-1887. 

Echo 1014 

'* My eyes ! how I love you " . . - . 195 

Proud Miss McBride, The .... 985 

Railroad Rhyme 9S0 

Woman's Will . . . . . 9S1 

Publisliers : Hougliton, Mifflin, & Co., Boston. 

SCHILLER. FRIEDRICH. 

Wiirtenibcrg, 175,9-1805. 

From: — Homeric Hexameter {Coleridge'' s 

Translation) 631 

SCOTT, SIR WALTER. 

Scotland, 1771- 18^2. 

"And said I that my limbs were old" {Lay 

0/ tile Last Minstrel) 202 

Bear an Dhuine [Lady 0/ the Lake) . . 510 

" Breathes there the man " {Last Minstrel) . 563 

Christmas in Olden Time {A/artnion) . , 698 

Clan-Alpine, Song d^ {Lady of tite Lake) . 519 

Coronach {Lady of tiie La/ce) . . . 283 

Coimty Guy [Qncntin Dnrward) . . . 194 

FitzJamesand Roderick D\\\x {Lady of Lake) 655 

Flodden Field {Marjttion) .... 507 

Helvellyn 654 

iames Fitz James and Ellen {Lady of Lake) . 648 

■ochmvar {Marmion) . .... 175 

Marniion and Douglas {.i1/i2r7«?'(3«} . . . 648 

Melrose Abbey {Lay of the Last Minstrel) 675 

Norham Castle {Marmion) .... 676 

Pibroch of Donuil Dhu {Lady of tlie Lake). 518 

Rebecca's Hymn {Ivanhoe) .... 372 

Scotland {Lay of t/ie Last Minstrel) . . 575 
"Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er" {Lady of 

the Lake) 530 

Stag Hunt, The [Lady of the Lake) . . 658 

"Ihe heath this night " {Lady of the Lake) . 2,14 

" Waken, lords and ladies gay " . . 658 
From : — Bridal of Tilermain. 395 ; Lady of the 
Lake, 204, 308, 670, (^71. 719, 721, 791, 813; 
Lay of the Last Minstrel, 491, 494, 
Sii, 814: Lord of the Isles, 348, 539, 893; 
Marmion, 108, 248, 816, 899; Monastery, 
397 
SCUDDER, ELIZA. 

The Love of God 392 

SEARING, LAURA C. REDDEN kHoivard 
Glyndofi). 
Somtrhu't Co.. Md., b. 1842. 

Mazzini 934 

SEDLEV, SIR CHARLES. 

England, 1631-1701. 

To a Very Young Lady J 47 

" Phillis IS my only joy " . - . ■ 124 
SEWALL. HARRIET WINSLOW. 

America, d. 1831. 

Why thus Longing? . . ... 392 

SHAKESPEARE, WILLIAM. 

England, 1564- 1616. 

Airy Nothings {Tempest) .... 867 

Approach of A^e {Sonnet XII.) . . . 753 
Antony's Oration over the Body of Cssar 

{Jtdius Ca&ar) . . . ■ • . S75 
"Blow, blow, thou winter wind" {As Von 

Like It) ....... 316 

C\top2iX.r2i {A ?ttony and Cleopatra) . . 712 

Compliment to Queen ¥.\\z?ht\\\{Midsii?nmer 

Nighfs Dream) 835 

Course of True Love, The {Midsummer 

NighVs Dream) 250 

Dagger of the Mind, A {Macbeth) . , 8S2 

Dover Cliff {A'ing Lear) ..... 445 

Fairies' Lullaby {Midsummer NighVs Dream) 835 

" Farewell ! thou art too dear " . . 239 

" Fear no more the heat " {Cymbelijie) • . 301 

Friendship (//«;«/(?/) . . . . • iii 

Grief {Hamlet) 294 

" Hark, hark ! the lark " [Cymbeline) ■ 474 

Hotspur's Description of a Fop {Henry II-'.) 506 
King to his Soldiers before Harfleur, The 

{Henry V.) 503 



66 



INDEX OF AUTHORS AND TITLES. 



■* Let me not to the marriage of true minds " . aoS 
IjOvm {Merc/umt of I'^enice) . - • 125 

Love Dissembled \As Vou Like It) . • 144 
Love's Memory (A/Z's It'elithat Ends If 'ell) 343 
Martial Friendship (Cfl^/f/rtHMj) . • • 114 
Murder, The {M.icbet/i) . . . . S83 

Music {Merchant of Venice) .... 775 
Old Age of Temperance {.As Yov Like It.). 546 

0\\v\:i. {Twei/th Nifrht) 122 

" O mistress mine I " { Tivet/th Night) . 122 

Othello's Defence {Othello) . . . .145 
Othello's Remorse \Otliello) . . . . S77 
Portia's Picture (^J/rrf/mw^ C/" Z^'VwrVc) . . 122 
QyxtQnM.3.h{Koffieo and Juliet) . . 836 

Seven Ages of Man (As You Like It) . -7*^ 
Shepherd's Life, A {Henry I'L Fart III.) 225 
Slcc\i {//enry II'. Part I/.) . . . .7(^2 

Soliloquy on Death (//<!«*/(-/) . . . 297 
" Take, O, take those lips awAy "{Measure /or 

Afettsurr) 263 

*' The forward violet" 123 

Unrequited \.ov& {Twelfth Night) . . .251 
"When icicles hang by the wall" {Lovers 

Labor Lost] ...... 439 

" When in the chronicle" ' . . .122 
** When to the sessions of sweet silent thought " 1 15 
Wolsey's Fall {//f«rr /'///.) . . . 32» 
Wolsey's Advice to Cromwell {Henry I'll/.) 321 
fVii;«; — All's Well that Knds Well, 312,791, 

793. 79^^ 801, 813. 
Antony and Cleopatra, 206, 490, 722. 
As You Like It. 133. i34. 204, 214, 347, 348, 

394. 489, 496, 6o2, 722, 791, 795, S03, 810, S13- 
Comedy of Errors, 345, 722, 799, S68. 
Coriolanus, 493, 813. 
Cynibeline, 241, 79S, 811, 816. 
Hamlet, 121, 133, 203, 205, 206, 207, 241, 248, 

a?*! 309. 3>o. 3>'i 345t 34&t 347t 395- 

396, 397» 399. 4«9. 490, 49i. 495. 540, 559. 

671, 731, 732, 723, 724, 725, 793, 797, 798, 

801, 803, 804, 80S, 809, 811, 813, 814, S15, 

867, 868, 900. 

Julius Cxsar, 120, 121, 306, 310, 492. 539. ^7<^t 

671, 732, 793, 797. 799. 802, Sio, 899, 900. 

938. 
King Henry IV. Pt. I, 108, 313, 397, 398. 670, 

671, 722, 793, 798, 807, 812, 815, 816. 
King Henry IV. Pt. U., 346, 395. 540. 724, Soo. 
King Henry V., 395, 540, 559, 631, 632, 723, 

S02, 811. 867. 
King Henry VI., Pt. I., 310, 795, 8io. 
King Henry VI., Pt. II., 495, 724, 796, 799. 
King Henry VI., Pt. III., 541, 79S, S02, 815, 

938. 
Kmg Henry VIII., 311, 312, 345, 346, 347. 

601, 723, 811. 
King Jolin. 107, 232, 309, 345, 346, 34S. 54'. 

603, 722, 726, 798, 799, 801, 812, 815, 899. 
King Lear, 346, 347, 34S, 494, 721, 723, S02. 
King Richard II., 308, 309, 310, 346, 541, 603, 

719, 722. 725, 792. 
King Richard III., 107, 232, 310, 396. 54o. 541. 

721, 7J2, 74(>, 8*.io, 8o2, 803, S04, 868, 899, 938. 
Love's Labor Lost, 133, 203, 723, 724, 795, 

804, 810. 
Lover's Complaint, 204. 

Macbeth. 232, 309, 311, 313, 345. 346. 347, 396, 
491, 540, 541, 559, 720, 724, 725, 791, 

792, 793, 794. 797. 798. 800, 802, Sio, 816, 

868, 900. 
Measure for Measure, 205, 232, 310, 347, 797, 

800, 81 >, Si 3. 
Merchant of Venice, 133, 203, 24S, 312, 346, 

347, 34S, 496, 632, 722, 723, 724, 797, 798, 

803, S03, S04, 891). 
Merry Wives of Windsor. 868, 869. 
Midsummer Night's Dream, 303, 495, 7331 

806, S67, 8(19, ' 
Much Aao About Nothing, 121, 303, 304, 371, 

313, 345, 723, 724, 799, Soi. 
Othello, 207, 248, 347, 539, 721, 733, 723, 724, 

731;, 811, QOO. 

Passionate Pilgrim, 492. 

Romeo and Juliet, 134- 207, 241, 345, 346. 490, 

49a. 731, 72^, 724, S09, 815, 890. 
Sonnet XVI IL, 134. 



Sonnet XXV., 540. Sonnet LXVL, 39S. 

Sonnet LXX., 722. 

Sonnet XC, 271. 

Sonnet XCVIII., 492. 

Sonnet CXI., 722. 

Sonnet CXXXII.,491. 

Taming of the Shrew, 121, 215, 725, 804. 

Tempest. 133, 205, 492, 672, 721. 797, S05, 869. 

Timon of Athens, 347, 489. 

Titus Andronicus, 311, 798. 

Troilus and Cressida, 121, 792, 811. 

Twelfth Night, 205, 215, 494, 79S, 808. 

Two Gentlemen of Verona, 133, 134, 203, 315, 

271. 345t 493. 723. 795- 
Venus and Adonis, 205, 803. 
Winter's Tale, 107, 134, 495, 631, 724, 802. 

SHANLV. CHARLES DAWSON. 

Ireland, iSxi — l'lorul;i. 1875. 

Brierwood Pipe 

Civil War . . . . • . 

Kitty of Coleraine 

SHARPE, R. S. 



525 
525 
1S7 



EiiL'laiul, 17S9- 18.15. 

The Mm ' ^ 



linute-Gun 

SHEALE, RICHARD. 

Chevy-Chase 

SHELLEY. PERCY BYSSHE. 

Cloud, The 

lanihe, Sleeping {Queen Mab) . • 

" I arise from dreams of thee" * . • 

" I fear thy kisses, gentle maiden " 

Lament, A 

Love's Philosophy 

" Music, when soft voices die "... 

Night {Queen Mal>) 

Night, To 

Ozymandias of Egypt 

Skylark. To the 

Sunset {Queen Mah) ..... 
'* The sun is warm, the sky is clear " 
View from the Euganean Hills 

War 

*' When the lamp is shattered" . 
From : — Cenci, The, 72a ; Julian and Maddalo, 
S06 ; Prometheus Unbound, 206. 

SHENSTONE, WILLIAM. 

Eiii;l.iml. 1714-- 176^ 

Village Schoohnistress. The ( Schoolmistress) 
From: — Pastoral, A. 241 ; Schoolmistress, The, 
107 ; Written on the Window of att Inn, 121. 

SHEPHERD. N. G. 

Aiiicric.i. 

" Only the clothes she wore " . 
SHERIDAN. RICHARD BRINSLEY. 

Irol.tiid, 1751 - 1816. 

Let the Toast pass (,Sckoot/or Scandal) 

SHIRLEY, JAMES. 

tnylaiui, 154J- i6<>0. 

Death, the Leveller 

From : — Cupid and Death 



627 
63s 



18S 
'31 
322 
1S8. 
776 
4'5 
4" + 
7"7 
473 
412 
3"7 
441 
499 
262 



SIBLEY, CHARLES. 

Scotl.iiui. 

The Plaidie 



SIDNEY, SIR PHILIP. 

EiiKliiiHl. 1554- 15^. 

Love's Silence 

" My true-love hath mv heart" . 
S\eep{Aslri>f/ir/ar,J StMt) . 
"With how sad steps, O Moon " . 

SIGOURNEY, LYDIA HUNTLEY. 

Norwicli, Conn.. I7QI -1865. 

Coral Insect, The .... 

*' Go to thy rest, lair child" . 

Man — Woman .... 
Tublishcrs: Haiiierilcy & Co.. Hartford, Conn. 

SIMMONS, BARTHOLOMEW. 

Ircl.iiul. (ml) 1843 : d. 1850. 

To the Memory of Thomas Hood 



301 

30S 



.87 



144- 
'37 
762 

249' 



623 
281 
776 



INDEX OF AUTHORS AND TITLES. 



67 



SIMMS, WILLIAM GILMORE. 

ClKirk-stfin. S. C. 1806-18711, 

Grape-Vine Swing, The 456 

Mother and Child Si 

Shaded Water 448 

Publishers : W. J. Wicldleton & Co.. New York. 

SKELTON. JOHN. 

En^l.tnil, :il><>ut 146.1-1520. 

To Mistress Margaret Hussey , . . 122 

SMITH, ALEXANDER. 

Scotlaiul. iHt.,-i8h7. 

Lady Barbara 163 

Tlie Night before the Wedding . . . 210 
Front: — A Life Drama .... 493, S07 
SMITH, CHARLOTTE. 

lingLiiui. 1749-1806. 

The Swallow ... ... 478 

SMITH, F. BURGE, MRS. 

khodc Island, b. 182O. 

Little Goldenhair -85 

SMITH, HORACE. 

lin^jland. i77Ci-i84(,. 

Address to the Mummy at Belzoni's Exhibition 717 
Flowers, Hymn to the ..... 459 

Moral Cosmetics ...... 545 

Tale of Drury Lane, A {Rejected Addresses) 1006 

The Gouty Merchant and the Stranger . . 962 

From : — Rejected Addresses 

SMITH, TAMES. 

nd. 17; 



Hntil.ind, 1775- iSw- 

From : — Rejected Addresses 
SMITH, SERA. 

Tiirni.T. Mt;.. 1792-1868, 

The Mother's Sacrifice 



808 



86 



1013 



203 



67. 



717 
383 
341 
891 



SMITH, SYDNEY. 

Enj,'lanrl, 1^71 - 11^45. 

A Recipe for .Salad . 
SMOLLETT, TOBIAS GEORGE, 

Scotl.Tnil. 1721 - 1771 

From : — Roderick Random 
SOMERVILLE, WILLIAM. 

Eii^'l.ind, 1677 -1742. 

From : — The Chase 
SOUTHEY, MRS. CAROLINE BOWLES 

Iiii(;liiiifl. 1787- 18.^4. 

Cuckoo Clock, The (r/w Birthday) 
Greenwood Shrift, The .... 
Pauper's Death-Bed, The 
Young Gray Head, The 
SOUTHEY, ROBERT. 

lintcl'iiid. 1774 -184^. 

Blenheim, The Battle of 538 

Cataract of Lodore, The .... 449 

Devil's Walk, The 949 

Emmett's Epitaph 921 

God's Judgment on a Wicked Bishop , . 879 

Greenwood Shrift, The .... 383 

Holly-Tree, The 455 

Inchcape Rock, The . . , ■ . 620 
Old Man's Comforts, The . . . .545 

Well of St Keyne, The .... 955 
From : — Curse of Kehama, 206, 309, S16 ; Ma- 
doc, 271 ; Joan of Arc, 311 ; Thalaba the De- 
stroyer, 491 ; Occasional Pieces, XVIII., 806. 
SPENCER, CAROLINE S. 

Catskill. N. v.. iB^u. 

Living Waters 739 

SPENCER, WILLIAM ROBERT. 

Hii>;laiid, 17?"- it<34- 

Beth Gelert 662 

" Too late I stayed" 117 

Wife, Children, and Friends .... 22a 

SPENSER. EDMUND. 
Engl.ind. 1551- iSW 

Beauty {Hymn in Honor of Beauty) . . 730 
Bower of Bliss, The {Faerie Queene) . . 829 
Bride, The { E piihalamion) . , . .212 
Cave of Sleep, The (Faerie Queene) . . 828 
Ministry of Angels " "... ^y^ 

Una and the Lion « t. ^ ^ g^g 

Una and the Red Crosse Knight {Faerie 

Queefte) 827 

From: — Faerie Queene, 311, 395, 398, 492, 494, 
540, 670, 671; Fate of the Butterfly, 489; 



Hymn in Honor of Beauty, 206 ; Lines on his 
Promised Pension, 938; Mother Hubberd's 
Tale, 304. 

SPOFFORD, HARRIET PRESCOTT. 

Calais. Me., b. 1835. 

Vanity ........ 769 

PuMishcrs : Houghton, Mifflin, & Co., Boston. 

SPRAGUE. CHARLES. 

Boston, Mass.. 1791-1875. 

Winged Worshippers, The .... 478 
From : — Curiosity, S04 ; To my Cigar . . 814 
I'ublishcrs : Houghton, Mifflin, ik Co., Boston. 

STANIFORD. 

Bosti^iii. Mass., Pub. iSo-?. 

From : — Art of Reading .... 398 
STEDMAN, EDMUND CLARENCE. 

liartfcird. Ccmn., h. 1833, 

Betrothed Anew .... . 460 

C3.vn\ry Song {Alice oj" A/onmont/i) . , 518 

Old Admiral, The 932 

What the Winds bring 451 

rubli^hirrs : Houghton, Mifflin, &Co., Boston. 

STEPHEN THE SABAITE, ST. 

Art thou weary ? ( J^o/tn Mason Neaie's Tram. ) 364 
STERLING, JOHN. 

Scoil.ind, 1806- 1844. 

Alfred the Harper 645 

Beautiful Day, On a 406 

Spice-Tree, The 456 

STEVENS, GEORGE ALEXANDER. 

lin^'and, i72(j- 1784. 

The Storm 62S 

STILL, JOHN. 

l■n^;land, 1543-1607. 

Good Ale 946 

STODDARD, RICHARD HENRY. 

Hinirliam. Mass., 1825-1903. 

Brahma's Answer 746 

" It never comes again "... 106 

Publislicrs : Houyliton, Mifflin, & Co., Boston. 

STODDART, THOMAS TOD. 

Scotland, b. 1810. 

The Anglers' Trysting-Tree .... 667 
STORY, ROBERT. 

Scotland, lycjc.- 1859. 

The Whistle 156 

STORY, WILLIAM WETMORE. 

Sakiii, Mass., 1819-1895. 

Pan in Love 488 

Perseverance [From tke Italian of Leonardo 

da Vinci) 781 

Violet, The 461 

Publishers ; Little. Brown. & Co.. Boston. 

STOWE, HARRIET BEECHER. 

Litchfield. Conn . ifii2-iBo6. 

A Day in the PamfiH Doria _ . . . . 682 

Lines to the Memory of Annie . . . 273 

"Only a year" ....*. 278 

Other World, The 387 

Pubhslur^ : Hnu^diton. Mifflin, & Co.. Boston. 

STRANGFORD, LORD. 

Enjilancl. 178^-1855, 

Blighted Love {From the Portuguese) . . 261 

STREET, ALFRED B. 
Pouy^hkeepsie, N. Y.. 1811-1881. 

Nightfall 412 

Settler, The 709 

STRODE, WILLIAM. 

hn'jlantl, 1600-1644. 

Kisses 186 

SUCKLING, SIR JOHN. 

tni^land, 1600- 1641. 

Bride, The (W Ballad upon a IVedding) . 211 

Constancy ....... 124 

" I prythee send me back my heart " . . 146 

" Why so pale and wan ? " . _. . 263 

/"rt?;;/ : — Brennoralt, 134; Against Fruition , 801 
SURREY, HENRY HOWARD, EARL OF. 

Entjland, 1516- 1547. 

"Give place, ye lovers" 123 

Means to attain Happy Life, The . . 226 



68 



INDEX OF AUTHORS AND TITLES. 



SWAIN, CHARLKS. 

A Violet in her Hair 126 

"Smile and never heed me " ... 156 
From : — The Mother's Hand . . .796 

SWIFT, JONATHAN. 

Ireland. iNi?- 1745, 

*' Tonis ad resto mare " . ... 993 

/-Vi)/// ; — Cadeniis and Vanessa, 810 ; Imitation 
of Horace, 121 ; Poetry : a Rhapsody, 496. 
SWINMURNE. ALGERNON CHARLES. 
Lll^•i..lla. t. iKi7. 

Disappointed Lover, The ( Tritinif>h of Time) 611 

Kissing her Hair 188 

Matcli, A 148 

" When the hounds of spring" . . . 4»9 

SYLVESTER, JOSHUA. 

liii^laiu), I5(>i-i6i8, 

Contentment ....... 731 

" Were 1 as base as is the lowly plain" . 135 
TALKOURl), SIR THOMAS NOON. 

Unpland. it^S- 1^54 

Sympathy (/t7«) 770 

Front : — Ion 794 

TALHAIARN OF WALES. 

'* Wliere are the men ? " {O/t/Zutnt's Trans.) 530 
TANNAHILL, ROBERT. 

Sii.'tl.iiu!, i774-it;i.i 

Flower o' Dumblane, The .... 148 
" The midges dance aboon the burn '* . . 411 
TAYLOR, BAYARD. 

KiiiTutt Sqiuire. I'a.. iy?=;-iS7S. 

Arab to the Palm, The 4?4 

Bedouin Love-Simg iS(> 

King of Thule (From the German 0/ Goethe) 862 

Possession ....... 218 

ivose, The {//asstin Ben A'/taled) . . 464 

Song of the Camp 155 

From : — National Ode 604 

I'lililislicpi ; Houyliton, Mimin. \- Co.. Boston. 

TAYLOR, BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 

Unvvilk-. N. Y..K itL-a 

Northern Lights. The 400 

TAYLOR, SIR HENRY. 

Hn^'l.md. l>. .ibout i8..x 

Athulfand Ethilda 172 

Heart Rest (/'/»"/// I'rtw Wr/^i'M/i') . ■ 22*) 
Scholar, The (AVw;« M(* ./^rt/V I . . . 7'^ 
Wife, A (/*/(///>» ran ArtevehU) 
From : — Philip van Artevelde . 

TmYlor, jane. 

I_ii>,'laiu1, 178;- \^-x. 

Philosopher's Scales, The .... 

Toad's Journal. The 

TAYLOR, JOHN EDWARD. 

tujjlarul. I'lib IS?.-. 

" If it be true that any beauteous thing " {From 
the Italian of Michael A ugelo Buotmrotti) 
'' The might of one fair face " {From the 
Italian of Michael A ngelo BuonaroUi) 
TAYLOR, lEFFERYS. 

tnglaiul, i-oi-iS^^. 

The Milkmaid 

TAYLOR, JEREMY. 

liiitihiul. i(Mj- 1067. 

Heaven • • 

TAYLOR, TOM. 

Eiisl.iml, I^!l7-l^A^ 

Abraham Lincoln {Lemdon Punch) 
TENNANT, WILLIAM. 

Scotland. i7t*4- 1S4S. 

Ode to Pence . . . . . 
TENNYSON, ALFRED. 

HhijUukI, i8io->S9-- 

" Break, break, break '* 3>5 

Bugle, The (/'Wm^'j.vl 449 

Charge of the Light Brigade . . . • 5'7 

'* Come into the garden, Maud " . . . 151 
Dead Friend, The (/w jl/i-mt^rMm) . .113 

Death of the Old Year, The ... 753 

Eagle. The 483 

Enid's SonR Idyls oftht ICin^) . - • 777 

Foolish Virgiiis, The (I^fis of the Kittf:) . 754 



348, 812, 



"35 

957 
367 
931 
534 



Godiva ........ 702 

Hero to Leander 235 

"Home they brought her warrior dead" 

{Princess) ....... 292 

In Memoriam, Selections from . . . 290 
Lady Clam Vere de Vere .... 267 

Locksley Hall 254 

Lullaby {Princess) 81 

May Queen, The ...... 327 

Miller's Daughter, The {Miller's Daughter) 1S3 

Mort d'Artlnir 642 

New Year's Eve {In Memoriam) . . 752 
*' (J swallow, swallow, flying south" {Princess) 171 
'"O, yet we trust that somehow good" {In 

Alemoriani) 392 

Retrospection (Priucess) . . . 315 

Sleeping Beauty, The (The Day Dream) . 174 
Song of the Brook ( The Brook: an Idyl) . 446 
Song of the Milkmaid [Queen Mary) . 168 

Spring (In Memoriam) .... 418 

*' Strong Son of God. immortal Love" {In 

Memoriam) ....... 393 

Victor Hugo, To 926 

'• What does little birdie say?" {Sea Dreams) So 
From: — Aylmer's Field, Sio; Fntima, 205: In 
Memoriam, 309, 311, 34s. 394. 397. 39g. 797» 
S03, 807 : International Exhibition Ode. 541 ; 
Land of Lands, The, (no-i, : Miller's Daughter. 
814; "Of old sat Freedom on the heights,' 
602 : On the Death of the Duke of Welling- 
ton, 040; Princess, The, 493, 721, S07 ; Sir 
Laiiiicelot and Queen Guinevere, 721 ; To the 
Queen, 632. 
TENNYSON. FREDERICK. 

l;ni:l.uul. inroilur of the prutL-iliiis;.) About 18^6-1898. 

Blackbird, The 693 

TERRETT, WILLIAM B. 

Platonic 119 

THACKERAY, WILLIAM MAKEPEACE. 

Eiifi^l.uul. iS:i - i8c>j 

Age of Wisdom, The ..... 202 

Church Gate, At the 132 

End of the Play. The 344 

Little Billee . ' 971 

Mahogany Tree, The 117 

Mr. Molony's Account of the Ball . . 1002 

Sorrows of VVerther ...... 972 

THAXTER. MRS. CELIA. 
l-ortsu.oiiili. \. IL, 1836-1894. 

The Sandpiper 4S2 

Pviblishfri : Iloukjhlon, Mifiliii. & Co., Boston. 

THEOBALD. LEWIS. 

Eii^^'lixiul. icxji - 1:44. 

From: — The Double Falsehood . . . 813 
THOM. WILLIAM. 

Scotland. i~.»- iS5o. 

The Mitherless Bairn 91 

THOMSON, JAMES. 

ScOtliUui.'lTOk- 174S, 

Angling ( The Seasons : Spring-) . . . 669 

Bathing ( 77/^ Seasons : Summer) . . 669 

Castle of Indolence, The {From Canto I.) . S31 

(-"onnubial Life {The Seasons: S^nnj,') . 214 

Domestic Birds ( The Seasons: Spring, . . 470 

Hymn on the Seasons 417 

Plea for the Animals {The Seasons: Spring) 783 

Rule Britaimia (.-J^rc*/) 576 

Songsters, The ( The Seasons : Spring) . 469 

Stag Hunt, The {The Seasons: Autumn) . 650 

War for the Sake of Peace (Britannia) . 499 

N\'inter Scenes (/*//<■ 6"«'/i5t>«i; Winter) . . 439 
From: — Britannia, 541: Castle of Indolence, 
4S0, 539. S14, S16 ; Coriolanus, 8x2 ; Seasons, 
The: Spring, 107, 4S9, 493, 672, 799, — Sum- 
mer, 204, 490, 631, 719, — Autumn, 492, 795, — 
Winter, 310. 672, S06 : Song, 205. 

THOREAU, HENRY DAVID. 

Concord. M;i«... 1817-1S62. 

Mist 691 

Smoke 691 

IHiblishcr* : Houghton. Mifflin & Co-. Boston, 

THORNBURY, GEORGE WALTER. 

England. iS:S!-i8r7. 

The Jester's Sermon 748 



INDEX OF AUTHORS AND TITLES. 



69 



THORPE. ROSE HARTWICK. 

Litclihcld, Mich., h, 1840. 

Curfew must not ring to-night .... 180 

THRALE, HESTER LYNCH (Mrs. Piozzt). 

Wales. 1740- iHji. 

The Three Warnings ..... 756 

THURLOW, EDWARD HOVEL, LORD. 

Eiil^l.ifid, 1781-1829. 

Beauty ........ 730 

Bird. To a 482 

TICKELL, THOMAS. 

Hn^'l-^nd, 1686- i74n. 

To a Lady before Marriage . . . . 209 
To Earl of Warwick on the Death of Addison 910 
Front : — To a Lady, with a Present of Flowers, 
134; Cohn and Lucy, 311. 
TIMROD, HENRY. 

Lli.irlcston. S. l... iS2v-iB^7. 

" Sleep sweetly in your humble graves" . 532 

Spring in Carolina 423 

I'libllslicrs : H. J. Hale &■ Soil, New York. 

TOURNEUR, CYRIL. 

tiitjlniul. l.niL- ..r Jainci I. 

From : — Tlie Revenger's Tragedy . . 558 

TRENCH, RICHARD CHENEVIX. 

Ircl.md, 1807-itiHti. 

Different Minds 388 

TROWBRIDGE. JOHN TOWNSEND. 

Oj,'(it.n. N. Y.. b. 1827. 

Dorothy in the Garret 251 

Vagabonds, The 547 

Pul.lislitr^ : Harper & Brothers. New York. 

TRUMBULL, J. 

Wo'i'lbiiry, Conn., 1750-18^1. 

From: — McFingal, 671, 793. 
TUCKERMAN, HENRY THEODORE. 

Uusloii. M.iv- . 1813-1871. 

Newport Beach ...... 692 

ruliLsht-rs : Houghton. Mifflin, & Co.. Boston. 

TUPPER, MARTIN FARQUHAR. 

i;nt:l-ind, 1810-1889. 

Cruelty to Animals, Of {Prov. Phiiosophy) . 782 
From: — Of Education, 107; Of Immortality 394 
TURNER, CHARLES TENNYSON. 

Liii^Lind, 1608- 1879. Brother of Alfred Tennyson. 

The Ocean 631 

TUSSER, THOMAS. 

iLn;il."in<l. 1523-1580- 

From : — Farmer's Daily Diet, 232 ; Good 
Husbandry Lessons, 347, 394. 672, 802 ; 
Winds. The, 802 ; Wiving aiid Thriving, 214. 
TYCHBORN. CHIDIOCK. 

Unjiland. 

Lines written by One in the Tower . . 745 

UDALL, NICHOLAS. 

Hnyland, i3-6-<-'n. 

Froiti: — Translations from Erasmus, 540. 
UHLAND. LUDWIO. 

Oeniiaiiy, 1787-18'?. 

Landlady's Dauclner, "Xh^ {DivighC s Tratis.) 142 
Passage, 'X\it^[,Sayah AusteiCs Translation). 291 
UPTON. JAMES. 

liily^laiid. 1670- I749- 

The Lass of Richmond Hill .... 149 
VAUOHAN, HENRY. 

biit,'lanil. i6i-f - r>95. 

They are all gone 274 

VENABLE, WILLIAM HENRY. 

" >hio, b. igi6. 

Welcome to *' Boz," A . - . , 925 
VERY, JONES. 

hal(.-m. Mass, 1*^13-1880. 

Latter Rain, The 433 

Nature 403 

Spirit Land, The 36S 

VICENTE, GIL. 

i'<jrtii',;al, 14*^2- '517' 

The Niphtingale (.S"/Vyi;/iK Bcnvring's Trans.) 479 

VINCI, LEONARDO DA. 

Italy, 145^-151^. 

Perseverance {IV. IV. Story''s Translation) , 781 



VISSCHER, MARIA TESSELSCH.'\DE. 

Holland. igv4-i049. 

The Nightingale {Sir John Boivring's Trans.) 479 
WALLER, EDMUND. 

Lnyiand, ifaoj-ioB?. 

Girdle, On a 125 

Go, Lovely Rose 1 ..... 125 

Old Age and Death { Upon his Divine Poesy) 755 
Froj/i : — ]Jiw\i\G Love, 399; On the Kmg's Re- 
turn, 79.S ; To a Lady singing a Song of his 
Composing, 134: Upon Roscommon's Trans- 
lation of Horace's De Arte Poetica, 806: Verses 
upon his Divine Poesy, 794; " While I listen 
to thy voice," 399. 

WALLER. JOHN FRANCIS. 

Ireland, h. i8iu. 

*' Dance light " 174 

The Spinnmg- Wheel Song . . . . 173 
WALSH. WILLIAM. 

lin^and, 1661-1707, 

Rivalry in Love . . . . . . 147 

WALTON, IZAAK. (See also John Chalkh.ll.) 

En^and. i5q3- 16S3. 

The Angler's Wish 668 

WARTON, THOMAS. 

EnK'Iand, 1728-17913. 

Retirement ...♦.,. 406 

WASSON, DAVID ATWOOD. 

Maine, 1823- _ . 

Love against Love 790 

WASTELL. SIMON. 

Lnj;land, d. 16^3, 

Man's Morialiiy . . . . .' 302 

WATSON, JOHN WHITTAKER. 

New York City, i8:-'4-i89u. 

Beautilul Snow 334 

Wounded to Death 526 

WATTS, ISAAC. 

knjiland, 1674-1749 

Cradle Hymn, A 76 

Insignificant Existence .... 751 

Summer Evening, A 431 

From : — Divine Songs, 395, 398 ; Funeral 
Thought, 30S, 310; Glory to the Father and 
Son, 394; Hora Lyrics, 807: Hymns and 
Spiritual Songs, 794, 799 ; Sluggard, The, 
815 ; Song XVI., 108 ; Song XX., 108. 
WAUGH, EDWIN. 

Hneland. 1817-1890. (Called "The Lancashire Pod.") 

I'he dule 's i' this bonnet o' mine" . . 196 
WEBSTER, DANIEL. 

Salisbury. N. H , 178^-1852. 

The Memory of the Heart . . . .112 
From : — Address before The Sons of New 

Hampshire ..,..•. 939 

WEBSTER, JOHN.^ 

Hngland, about 1600. 

/^r<?wr ; — Duchess of Malfy, 121, 232 ; The White 

Devil 495 

WEIR, HARRISON. 

l-ngland Pub. 1865. 

The English Robin 475 

WELBY, AMELIA B. COPPUCK. 

St Michaels. Md.. 1821-1852. 

Old Maid, The 790 

Twilight at Sea 610 

WESLEY, CHARLES. 

En^jland, 1708-1788. 

Wrestling Jacob . . . . • 37' 

'* Love divine, all love excelling** • . 39^ 

WESLEY, JOHN, 
tn^jland, 170^-1791. 

The Love of God Supreme • . - . 390 

WESTWOOD, THOMAS. 

lingland. It. 15^14. 

Little Bell 88 

" Under my window " 85 

WHEWELL, WILLIAM. 

England, 1795 -1866. 

Physics 99« 



70 



INDEX OF AUTHORS AND TITLES. 



WHITCHER, FRANCES MIRIAM. 

Wliitesboro', N. V., ittiJ-1852. 

Widow Bedott to Elder Sniffles . . . 995 
WHITE, JOSEPH BLANCO. 

Spain, b. 1775, d. Hngl.iiid, 1S41. 

Night .415 

WHITE, HENRY KIRKE. 

Lii^'l,-\nd, 1785- 1801. _ 

Early Primrose, To the . , • . 461 

Harvest Moon, To the 550 

WHITMAN, SARAH HELEN. 

Providence, R. I., i3o^- 1878. 

A Still Day in Autumn . . .692 

WHITMAN, WALT. 

West HilU. \. Y.. 1319-1892. 

The Mocking-Bird (" Out o/t/ie Cradie") . 470 
WHITNEY, ADELINE D. TRAIN. 

Uost'iri, h. \^2^. 

Jack Horner {MoOier Goose for Grown Folks) 973 

Publibhers : Roberts Bros. 

WHITTIER, JOHN GREENLEAB'. 

Haverliill. Mass.. 1807-1892. 

Absent Sailor, To \\er(^The Tent on the Beach) 241 

Agassiz, Prater of 936 

Angel of Patience, The .... 275 

Barbara Frietchie 596 

Barclay of Ury 536 

Barefoot Boy, The 99 

Benedicite iii 

Brown of Ossawatomie 599 

Burns 914 

Fremont, John C 935 

Halleck, Fuz-Greene 937 

• Hampton Beach 609 

Ichabod 929 

Laus Deo I . 597 

Maud Muller 158 

Meeting, The - 37^ 

New England in Winter [Snoiv- Bound) . 436 

Palm-Tree. Tlie 455 

Pumpkin, The 459 

Reformer, The 600 

Thy Will be Done 375 

From: — Centennial Hymn, 604; Democracy, S13 ; 
Eve of Election, 603, 7:9 ; Snow-Bound, 807. 
Publishers; Houghton, Mifflin, Sc Co., Boslon- 

WILCOX, CARLOS. 

Newport. N. H., 1794-1S27. 

God everywhere in Nature , . . 4S8 

WILDE, RICHARD HENRY. 

liel.ind, b. 1789; d. New Orleans, L.^,, 1847. 

Life 743 

WILLIS, NATHANIEL PARKER. 

I'ortlan.l. Me., 1807- 1867. 

Belfry Pigeon, The 472 

Leper, The T^i 

Parrhasius SSi 

Unseen Spirits .,...• 333 

Publishers : Maynard. Merrill. & Co.. New York. 

WILLSON, ARABELLA M. 
cannndaigua, N. Y. 

To the " Sextant" ...... loor 

WILLSON, BYRON FORCEYTHE, 

America, 1837-1S67, 

In State . 523 

WTLMOT, JOHN. See Rochester, Earl of. 
WILSON, HORACE HAYMAN. 

England. 1786- i860. 

Woman {From Sanserif of Chlidhsa) . . 776 
WILSON, JOHN {Kit ox Christopher North). 

Scotland, 1785-1854. 

Evening Cloud, The 602 

Rose and the Gauntlet, The ... S84 

WINKWORTH. CATHARINE. 

Scotland. 1825-1878. 

Veni Sancte Spiritus {From tlw Latiii) . . 356 
\VINTER, WILLIAM. 

Gloucester. Mass., b. 1836. 

Beauty ....•,.. 769 
WITHER, GEORGE 

tiiKl^nd, 1588-1667. 

" Lord ! wlien those glojious lights I see " . 376 
Shepherd's Resolution, The . . 193 



Upon a Stolen Kiss i8( 

From; — Christmas, S16; Shepherd's Hunting, 
803. 

WOLCOTT, OR WOLCOT, JOHN {Peter Pi7idar\ 
liiigland. 1738 -1819. 

Chloe, To ........ 192 

Pilgrims and the Peas, The .... 953 

Razor- Seller, The ...... 954 

Sleep 761 

WOLFE, CHARLES. 

Ireland, 1791 - iS;?. 

Burial of Sir John Moore .... 920 

WOODWORTH, SAMUEL. 
Scituate, Mass., 178^-1842. 

The Old Oaken Bucket 100 

WOOLSEY, SARAH CHAUNCEY {Susan Coolidge). 

Cleveland, O., b. 1845. 

In the Mist 823 

When? 3S1 

Publishers : Roberts Brothers, Boston. 

WORDSWORTH, WILLIAM. 

England, 1770- 1850, 

Cuckoo, To the 472 

Daffodils 464 

Hart-leap Well 660 

Highland Girl at Inversneyde, To a . . 105 

Inner Vision, The 767 

Lucy ........ 104 

Milton, To . 907 

Rainbow, The ...... 432 

** She was a phantom of^delight" . . 128 

Skylark, To the 474 

Sleeplessness 763 

Sonnet composed upon Westminster Bridge 678 

Sonnet, The 907 

"There was a time " ..... 757 

" The world is too much with us " . . . 403 
" Three years she grew " .... 103 

Tin tern Abbey ...... 403 

To a Child 89 

Toussaint I'Ouverture, To .... 921 

Unknown Poets {Exeursioti) . . . 766 
Walton's Book of Lives {Eccies. Sonnets) . 90S 
We are Seven ...... 87 

From: — Character of the Happy Warrior, 540 ; 
Dion, S6S : Early Spring, 492, 495 : Ecclesias- 
tical Sonnets, S09, 939; Ellen Irwin, 311 ; Ex- 
cursion, The, 309, 396, 397, 39S, 399, 494, 631, 
793, 79S, Soi, 806, 808, S67 ; Expostulation and 
Reply, 397 ; Extempore Effusion on the Death 
of James Hogg, 309; Nature, 672; Lao- 
damia, 203, 206, 399; Lines added to "The 
Ancient Mariner," 108 ; Lines written in 
Early Spring, 492, 495; Miscellaneous Son- 
nets, 4S9 ; " My heart leaps up," 107 : Nutting, 
490 ; Ode to Duty, 797 ; Old Cumberland Beg- 
gar, 4S9;'On the Subjugation of Switzerland, 
493; Personal Talk, S05 ; Peter Bell. 490, 495; 
Poems dedicated to National Independence, 
6c2 ; Poems in Summer of 1S33, 4Q5 ; Poet's 
Epitaph, 205 ; Prelude, The, 490; Resolution 
and Independence, 807; Sky Prospect. 49 1; 

Sonnet composed at Castle, 494 ; Sonnet 

XXXV., 398; Sparrow's Nest, The, 231; 
Tables turned. The, 494 ; Thoughts suggested 

on the Banks of Niih, 39S ; To . 206; To 

a Butterfly. loS: To the Daisy, 495 ; To Sir 
G. H . R. , 34S ; To a Young Lady, 311, 723 ; 
Triad, The, 721 : Written in London, Septem- 
ber, 1802,814: Yarrow Unvisited, 493. 
WOTTON, SIR HENRY. 

Enijlnnd, 1568-16^9 

Character of a Happy Life, The . . . 736 

In Praise of Angling 667 

To his Mistress 124 

From : — T\\e Death of Sir Albert Morton's Wife 312 
WROTHER, MISS. 

From: — The Universal Songster . 271 

WVATT, SIR THOMAS. 
England. 1503-154^- 

Eamest Suit, An .... . 240 

XAVIER, ST. FRANCIS. 

France. 1506-1552. 

" Mv God, I love thee" {CaswaWs Trans.) , 360 



INDEX OF AUTHORS AND TITLES 



71 



VALDEN, or YOULDING, TH.OMAS. 
England, 1669-70 — 1736. 

From: — Against Enjoyment . « 



801 



VOUNG, DR. EDWARD. 

En^ilaiid, 1684 -1765. 

Man {Night Thoughts) 776 



Narcissa 

Procrastination {Night Thojtghts) ■ 
Time (Night Thoughts) .... 
From: — Epistle to Mr. Pope, 347, 7qS ; Last 
Day, Tlie. jgS : Love of Fame, 215, 347, 541, 
793, S04, 810, S15; Night Thouglus. 120, 232, 
308, 209, 31Q, 312, 345. 34S, 395. 393, 399. 485, 
491, 492, 792, 794, 7gS, 799, Soi, S16. 

YOUNG, SIR J. 

England 

Epitaph on Ben Jonson 



ANONYMOUS. 

Anne Hathaway ...,,. 
A Voice and Nothing Else . . . . 

Bellagcholly Days 

Books {KaUd^r 0/ SJuperdes) • 

Constancy ....... 

Cooking and Courting . . . . . 

Cosmic Egg, The 

Cradle Song 

Dreamer, The {Poems hy a Seamstress) 
Drummer-Boy's Burial, The . . . . 

Duty 

Echo and the Lover. 

Edwin and Paulinus [Conversion oj" North- 
umhria) ....... 

Eges and the Horses, The 

Faithful Lovers, The 

Fetching Water from the Well 

Fine Old English Gentleman 

Flotsam and Jetsam .... 

George Washington 

Girlhood 

" Go, feel what I have felt " ... 

Good By . . 

Grief for the Dead 

Indian Summer 

Inscription on Melrose Abbey 

King John and the Abbot of Canterbury 



904 
923 

10 1 6 
767 
713 
201 
99' 
77 
330 
52B 
557 

1014 

389 

955 

301 

169 

959 

621 

928 

711 

546 

233 j 

272 I 

434 j 

307 

943 [ 



Kissing 's no Sin ...... 187 

Lady Ann Bothwell's Lament . . . 269 

Lament of the Border Widow ..... 638 

Life's Love, A 972 

Little Feet 77 

Love lightens Labor ..... 220 

Loveliness of Love, The . .... 141 

" Love me little, love me long" . . . 141 

" Love not me for comely grace" . . . 141 

Modern House that Jack built, The , , loii 

My Love 1012 

My sweet Sweeting (te?np. Henry VIII.) . 123 

Not one to spare ...... 230 

Nursery Rhymes ...... 993 

Old-School Punishment . ... 99 

Origin of the Opal S65 

Parting Lovers, The {IV. /?. Alger s Trans.) 236 



Passage in the Life of St Augustine 
Praxiteles [From the Greek) . 
Remonstrance with the Snails 
Revelry o£ the Dying 
Robin Hood and Allan-a-Dale 
Sea Fight. The 
Seaside Well, The 
Siege of Belgrade 



362 
903 
4S6 
898 
633 

6t2 

739 
1013 

Skater Belle,' Our 670 

Skeleton, Tea 761 

Somebody . . . . . .170 

Somebody's Darling (South Songs) . . 53 1 
Stormy Petrel, Lines to the .... 4S3 

Summer Days ...... 160 

Swell's Soliloquy 1001 

Tell-tale, The 476 

" They are dear fish to me " , . . . 282 
Unsatisfactory ...... 194 

Useful Plough, The 551 

Vicar of Bray, The ..... 945 
*' Waly, waly, but love be bonny " . . . 268 
" When I ihink on the happy days" , , 247 
'* Where are vou going, my pretty maid?" . q(;8 
White Rose, The . . . . . 1I3 

"Why, lovely charmer" (T'Atf //iz'^') . . 146 
Wife to her Husband, The . . . .244 

Woman 0,5 

From : — Battle of the Boyne, The, 602 ; Epigram 
on Matrimony, 232 ; On Tobacco, 814. 



" Rock of Ages," p. 367, in a previous edition indexed as Anonymous, was written by Prof. Edward H. Rice, 
Springfield, Mass. "Silent Baby," heretofore given as Anonymous, is by Mrs. Ellen Bartlett Currier, Oberlin, 
Ohio. "The Eabie," on p. 79, in former editions ascribed to Hugh Miller, is by Rev. J. E. Rankin, Washington, 
D. C, b. New Hampshire, 182S. " Summer Days," listed above as Anonymous, is by Wathen Marks Wilks 
Call, England, 1817-1890. "Duty" is ascribed now to Ellen Sturgis Hooper. 



FROM RECENT POETS. 



For List of Illustrations for these Poems in their order see page xiii. 



BATES, ARLO. 

Ea.-.t Machi.is, Me., 1850- 

From : — " Sonnets in Shadow "... 322 
Publishers : Roberts Brob., Bostuii. 

BUNNER, HENRY CUYLER. 

Oswcuo. N. v.. 1SS5-1S96. 

For an Old Poet. {Richard Henry Stoddard) 767 
Publishers : Ctarki Scribner's Sons, New York. 

CARMAN, BLISS. 

Fredrickton, N. B., 1861- 

The Joys of the Road 461 

Puhlibhers: Stune A: Kimball, Chicago. 

CONE, HELEN GRAY. 

N<:»v York City. 1859- 

A Yellow Pansy 494 

Publishers : Houghton, Mifflin St. Co., Boston. 



DAVIDSON, JOHN. 
England- 
London 665 

DELAND MARGARETTA WADE. 

Alleghany, Penn., 1857- 

Affaire D'Amour 141 

Pulihbhurs : Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Boston. 

DICKINSON, EMILY. 
Aiiiherbt, Mass., 1830-1886. 

Poems 389 

Publishers : Roberts Bros,, Boston. 

DOBSON, AUSTIN. 

England, iS+o- 

A Fancy from Fontenelle .... 730 
Publishers in America : Charles Scribner's Sons, New 

York. 



72 



INDEX OF AUTIIOUS AND TITLES. 



EASTMAN. KLAINIC GOODALE. 

Ml. \V,i>lniuh'ii, Ma^s,. i8(.j- 

C'loUlciilod -^i* 

I'lililisluT", : K'.. P. riitii.uu's Sons. New York. 

EATON, RKV. ARTHUR WENTWORTH 
HAMILTON. 

KciltviUf. Nova Scnli.i. 

The Voyage of Sleep 831 

/•>oni . — ■• Vt.uiiijtT Anurican PocLs." Cmscll P»l>. i.-o., N. V. 

FAWCETT, KDGAK. 

New Vork Cilj'. 1847- 

To .111 Oriole 495 

riil.lisliors : llounluoii, Mifflin i^- Co.. Uii>.ton. 

I'TELD, EUGENE. 

Si. Louis. Mo., i8y>-i8q5. 

A Dutch Liifinby So 

ruMiNlicr. : Charles Scrlbiicr's Sons, New York. 

FOSTER, WILLIAM PRESCOTT. 

Wells M*--.. 18-;'- 

The Silence of the Hills 404 

/•"'VH : — Tlu- CiiiUiry Maga/inc, 

GILDER. RICHARD WATSON. 

Uor.lano«n. N, I.. 1S44- 

Lite-Mask of I.incohi 930 

riiMUhcrs; ll\c C._iiiury Co., Now York. 

GOODALE. DORA READ. 

Ml. W'ashiiii-ton, M.iss.. iSoc^ 

A Twilight Fftiicy 433 

l^^blislK'^s : C. 1'. I'utnuin's Sons, Now York. 

GOSSK, EDMUND WILLIAM. 

1 ^l^;l.l^a, 1S49- 

Perlunie 140 

I'lil'lishcrs ill AmcTii;a ; Henry Holt \- Co., New York. 

GUINEY. LOUISE IMOGENE. 

liojhlon. Mass., iS6i- 

The Wild Ride 73' 

ruhlislierN : llouylnon. Milllin & Co., Boston. 

HOVEY. RICHARD. 

Illinois, 18&4— New York, n>x). 

Hcelhoven's Third Symphony . . . 830 

I'ntilislicrs : Stone Oi; KiniUiU. iliiiM^*, 

JOHNSON. ROBERT UNDERWOOD. 

\V.isliii.i;l.>n. lJ^^^- 

.■\ SepteinhiT Violet 460 

r»ililis!iers : llic Cenmry Co., New York. 

KIPLING, RUDVARD. 

Hnglaiul. Born, Hoiuliiiy. 1865. 

Christmas in India xvii 

Recei^sioiial xvi 

"Ihe Coastwise Lights of England . . (mi 

rul>lishers ; l^onhk-day & MeClurc Co. ; U. Applcton & 
Co.. New York. 

LAMPMAN, ARCHIBALD. 

Canait.i. i.^^cn- 

Evening 405 

Fn'pH :~" Youiwer American Poets." IHiblishcrs : Cnsscll 
PnMishins Co.. New York. 

LANIER, SIDNEY. 

Ma.on. C.a., ia»i.-iS«t. 

FroM : — " Cont " 866 

!^lMi^lu■^^ : CliarKs Scribiier's Sons. New York. 
LAZARUS, EMM.V 

New ^"o^k Ciiy. 1849-1887. 

Gifts 571 

l\il>lisliers : Hini);hlon. MilHin \- Co., Uoston. 

LE GALLIENNE, RICHARD. 

Hn^anit. 

Confessio Amnmis . . " . . . . aaS 

l\iblislirrs in Amcric.t : Copelan.l \- P.iy, Boston. 

LIGHTHALL, WILLIAM DOUW. 

Can.ivl.i. 

Canada Not Last 570 

/■>.*»«.■ — " Younger AnuTii:.iii Poets." l\iblijicrs • t'asscU 
("ublishin^: Co., New York. 

LCDERS, CHARLES HENRY. 

Phil.i.lelplna. l\\., 1S5&- 

Menuiry a(>S 

IHiblinher : ttavlil Mackay. Philttdclphia. 

MARKHAM, EDWIN. 

l»re^;o» City, l^^'X-. >S;.^ 

The Man With the Hoe 55J 

Publiilicr.: UoublcvUy & McCIurc Co.. New York. 



MARSTON, PHILIP r.OUKKK. 

1 n^;I.lll.l. 185&-18S7. 

To All in Haven 63a 

Publishers in America: I.itile. Itrown & Co., llosUm, 

ami r. Whliukcr. New York. 

PATMORE. COVENTRY KEARSEY 

DKiHTON. 

l-:ii^lanil, i8.v^t8>,i(>. 

Patting 269 

Publishers in America: Cisscll Publlsliloj; Co., New York, 
PECK, DR. SAMUEL MINTURN. 

luscahmsa, Al,i.. 1854- 

A Knot of Uhie 191 

I'liblishers : The lr<.lcriek A. Slokes Co.. New York. 

PIATT, SARAH MORGAN BRYAN. 

l.exinLfton, Ky., 1S36- 

The Witch in the tHass 81 

Publishers: Houj;liton, Milllin A: Co.. Hoston. 

PROCTOR, EDNA DEAN. 
Hcnniker. N. H., 183S- 

The Brooklyn Bridge 6S4 

Publishers : Ibmjihton. Nhrlhn Oi: Co.. Hoston. 

RILEY, FAMES WHITCOMB. 

C.reeiitK^tl. luil., iSsi- 

The First Bluebird 107 

Publishers : The Bowen-Merrill Co., liidianapolis, Ind. 

RITTER, MARY LOUISE. 

New Yiirk, 183;- 

Winus 106 

/•>>'/« ; — The Century Ma^.'a;ine. 

ROCHE, JAMES JEFFREY. 

Irelauit, 1S4;- 

The V-A-S-E 974 

Publishers : IKHii;liton, Mitllin & Co. Koston. 
RUSSELL. IRWIN. 

I'ori t.i!'son, Miss.. 1855-1S79. 

Nebuchadnezzar 975 

rublishers : The Cvntury Co.. New York. 

SANTAYANA, GEORGE. 

Faith 3S8 

Publishers : Stone \- KimKilI. Chicajjo. 

SCOLLARD. CLINTON. 

Clinton. N. Y.. i8(k>- 

The Bookstall 766 

Publishers : The Ireileriek A. Stokes Co., New York. 

SILL, EDWARD ROWLAND. 

Windsor, Conn., 1841-1887. 

Among the Redwoods 800 

l\iblishers": Houfihtou, MiHlin & Co., Boston. 

SMITH. BELLE E. 

Newton, Iowa. 

If 1 Should Die To-Night .... 301 

/■>.'»« — The Christi.m Ciiion. ( TAf (J«/Av'*l. New York. 

STANTON. FRANK U 

An Old Battlefield 555 

Publishers : L"i>iistituiii>nal I'liblishinj; Co., Atlanta, C.n. 
STEVENSON, ROBERT LOUIS. 

Scotland. 1850-1*14. 

The Hovise Beautiful aa^ 

I*ublishers in America : Charles Scribner's Sons. New- 
York, 

THOMAS, EDITH MATILDA. 

Chath.^m. Ohio. 1854- 

Augur\" 300 

PuMisirers": Houghion. Mitliin vt Co., Boston. 

WATSON. WILLIAM. 

lni:t.oid. 

Ft\'m : — " Wordsworth's Grave" . . S67 

Publishers ! Macniillan & Co., New York. 

WHITMAN. WALT. 

West Hills. New York. 1S19-1S93. 

My }'oT trait 931 

Publisher : David Mackay. Phila. 

WILCOX, ELLA WHEELER. 

Johnstown, ^Yis., 1855- 

Life 323 

l\il'lishers : W. B, Co'ikcv Co.. Chicago, 
WOODBERRY, GEORGE E. 

Beverly. M.»>s., 1855- 

At Gibralt.ir ' 534 

Piitilishers : Hou^fhton. MifHin v% Co., Boston. 
WYETH, DR. JOHN ALLAN. 

Mivviouary St.ition. .M.irsli.ill Co.. Ala.. 1845- 

My Sweetheart's Face 19* 

FrvtH: Harper's Maj^d^iac. 




POEMS OF CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH. 








C yu £M 




'Ky(! ^a«' : ^ i/j yiuv>vi i W-ioS-^ o(Ltix\3_ 



(%'^^^. 



. t-LvT rY^ e^i- - 'V^L^'/C^K^ ^Z^Wl*rt^^c< ' 



^ 






O^'. 



/ 



--T^C^ , 




t /^CV^^ 



POEMS OF CIIlLDirOOI) AND YOUTH. 



i'llILIP, MY KINO. 

"^VIlO heari upon hU baby \iiow ttic routi'l 
And top of fcovcrciunty. ' 

I.ijcjk at inc with thy large hrown eyes, 

I'hilip, my king ! 
Uoiincl whom the cnshiuiowiiif; piiriile lies 
Of Iwljyhooil'M royal iligrjitii.'x. 
Lay oil my neck thy tiny haml 

With Love's invimUe Hecjitrc laden ; 
I am thine Knther, to coninianil 
Till tliou Hlialt lind a (luccn-hiiniliii.iiiliii, 
Philip, my kin^; ! 

0, the day when lliou goest a-wooiiig, 

Philip, my king ! 
When thoHe beautiful lipH 'gin Huing, 
And, some gentle heart's hais iimloing, 
Thou dost enter, love-erowiied, and there 

Sittest love-ghjrified ! — Hule kindly, 
Tenderly over tliy kingdom lair ; 

For we that love, all ! wc love so blindly, 
Philip, my king ! 

Up from thy sweet mouth up to thy brow, 

Philiji, my king ! 
The spirit tliat there lies sleeping now 
May rise like a giant, ami make men Ixjw 
As to one Ileaveii-ehosen among his peers. 

My Saul, tlian tliy brethren taller and fairer. 
Let me behold thee in future years ! 
Yet thy heail needeth a eirelet rarer, 
Phili[i, my king ; — 

A wreatli, not of goM, but p.alni. One day, 

Pliilip, my king ! 
Thou too must tread, as we trod, a way 
Thoniy, and eniel, and cold, and giay; 
Rebels within theo and foes williout 
Will snatch at thy crown. 15ut march on, 
glorious. 
Martyr, yet monarch ! till angels shout, 
As thou sitt'st at the feet of God victorious, 

"Philip, the king!" 

JJINAIf MAHIA MUI.OCK CKAIK. 



CUADLE SONG. 
PROM "umnK.swi'.ivr " 
What is the little one thinking about f 
Very wonderful tilings, no doubt ; 
Unwritten history! 
Unfathomed mystery! 
Yet he (■hin.kles, and crows, and nods, and winks. 
As if his head were as full of kiiiks 
And curious riddles as any sphinx ! 
Warpeil by colic, and wet by tcais, 
Puni:tured by pins, and tortured by fears, 
Our little ncjiln'W will lose two years ; 
And he'll never know 
Where the summers go ; 
He need not laugh, for he 'II lind it so. 

Who can tell what a baby thinks ? 
Who can follow the gossamer links 

liy which the manikin feeds his way 
Out from the shore of the great unknown, 
liliiid, and wailing, ami alone. 

Into the light of day ? 
Out from the shore of the unknown scii. 
Tossing in pitiful agony ; 
Of the unknown sea that reels and rolls, 
.Specked with the barks of little souls, — 
liarks that were launched on the other side. 
And slijiped from heaven on an ebbing tide I 

What does he think of his mother's eyes? 
What does he think of his mother's hair I 

What of the criwlle-roof, that l!i(-s 
Kor\vard and bai'kward through the air '! 

What does he think of liis mother's breast. 
Bare and Iwaiitiful, smo'rth and white, 
.Seeking it ever with fresh delight. 

Clip of his life, and couch of his rest ? 
What does he tliiiik when her ijuick embrace 
Presses his hand and buries hi» face 
Deep where the heart-throbs sink ami swell, 
With a tenderness she i:an never tell. 

Though shi; murmur the words 

Of .all the birds,— 
Words she luis learned to niuniiur well I 

Now he thinks he'll go to sleep ! 

1 i:an see the shadow irreep 



7C 



POEMS OF CUlLUUOOl) A.NU VOITII. 



Over his eyes in soft ei-lipsc, 
Over his brow and over his lips, 
Out to his little liiigor-tiiis ! 
Softly sinking, ilown he goes ! 
Down he goes ! down he goes ! 
See ! he 's hushed in sweet repose. 

JOSIAll CU.Ul-Kr HOLLAND. 



CHOOSING A NAME. 

I HAVE got a new-boni sister ; 

1 wiis nigh the lirst that kissed her. 

When the nursing-woUKin brought her 

To \M\n\, his infimt daugliler, 

How pajKi's dear eyes did glisteu ! — 

She will .shortly be to ehristeii ; 

.\nd papa has made the olfer, 

I shall have the naming of her. 

Now 1 wonder what would please her, — 

t'harlotte, ,Inlia, or Louisa ! 

Ann and Mary, they 're too I'omnion ; 

.loan 's too formal for a wouiau ; 

Jane 's a prettier nante beside ; 

liut we had a .lane that died. 

'I'hey would say, if 't was Kebeeca, 

Tliat she was a litth' t,luaker. 

Edith 's pretty, but that looks 

I'letter in old Knglisli books; 

KUeii 's left olf long ago ; 

Ulanehe is out of fashion now. 

None that 1 luivo nauu'd as yet 

Are so good as Margaret. 

Emily is neat and line ; 

Wliat do you think of Caroline ! 

How I 'm puzzled and perplexed 

What to ehoose or tliink of next ! 

1 am in a little fever 

I.est the name that I should give her 

Should disgraee her or defame her ; — 

I will leave papa to name her. 

Mary I^amb 



BABV MAY. 

Chkeks as soft as ,Iuly peaehes ; 
I.ips whose dewy searlet teaehes 
Poppies paleness ; round largo eyes 
Ever givat with new surpiise ; 
Minutes fdled witli sliadeless gladness ; 
Minutes just as brimmed with s;idness ; 
Happy smiles and wailing eries ; 
Crows, and laughs, and tearful eyes ; 
Lights and shadows, swifter born 
Than on wind-swept autumn eorn ; 
Lver some new tiny notion, 
flaking everv limb all motion ; 



Catehings up of legs and arms ; 
Throwings baek and small alanns ; 
CluteluMg fingers ; straightening jerks ; 
Twining I'eet whose eaeli toe works ; 
Kiekings up and straining risings ; 
Jlother's ever new surprisings ; 
Hands all wants and looks all wonder 
.U all things the heavens under ; 
Tiny seorns of smiled reprovings 
Tluit have more of love than lovings ; 
.Misehiefs done with sueh a winning 
Arehness that we prize sneh sinning ; 
Breakings diie of plates and glasses; 
(Iraspings small at all that passes ; 
PuUings olf of all that 's able 
To be eauglit from tray or table ; 
Silences, — small meditations 
Deep as thoughts of eares for nations ; 
Breaking into wise.st speeches 
111 a tongue that nothing teaches ; 
All the thoughts of whose possessing 
Must Ix' wooed to light by guessing ; 
Slumbeis, — sneh .sweet angcl-seeniings 
That we 'd ever have sueh dreaniings ; 
Till from sleep we see thee breaking, 
.\nd we 'd always have thee waking ; 
Wealtli for which we know no measure ; 
Pleasure high above all pleasure ; 
C.ladiiess brimming over gladness ; 
.loy in care ; delight in .sadness ; 
Loveliness beyond completeness ; 
Sweetness ilistancing all sweetness ; 
Beauty all that beauty may be ; — 
That's May Bennett ; that's my baby. 

\\■lt-LlA^[ Cox BE.NNETT. 



A CRADLE HYMN. 

ABHREVIAIED FROM THE ORIGINAL. 

Husil ! my dear, lie still, and slumber, 

Holy angels guard thy bed ! 
Heavenly blessings without number 

Gently falling on thy head. 

Sleep, my V»be : thy food and lainient, 
House and home, thy friends provide ; 

All without thy care or payment. 
All thy wants are well sujiplied. 

How much K-tter thou'rt attended 
Than the Son of ("iod eould be, 

When from heaven he descended, 
And became a child like thee. 

Soft and easy is thy cradle : 

Coarse and haitl thy Saviour lay : 

When his birthplace was a stable, 
And his softest Ix'd was hav. 



INFANCY. 



/ i 



See the kinder shcphunls loiinil liiiu, 

Telling wonders from the sky ! 
There tliey sought him, tliere they found him, 

Witli his virgin mother by. 

See tlic lovely Babe a-dn^ssing ; 

Lovely Infant, how he snnled ! 
When he \vc>]it, the motlier's l)lessing 

Soothed iuid liushed the lioly Child. 

Lo, ho slumbers in his manger, 

Where the horned oxen feed ; 
Peiiee, my darling, here's no danger, 

Here 's no o.t anear tliy bed. 

Mayst thou live to know and fear him, 
Trust and love him all thy days ; 

Then go dwell forever near hini. 
See his.faee ami sing his praise! 

I eould give thee thousand kisses, 

Hoping what I most desire ; 
Not a mother's fondest wishes 

Can to greater joys asjjire. 

Isaac Waits. 



LITTLE FEET. 

X ivo little feet, so small that both may nestle 

In one caressing baud, — 
Two tender feet upon the untried border 

Of life's mysterious land. 

Dimiiled, and soft, and pink as peaeh-tree blos- 
soms, 

In .April's fragrant days. 
How can tlicy walk anmng the briery tangles, 

Edging the woild's rough ways ? 

These rose-white feet, along the doubtful future. 

Must bear a mother's load ; 
Alas I since Woman has the heaviest burden, 

And walks the harder road. 

Love, for a while, will make thi^ jiath bcfoiethem 
All dainty, smooth, and lair, — 

Will cull .away the brambles, letting only 
The roses blossom there. 

But when the mother's watchful eyes are shrouded 

Away from sight of men. 
And these dear feet are left without her guiding. 

Who shall direct them then ? 

How will they V)e allured, betrayed, deluded, 

Poor little untaught feet ! 
Into what dreary nnizes will they wander, 

What dangers will they meet ? 



Will they go stumbling blindly in the darkness 
Of Sorrow's tearful shades .' 

Or find the upland slopes of Peace and Beauty, 
Whose sunlight never fades ? 

Will they go toiling up ;\iiibition's summit. 

The common worUI above ? 
Or in some nameless vale, securely sheltei'cil, 

Walk side by side with Love .' 

Some feet there be which walk Life's track un- 
woundcd, 

Which find but pleasant ways ; 
Some hearts tliere be to which this life is only 

A round of happy days. 

liut these are few. Far more there arc who 
wander 

Without a hope or friend, — ■ 
Who find their journey full of pains and losses, 

And long to reach the end. 

How shall it be with her, the tender stranger. 

Fair-faced and gentle-cyeil, 
lieforo wliose unstained feet the world's rude 
highway 

Stretches so fair and wide ? 

All ! who may read the future ? For our darling 
We crave all blessings sweet. 

And pray that He who feeds the crying ravens 
Will guide the baby's feet. 

ANONYMOUS. 



CHADLE SONG. 

Sleep, little baby of mine. 
Night and the darkness aie near. 
But .Jesus looks ilown 
Through the shadows that flown, 
And baby has nothing to fear. 

.Shut, little sleepy blue eyes ; 

Dear little liea<l, be at rest ; 

.le.sus, like you. 

Was a baby once, too. 

And slept on his own mother's breast. 

Sleep, little baby of mine. 

Soft on your pillow so white ; 

Jesus is here 

To watch over you, dear. 

And nothing can harm you to-night. 

0, little darling of mine. 

What can you know of the bliss, 

The comfort 1 keep. 

Awake and asleep. 

Because I am certain of this ? 

ANONYMOUS. 



78 



POEMS OF CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH. 



THE HABY. 

WiiErvE did you come fiom, baby dear ? 
Oat of Ihc everywhere into tlic here. 

Whore did you get your eyes so blue ? 
Out of the sky as I came through. 

Wliat makes the light in them sparkle and spin ? 
Sonic of the starry spikes left in. 

Wlieve did you get tliat little tear ? 
I found it waitimj when I got here. 

Wliat nuikes your forehead so sniootli and high ? 
A soft hand stroked it as I loent by. 

Wliat makes your cheek like a warm white rose ? 
Sovicthing better than any one knows. 

Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss ! 
Three angels gave me at once a kiss. 

Where did you get that pearly ear ? 
God spoke, and it came out to hear. 

Where did you get those arms and hands ? 
Love made itself into hooks and bands. 

Feet, whence did you come, you darling things ? 
From the same box as the clihrubs' wings. 

How did they all just come to be you ? 
Ood thought about me, and so I grew. 

But how did you come to us, you dear ? 
God thought of you, and so I am here. 

George Macdon'ald. 



THE BABY. 

Ox parents' knees, a naked, new-born child. 
Weeping thou sat'stwhen all around thee smiled: 
So live, that, sinking in thy last long sleep, 
Thou then mayst smOe while all around thee 
weep. 

From the Sanscrit of Calidasa, by 
SIR William Jones. 



SILENT BABY. 

The baby sits in her cradle, 

Watching the world go round, 
Enwrapt in a mystical silence, 
. Amid all the tunmlt of sound. 



.She must lie akin to the Howers, 

For no one has heard 

A whispered word 
From this silent baby of ours. 

Wondering, she looks at the children, 

As they merrily laughing pass. 
And smiles o'er her face go rippling. 

Like sunsliine over the grass 
And into the heart of the (lowers ; 
But never a word 
Has yet been heard 
From this silent darling of ours. 

Has she a wonderful wisdom. 

Of unspoken knowledge a store, 
Hid away from all curious eyes. 

Like the mysterious lore 

Of the bees and the birds and the Howers ? 

Is this why no word 

Has ever been heard 

From this silent baby of ours • 

Ah, baby, from out your blue eyes 

The angel of silence is smiling, — 
Though silvern hereafter your speech. 
Your silence is golden, — beguiling 
All hearts to this darling of ours, 
AVho speaks not a word 
Of all she has heard. 
Like the birds, the bees, and the flowers. 
Ellkn dartlett Currier. 



BABY LOUISE. 

I '.M in love with you. Baby Louise ! 
With your silken hair, and your soft blue eyes. 
And the dreamy wisdom that in them lies, 
And the faint, sweet smile you brought from the 
skies, — 

God's sunshine. Baby Louise. 

When you fold your hands. Baby Louise, 
Your hands, like a fairy's, so tiny and fair. 
With a pretty, innocent, saint-like air. 
Are you trying to think of some angel-taught 
prayer 

You learned above, Baby Louise ? 

I 'm in love with you. Baby Louise ! 
Why ! j'ou never raise your beautiful head ! 
Some day, little one, your cheek will grow i-ed 
With a flush of delight, to hear the word said, 

"I love you," Bal)y Louise. 

Do you hear me. Baby Louise ? 
I have sung your praises for nearly an hour. 
And your lashes keep drooping lower ami lower, 
And — you 've gone to sleep, like a weary flower, 

Ungrateful Baby Louise ! 

Margaret E\'Tinge. 



INFANCY. 



79 



THE BABIE. 

Nae shoon to liide her tiny taes, 

Nae stockiu' on her feet ; 
Her supple ankk's white as snaw, 

Or early blossoms sweet. 

Her simple dress o' sprinkled pink, 

Her double, diniplit chin. 
Her puckered lips an' baumy moil', 

With ua ane tooth within. 

Her een sae like her mither's een, 

Twa gentle, liipiid things ; 
Her face is like an angel's face, 

We 're glad she has nae wings. 

She is the buddin' o' our hive, 

A giftie God gied us : 
We maun na luve the gift owre weel, 

'T wad be nae blessing thus. 

We still maun lo'e the Giver mair, 

An' see Him in the given ; 
An' sae she '11 lead us up to Him, 

Our habie straight frae Heaven. 

J. E. Rankin, 



"THE HOUSEHOLD SOVEREIGN." 

FROM "the hanging OF THE CRANE." 

Seated I see the two again, 
Bill not alone; tKey entertain 
A little angel unaware, 
Willi face as ruuud as is the moon; 
A royal guest with flaxen hair. 
Wlio. llironed upon his lofty chair, 
Drams on the table with liis spoon. 
Then drops it careless on the floor, 
To grasp at things unseen before. 
Are these celestial manners ? these 
The ways that win, the arts tliat please? 
Ah, yes; consider well the guest, 
And whatsoe'er he does seems beat; 
He ruleth by the right divine 
Of helplessness, so lately born 
In purple chambers of the mom. 
As sovereign over thee and thine. 
He epeaketh not, and yet there lies 
A conversation in his eyes ; 
The golden silence of the Greek, 
TUe gravest wisdom of the wise. 
Not spoken in language, but in looks 
More legible than printed books, 



As if he could but would not speak. 
And now, monarch absolute, 
Thy power is put to proof ; for lo ! 
Resistless, fathomless, and slow, 
The nurse comes rustling like the sea. 
And puslies back thy chair and thee, 
And so good night to King Canute. 

IlENRV WaDSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 



BABY BELL. 

Have you not heard the poets tell 
How came the dainty baby Bell 

Into this world of ours ? 
The gates of heaven were left ajar : 
Witli folded hands and dreamy eyes, 
Waiideiing out of Paradise, 
She saw tills planet, like a star. 

Hung in the glistening depths of eves, — 
Its bridges, running to and fro. 
O'er which the white-winged angels go, 

Bearing the holy dead to heaven. 
She touched a bridge of flowers, — those feet, 
So liglit tlicy did not bend the bells 
Of the celestial asphodels. 
They fell like dew upon the flowers : 
Then all the air grew strangely sweet ! 
And thus came dainty Baby Bell 

Into this woud of ours. 

Slic came, and brought delicious May. 

Tlie swallows built beneath the eaves; 

Like sunlight, in and out the leaves 
The robins went the livelong day ; 
The lily swung its noiseless bell ; 

And o'er the porch the trembling vine 

Seemed bursting with its veins of wine. 
How sweetly, softly, twilight fell! 
O, earth was full of singing-birds 
And opening spring-tide flowers, 
When the dainty Baby Bell 

Came to this world of ours 1 

O, Baby, dainty Baby Bell, 
How fair she grew from day to day I 
What woman-nature filled her eyes. 
What poetry within them lay ! 
Those deep and tender twilight eyes. 

So full of meaning, pure and bright 

As if she yet stood in the light 
Of those oped gates of Paradise. 
And 60 we loved her more and more : 
Ah, never in our hearts before 

Was love so lovely born : 
We felt we had a link between 
This real world and that unseen — 

The land beyond the morn; 



80 



POEMS Ol'" CliaOHOOD AND YOUTH. 



Aud for the love of those dear eyes, 
For love of her whom God led forth 
(The mother's heing ceased on earth 
When Baby came from Paradise), — 
For love of Him who smote our lives, 

And woke the chords of joy aud pain. 
We said. Dear Christ ! — our hearts bent down 

Like violets after rain. 



And now tlie orchaids, which were white 
And red with blossoms wlie'n she came, 
Were rich in autunm's mellow prime ; 
Tlie clustered apples burnt like llamc, 
The soft-cheeked peaches bluslied aud fell. 
The ivory chestnut burst its shell, 
Tlie grapes hung purpling in the gi'ange ; 
Aud time wrought just as rich a change 

In little Baby Bell. 
Her lissome form more perfect grew. 
And in her features we could tiace. 
In softened curves, her mother's face. 
Her augel-nature ripened too : 
We thought her lovely when she came, 
But she was holy, saintly now : — 
Around her pale angelic brow 
We saw a slender ring of flame ! 



God's hand had taken away the seal 

That held the portals of her speech ; 

And oft she said a few strange words 

Whose meaning lay beyond our reach. 

She never was a child to us. 

We never held her being's key ; 

We could not teach her holy things : 
She was Christ's self in purity. 

It came upon us by degrees, 

AVe saw its shadow ere it fell, — 

The knowledge that our God had sent 

His messenger for Baby Hell. 

AVe shuddered with uulauguagcd pain, 

And all our hopes were changed to fears, 

And all our thoughts ran into tears 

Like sunshine into rain. 
We cried aloud in our belief, 
" 0, smite us gently, gently, God ! 
Teach us to bend aud kiss the rod, 
Aud perfect grow through grief" 
Ah, how we loved her, God can tell ; 
Her heart was folded deep in ouis. 

Our hearts are broken. Baby Bell ! 

At last he came, the messenger, 

Tlie messenger from unseen lands : 
Aud what did dainty Baby Bell >. 
She only crossed her little hands, 



She only looked more meek and fair ! 
We parted back her silken hair, 
We wove the roses round her brow, — 
White buds, the summer's drifted snow, — 
Wrapt her from head to foot in llowers ! 
And thus went dainty Baby Bell 
Out of this world of ours ! 

Thomas Bailey Aldrich. 



NO BABY IN THE HOUSE. 

No baby in the house, I know, 

'T is far too nice and clean. 
No toys, by careless lingers stiewn. 

Upon the floors are seen. 
No finger-marks are on the panes. 

No scratches on the chairs ; 
No wooden men set up in rows. 

Or marshalled of!" in pairs ; 
No little stockings to be darned. 

All ragged at the toes ; 
No pile of meniling to lie ilone. 

Made up of baby-clothes ; 
No little troubles to be soothed ; 

No little hands to fold ; 
No grimy fingers to lie washed ; 

No stories to be told ; 
No tender kisses to be given ; 

No nicknames, " Dove " and " Mouse 
No merry frolics after tea, — 

No baby in the house ! 

Cr ARA G D0LL1\'BR. 



WHAT DOES LITTLE BlUDIE SAY? 

FROM "SEA DREAMS. " 

What does little birdie say 
In her nest at peep of ilay ? 
Let me fly, says little birdie. 
Mother, let me fly away. 
Birdie, rest a little longer. 
Till the little wings ave stronger. 
So she rests a little longer. 
Then she flies away. 

What does little baby say. 
In her bed at peep of day ? 
Baby says, like little birdie, 
Let me rise and fly away. 
Baby sleep, a little longer, 
Till the little limbs are stronger, 
If she sleeps a little longer. 
Baby too shall fly away. 

ALl-KHO TENNYSON. 




A DUTCH LULLABY. 



Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night 

Sailed ofif in a wooden shoe — 
Sailed on a river of misty light 

Into a sea of dew. 
"Where arc you going, and what do 
you wish ? " 

The old moon asked the three. 
"We have come to fish for the herring- 
fish 

That live in this beautiful sea ; 

Nets of silver and gold have we," 

Said Wynken, 
Blynken, 
And Nod. 



The old moon laughed and sung a song 
As they rocked in the wooden shoe. 

And the wind that sped them all night 
long 
Ruffled the waves of dew ; 

The little stars were the herring-fish 
That lived in the beautiful sea ; 

" Now cast your nets wherever you wish. 
But never afeard are we " — 
So cried the stars to the fishermen 
three, 



Wynken, 
Blynken, 
And Nod. 



All night long their nets they threw 

For the fish in the twinkling foam, 
Then down from the sky came the 
wooden shoe. 
Bringing the fishermen home. 
'T was all so pretty a sail, it seemed 

As if it could not be ; 
And some folks thought 't was a dream 
they 'd dreamed 
Of sailin": that beautiful sea. 
But I shall name you the fishermen 
three : 

Wynken, 
Blynken, 
And Nod. 

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes. 

And Nod is a little head. 
And the wooden shoe that sailed the 
skies 

Is a wee one's trundle-bed ; 
So shut your eyes while mother sings 

Of the wonderful sights that be. 
And you shall see the beautiful things 

As you rock in the misty sea 

Where the old shoe rocked the fish- 
ermen three — 

Wynken, 
Blynken, 
And Nod. 



Eugene Field. 




Fhi'ln. hy Ainrc Dtlf'rJti. 



THE WITCH IN THE GLASS. 



" My mother says I must not pass 

Too near that glass; 
She is afraid that I will see 
A little witch that looks like me, 
With a red, red mouth, to whisjier low 
The very thing I should not know ! " 



Alack for all your mother's care ! 

A bird of the air, 
A wisttul wind, or (I suppose 
Sent by some hapless boy) a rose. 
With breath too sweet, will whisper low 
The very thing you should not know ! 



Sarah M. B. Piatt. 



INFANCY. 



81 



ON THE PICTURE OF AN INFANT 

PLAYING NEAR A PRECIPICE. 

While on the clitt'with calm delight she kneels, 
And the blue vales a thousand joys recall, 

See, to the last, last verge her infant steals ! 
0, rty — yet stii- not, speak not, lest it fall. — 

Far better taught, she lays her bosom bare, 

And the fond boy springs back to nestle there. 

LEO.NIUAS of Alexandria (Greek). Translation 
of SAMUEL ROGERS. 



LULLARY. 



FROM "THE PRINCESS.' 



Swei;t and low, sweet and low, 

Wind of the western sea. 
Low, low, breathe and blow. 

Wind of the western sea ! 
Over the rolling waters go, 
Come from the dying moon, and blow, 

Blow him again to me ; 
While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. 

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest. 
Father will come to thee soon ; 

Rest, rest, on mother's breast. 
Father will come to thee soon ; 

Father will come to his babe in the nest, 

Silver sails all out of the west 
Under the silver moon ; 
Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep. 

ALFRED TE.NNYSQN. 



THE ANGEL'S WHISPER. 



In Ireland they have a pretty fancy, that, 
its sleep, it is " talking with angels. * 



when a child smiles in 



A BABY was sleeping ; 

Its mother was weeping ; 
For her husband was far on the wild raging sea ; 

And the tempest was swelling 

Round the fisherman's dwelling ; 
And she cried, " Dermot, darling ! O come back 
to me ! " 

Her beads while slie numbered 

The baby still slumbered. 
And smiled in her face as she bended her knee : 

" 0, blessed be that warning. 

My child, thy sleep adorning, — 
For I know that the angels are whispering with 
thee. 

" And while they are keeping 
Briglit watch o'er thy sleeping. 



I 0, pray to them softly, my baby, with mc, — 
And say thou wouldst rather 
They 'd watch o'er thy father ! 
For I know that the angels are whispering to 
thee." 

The dawn of the morning 
Saw Dermot returning. 
And the wife wept with joy her babe's father to 
see ; 
And closely caressing 
Her child with a blessing, 
Said, " 1 knew that the angels were whispering 
with thee." 

SAMUEL I.OVER. 



MOTHER AND CHILD. 

The wind blew wide the casement, and within — 
It was the loveliest picture ! — a sweet child 
Lay in its mother's anus, and drew its life. 
In pauses, from the fountain, — the vvliite round 
Part shaded by loose tresses, soft ami dark, 
Concealing, but still showing, the fair realm 
Of so much rapture, as gi-een shadowing trees 
With beauty shroud the brooklet. The red lips 
Were parted, and the cheek upon the breast 

! Lay close, and, like the young leaf of the Hower, 
Wore the same color, rich and warm and fresh : — 
And such alone are beautiful. Its eye, 
A I'ull blue gem, most exquisitely set. 
Looked archly on its world, — the little imp, 
As if it knew even then that sui-li a wreatli 

1 Were not for all ; and with its playful hands 

i It drew aside the robe that hid its realm. 
And peepeil and lauglied aloud, and so it laid 

I Its head upon the shrine of such pure joys. 
And, laughing, slept. And while it slept, the team 
Of tiie sweet mother fell upon its cheek, — 
Tears such as fall from April skies, and bring 
The sunlight after. They were tears of joy ; 
And the true heart of that young mother then 
Grew lighter, and she sang unconsciously 
The silliest ballad-song that ever yet 
Subdued the nursery's voices, and brought sleep 
To fold her sabbath wings above its couch. 

William gilmore simms. 



BABY ZULMA'S CHRISTMAS CAROL. 

A LISHTER scarf of richer fold 

The morning flushed upon our sight, 

And Evening trimmed her lamps of gold 
From deeper springs of purer light ; 

And softer drips bedewed the lea, 

And whiter blossoms veiled the tree. 



82 



rOEjrS OF CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH, 



Ami bluer waves danced on the sea 
When baby Zuhna came to be ! 

The day before, a bird had sung 

Strange greetings on the roof and flown 

And Night's immaculate priestess Hung 
A diamond from her parted zone 

Upon the crib beside the bed, 

Whereuuto, as tlie doctor said, 

A king or ipieen would soon be led 

By some sweet Ariel overhead. 

Ere yet the sun had crossed the line 

When we, at Aries' double bars, 
Behold him, tcnipest-beaten, shine 

In sto jiy Libra's triple stars : 
What time the hillsides sliake with com 
And bouglis of fruitage laugh unshorn 
And cheery echoes wake the morn 
To gales of fragrance harvest -born. 

In storied spots of vernal flame 

And breezy realms of tossing shade, 
The tripping elves tumultuous came 

To join the fairy cavalcade : 
From blushing chambers of the rose, 
And bowers tlie lily's buds enclose, 
And nooks and dells of deep repose, 
Where human sandal never goes. 

The rabble poured its motley tide : 

Some upon airy chariots rode. 
By Cupids sliowered from side to side, 
And some the dragon-fly bestrode ; 
While troops of virgins, left and right. 
Like microscopic trails of light. 
The sweeping pageant made as bright 
As beams a rainbow iu its flight ! 

It passed : the bloom of purple plums 

Was rippled by trumpets rallying long 
O'er beds of pinks ; and dwarflsh drums 

Struck all the insect world to song : 
The milkmaid caught the low refrain. 
The ploughman answered to her strain. 
And every warbler of the plain 
The ringing chorus chirped again '. 

Beneath the sunset's faded arch, 

It formed and filed within our porch, 
With not a ray to guide its march 

Except the twilight's silver torch : 
And thus she came from clouds above, 
With spirits of the glen and grove, 
A flower of grace, a cooing dove, 
A shrine of prayer and star of love ! 

A queen of hearts ! — her mighty chains 
Are beads of coral round her strung. 



And, ribbon-diademed, she reigns, 

Comnuinding in an unknown tongue 
The kitten spies her cunning ways. 
The patient cur romps in her plays, 
And glimpses of her earlier days 
Are seen in picture-books of fays. 

To fondle all things doth she clioose. 

And when she gets, what some one sends, 

A trifling gift of tiny shoes. 

She kisses botli as loving friends ; 

For in her eyes this orb of care. 

Whose hopes are heaps of frosted hair, 

Is but a garland, trim and fair. 

Of cherubs twining in the air. 

0, from a soul sufl'used with tears 

Of trust thou mayst be spared the thorn 

Which it has felt in otlier years, — 
Across the morn our Lord was born, 

I waft thee blessings ! At thy side 

Jlay his invisible seraphs glide ; 

And tell thee still, whate'er betide, 

For thee, for thine, for all, He died 1 

AUGUSTUS JULIAN REOUIER. 



BABY'S SHOES. 

0, THOSE little, tliose little blue shoes ! 

Those shoes tliat no little feet use. 
the price were liigh 
That those shoes would buy. 

Those little blue unused shoes ! 

For they hold the small shape of feet 
Tliat no more their niother's eyes meet, 

That, by God's good will. 

Years since, grew still, 
And ceased from their totter so sweet. 

And 0, since that baby slept. 

So hushed, liow the mother has kept. 

With a tearful pleasure. 

That little dear treasure. 
And o'er them thought and wept I 

For they mind her forevermore 
Of a patter along the floor ; 

And blue eyes she sees 

Look up from her knees 
With the look that in life they wore. 

As they lie before her there. 
There babbles from chair- to chair 

A little sweet face 

Tliat 's a gleam iu the place, 
Witli its little gold curls of hair. 



INFANCY. 



riien wonder not that her heart 
From all else would rather part 

Than those tiny blue shoes 

That no little feet use, 
And whose sight makes such fond tears start ! 
William Cox Bennett. 



OUR WEE WHITE ROSE. 

All in our marriage garden 

Grew, smiling up to God, 
A bonnier (lower than ever 

Suckt the green warmth of the sod ; 
O, beautiful unfathomably 

Its little life unfurled ; 
And crown of all things was our wee 

White Rose of all the world. 

From out a balmy bosom 

Our bud of beauty grew ; 
It fed on smiles for sunshine, 

On tears for daintier dew ; 
Aye nestling warm and tenderly, 

Our leaves of love were curled 
So close and close about our wee 

White Rose of all the world. 

With mystical faint fragrance 
. Our house of life she filled ; 
Revealed each liour some fairy tower 

Where winged hopes might build ! 
We saw — though none like us might see — 

Such precious promise pearled 
Upon the petals of our wee 

White Rose of all the world. 

But evermore tlie halo 

Of angel-light increased. 
Like the mystery of moonlight 

That folds some fairy feast. 
Snow-white, snow-soft, snow-silently 

Our darling bud upcurled. 
And dropt i' the grave — God's lap — our wee 

White Rose of all the world. 

Our Rose was but in blossom. 

Our life was but in spring. 
When down the solemn midnight 

We heard the spirits sing, 
" Another bud of infancy 

With holy dews impearled ! " 
And in their hands they bore our wee 

White Rose of all the world. 

You scarce could think so small a tiling 

Could leave a loss so large ; 
Her little light such shadow fling 

From dawn to sunset's marge. 



In other springs our life may be 
In bannered bloom unfurled, 

But never, never match our wee 
White Rose of all the world. 

GERALD MASSEY. 



WILLIE WINKIE. 

Wee Willie Wiukie rins through the town, 
Up stairs and doon stairs, in his nicht-gown, 
Tirlin' at the window, ciyin' at the lock, 
" Are the weans in their bed ? — for it 's now ten 
o'clock." 

Hey, Willie Winkle ! are ye comin' ben ? 

The cat 's singin' gay thrums to the sleepin' hen. 

The doug 's speldered on the floor, and disna gie 

a cheep ; 
But here 's a waukrife laddie, that winna fa' 

asleep. 



■ glo 



like 



Ony thing but sleep, ye rogue :- 

the moon, 
Rattlin' in an airn jug wi' an airn spoon, 
Rumblin', tumblin' roun' about, crawin' like a 

cock, 
Skirlin' like a kenna-what — wauknin' sleepin' 

folk! 

Hey, Willie Winkie ! the wean 's in a creel ! 
Waumblin' aff' a bodie's knee like a vera eel, 
Ruggin' at the cat's lug, and ravellin' a' her 

thrums : 
Hey, Willie Winkie ! — See, there he comes ! 

Wearie is the mither that has a stone wean, 

A wee stumpie stoussie, that canna rin his lane, 

That has a battle aye wi' sleep, before he 'U close 

an ee ; 

But a kiss frae aff his rosy lips gies strength 

anew to me. 

William Miller. 



THE MOTHER'S HEART. 

When first thou camest, gentle, shy, and fond. 
My eldest born, first hope, and dearest treasure, 

My heart received thee witli a joy beyond 
All that it yet had felt of earthly pleasure ; 

Nor thought that any love again might be 

So deep and strong as that I felt for thee. 

Faithful and true, with sense beyond thy years, 
And natural piety that leaned to heaven ; 

Wrung by a harsh word suddenly to tears, 
Yet patient to rebuke when justly given; 

Obedient, easy to be reconciled. 

And meekly cheerful ; such wert thou, my 
child ! 



84 



POEMS 01'' CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH. 



Xot willing to be left — still by my side, 

Haunting my walks, while summer-Jay was 
dying ; 

Nor leaving in thy turn, but pleased to glide 
Through the dark room where I was sadly 

lying ; 
Or by the eoueh of pain, a sitter meek. 
Watch the dim eye, and kiss the fevered cheek. 

boy ! of such as thou are oftenest made 
Earth's fragile idols ; like a tender flower. 

No strength in all thy freshness, prone to fade, 
And bending weakly to the thunder-shower ; 

Still, round the loveil, thy heart found force to 
bind, 

And clung, like woodbine shaken in the wind ! 

Then thuu, my merry love, — bold in thy glee, 
Under the bough, or by the firelight dancing. 

With thy sweet temper, and thy spirit free, — 
Didst come, as restless as a bird's wing glan- 
cing. 

Full of a wild and irrepressible mirth, 

Like a young sunbeam to the gladdened earth ! 

Thine was the shout, the song, the burst of joy, 
Which sweet from childhood's rosy lip re- 
soundeth ; 
Thine was the eager spirit naught could cloy, 
And the glad heart from which all grief re- 
boundeth ; 
And many a mirthful jest and mock reply 
Lurked in the laughter of thy dark-blue eye. 

And thine was many an art to win and bless. 
The cold and stern to joy and fondness warm- 
ing ; 
The coaxing smile, the frequent soft caress, 
The earnest, tearful prayer all wrath disarm- 
ing ! 
Again my heart a new affection found. 
But thought that love with thee had reached its 
bound. 

At length thou earnest, — thou, the last and 
least, 
Nicknamed " the Emperor " by thy laughing 
brothers, 
Because a haughty spirit swelled thy brea-st, 
And thou didst .seek to rule and sway the 
othei-s. 
Mingling with every plaj'ful infant wile 
A niinuc majesty that made us smile. 

And 0, most like a regal child wert tliou ! 

An eye of resolute and successful scheming ! 
Fair shoulders, curling lips, and dauntless brow. 

Fit for the world's strife, not for poet's dream- 
ing; 



And proud the lifting of thy stately head, 
And the tirm bearing of thy conscious tread. 

Different from both ! yet each succeeding clain> 
I, that all other love had been forswearing. 

Forthwith admitted, equal and the same ; 
Nor injured either by this love's comparing. 

Nor stole a fraction for the newer call, — 

But in the mother's heart found room for all ! 
Caroline e. Norton. 



THE MOTHER'S HOPE. 

Is there, when the winds are singing 
In the happy summer time, — 

When the raptured air is ringing 

With Earth's music heavenward springing. 
Forest chirf, and village chime, — 

Is there, of the sounds that float 

Unsighingly, a single note 

Half so sweet and clear and wild 

As the laughter of a child I 

Listen ! and be now delighted : 

Morn hath touched her golden strings ; 

Earth and .Sky their vows have plighted ; 

Life and Light are reunited 
Amid countless caroUings ; 

■^'et, delicious as they are. 

There 's a sound that 's sweeter far, — 

One that makes the heart rejoice 

Jlore than all, — the human voice ! 

Organ finer, deeper, clearer. 

Though it be a stranger's tone, — 

Tlian the winds or waters dearer. 

More enchanting to the hearer. 
For it answereth to his own. 

But, of all its witching words. 

Sweeter than the song of birds. 

Those are sweetest, bubbling wild 

Through the laughter of a child. 

Harmonies from time-touched towers. 

Haunted strains from rivulets. 
Hum of bees among the flowers. 
Rustling leaves, and silver showers, — 

These, erelong, the ear forgets ; 
But in mine there is a sound 
Ringing on the whole year round, — • 
Heart-deep laughter that 1 heard 
Ere my child could speak a word. 

Ah ! 't was heard by ear far purer, 

Fondlier formed to catch the strain, — 

Ear of one whose love is surer, — 

Hers, the mother, the endurer 
Of the deepest share of pain ; 



CHILDHOOD. 



85 



Hers the deepest bliss to treasure 
Memories of that ery of pleasure 
Hers to hoanl, a lifetime after, 
Echoes of that infant laughter. 

'T i< a mother's large affection 

Hears with a mysterious sense, — 
Breathings that evade detection. 
Whisper faint, and tine inflection. 

Thrill in her with power intense. 
Ohildliooil's honeyed words untaught 
Hiveth she in loving thouglit, — 
Tones that never thence depart ; 
For she listens — with her lieart. 

LA.\IAN BLA-NCHARD. 



THE PIPER. 

PiPiNT. down the valleys wild, 
Piping songs of pleasant glee. 
On a cloud I saw a child, 
And lie laughing said to me : — 

" Pipe a song about a lamb : " 
So 1 piped with merry cheer. 
" Piper, pipe that song again : " 
So I piped ; he wept to hear. 

" Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe. 
Sing thy songs of happy cheer : " 
So I sung the same again, 
While he wept with joy to hear. 

" Piper, sit thee down and write 
In a book that all may read — " 
So lie vanished from my sight ; 
And I plucked a hollow reed. 

And I made a rural pen, 
And 1 stained the water clear, 
And I wrote my happy songs 
Every child may joy to he;ir. 



William ulake. 



LITTLE GOLDENHAin. 

Goi.nF.NHAU'. climbed up on grandpapa's knee ; 
Dear little Ooldenhair ! tired was she, 
All the day busy as busy could be. 

V\) in the morning as soon as 'twas light, 
Out with the birds and butterflies bright, 
Skipping about till the coming of night. 

Grandpapa toyed with the curls on her head. 
" What has my baby been doing," lie said, 
" Since she arose, with the sun, from her bed ? 



" Pitty much," answered the sweet little one ; 
" 1 cannot tell so much things I have done, — 
Played with my dolly and feeded my Bun. 

"And I have jumped with my little jump-rope, 
And I made out of some water and soap 
liutitle worlds ! mamma's castles of Hope. 

" And I have readed in my picture-book. 

And little Bella and 1 went to look 

Eor some smooth stones by the side of the brook. 

" Then I comed home and I eated my tea, 
And 1 climbed up to my grandpapa's knee. 
1 jes as tired as tired can be." 

Lower and lower the little head pressed. 
Until it drooped upon grandp ipa's breast : 
Dear little Goldenhair ! sweet be thy rest ! 

We are but children ; the things that we do 
Are as sports of a babe to the Intinite view 
Tliat sees all our weakness, and pities it too. 

God grant that when night overshadows our way. 
And we shall be called to account for our day. 
He shall find us as guileless as Goldeuhair's play ! 

And 0, when aweary, may we be so blest 
As to sink like the innocent child to our rest, 
And feel ourselves clasped to the Infinite breast ! 

I-. BUROE SMITH. 



THE GAMBOLS OF CHILDREN. 

Dowx the dimpled greensward dancing. 
Bursts a flaxen-headed bevy, — 

Bud-lipt boys and girls advancing. 
Love's irregular little levy. 

Rows of lii]uid eyes in laughter. 

How they glimmer, how they quiver ! 

Sparkling one another after. 
Like bright ripples on a river. 

Tip.sy band of rnbions faces, 

Fluslied with .loy's ethereal .spirit. 

Make your mocks and sly grimaces 
At Love's self, and do not fear it. 

GEORGE DARLEY. 



UNDER MY WINDOW. 

Under my window, under my window, 
All in the Midsummer weather, 

Three little girls with Muttering curls 
Flit to and fro together ; — 



Sll 



I'DK.MS OF CHILDHOOD AND Yt)l'Tll. 



There 's Bell with her bonnet of satin sheen, 
Anil Mftud with Iter ninntU' ol' silver-green, 
Anil Kate with her sciirlet IVatlu'r. 

Uniier my winilow, under my wimlciw, 

Leiining stealthily over, 
Merry and eleiir, the voiee I hem-, 

Of each glad-hearted rover. 
Ah ! sly little Kate, she steals my roses ; 
And Maud and Hell twine wreaths and posies. 

As merry as bees in clover. 

Under my window, under my windnw, 
In the blue Midsummer weather. 

Stealing slow, on a huslied tiptoe, 
1 eateh them all together : — 

Bell with her bonnet of satin sheen. 

And Maud with her nnintle of silver-green, 
And Kate with the scarlet leather. 

Under my window, under my window. 
And oir through the orchard closes; 

While Maud she llouts, and Bell she pouts. 
They scamper and drop their posies; 

But dear little Kate takes naught amis.s, 

And leaps in my arms with a loving kiss, 

And I give her all my roses. 

Thomas Wi-.stw'OOD. 



ciiii.uiiooix 

In my poor mind it is most sweet to muse 

Upon the days gone by ; to act in thought 

Past seasons o'er, and be again a chiUl ; 

To sit in fancy on the turl'-chul slope, 

Down which the child would roll ; to pluck gay 

llowers. 
Make posies in the sun, which the child's hand 
(I'hildhood olTended soon, soon reconciled). 
Would throw away, and straight take up again. 
Then lling them to the wiiuls, and o'er the lawn 
Bound with so playful aiul so liglit a toot. 
That the pressed daisy scarce declined her head. 

CHAKLES Lamb. 



THE MOTllEU'S SACRIFICE. 

The cold winds swept the mountain's height, 

And pathless was the dreary wild. 
And mid the cheerless houi-s of night 

A mother wandered with her child : 
As through the drifting snow she pressed. 
The babe was sleeping on her breast. 

And colder still the winds did blow. 
And darker houi-s of night came on. 

And deeper grew the drifting snow : 

Her limbs wei-o elulled, lieMtrength was gone. 



"0 God I" she cried in accents wild, 
"If I must perish, save my child I " 

She stripped her mantle from her breast, 
And bared her bosom to the storm. 

And round tlie child she wrapped the vest. 
And smili'd to think her babe was warm. 

With one cold kiss, one tear she shed. 

And sunk njion her snowy bed. 

At dawn a traveller passed by. 
And saw her 'neath a snowy veil ; 

The frost of death was in her eye. 

Her cheek was cold and hard and pale. 

He moved the lobe from olf the child, — 

The babe looked up anil sweetly smiled I 

SEBA SMITH. 



SEVEN TIMES FOUR. 

MATERNITY. 

HF.ir.ii-iio ! daisies and buttercups. 

Fair yellow daffodils, stately and tall ! 
When the winil wakes, how they rock in the 
grasses. 
And dance with the ctickoo-buds slender and 
small ! 
Here 's two lionny boys, and here 's mother's 
own lasses. 
Eager to gather them all. 

Heigh-ho ! daisies and buttercups ! 

Jlother shall thread them a daisy chain ; 
Sing them a song of the pretty hedge-sparrow. 
That loved her brown little ones, loved thcni 
full fain ; 
Sing, " Heart, thou art wide, though the house 
be but narrow," — 
Sing once, and sing it again. 

Heigh-ho ! daisies and buttercups. 

Sweet wagging cowslips, they bend and they 
bow ; 
A ship sails afar over warm ocean water's, 

And haply one musing doth stand at her prow. 
bonny brown sons, and sweet little daugh- 
ters. 
Maybe he thinks on you now ! 

Heigh-ho ! daisies and buttercups. 

Fair yellow datfodils, stately and tall — 

A sunshiny world full of laughter and leisniv. 

And fresh hearts unconscious of sorrow and 

thrall ! 

Send down on their pleasure smiles passing its 

measure, 

God that is over us all ! 

Jean i.vcelow. 



INVA.NCV. 



87 



KOYHOOD. 

An, then liow sweetly closed those crowded days ! 
The minutes parting one hy one, like rays 

That fade upon a summer's eve. 
But 0, what charm or magic numbers 
Jan give nie back the gentle slumbers 

Those weary, happy days did leave ? 
When by my bed I saw my mother kneel, 

And with her blessing took lier nightly kiss ; 

Whatever time destroys, ho cannot this ; — 
E'en now that nameless kiss I feel. 

Washington allston. 



SEVEN TIMES ONE. 

There 's no dew left on the daisies and clover. 

There 's no rain lelt in heaven. 
I 've said my " seven times " over and over, — 

Seven times one are seven. 

1 am old, — .sc old 1 can write a letter ; 

Jly birthday lessons are done. 
The lambs play always, — they know no better ; 

They are oidy one times one. 

Moon ! in the night I have seen you sailing 

And shining so round and low. 
You were bright — ah, bright — but your light 
is failing ; 
You are nothing now but a bow. 

You Moon ! have you done something wrong in 
heaven, 
That God has hidden your face ? 

1 hope, if you have, you will soon be forgiven, 

And shine again in your place. 

velvet Bee ! you 're a dusty fellow, — 
You 've powdered your legs with gold. 

brave marsh Maiy-buds, rich and yellow. 
Give me your money to hold ! 

Columbine ! open your folded wrapper. 
Where two twin turtle-doves dwell ! 

Cuckoo-jiint ! toll me the purple clapper 

That hangs in your clear green bell ! 

And show me your nest, with the young ones in 
it, — 
I will not steal them away ; 

1 am old ! you may trust me, linnet, linnet ! 

1 am seven times one to-day- 

Jean incelow. 



WE ARE SEVEN. 

A SIMPLE child, 
That lightly draws its bieath. 
And feels its life in every limb. 
What slionld it know of death ? 



I met a littli' I'ottngc girl : 

She was eight years old, she said ; 

Her hair was thick with many a curl 
That clustered round her head. 

She had a rustic, woodland air. 

And she was wildly clad ; 
Her eyes were fair, and very fiiir ; — 

Her beauty made me glad. 

" Sisters and brothers, little maid, 

How many may you be ? " 
"How many ? Seven in all," she said, 

And wondering looked at me. 

"And where are they ? 1 piay you tell." 

She answered, " Seven are wo ; 
And two of us at Conway dwell, 

And two are gone to sea ; 

" Two of us in the churchyard lie. 

My sister and my brother ; 
And, in the churchyard cottage, I 

Dwell near them with my mother." 

" You say that two at Conway dwell. 

And two are gone to sea. 
Yet ye are seven ! I pray you tell. 

Sweet maid, how this may be." 

Then did the little maid reply, 

"Seven boys and girls are we ; 
Two of us in the churchyard lie 

Beneath the churchyard tree." 

" You run about, ray little maid ; 

Your limbs they are alive ; 
If two are in tlie churchyard laid, 

Then ye are only five." 

"Their graves are green, they may be seen," 

The little maid replied : 
" Twelve stejra or more from my mother's door, 

And they are side by side. 

"My stockings there I often knit, 

My kerchief there I hem ; 
And there upon the ground I sit. 

And sing a song to them. 

"And often after sunset, sir. 

When it is light and fair, 
I take my little porringer. 

And eat my supper there. 

" The first that died was Sister Jane ; 

In bed .she njoaning lay. 
Till God released her of her pain ; 

And then she went away. 



88 



I'OEMS OF CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH. 



"So in the churohyanl slie was liiid ; 

And, when the grass was dry, 
Together round her grave we played, 

My brother John and I. 

"And when the ground was white with snow. 

And I could run and slide, 
My brother Jolm was forced to go. 

And he lies by her side." 

" How many are you, then," said I, 

" K they two are in heaven ? " 
Quick was the little maid's reply ! 

"0 Master ! we are seven." 

" But they are dead ; those two are dead '. 

Their spirits are in heaven ! " 

'T was throwing words away ; for still 

The little maid would have her will. 

And said, " Nay, we are seven. " 

William Wordsworth. 



TO A CHILD DURING SICKNESS. 

Sleep breathes at last from out thee, 

My little patient boy ; 
And balmy rest about thee 
Smooths ofi' the day's annoy. 
I sit me down, and think 
Of all thy winning ways ; 
Yet almost wish, with sudden shrink, 
That I had less to praise. 

Thy .sidelong pilloweii meekness ; 

thy thanks to all that aid ; 
Thy heart, in pain and weakness, 
Of fancied faults afraid ; 

The little trembling liand 
That wipes thy quiet tears, — 
These, these are things that may demand 
Dread memories for years. 

Sorrows I 've had, severe ones, 

I will not think of now ; 
And calmly, midst my dear ones, 
Have wasted with dry brow ; 
But when thy fingers press 
And pat ray stooping head, 
I cannot bear the gentleness, — 
The tears are in their bed. 

Ah, first-born of thy mother, 

When life and hope were new ; 
Kind playmate of thy brother, 
Thy sister, father too ; 

My light, where'er I go ; 
My bird, when prison -bound ; 
My hand-in-hand companion — No, 
My prayers shall hold thee round. 



To say, " He has departed " — 

" His voice " — " his face " — is gone. 
To feel impatient-hearted. 
Yet feel we must bear on, — 

Ah, I could not endure 
To whisper of such woe, 
Unless I felt this sleep insure 
That it will not be so. 

Yes, still he 's fi.xed, and sleeping ! 

This silence too the while, — 
It.s very hush and creeping 
Seem whispering us a smile ; 
Something divine and dim 
Seems going by one's ear, 
Like parting wings of cherubim. 

Who say, " We 've finished here." 

Leigh Hunt 



LITTLE BELL. 

Piped the Blackbird, on the beechwood spray, 
" Pretty maid, slow wandering this way, 

What 's your name ? " ciuotli he, — 
" What 's your name ? 0, stop and straight un- 
fold. 
Pretty maid with showery curls of gold." — 

" Little Bell," said she. 

Little Bell sat down beneath the rocks, 
Tossed aside her gleaming golden locks, — • 

" Bonny bird," cpioth she, 
" Sing me your best song before I go." 
" Here 's the very finest song I know, 

Little Bell," said he. 

And the Blackbird piped ; you never heard 
Half .so gay a song from any bird, — 

Full of quips and wiles. 
Now so round and rich, now soft and slow, 
All for love of that sweet face below. 

Dimpled o'er with smiles. 

And the while that bonny bird did pour 
His full heart out, freely o'er and o'er 

'Neath the morning skies. 
In the little childish heart below 
All tlie sweetness seemed to grow and grow, 
And shine forth in happy overHow 

From the brow n, bright eyes. 

Down the dell she tripped, and through the glade ; 
Peeped the squirrel from the hazel shade, 

And from out the tree 
Swung and leaped and frolicked, void of fear ; 
While bold Blackbird piped, that all might 
hear, — 

" Little Bell ! " piped he. 



INFANCY. 



89 



Mttle Bell sat down amid the fern : 

" Squirrel, Squirrel, to your task return ; 

Bring me nuts," quoth she. 
Up, away ! the frisky Squirrel hies, — 
Golden wood-lights glancing in his eyes, — 

And adown the tree 
Great ripe nuts, kissed brown by July sun, 
In the little lap drop one by one. 
Hark, how Blackbird pipes to see the fun ! 

" Hnppy Bell ! " pipes he. 

Little Bell looked up and down the glade: 
"Si|uirrel, Squirrel, from the nut-tree shade. 
Bonny Blackbinl, if you 're not afraid. 

Come and share with me ! " 
Down came Squirrel, eager for his fare, 
Down came bonny Blackbird, I declare ; 
Little Bell gave each his honest share, — 

Ah ! the merry three ! 

And the while those frolic playmates twain 
Piped and frisked from bough to bough again, 

'Neath the morning skies. 
In the little childish heart below 
All the sweetness seemed to grow and grow. 
And shine out in happy overflow 

From her brown, bright eyes. 

By her snow-white cot, at close of day, 
Knelt sweet Bell, with folded palms, to pray ; 

Very calm and clear 
Kose the praying voice to where, unseen. 
In blue heaven, an angel-shape serene 

Paused awhile to hear. 

" What good child is this," the angel said, 
" That with happy heart beside her bed 

Prays so lovingly '( " 
Low and soft, 0, very low and .soft. 
Crooned the Blackbird in the orchard croft, 

" Bell, drar Bell ! " crooned he. 

"Whom Ood's creatures love," the angel fair 
Murmured, "God dotli bless with angels' care ; 

Child, tiiy bed shall be 
Folded safe from harm. Love, deep and kind, 
Shall watch around and leave good gifts behind. 

Little Bell, for thee ! ". 

Thomas westwood. 

TO A CHILD. 

WRITTEM IN HER ALBL'M. 

Small service is true service while it lasts : 

Gf humblest friends, bright creature ! scorn not 

one : 
The daisy, by the shadow that it casts. 
Protects the lingering dewdrop from the sun. 
William Wordsworth. 



PICTURES OF MEMORY. 

Amont. the beautiful pictures 

Tliat hang on Memory's wall 
Is one of a dim old forest, 

That seemeth best of all ; 
Not for its gnarled oaks olden, 

Dark with the mistletoe ; 
Not for tli^ violets golden 

That sprinkle the vale below ; 
Not for the milk-white lilies 

That lean from the fragrant ledge. 
Coquetting all day with tlie sunbeams. 

And stealing their golden edge ; 
Not for the vines on the upland. 

Where the bright red benies rest, 
Nor t-lie pinks, nor tlie pale sweet cowslip. 

It seemeth to me the best. 

I once had a little brother. 

With eyes that were dark and deep ; 
In the lap of that old dim forest 

He lieth in peace asleep : 
Liglit as the down of the thistle, 

Free as tlie winds that blow, 
We roved tliere the beautiful summers, 

The summers of long ago ; 
But his feet on the hills grew weary, 

And, one of the autumn eves, 
I made for my little brother 

A bed of the yellow leaves. 
Sweetly his jjale arms folded 

My neck in a meek embrace. 
As the light of immortal beauty 

Silently covered his face ; 
And when the arrows of sunset 

Lodged in the tree-tops bright. 
He fell, in his saint-like beauty, 

Asleep by the gates of light. 
Therefore, of all the pictures 

That hang on Memory's wall, 
The one of the dim old forest 

Seemeth the best of all. 

ALICE Carv. 



THE PET NAME. 

*' The name 
Which from THEIR lips seemed a caress." 

MISS MlTFORD'S Dramatic Sceney 

I HAVE a name, a little name, 

Uncadenced for the ear, 
rnhonored by ancestral claim, 
Unsanctified by prayer and psalm 

The solemn font anear. 



90 



I'UEMS OF CHILDHOOD AND VOITU. 



It never did, to pages wove 

For gay romance, belong. 
It never dcdieato did move 
As "Saeharissa," unto love, — 

"Orinda," unto song. 

Though 1 write books, it will be read 

Upon the leaves of none. 
And afterward, wlien I am dead, 
Will ne'er be graved for sight or tread, 

Across my funeral-stone. 

This name, whoever chance to call 

Perhaps your smile may win. 
Nay, do not smile ! mine eyelids fall 
Over mine eyes, and feel withal 
The sudden teais within. 

Is there a leaf that greenly grows 
Where summer meadows bloom. 
But gathentth the winter snows, 
Aiul changeth to the hue of those, 
If lasting till they come ? 

Is tliere a word, or jest, or game. 

Hut time encrusteth round 
With sad associate thoughts the same ? 
And so to me my very name 

Assumes a mournful sound. 

My brother gave that name to me 
When we were children twain, — 

When names actjuired baptismally 

Were hard to utter, as to see 
That life had any pain. 

No shade was on us then, save one 

Of chestnuts from the hill, — 
And through the word our laugh did run 
As part thereof. Tlie mirth being done, 
He calls me by it still. 

Nay, do not smile ! I liear in it 

What none of you can hear, — 
The talk upon the willow seat. 
The bird and wind that diil repeat 
Around, our human cheer. 

I hear the birthday's noisy bliss. 

My sisters' woodUind glee, — 
My father's praise I did not miss. 
When, stooping down, lie i-ared to kiss 
Tlie poet at his knee, — 

And voices whicli, to nanu" me, aye 

Their tenderest tonos were keei)ing, — 
To some I nevermore can say 
An answer, till God wipes away 
1 11 heaven these drops of wec)iiug. 



My name to me a sadness wears ; 

No munnurs cross my mind. 
Now Go(l be thanked for these thick tears. 
Which show, of tliose departed years. 

Sweet memories left behind. 

Now God be thanked for years enwTought 

With love which softens yet. 
Now God be thanked for every thought 
Wliich is so tender it has caught 

Earth's guerdon of regi-et. 

Earth saddens, never shall remove. 

Affections purely given ; 
And e'en that mortal grief shall prove 
The immortality of love. 

And heighten it with Heaven. 

Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 



THE THREE SOXS. 

I UAVE a son, a little son, a boy just five years 

old. 
With eyes of tlioughtful earnestness, and mind 

of gentle mould. 
They tell me that unusual grace in all his ways 

appears. 
That my child is grave and wise of heart beyond 

his childish years. 
I cannot say how this may be ; 1 know his face 

is fair, — 
And yet his chiefest comeliness is his sweet and 

serious air ; 
I know his heart is kind and fond ; 1 know he 

loveth me ; 
I5ut loveth yet his mother more witli grateful 

fervency. 
But that which others most admire, is the thought 

which fills his mind. 
The food for grave inijuiring speech he every- 
where doth find. 
Strange questions doth he ask of me, when we 

together walk ; 
He scarcely thinks as children think, or talks as 

children tjilk. 
Nor cares he much for childish sports, dotes not 

on bat or ball. 
But looks on manhood's ways and works, and 

aptly mimics all. 

His little heart is busy still, and oftentimes per- 

plext 
With thoughts about this world of ours, and 

thoughts about the next. 
He kneels at his dear mother's knee ; she teacheth 

him to pray ; 
And strange and sweet and solemn then are the 

words which he will sav. 



CHILDHOOD. 



91 



O, should my gentle child be spiired to man- 
hood's years like me, 

A holier and a wiser man I trust that he will be ; 

And when 1 look into his eyes, and stroke las 
thouglitful brow, 

I dare not think what I should feel, were 1 to 
lose him now. 

I have a son, a second son, a simple child of 

three ; 
I '11 not declare how bright and fair his little 

features be, 
How silver sweet those tones of his when he 

prattles on my knee ; 
I do not think his light-blue eye is, like his 

brother's, keen. 
Nor his brow so full of childish thought as his 

'liath ever been ; 
But his little heart's a fountain pure of kind and 

tender feeling ; 
And his every look's a gleatn of light, rich 

depths of love revealing. 
When he walks with me, the country folk, who 

pass us in the street, 
Will shout for joy, and bless my boy, he looks 

so mild and sweet. 
A playfellow is he to all ; and yet, with cheerful 

tone. 
Will sing his little song of love, when left to 

sport alone. 
His presence is like sunshine sent to gladden 

home and hearth, 
To comfort us in all our griefs, and sweeten all 

our mirth. 
Should he grow up to riper years, God grant his 

heart may prove 
As sweet a home for heavenly grace as now for 

earthly love ; 
And if, beside his grave, the tears our aching 

eyes must dim, 
God comfort us for all the love which we shall 

lose in him. 

I have a son, a third sweet son ; his age I cannot 

tell, 
For they reckon not by years and months where 

he has gone to dwell. 
To us, for fourteen anxious months, his infant 

smiles were given ; 
And then he bade farewell to earth, and went to 

live in heaven. 
I cannot tell what form is his, what looks he 

weareth now, 
Kor guess how bright a glory crowns his shining 

sera]>h brow. 
The thouglits that fill his sinless soul, the bliss 

which he iloth feel. 
Are numbered v.ith the secret things which God 

will not reveal. 



15ut I know (for Ooil hath told me this) that he 

is now at rest, 
Wliere other blessed infants be, orj tlieir Saviour's 

loving breast. 
1 know his spirit feels no more this weary load 

of flesh. 
But his sleep is blessed with endless dreams of 

joy forever fresh. 
I know the angels fold him close beneatb their 

glittering wings. 
And soothe him with a song that breathes of 

Heaven's divinest things. 
1 know that we shall meet our babe (his mother 

dear and I ) 
Where God for aye shall wipe away all tears from 

every eye. 
Whate'er Ijefalls his brethren twain, his bliss can 

never cease ; 
Their lot may here be grief and fear, but his is 

certain peace. 
It may be that the tempter's wiles their souls 

from bliss may sever ; 
But, if our own poor faith fail not, he must be 

ours forever. 
When we think of what our darling is, and what 

we still must be, — 
When we nnise on that world's perfect bliss, and 

this world's misery, — 
WTien we groan beneath this load of sin, and feel 

this grief and pain, — 
Oh ! we 'd rather lose our other two, than have 

him here again. 

JOHN MOULTRIE. 



THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. 

An Inverary correspondent writes : " Thorn gave me the for- 
lowing narrative as to the origin of ' The Mittierless Bairn * ; I 
(jiiote his own words. ' When 1 was livin' in Aberdeen. I was 
hmping roun' the house to my garret, wht-'n 1 heard the greetin' o' 
a wean. A lassie was thumpin' a bairn, when out cam a big dame, 
bellowin', " Ye hussie, will ye lick a mitherlcss bairn 1." 1 hobled 
up the stair and wrote the sang afore sleepin'. " 

When a' ither bairnies are hushed to their hame 
By aunty, or cousin, or frecky graml-danie, 
Wha stands last and lanely, an' naebody cariii' ? 
'T is the puir doited loonie, — the mitherless 
bairn ! 

The mitherless bairn gangs to his lane bed ; 
Nane covers his cauld back, or haps his bare 

heail; 
His wee hack it heelies are hard as the airn. 
An' litheless the lair o' the mitherless bairn. 

Aneath his caulil lirow siccan dreams hover there, 
O' hands that wont kindly to kame his ilark hair ; 
Hut mornin' brings clutches, a' reckless an' stern. 
That lo'e nae the locks o' the mitherless bairn ! 



9:.' 



roli.MS OF CUILDIIOUU Ai\U VUUTU. 



Yon sister that siiiig o'or his sal'tly I'ockod lied 
Now rests ill tlic^ iiiools wlit'iv lii'i' iiiiiiiiiniu is 

laid : 
Tlio liitlicr toils sail' their wen Imiiiiorii to cani, 
.\ir Ivoiis na till' wiiuigs o' Ills iiiilli<*rl('ss Iiairii. 

I lor spirit, tliat piissoil in yon liour o' his hirth, 
Slill Wiiti'lics liisivi'arisonic wainlorinj^s'on oartli ; 
lii'oordinf? in lioavun tho blessin^js thoy earn 
Wlia ooutliiliu deal wi' tho mitlierloss bairn ! 

(), sjicaU liini na harsldy, lie tn'iiililcs the 

u liilc. 
Ill' liriids to ymr Inddiiij,', iuiil lilcsscs your siiiili'; 
111 llii'ir dark hour o' iiii^iiisli tlio lu-arth'ss shall 

lea I'll 
That t!od iloiils Iho blow, for llic uiilliorlcss bnirn! 

W'lia.lAM TIIOM. 



MY MOTH UK'S IMCTUiij.;. 

OUT OP NORPOI.K. TUU C.ll'T OI' MY COUSIN. ANN llOUUAM. 

O THAT those lips had langnago ! LilV has passed 
With ine but roughly since I heard thee last. 
Tlio.se liiisaro thine, — thy own sweet smile I see, 
The same that oft in childliood solaced me ; 
Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, 
"Grieve not, my child ; chase all thy tears 

away ! " 
Till' meek intelligenee of those dear eyes 
(Blest be the art Unit can iininortali/.e, — 
The art that bailies time's tyrannie claim 
To (inench it !) here sliincs on me still the same. 
Faithful remembrancer of one so dear ! 

welcome .guest, though nuexpecti'd here ! 
Who bid'st mo honor with an artless song, 
Atlectioniite, a mother lost so long. 

1 will olicy, — not willingly alone, 

lint gladly, as the precejit were her own ; 
And, while that face renews my tilial grief, 
Kaucy shall weave a charm for my relief, — 
Shall steep iiie in Klysian revery, 
A momentary dream that tlion art she. 

My mother! when I Icarncil that tlion wast 
dead. 
Say, wast tlioii conscious of the tears 1 slied > 
Hovered thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son, — 
Wreteh even then, life's journey just begun ! 
I'erhaiw thou giwcst me, though uiifelt, a kiss ; 
I'erhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss — 
Ah, that maternal smile ! it answers — Yes. 
I heard the bell tolled on thy burial day ; 
I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away; 
And, turning from my nui'sery window, drew 
.\ long, long sigh, and we]>t a last ndieii ! 
I!ut was it such ' — It was, — -yhere thou art gone 
Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown : 



May I hut meet thee on that peaceful shore. 
The parting word shall pass my lips no more. 
Thy maiden.s, grieved themselves at my concern, 
Dft gave me promise of thy iiiiick return ; 
What ardently 1 wished 1 long believed, 
And, disapiiointed slill, was still deoeived, — 
liy e.\|iectation every day beguiled, 
Dupe of to-morrow even from a child. 
Thus many a sad to-morrow came and went. 
Till, all my stock of infant sorrows spent, 
1 learned at last submission to my lot ; 
lint, though 1 less deplored thee, ne'er forgot. 
Where once we dwelt our name is licard iu» 
more ; 
Children not thine have trod my nursery lloor ; 
And where the gardener Hobin. day by ilay, 
Drew me to school along the iniblie way, — 
Delighted with my bawhle coach, and wrapped 
In scarlet mantle warm and velvet cap, — 
'Tis now become a history little known 
That onee we called the pastoral house onr own. 
Short-lived possession ! but the record fair. 
That memory keeps of all thy kindness there, 
Still outlives many a storm that has cll'aced 
A thousand other themes, less deeply traced; 
Thy nightly visits to my chamber made. 
That thini mightst know me safe and warmly laid; 
Thy morning bounties ere 1 left my home, — 
Tho biscuit, or confectionery plum ; 
Tho fragrant waters on my cheeks bestowed 
l!y thy own hand, till IVcsh they shone and 

glowed, — 
All thi.s, and, more endearing still than all. 
Thy constant How of love, that knew no fall, — 
Ne'er rmiglieued by those cataracts and breaks 
That humor interposed too often makes ; 
All this, still legible in memory's page, 
And still to be so to my latest age, 
.\dds joy to duty, makes me glad to pay 
Such honors to thee as my numbers may, — 
Perhaps a trail memorial, but sincere, — 
Not scorned in heaven, though little noticed hero. 
Could time, his llight reversed, restore the 
hours 
When, playing with thy vesture's tissued flow- 
ers, - - 
The violet, the pink, the jessamine, — 
I pricked them into paper with a pin, 
(.\nd thou wast happier than myself the while — 
Wonldst softly speak, and stroke my head and 

smile,) — 
("■ould those few pleasant days again apjicar, 
Might one wLsli bring them, would 1 wish them 

here » 
I would not trust my heart, — the dear delight 
Seems so to be desired, perhaps 1 might. 
Hut no, — what here we call our life is such, 
So little to Ih' loved, and thou so much, 



ClIILUllOOD. 



'Xi 



Tliiit I slioulil ill rei|uilu tlicc to constrain 
Tliy unbound spirit into bonds a{;iiin. 
J Thou — as a gallant bark, from Albion s coast, 
(The storms all weathered and the ocean erossed, ) 
•Shoots into port at some well-havened islo, 
W'here spices breathe and brighter seasons smile; 
There sits quiescent on the (loods, that show 
Her beauteous form reflected clear below, 
While airs iujpregnated with iueeuse play 
Around her, fanning light her streamers gay, — 
So thou, with sails how swift ! hast reached the 

shore 
" Where tempests never beat nor billows roar," 
And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide 
Of life long since has anchored by thy side. 
But me, scarce hoping to attain that rest, 
Always from port withheld, always distressed, — 
Me howling Iplasts drive devious, tempest-tossed. 
Sails rippe<l, seams opening wide, and cumipass 

lost ; 
And day by day some current's thwarting force 
Sets me more ilistant from a prosjiei-ous course. 
Vet O, the thouglit that thou art .safe, and he! — 
That thought is joy, arrive what may to me. 
My boast is not th.at I deduce my birth 
From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth ; 
But higher far my proud ])retensions rise, — 
Tlie son of parents pas.sed into the skies. 
And now, farewell ! — Time, unrevoked, has run 
His wonteil course ; yet wliat I wished is done. 
Hy luutemiilation's hel]i, mit .sought in vain, 
I seciii to have lived my childhood o'er again, — 
To have renewed the joys that once were mine, 
Without the sin of violating thine ; 
And, while the wings of fancy still are free, 
And 1 can view this mimic show of thee, 
Time has but half sueceeiled in his theft, — 
Thyself removed, thy power to soothe me left. 
William Cowpiiu. 



I KKMliMBER, 1 UEMEMliER. 

I isE.MK.MBER, I remember 

The house where I was born, 
The little window where the sun 

Came peeping in at nun-n. 
He never came a wink too soon. 

Nor brought too long a day ; 
Hut now 1 often wish the night 

Had lionie my lireath away ! 

1 remember, I remember 
The roses, red and white. 

The violets, and the lily-cups, — 
Those flowers made of light ! 

The lilacs wliere the robin built, 
And where my brother set 



The laburnum on his birthday, — 
The tree is living yet ! 

1 remember, 1 remember 

Whiire 1 was used to swing. 
And thought the air must rush as fresh 

To swallows on the wing; 
My spiiit ll(!w ill feathers then, 

That is so liiaivy now, 
And summer jiools could hardly cool 

The fever on my brow ! 

1 remember, 1 remember 

The lir-trees dark and high ; 
I used to think their slender tops 

Were close against the sky. 
It was a childish ignorance, 

Hut now 'tis little joy 
To know I 'm farther oil' fioin heaven 

'i'han when 1 was a boy. 

Thomas IIood. 



TO MY INKANT .SON. 

Tiiou happy, happy elf I 
(But stop, (irst let me kiss away that tear,) 

Thou tiny image, of myself ! 
( My love, he 's poking peas into his car,) 
Thou merry, laughing sprite, 
With spirits, feather light, 
Untouched by sorrow, and unsoiled by sin ; 
(My dear, the child is swallowing a pin !) 

Thou little tricksy I'nck ! 

With antic toys .so funnily bestuck. 

Light as the singing bird that rings the air, — 

(The door! the door! he'll tumble down the 

stair !) 
Thou darling of thy sire ! 
(Why, Jane, he'll .set his pinafore alire !) 

Thou imp of mirth and joy ! 
In love's dear chain .so bright a link, 

Thou idol of thy parents ; — ( Drat the boy ! 
There goes my iid<.) 

Thou cherub, but of earth ; 
Fit playfellow for fairies, by moonlight pale, 

In liarndess sport and mirth, 
(That dog will liite him, if he pulls his tail !) 

Thou human humming-bee, extracting honey 
From every blossom in the world that blows, 

.Singing in youth's Elysium ever sunny, — 
(Another tumble ! That's his precious nose !) 
Thy father's pride and hope ! 
(He'll break that mirror with that ski]i]iing- 
rope !) 



94 



I'OEMS OF CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH 



With \m\v lirart uowly stampal IVoiu nature's 

iniiit, 
(WluTo Uid he Irani that siiiiiiit 

Thou young lionicstic ilove ! 

( Hi' '11 have that ring oil' with another shove,) 

Dear nursling of the liynieneal nest ! 

(Are these torn clothes his best '.) 

Little epitome of man ! 

(He '11 elimb upon the table, that's his plan,) 

Toueheil with tlie beauteous tints of dawning life, 

(He's got a knife !) 

Thou enviable being ! 

No storms, no clouds, in thy blue sky foreseeing. 

Play on, play on, 

Jly oltin John ! 
Toss the light ball, bestride the stick, — 
(1 knew so many cakes would make him sick !) 

With lancies buoyant as the thistle-down, 
Trompting the face grotesipie, anil antic brisk. 
With nuuiy a lamb-like frisk ! 

( Ho 's got the scissors, snipping at your gown 1) 
Thou Jiietty opening rose ! 
(Go to your mother, child, and wipe your nose !) 
Balmy and breathing music like the south, 
(He really brings my heart into my nmuth !) 
liold as the hawk, yet gentle as the dove ; 
( 1 '11 tell you what, my love, 
1 cannot write unless he's sent above.) 

Thomas Hood. 



THE LOST HEIR. 

" O where, and O where 
Is my bonnieladdieffoncr "— OLD SONG. 

One day, as I was going by 

That part of Holborn christened High, 

I heaixi a loud and sudden cry 

That chilled my very blood ; 
And lo ! from out a dirty alley. 
Where pigs and Irish wont to rally, 
I saw a crazy wonnm sally, 

Bedaubeel with grcivse and mud. 
She turned her East, slie turned her West, 
Staring like Pythoness possest. 
With streaming hair and heaving breast, 

As one stark mad with giief. 
This way and that she wildly ran. 
Jostling with woman and with man, — 
Her right hand held a frying-pan. 

The left a lump of beef. 
At last her frenzy seemed to reach 
A point just capable of speech. 
And with a tone almost a screech, 

As wild as ocean biiils, 
Or female ranter moved to preach, 
She g-ave her " sorrow wor>Is." 



"0 Lord! dear, my lieart will break, 1 shall 

go stick stark staring wild ! 
Has ever a one seen anything about the streets 

like a crying lost-looking child ? 
Lawk help me, 1 don't know where to look, or 

to run, if I only knew wliicli way — 
A Child as is lost about London streets, and es- 
pecially Seven Dials, is a needle in a bottle 

of hay. 
I am all in a quiver — get out of my sight, do, 

you wretch, you little Kitty M'Nab ! 
You promised to have half an eye to him, you 

know you did, you dirty deceitful young 

drab. 
The last time as ever 1 see 1dm, poor thing, was 

with my own blessed Motherly eyes. 
Sitting as good as gold in the gutter, a playing 

at making little dirt-pies. 
I wonder he left the court, where he Wixs better 

off than all the other young boys. 
With two bricks, an old shoe, nine oyster-shell.s, 

and a dead kitten by way of toys. 
When his father comes home, and he always 

comes lu)me as sure as ever the clock 

strikes one. 
He'll be rampant, he will, at his child being 

lost ; and the beef and the inguns not 

done ! 
La bless you, good folks, mind your own con- 
cerns, aud don't be making a mob in the 

street ; 
Sergeant M'Farlane ! you have not come across 

my poor little boy, have you, in your beat ? 
Do, good people, move on 1 don't stand staring 

at me like a parcel of stupid stuck pigs ; 
Saints forbid ! but he 's p'r'aps been inviggled 

away up a court for the sake of his clothes 

by the priggs ; 
He 'd a very good jacket, for certain, for I bought 

it myself for a shilling one day in Hag 

Fair ; 
And his trousers considering not very much 

patched, and red plush, they was once his 

Father's best pair. 
His shirt, it 's very lucky I 'd got washing in 

the tub, or that might have gone with the 

rest ; ■ 
But he 'd got on a very good pinafore with only 

two slits and a bum on the breast 
He 'd a goodish sort of hat, if the crown was 

sewed in, and not ipiite so much jagged 

at the brim. 
With one shoe on, and the other shoe is a boot, 

aud not a fit, and you '11 know by that if 

it 's him. 
Except being so well dressed, my mind would 

misgive, some old beggar woman, in want 

of an orphan. 



ClIILUUOOD. 



95 



Had borrowed the child to go a-hcgging with, 

but I 'd rather see hiiti laid out in his 

coffin ! 
Do, good people, move on , such a rabble of boys ! 

I '11 break every bone of 'em I come near. 
Go home — you 're spilling the porter- — go home 

— Tommy Jones, go along home with 

your beer. 
This day is the sorrowfullest day of my life, ever 

since my name was Betty Jlorga'i, 
Them vile Savoyards ! they lost him once before 

all along of following a monkey and an 

organ : 
my Billy — my head will turn riglit rouml — 

if he 's got kiddynapped with them /tal- 

ians, 
They '11 make him a plaster parish image boy, 

they will, the outlandish tatterdemalions. 
Billy — where are you, Billy ? — I 'm as hoarse 

as a crow, with screaming for ye, you 

young sorrow ! 
And sha'n't have half a voice, no more I sha'n't, 

for crying fresh herrings to-morrow. 

Billy, you 're bursting my heart in two, and 

my life won't be of no more vally. 
If I 'm to see other folks' darlin's, and none 

of mine, playing like angels in our 

alley. 
And what shall I do but cry out my eyes, when 

I looks at the old three-legged chair 
As Billy used to make coach and horses of, and 

there a' n't no Billy there ! 

1 would run all the wide world over to find him, 

if I only knowed where to run, 
Little Murphy, now I remember, was once lost 

for a month through stealing a penny 

bun, — 
The Lord forbid of any child of mine ! I think 

it would kill me rally,' 
To find my Bill holdin' up his little innocent 

hand at the Old Bailey. 
For though I say it as ought n't, yet I will say, 

you may search for miles and mileses 
And not find one better brought up, and more 

pretty behaved, from one end to t' other 

of St. Giles's. 
And if I called him a beauty, it 's no lie, but 

only as a mother ought to speak ; 
You never set eyes on a more handsomer face, 

only it has n't been washed for a week ; 
As for hair, though it 's red, it 's the most nicest 

hair when I 've time to just show it the 

comb ; 
I '11 owe 'em five pounds, and a blessing besides, 

as will only bring him safe and sound 

home. 
He 's blue eyes, and not to be called a squint, 

though a little cast he 's certainly got ; 



And his nose is still a good un, though the 

bridge is broke, by his I'alling on a jKiWter 

pint pot ; 
He 's got the most elegant wide mouth in the 

world, and very large teeth for his age ; 
And (juite as fit as Mrs. Murdockson's child to 

play Cupid on the Drury Lane stage. 
And then he has got such dear winning ways — 

but 0, I never, never shall see him no 

more ! 

dear ! to think of losing him just after nuss- 

ing him back from deatli's door ! 
Only the very last month when the windfalls, 

hang 'em, was at twenty a penny ! 
And the threepence he 'd got by grottoing was 

spent ill plums, and si.\ty for a child is 

too many. 
And the Cholera man came and whitewashed us 

all, and, drat him ! made a seize bf our 

hog. — 
It 's no use to send the Crier to cry him about, 

he 's such a blunderin' drunken old dog ; 
The last time he was fetched to find a lost child 

he was guzzling with his bell at the 

Crown, 
And went and cried a boy instead of a girl, for 

a distracted Mother and Father about 

Town. 
Billy — where are you, Billy, I say ? come, Billy, 

come home, to your best of Mothers ! 

1 'm scared when I think of them Cabroleys, 

they drive so, they 'd run over their own 

Sisters and Brothers. 
Or maybe he 's stole by some chimbly-.sweeping 

wretch, to stick fast in narrow flues and 

what not. 
And be poked up behind with a picked pointed 

pole, when the soot has ketched, and the 

chimbly 's red hot. 
0, I 'd give the whole wide world, if the woild 

was mine, to clap my two longin' eyes on 

his fac^. 
For he 's my darlin' of darlin's, and if he don't 

soon come back, you '11 see me drop stone 

dead on the place. 
I only wish I 'd got him safe in these two Moth- 
erly arms, and would n't I hug him and 

kiss him ! 
Lawk ! I never knew what a precious he was — 

but a child don't not feel like a child till 

you miss him. 
Why, there he is ! Punch and Judy hunting, the 

young WTetch, it 's that Billy as sartin as 

sin ! 
But let me get him home, with a good grip of 

his hair, and I 'm blest if he shall have a 

whole bone in his skin ! 

THOMAS HOOD. 



i)6 



I'dH.MS OF ClllLDIlDOD AND VOITII. 



A VISIT FKOM ST. NICHOLAS. 

'T WAS tile night before Christmas, when all 

through the house 
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse ; 
The stockings were hung by the chimuey with 

care, 
In hopes that St. Ni(^holas soon would be there; 
The chiklreu were nestled all snug in their beds. 
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their 

heads ; 
And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap. 
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's 

nap, — 
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, 
I sprang from my bed to see what was the mat- 
ter. 
Away to. the window I flew like a flash, 
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. 
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow 
Gave a histre of midday to objects below ; 
When what to my wondering eyes should ap- 
pear. 
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer, 
With a little old driver, so lively and quick 
1 knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. 
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came. 
And he whistled and shouted, and called them 

by name : 
" Now, Dasher ! now. Dancer I now, Prancerand 

Vi.\en ! 
On, Comet ! on, Cupid ! on, Donder and Blitzen ! 
To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall ! 
Now dash away, dash away, dash away all ! " 
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, 
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the 

sky. 
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, 
, With the sleigh full of toys, — and St. Nicholas 
too. 
And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof 
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. 
As 1 drew in my head, and was turning aroimd, 
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a 

bound. 
He was dressed all in fur from his head to his 

foot. 
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes 

and soot : 
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, 
And he looked like a pedler just opening his 

pack. 
His eyes how they twinkled! his dimples how 

merry ! 
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry ; 
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow. 
And the beard on his chin was as white as the 
snow. 



The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth. 

And the smoke it encircled liis head like a wreath. 

He had a broad face and a little round belly 

That shook, when he laughed, like a bowl full of 
jelly. 

He was chubby and plump, — a right jolly old 
elf ; 

And I laughed, when I saw him, in spite of my- 
self. 

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head 

Soon gave me to know 1 had nothing to dread. 

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his 
work. 

And filled all the stockings ; then turned with a 

jeik, 

And laying his linger aside of his nose, 

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose. 

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a 
whistle. 

And aw.iy they all flew like the down of a this- 
tle ; 

But I heard him e.xclaim, ere he drove out of 
sight, 

" Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good- 
night ! " 

Clement c. Moore. 



THE FROST. 

Thk Frost looked forth, one still, clear night, 
And he said, " Now I shall be out of sight ; 
So through the valley anil over the height 

In silence I '11 take my way. 
I will not go like that blustering train, 
The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain. 
Who make so much bustle and noise in vain. 

But 1 '11 be as bUsy as they ! " 

Then he went to the mountain, and powdei'ed its 

crest, 
He climbed op the trees, and their boughs he 

dressed 
With diamonds and pearls, and over the breast 

Of the quivering lake he spread 
A coat of mail, that it need not feivr 
The dowuwai'd point of many a spear 
That he hung on its margin, far and near, 

Where a rock could rear its head. 

He went to the windows of those who slept, 
And over each pane like a fairy crept : 
Wherever he breathed, wherever he stepped. 

By the light of the nuion were seen 
Most beautiful things. There were flowers and 

trees. 
There were bevies of binis and swarms of hees. 



CHILDHOOD. 



97 



Tlu'ie were cities, thioiies, temples, and towers, 
ami these 
All iiictured in silver sheen ! 

lint he dill one thing that was hardly fair, — 
He peeped in the enpboard, and, finding there 
Tliat all had forgotten for him to prepare, — 

" Now, just to set them a thinking, 
I '11 bite this basket of frnit," said he ; 
" This costly pitcher I 'U burst in three, 
And the glass of water they 've left for me 

Shall Uchick.'' to tell them I'm drinking." 
HANNAH Frances Gould. 



RAIN ON THE KOOF. 

When the humid shadows hover 

Over all the starry spheres. 
And the melancholy darkness 

Gently weeps in rainy tear.s. 
What a bliss to press tlie pillow 

Of a cottage-chamber bed. 
And to listen to the patter 

Of the soft rain overhead ! 

Every tinkle on the shingles 

Has an echo in the heart ; 
And a thousand dreamy fancies 

Into busy being start. 
And a thousan<l recollections 

Weave their air-threads into woof. 
As I listen to the patter 

Of the rain upon the roof. 

(Now in memory comes my mother, 

As she used, in years agone. 
To regard the darling dreamers 

Ere she left them till the dawn: 
So I see her leaning o'er me, 

As I list to this refrain 
Which is played upon the shingles 

By the patter of the rain. 

Then my little seraph sister, 

AVith the wings and waving hair. 
And her star-eyed chenib brother — 

A serene angelic pair — 
Glide around my wakeful pillow. 

With their praise or mild reproof. 
As I listen to the murmur 

Of the soft rain on the roof. 

And another comes, to thrill me 
With her eyes' delicious blue ; 

And I mind not, musing on her. 
That her heart was all untrue : 

I remember but to love her 
With a pa.ssion kin to pain. 



And my heart's quick pulses vibrate 
To the patter of the rain. 

Art hath naught of tone or cadence 

That can work with .such a spell 
In the soul's mysterious fountains, 

Wlience the tears of rapture well, 
As that melody of nature. 

That subdued, subduing strain 
Which is played upon the shingles 

By the patter of the rain. 

COATEs Kinney. 



A FAREWELL. 

My fairest child, I have no song to give you ; 

No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray ; 
Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you 
For every day. 

Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever; 
Do noble things, not dream them, all day long ; 
And so make life, death, and that vast forever 
One grand, sweet song. 

CHARLES KlNGSLEV. 



A PORTRAIT. 

" One name is Elizabeth."— BEN JONSON. 

I WILL paint her as I see her. 
Ten times have the lilies blown 
Since she looked upon the sun. 

And her face is lily-clear, 

Lily-shaped, and drop])ed in duty 
To the law of its own beauty. 

Oval cheeks encolored faintly. 
Which a trail of golden hair 
Keeps from fading off to air ; 

And a forehead fair and saintly. 
Which two blue eyes undershine. 
Like meek prayers before a shrine. 

Face and figure of a child, — 

Though too calm, you think, and tender, 
For the childhood you would lend her. 

Yet child-simple, undefilod, 

Frank, obedient, — waiting still 
On the turnings of your will. 

Moving light, as all your things, 
As young birds, or early wheat, 
When the wind blows over it. 



98 



POEMS OF CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH. 



Only, free from flutterings 

Of loud mirth that scorneth measure, — 
Taking love for her chief pleasure. 

Choosing pleasures, for the rest, 
Which come softly, — just as she. 
When she nestles at your knee. 

Quiet talk she liketh best, 
In a hower of gentle looks, — 
Watering flowers, or reading hooks. 

And her voice, it murmurs lowly, 
As a silver stream may run. 
Which yet feels, you feel, the sun. 

And her smile, it seems half holy. 
As if drawn from thoughts more far 
Than our common jestings are. 

And if any poet knew her, 

He would sing of her with falls 
Used in lovely madrigals. 

And if any painter drew her, 
He would paint her unaware 
With a halo rnuiul the hair. 

And if reader read the poem. 

He would wliisper, "You have done a 
Consecrated little Una." 

And a dreamer (did you show him 
Tliat same picture) would exclaim, 
" 'T is my angel, with a name ! " 

And a stranger, when he sees her 
In tlie street even, smileth stilly, 
Just as you would at a lily. 

And all voices that address her 
Soften, sleeken every word. 
As if speaking to a bird. 

And all fancies yearn to cover 

The hard earth whereon she passes. 
With tlie thymy-scented grasses. 

And all hearts do pray, "God love her ! " — 
Ay, and always, in good sooth, 
We may all be sure He doth. 

Elizabeth Barrett brownmng. 



THE CHILDKEN'S HOUR. 

Between the dark and the daylight, 
When night is beginning to lower. 

Comes a pause in the day's occupations. 
That is known as the children's hour. 



I hear in the chamber above me 

The patter of little feet, 
The sound of a door that is opened. 

And voices soft and sweet. 

From my study I see in the lamplight. 
Descending the broad hall stair, 

Grave Alice and laugliing Allegra, 
And Editli with golden hair. 

A whisper and then a silence. 
Yet I know by their merry eyes 

They are plotting and planning togetlier 
To take me by surprise. 

A sudden rush from the stairway, 

A sudden raid from the liall. 
By three doors left unguarded, 

They enter my castle wall. 

They climb up into my turret. 

O'er the arms and back of my chair ; 

If 1 try to escape, they surround me : 
They seem to be everywhere. 

They almost devour me with kisses, 
Their arms about me intwine, 

Till I tliink of the Bishop of Bingen 
In his JIouse-Tower on the Eliine. 

Do you think, blue-eyed banditti, 
Because you have scaled the wall, 

Such an old mustache as I am 
Is not a match for you all ? 

I have you fast in my fortress. 

And will not let you depart, 
But put you into the dungeon 

In the round-tower of my heart. 

And there will I keep you forever. 

Yes, forever and a day, 
Till the walls shall crumble to ruin. 

And moulder in dust away. 

Henry wad^worth Longfellow. 



JENNY KISSED ME. 

Jenny kissed me when we met, 
Jumping from the chair she sat in. 

Time, you thief ! who love to get 
Sweets into your list, put that in. 

Say 1 'm weary, say 1 'm sad ; 

Say that health and wealth have missed me ; 

Say I 'ui growing old, but add — 

Jenny kissed me ! 

• LEIGH HUNT. 



CHILDHOOD, 



99 



THE SMACK IN SCHOOL. 

A DISTRICT school, not far away, 

Mid Berkshire liills, one winter's day, 

Was liumniing with its wonted noise 

Of threescore mingled girls and boys ; 

Some few upon their tasks intent, 

Hut more on furtive mischief bent. 

The while the master's downward look 

Was fastened on a copy-book ; 

When suddenly, behind his back, 

Kose sharp and clear a rousing smack ! 

As 't were a battery of bliss 

Let off in one tremendous kiss ! 

" What 's that ?" the startled master cries ; 

" That, thir," a little imp rejilies, 

" Wath William Willith, if you pleathe, — 

1 thaw him kith Tluithauna Pe;ithe ! " 

Witli frown to make a statue tlirill, 

Tlie master thundered, " Hither, Will ! " 

Like wretch o'ertaken in his track, 

With stolen chattels on his back, 

Will hung his head in fear and shame. 

And to the awful presence came, — 

A great, green, bashful simpleton. 

The butt of all good-natured fun. 

With smile suppressed, and birch ujiraised, 

The threatener faltered, — " I 'm amazed 

That you, my biggest inipil, should 

Be guilty of an act so rude ! 

Before the whole set school to boot - 

What evil genius put you to 't ? " 

" ' T was she herself, sir," sobbed the lad, 

" I did not mean to be so bad ; 

But when Susannah shook her curls. 

And whispered, I was 'fraid of girls 

And diirsn't kiss a baby's doll, 

I could n't stand it, sir, at all. 

But up and kissed her on the spot ! 

I know — boo-hoo — I ought to not. 

But, somehow, from her looks — boo-hoo — 

I thought she kind o' wislied me to ! " 

William Put palmer. 



OLD-SCHOOL PUNISHMENT. 

Old Master Brown brought his ferule down. 

And his face looked angry and red. 
" Go, seat you there, now, Anthony Blair, 

Along with the girls," he said. 
Tlien Anthony Blair, witli a mortified air. 

With his head down on his breast. 
Took his penitent seat by tlie maiden sweet 

That he loved, of all, tlie best. 
.\nd Anthony Blair seemed whimpering there, 

But tlie rogue only made believe ; 
For he peeped at the girls with the beautiful curls, 

And ogled them over his sleeve. 

ANONVMOUS. 



THE BAREFOOT BOY. 

BLESSiiNGS on thee, little man. 
Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan ! 
With thy turned-up pantaloons. 
And thy merry whistled tunes ; 
With thy red lip, redder still 
Kissed by strawberries on the hill ; 
With the sunshine on thy face. 
Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace ; 
From my heart i give thee joy, — 
I was once a barefoot boy ! 
Prince thou art, — the gi-own-up man 
Only is republican. 
Let the million-doUared ride ! 
Barefoot, tnulging at his side. 
Thou hast more than he can buy 
In the reach of ear and eye, — 
Outward sunshine, inward joy : 
Blessings on thee, barefoot boy ! 

for boyhood's painless play, 
Sleep that wakes in laughing day, 
Health that mocks the doctor's rules, 
Knowledge never learned of schools, 
Of the wild bee's morning chase. 
Of the wild-ilower's time and place. 
Flight of fowl and habitude 
Of tlie tenants of the wood ; 
How the tortoise bears his shell, 
How the woodchuck digs his cell. 
And the ground-mole sinks his well ; 
How the robin feeds her young. 
How the oriole's nest is hung ; 
A\niere the whitest lilies blow. 
Where the fresliest berries gl'ow. 
Where the ground-nut trails its vine, 
Where the wood-grape's clusters shine ; 
Of the black wasp's cunning way. 
Mason of his walls of clay, 
And the architectural plans 
Of gray hornet artisans ! — 
For, eschewing books and tasks, 
Nature answers all he asks ; 
Hand in hand with her he walks. 
Face to face with her he talks. 
Part and jjarcel of her joy, — 
Blessings on the barefoot boy ! 

for boyhood's time of .June, 
Crowding years in one brief moon. 
When all things I lieard or saw. 
Me, their master, waited for. 
I was rich in flowers and trees. 
Humming-birds and honey-bees ; 
For my sport the sipurrel played. 
Plied the snouted mole his spade ; 
For my taste tlie blackberry cone 
Purpled over hedge and stone ; 



..;c. 



lOll 



l'UK.M.S OF CHILDHOOD AND VOITII. 



MY MOTHER'S BIBLE. 

This boot is nil tliiit 's left mo now, — 
Tcai's will luiliidileu stiivt, — 

■\Vith ttilteriiig lip iiiid throbbing brow 
I press it to my heart. 



Laiigheil the brook for my deliglit 
Throufch the ilay iiml througli the iiiglit, 
Whispering at tlie garden wall, 
Talked witli me from fall to fall ; 
Mine the saml -rimmed piekerel pond, 
Mine the walnut .slopes beyond, 
Mine, on bending orehard trees, 
Apples of Hesperides ! 
Still as my horizon grew, 
Lai'ger grew my rielies too ; 
All the worhl 1 saw or knew 
Seemed a eomplex Cliinese toy. 
Fashioned for a barefoot boy ! 

for festal dainties spread, 
Like my bowl of milk and bread, — 
Pewter spoon and bowl of wood. 
On the door-stone, gray and rude ! 
O'er me, like a regal tent. 
Cloudy-ribbed, the sunset bent, 
Purple-eurtained, fringed with gohl. 
Looped in many a wind-swung fold ; 
While for music came the play 
Of the pied frogs' orchestra ; 
And, to liglit the noisy choir, 
Lit the fly his lamp of lire. 
I was monarch : pomp ami joy 
Waited on the barefoot boy ! 

Cheerly, then, my little man. 
Live and langh, as boyhood can ! 
Though the llinty slopes be hard, 
Stubble-spearcil the new-mown swaiil, 
Every morn shall lead thee through 
Fresh baptisms of the dew ; 
Every evening from thy I'eet 
Shall the cool wind kiss the heat 
All too soon these feet must hide 
In the prison cells of pride. 
Lose the freedom of the sod. 
Like a colt's for work be sliod. 
Made to tread the mills of toil, 
Up and down in ceaseless moil : 
Happy if their track be found 
Never on forliidden ground ; 
Ha]>py if tlu'y sink not in 
Quick and treacherous sands of sin. 
Ah ! that thou conldst know thy joy. 
Ere it passes, barefoot boy ! 

John Creenleaf wmittier. 



For many generations past 

Here is our fandly tree ; 
My mother's hands this Bible cla.sped. 

She, dying, gave it me. 

Ah ! well do I remember tho.se 

Wliose names these records bear ; 
Who round the hearthstone used to close, 

Aftei- the evening [irayer. 
And speak of what these pages said 

In tones my heart would thrill ! 
Though they are with the silent dead, 

Here are they living still ! 

My father read this holy book 

To brothers, sisters, dear ; 
How caliu was my poor mother's look, 

Who loved God's woril to hear ! 
Her angel face, — I see it yet ! 

What thronging memories come ! 
Ag-ain that little group is met 

Within the halls of home ! 

Thovi truest friend man ever knew. 

Thy constancy I 've tried ; 
Wlu'U all were false, I found thee true. 

My counsidlor and guide. 
The mines of earth no treasures give 

That could this vohnne buy ; 
In teaching me the -way to live. 

It taught me liow to die ! 

George Perkins morris 



THE OLD OAKEN BrCKET. 



How dear to this heart are the scenes of my 
childhood. 
When fond recollection presents then\ to view ! 
The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild- 

WOOll, 

And e\-eiT loved spot which my inl'ancy knew ; 
The wide-spreading pond and the mill which 
.stood by it. 
The britlge, and tlie rock where the cataract 
fell ; 
The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it. 
And e'en the rude bucket which hung in the 
well, - 
The old oaken bucket, tlu' iron-bound Imcket, 
The moss-co\cred bucket which hung in the well. 

That moss-covered vessel I hail as a treasure : 

For often, at noon, when returned from the lield, 
I found it the source of an exquisite pleiisuie, 

Tlu' purest ami sweetest that initure can yield. 
How anient I seized it, with hands that wore 
glowing ! 
And quick to the white-pcbblod bottom it 
fell; 



YOUTH. 



101 



Tlieii soon, with the emblein of trutli overflow- 
ing. 
And dri[iping with coolness, it rose from the 
well ; — 
Thi' old oaken bvieket, tlie iron-bound bucket, 
Tlie moss-covered bucket, arose from the well. 

Mow sweet from the green mossy brim to receive 
it, 
As, poised on the curb, it inclined to my lips ! 
Not II full blushing goblet could tempt me to 
leave it. 
Though tilled with the nectar tliat Jujuter sips. 
And now, far removed from the loved situation. 

The tear of regret will intrusively swell, 
As fancy reverts to my father's plantation. 
And sighs for the bucket wliich hangs in the 
well ; — 
Tlie old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket. 
The moss-covered bucket which hangs in the well. 

SAMU&L WOODWORTH. 



THE OLD AI!M-CH.\IK,. 

I LOVR it, I love it ! and who shall dari' 

To chide me for loving that old aini-ehair ! 

I 've treasured it long as a sainted prize, 

1 've bedewed it with tears, 1 'veemlialined it with 

sigha. 
'T is bound by a thousand bands to my lieart ; 
Not a tie will bre.ak, not a link will start ; 
Would you know the spell ? — a mother sat there ! 
And a sacred thing is that ohl arm-chair. 

In rhildhond's hour I lingered near . 
The hallowed seat with listening ear ; 
And gentle words that mother would give 
To fit me to die, and teach me to live. 
Sh(-' told me that shame would never betide 
With Truth for my creed, and God for my guide ; 
.She taught me to lisp my earliest prayer. 
As I knelt beside that old arm-chair. 

I sal, and watched her many a day. 

When her eye grew dim, and lier locks were 

gray ; 
And I almost worshipjied licr when she smiled. 
And turned from her liihle to bless her child. 
Years rolled on, but the last one sped, — ■ 
My iilol was shattered, my earth-star lied ! 
I learnt how much the heart can liear. 
When I saw her die in her old arm-chair. 

'T is past, 't is past ! but I gaze on it now. 
With tpiivering breath and throbbing brow ; 
'Twas there she nursed me, 'twas there slie died. 
And memory Hows with I.iva tMe. 



Say it is folly, and deem me weak. 
Whilst scalding drops start down my cheek ; 
But I love it, 1 love it, and cannot tear 
My soul from a mother's old arm-chair. 

i-:liza Cook. 



WOODMAN, SPAKE THAT TREE. 

WdODMAN, spare that tree ! 

Touch not a single bough ! 
In youth it sheltered me, 

And 1 '11 protect it now. 
'T was my forefather's hand 

That placed it near his cot ; 
There, woodnum, let it stand. 

Thy axe shall harm it not ! 

That old familiar tree, 

Wliose glory and renown 
Ale siiieail o'er land and sea, 

And wonldst thou hew it down ? 
Woodman, forbear thy stroke ! 

Cut not its earth-bound ties ; 
0, spare that aged oak. 

Now towering to the skies ! 

When but an idle boy 

i sought its grateful shade ; 
In all their gushing joy 

Here too my sisters played. 
My mother kissed me here ; 

My father pressed my hand — 
I'oigive this foolish tear. 

But let that old oak stand ! 

My heart-strings round thee cling, 

< 'lose as thy bark, old friend ! 
Here shall the wild-bird sing, 

.\nd still thy branches bend. 
Old tree ! the storm still brave ! 

And, woodman, leave the spot ; 
While I 've a hand to save. 

Thy a,xe shall hurt it not. 

(iEOKGE I'ERKINS MORRIS. 



SEVEN TIMES TWO. 

ROMANCE. 

■V'otT bells ill the steeple, ring out your 
changes, 
Row many soever they be. 
And let the brown meadow-lark's note as ho 
ranges 
Come over, come over to me. 

Yet birds' clearest carol by fall or by swelling 

No magical sense conveys. 
And bells have forgotten their old art of telling 

The fortune of future days. 



102 



I'OliMS OF rilll.DiUH)!) AND VtlllTll. 



"'rniiuigiiin, tiiiiniguiii,"oiu'iillii7 rung cheurily 

Wliilii II lioy lisli'iu'd iilomi : 
Miulu his luiirl yi'iini agiiiu, imisiiig so wniiily 

All liy liiiiisi'ir oil 11 slDiiii. 

IVidi- lu'lls ! 1 liii-^ivi' yiHi ; yoiir fjoiul iliiys mv 

OVl'l", 

Ami iiiiiin, they iiiv yi'l tn bo ; 
No luslmiiiiK, no loii>;iiin, sluill mij;lit, nufjlit 
liisi'ovi'i" : 
Von li'iivc till' sloiy I" I'll'. 

'I'lui I'oxjilovii sliooUs out ol' tlio grooii iiiutti'il 

llOlllllOl', 

l'i'i>|mriii){ lii'i' liooils of snow ; 
Sho wiis iillo, iiiul sli'pt till llm sniisliiiiy wiiUlu'i' ; 
(1, i-liiUli't'ii liiko long to grow. 

I wish, mill 1 wish tliiit tho spring wonUl go 
I'luslcr, 

Nor long sumnicr luiU' so lulu ; 
Ami 1 I'onhl grow on liUc tho I'oxglovn luulnstor, 

For sonui things iirc ill to wiiit. 

1 wiiil tor tho ihiy wlu'ii iloiir lu'iirts shall ilisi'ovor, 
Whilo (U'lir hiinils urn luiil on my hwul ; 

" 'Phi' chilli is u womun, tho hook muy doso ovi'i', 
For all llu' h'ssons iiro suiil." 

1 wait lor my story — the hinls onnnot sing it, 

Not ono, ns hi> sits on tho trw' ; 
'I'ho lu'lls I'unnot ring il. hnt longycui's, 0, hring 
it ! 

Sni'h as 1 wish it lo ho. 

JliAN INI.IU.OW. 



THE ROMANCK OF TlIF, SWAN'S NEST. 

l.riTi.K K.llio .sits nlono 
Mill tho lioiH'hi's of ft nu'iulow, 

\^y a stroani-siilo on tho gni.ss, 

.\ml tho tii'i'.s aro showoring ilowu 
IVniblos of llu'ir louvtw in shaiUnv, 

On hor shining hair ami I'ai'o. 

Sho has thrown hor lioniiot hy. 
Anil hor foot sho has boon ilipiiing 

In tho shiiUow wutor's How. 

Now sho holils thoin nukoilly 
In hor hunils all slook ami ilripiiing, 

Whilo sho roikoth to aiul fro. 

l.ittlo K.llio sits alono. 
Ami tho smilo sh^ softly u.so.s 

Kills tho silonoo liko a spoooh, 

Whilo sho thinks what shall ho ilono, — 
And tlm swootosi (iloagiiro olioosos 

For lu>r fntni-<< within roaoh. 



Kittle Ellio in lior smilu 
I'hoosos ..." 1 will have a lover, 

Killing on ii .stood of stuoils I 

He shall lovo mo withont giiilo, 
And to III III I will disoovor 

Tho swan's noat among tho roods. 

"And tho stood shall ho rod-voan, 
And tho lovor shall ho iiolilo, 

With an oyo that takos tho liroath. 

And tho Into ho plays upon 
Sliall siriko ladios into trimhlo, 

.As his sword strikos iiioii to doath. 

"And tho stood it shall ho shod 
All in silvor, honsod in aznro, 

And tho niuno shall swim tho wind ; 

And tho hoofs along tho sod 
Shall Hash onward and koop moasuro, 

Till tho sliophords look hohind. 

" Kill my lovor will not prize 
All tho glory ihal ho ridos in, 

Whon ho gazos in my faoo. 

llo will say, '0 Lovo, tliino eyes 
lUiilil tho shriiio my .soul ahiilos in, 

.\nd 1 kiiool hoio for thy graoo,' 

"Thon, ay I lion ho shall kiiool low. 
With tho rod-roan stood unoar him, 

Wliioli shall sooni to undorstund — 

Till I answor, ' Kiso and go ! 
For I ho world most lovo and four him 

Whom I gift with lioart and hand.' 

" Thon ho will ariso so palo, 
I shall fool my own lips troniblo 

With a Ill's I must not say ; 

Nathloss maiilon-hravo, ' Farowoll ' 
I will nttor, and dissomhlo ; — 

' Light to-morrow with to-day.' 

"Thon ho '11 rido among tho hills 
To tho wiilo world iiast tho river. 

There to put away all wrong ; 

To make straight distorted wills. 
And to empty tho broad ipiiver 

Whioli till' wiokeil hear along. 

"Tlnvo limes shall a young foot-iwge 
Swim tho stivam ami elimb tho mountain 

.Vnd kneel down hosido my feet ; — 

' 1.0, my master sends this gage, 
Lady, for thy pity's e.ninling ! 

What wilt thou exohange for it?' 

".\ml the lii-st time, I will send 
A white i-osobud for a guonlon, — 
And the sooond time, a glovo ; 



YOUTH. 



103 



But the tLiid tiiiiu, 1 may bend 
From my pride, and answer, ' Pardon, 
If he comes to take my love.' 

" Tlien the young foot-pago will run, — 
Then my lover will ride I'aster, 

Till he knueleth at my knee : 

' I am a duke's elilest son ! 
Thousand serfs do call me master, — 

But, Love, I love Ijut Uiix ! ' 

" He will kiss me on tliu mouth 
Then, and lead me as a lover 

Through the crowds that praise his deeds ; 

And, when soul-tied by one troth, 
Unto him I will discover 

That swan's nest among the reeds." 

Little Ellie, with her smile 
Not yet ended, rose up gayly, 

Tied the bonnet, donned the shoe, 

And went homewanl, round a mile, 
Just to see, as she ilid daily. 

What more eggs were witli the two. 

Pushing through the elm-tree copse, 
■Winding up the stream, light-hearted. 

Where the osier pathway leads, — 

Past the bouglis she stoops — and stops. 
Lo, the wild swan had deserted. 

And a rat had gnawed the reeds. 

Ellie went home sad and slow. 
If she founil the lover ever, 

With his red-roan steed of steeds, 

Sooth I know not ! but I know 
She could never show him". — never. 

That swan's nest among the reeds I 

ELIZAUETIt BARRETT DROWNING. 



GOOD NIGHT AND GOOD MORNING. 

A FAIR little girl sat utuler a tree 

Sewing as long as her eyes could see ; 

Then smoothi-il her work and folded it right. 

And said, " Dear work, good niglit, good night ! " 

.Such a number of rooks came over her head, 
• 'rying "Caw, caw ! " on their way to bed, 
She said, as she watched their curious liight, 
*' Little black things, good night, good night ! " 

The horses neighed, and the oxen lowed, 

The sheep's " Bleat ! bleat ! " came over the 

road ; 
All seeming to say, with a quiet delight, 
" Good little girl, good night, good night ! " 



She did not say to the sun, " Good night ! " 
Tliougli she saw him there like a ball of light ; 
For slie knew he had Goil's time to keep 
All over the world and never could sleep. 

The tall pink foxglove bowed his head ; 
The violets courtcsied, <vnd went to Ijed; 
And good little Lucy tied up her hair, 
And said, on her knees, her favorite prayer. 

And, while on her pillow she softly lay, 
Shi! knew nothing more till again it was day ; 
And all things said to the beautiful sun, 
" Good morning, good morning ! our woik is 
begun." 

RlCOARIl MONCKTON MlLNES. 
(I.'JKD HOUGHTON.) 



THREE YEAItS SHE GRE'W. 

TiiKKK years she grew in sun and shower ; 
Tlicii Nature said, " A lovelier flower 

On (!arth was never sown : 
TIjis cliild I to myself will take ; 
Sli(! shall be mine, and 1 will make 

A lady of my own. 

" Myself will to my darling be 
Both law and impulse ; and with mo 

Tjje girl, in rock and plain. 
In earth and heaven, in glade and Ixjwer, 
Shall feel an overseeing power 

To kindle or restrain. 

"She shall bo .sportive as the fawn 
That wilil witli glee across the lawn 

Or up tlie mountain springs ; 
And hers shall be the breathing balm, 
And hers the silence and the calm, 

I )f mute insensate things. 

" The floating clouds their state shall lend 
To her ; for her the willow bend ; 

Nor shall she fail to see 
E'en in the motions of the storm 
Grace that shall mould the maiden's form 

By silent sympathy. 

"The stars of midnight shall be dear 
To her ; and she sliall lean her car 

In many a secret place 
Where rivulets dance their wayward round, 
And beauty born of munnuring sound 

Shall pass into her face. 

" And vital feelings of delight 
Shall rear her fomi to stately height, 

Her virgin bosom swell ; 
Such thoughts to Lucy I will give 
While .she and I togather live 

Here in this happy dell." 



104 



POEMS OF CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH. 



Thus Nature spake. Tlic work was done, — 
How soon my Lucy's race was run ! 

She died, and left to me 
This heath, this calm and quiet scene ; 
The memory of what has been. 

And nevermore will be. 

William Wordsworth. 



THREAD AND SONG. 

Sweeter and sweeter. 

Soft and low. 
Neat little nymph. 

Thy numbers How, 
Urging thy thimble. 
Thrift's tidy symbol, 
Busy and nimble. 

To and fro ; 
Prettily plying 

Thread and song, 
Keeping them flying 

Late and long, 
Through the stitch linger. 
Kissing thy linger. 

Quick, — as it skips along. 

Many an echo. 

Soft and low. 
Follows thy Hying 

Fancy so, — 
Melodies thrilling. 
Tenderly filling 
Thee with their trilling. 

Come and go ; 
Memory's finger. 

Quick as thine, 
Loving to linger 

On the line, 
Writes of another. 

Dearer than brother : 

Would that the name were mine ! 
JOHN' Williamson palmer. 



MAIDENHOOD. 

Matden ! with the meek brown eyes. 
In whose orbs a shadow lies 
Like the dusk in evening skies ! 

Thou whose locks outshine the sun, — 
Golden tresses wreathed in one, 
As the braided streamlets run ! 

Standing, with reluctant feet. 
Where the brook and river meet. 
Womanhood and childhood fleet ! 



Gazing, with a timid glance, 
On the brooklet's swilt advance. 
On the river's broad expanse ! 

Deep and still, that gliding stream 
Beautiful to thee must seem 
As the river of a dream. 

Then why pause with indecision, 
When bright angels in thy vision 
Beckon thee to fields Elysian ? 

Seest thou shadows sailing by. 
As the dove, with startled eye. 
Sees the falcon's shadow fly ? 

Hearest thou voices on the slioie. 
That our ears perceive no more. 
Deafened by the cataract's roar ? 

thnu child of many ]irayei-s ! 

Life hath quicksands, Life hath snares .' 

Care and age come unawai'es ! 

Like the swell of some sweet tune. 
Morning rises into noon, 
Jlay glides onward into June. 

Childhood is the bough wlu-re slumbered 
Birds and blossoms many-numbered ; — 
Age, that bough with snows encumbered. 

Gather, then, each flower that grows. 
When the young heart overflows. 
To embalm that tent of snows. 

Bear a lily in thy hand ; 
Gates of brass cannot withstand 
One touch of that magic wand. 

Bear through sorrow, wrong, and ruth, 
In thy lieart the dew of youth. 
On thy lips the smile of truth. 

0, that dew, like balm, shall steal 
Into wounds that cannot heal. 
Even as sleep our eyes doth seal ; 

And that smile, like sunshine, dart 
Into many a sunless heart. 
For a smile of God thou art. 

Henry Wadsvvorth Longfellow. 



LUCY. 



She dwelt among the untrodden ways 

Beside the springs of Dove ; 
A maid whom there were none to praise, 

Anil verv few to love. 



YOUTH. 



1U5 



A violet by a inossy stone 

Half hidden from the eye ! 
Fair as a star, when only one 

Is shining in the sky. 

She lired unknown, and few could know 

When Luey ceaseil to be ; 
But she is in her grave, and O, 

The difference to me ! 

William Wordsworth. 



THE PRETTY GIRL OF LOCH DAN". 

The shades of eve hail rrnssed the glen 
That frowns o'er infant Avonniore, 

When, nigh Loch Dan, two weary men. 
We stopjied before a cottage door. 

"God save all here," my comrade cries, 
And rattles on the raised latch-pin; 

" God save you kindly," quick replies 
A clear sweet voice, and asks us in. 

We enter ; from the wheel she starts, 

A rosy girl with soft black eyes ; 
Her fluttering courtesy takes our hearts. 

Her blushing grace and pleased surprise. 

Toor Mary, she was quite alone, 

For, all the way to Glenmalnre, 
Her mother had that morning gone, 

And left the house in charge with her. 

I'nt neither household cares, nor yet 
The shame that startled virgins feel. 

Could make the generous girl forget 
Her wonted hospitable zeal. 

She brought us in a beechen bowl 

Sweet milk that smacked of mountain thyme. 
Oat pake, and such a yellow roll 

Of butter, — it gilds all my rhyme ! 

And, while we ate the grateful food 
(With weary limbs on bench reclined). 

Considerate and discreet, she stood 
Apart, and listened to the wind. 

Kind wishes both our souls engaged. 
From breast to breast spontaneous ran 

The mutual thought, — we stood and pledged 
The modest ko.se above Loch Dan. 

" The milk we drink is not more pure, 

Sweet ALary, — bless those budding charms! — 

Than your own generous lieart, I 'm sure. 
Nor whiter than the breast it warms ! " 

She turned and gazed, unused to hear 
Such language in that homely glen ; 



But, ilary, you have naught to fear. 
Though smiled on by two stranger-men. 

Not for a crown would I alarm 
Your virgin pride by word or sign, 

Nor need a painful blush disarm 
My friend of thoughts as pure as mine. 

Her simple heart could not but feel 

The words we spoke were free from guile ; 

She stooped, she blushed, she fi.'ced her wheel, - 
'T is all in vain, — she can't but smile ! 

Just like sweet April's dawn appears 
Her modest face, — I see it yet, — 

And though I lived a hundred years 
Methinks I never could forget 

The jileasure that, despite her heart. 
Fills all her downcast eyes with light ; 

The lii)s reluctantly apart. 

The white teeth struggling into sight, 

The dimples eddying o'er her cheek, 
The rosy cheek that won't be still : — 

0, who could blame what flatterers speak, 
Did smiles like this reward their skill ? 

For such another smile, I vow. 

Though loudly beats the midnight rain, 
I 'd take the mountain-side e'en now, 
in ! 

SAMUEL FERGUSON. 



TO A HIGHLAND GIRL. 

AT LWERSNEVDE, UPON LOCH LOMOND. 

Sweet Highland Girl, a very shower 

Of beauty is thy earthly dower ! 

Twice seven consenting years have shed 

Their utmost bounty on thy head ; 

And these gray rocks, this household lawn. 

These trees, — a veil just half withdrawn, — 

This fall of water that doth make 

A murnuir near the silent lake. 

This little bay, a quiet road 

That holds in shelter thy abode ; 

In truth together ye do seem 

Like something fashioned in a dream. 

Such foiTns as from their covert peep 

AVhen earthly cares are laid asleep ! 

But fair Creature ! in the light 

Of common day so heavenly bright, 

I bless thee. Vision as thou art, 

I bless thee with a human heart : 

God shield thee to thy latest years ! 

I neither know thee nor thy peers ; 

And yet my eyes are filled with tears.' 

With earnest feeling I shall pray 
For thee when I am far awav ; 



106 



POEMS OF CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH. 



For never saw I niion or I'aee 
In which more iilaiiily I couM trace 
Kenignity and honie-hred sense 
Kipening in [lerfect innoci'nee. 
Hero scattered like a random seed, 
Remote from men, thou dost not need 
The embarrassed look of shy distress, 
And maidenly shamefacedness : 
Thou wear'st u|H)n thy forehead clear 
The freedom of a mountaineer ; 
A face with gladness overspread, 
Soft smiles, by hunnui kindness bred ; 
And seendiness eom)ilete, that sways 
Thy courtesies, about thee ]ilays ; 
With no restraint, but such as springs 
From ()uick and eager visitings 
Of thoughts that lie beyond the reach 
Of thy few words of English speech, — 
A bondage sweetly brooked, a strife 
That gives thy gestures grace and life ! 
So have 1, not unmoved in mind. 
Seen birds of tempest-loving kind, 
Thus beating up against the wind. 

Wlmt hand but would a garland cull 
For thee who art so beautiful ? 

happy pleasure ! here to dwell 
Beside thee in some heathy dell ; 
Adopt your homely ways and dress, 
A shepherd, thou a shepherdess ! 
But 1 could frame a wish for thee 
More like a grave reality : 

Thou art to me but as a wave 

Of the wild sea ; and I would have 

Some claim upon thee, if I could, 

Though but of common neighborhood. 

What joy to hear thee, and to see ! 

Thy elder brother 1 wouUi be, 

Thy father, — anything to thee. 

Now thanks to Heaven ! that of its grace 
Hath led me to this lonely place ; 
Joy have I had ; and going hence 

1 bear away my recompense. 
In spots like these it is we prize 

Our Memory, feel that she hath eyes : 
Then why should 1 be loath to stir ! 
I feel this jdace was made for her ; 
To give new )ileasure like the past. 
Continued long as lifi' shall last. 
Nor am I loath, though pleased at heart, 
Sweet Highlaml Girl ! from thee to part ; 
For I, methinks, till 1 grow old 
As fair before me shall behold 
As 1 do now, the cabin small. 
The lake, the bay, the waterfall ; 
And thee, the spirit of them all ! 

Wu.i,iAM Wordsworth. 



SWEET STREAM, THAT WINDS. 

Sweet stream, that winds through yonder glade. 

Apt emblem of a virtuous maid, — 

Silent and chaste she steals along. 

Far from the world's gay, busy throng ; 

With gentle yet jirevailing force. 

Intent upon her destined course ; 

(iraceful and useful all she does, 

Blessing ami blest where'er she goes ; 

Pure-bosomed as that watery glass. 

And Heaven reflected in her face. 

William Cqwper. 



RUTH. 



She stood breast high amid the com. 
Clasped by the golden light of morn, 
Like the sweetheart of the sun. 
Who many a glowing kiss had won. 

On her cheek an autumn flush 
Deeply ripened ; — such a blush 
In the midst of brown was born, 
Like red poppies grown with corn. 

Hound her eyes her tresses fell, — 
Which were blackest none covdd tell ; 
But long la.shes veiled a light 
That had else been all too bright. 

And her hat, with .shady brim. 
Made her tressy forehead dim ; — 
Thus she stood amid the stocks. 
Praising God with sweetest looks. 

Sure, I .said. Heaven did not mean 
Where I reap thou shouldst but glean ; 
Lay thy sheaf adown and come. 
Share my harvest and my home. 

THO.MAS HOOD. 



NARCISSA. 

FROM ".NIGHT THOUGHTS," NIGHT V. 

"Young, gay, and fortunate !" Each yields a 

theme. 
And, first, thy youth : what says it to gray hairs > 
Narcissa, I 'm become thy pupil now ; — 
Early, bright, transient, chaste as morning dew, 
She sparkled, was e.\haled, and went to heaven. 
Dr. Edward young. 



IT NEVER COMES AGAIN. 

TuEUE are gains for all our losses. 
There are balms for all our pain, 
But when youth, the dream, departs. 
It takes something from our hearts, 
And it never conies again. 




Drawn by Tkos. R. Manhy. 



WINGS. 



TiiK sunset light is on the sail, 

The water all aglow, 
And on the billows up ami ilown 

'I'he boat rocks to and fro ; 
The birds float upward to the sky — 
Oh, how I long for wings to fly ! 

The boat has wings, the birds have wings, 

Hut none remain for me 
Save wings of kind and loving thought 

And wings of memory. 
On these I come, and still repeat — 
I love, I love, I love you, Sweet ! 



M.\i-;v LcH'isE RrriF.K 




■rill': I'iRsr i!i,in:-mRi). 

]vsv rain ami snow! anil v.iin again! 

And clrililijc ! (Irip ! and lilu^ ! 
Tlicn snow! and thaw! and slush! and thon- 

Some more rain and snow ! 

This niorninii I was 'most afcarti 

To wiiir up — when, I jinn! 
I seen the sun shine out and heerd 

The tu'st blue-bird ot" Spring! — 
Mother she 'd raised the winder some; — 
And in aerost the orchard eome, 

Sott as an angel's wing, 
A breezy, treesy, beesy hum, 

Too sweet lor any thing ! 

The winter's shroud was rent apart — 

The sun bust forth in glee, — 
And when //taf blui--l<ird sung. \\\\ hart 

Hopped oiU o' bed w ith me ! 



J AMI'S Will riOMH RiLKV. 



FRAGMENTS. 



107 



We ari! Htronger, and ai'o liiltnr, 

UiiJer inaiilidoil'H Htcnicr icign ; 
Still wo fel that tioiiicl.liing Hwciit 
Kol lowed youth, with Hying l'i;ct, 
And will novor come again. 

Soniolhing licanlifwl is vanished, 

And wi: sigh for it in vain ; 
Wc behold it evc^rywhere, 
On the earth, and in tlie air, 

I!ut it never ootnes again. 

KICHAMO llHNKV S'lUDUAKD. 



FRAGMENTS. 

'I'iir, I'Aiiv. 
A balw in a house is a wull-sjiring of pli^suro. 

0/ hducalion. M. I-. TUI'I'I'.H. 

Heliold the chiM, by Nature's kindly law, 
Pleased with a ratth;, tiekled with a straw. 

hflSlll II. I'UI'I'. 

l!(diold, my lords, 
Allliimgli the print be littli', tin: whole matter 
And copy of the fathi:r ; eye, nose, lip. 
The trick of his frown, his forcdieail ; nay, the 

valley, 
The pretty dimjiles of his (ddn, and (dieek ; liis 

smiles ; 
The very mould and frame of haml, nail, hnger. 

tVinttr'j Talt, Act\i. Sc.i. SUAKKSriiAHH. 

0, 't is a jmrlous boy ; 
Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable ; 
Ho is all the mother's from thi! top to toe. 

Kithard III., Acl.WK.Sc. i, SMAKUSI'lIAKH. 



Eaui.y Dkath. 

" Whom the gods love die young," was said of 
yore. 

Don yuan. Cant. U, Slati. i-j, BVKON. 

Ere sin could blight or sorrow fade, 

Death caUK! with friendly eaie ; 
The opening bud to Heaven conveyed, 

And biide it blossom there. 

l-.pitaph on an hi/anl. S. T, COM'.RIDGC.. 

Grief fills tlio nxmi up of my absent child, 
Ijies in his bed, walks up and down with me ; 
Puts on his pretty looks, rcj)eats his words, 
lieniembers me of all his grociouii parts. 
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his fonn. 

King John, Acl 111. Sc. 4. SHAKRSI'I'-AkK, 



t'llll.li's I'I'.AVKH. 
Now 1 lay me clown to take my sleep, 
I pray the liord my soul to keeji ; 
If 1 should die bel'ori! I wake, 
1 pray the Loid my soul to take. 

NfTU lingtanct Prititfr, 

I'milMIltaiKH. 

Men are but children of a larger growth. 

All for Lmjt, Acl Iv. Sc. i. DHVPCM. 

The eliildhooil shows the man 
Am morning shows the day. 

J'ariidlje Kti^ainril, Hook Iv. MIL ION. 

A little bench of heedless bishojis here. 
And there a chancellor in embryo. 

Ihe Schvotmtstnsi. SHKN8T0NB, 

Iiook hero upon thy brother IJellVey's face ; 
These eyes, these brows, were nioiiMeil out of liis : 
This little abstract cloth eontain that large 
Which clii'd in (liill'rey ; and the hand of time 
Shall draw this brief unto as large a volinne. 
JCing yohn, ActW. Sc. 1. SIIAKHSI-UAHK. 

As yet a cdiild, nor yet a fool to fame, 

I lispc;d in numbers, for the numbers came. 

Lptille to Dr. Art'utliml. I'OPli. 



lidvrHir AMriiTioN. 
But strive still to bo a muii before your mother. 

Motto 0/ So. III. Connoitjtur. COWI'l;k. 

Thou wilt scarce be a man Iwforc thy mother. 



lovc't Cure, Act II. Sc, 9. 



InjAUMONT and FI.UTCIII'.H. 



.S01I00I,-1)AYH. 

Thc! scdiool-boy, with his satchel in his hand. 
Whistling aloud to bear his courage up. 

Tilt Grave, \K. in.AIS. 

Besides, they always snicdl of brcuid and butter. 

Man/ret. KVkON. 

You 'd sc:ar(!e expect one of my age 

To s|ieak in |iiiblic on the stage ; 

And if I chance to fall below 

T)eniosthenes or Cicero, 

Don't view me with a critic's eye, 

But pass my imperfections by. 

Large streams from little fountains How, 

Tall oaks froni little acorns grc»w. 

Linet ivrilttn/or a School Peclamation. \i. I-vilkl'Tr. 

I pray yc, (log them upon all occasions. 
It mends their morals, never mind the pain, 

lion yuan. Catil. II. UVRON. 



108 



I'OKMS Of t'lllLiniOOl) AM) VUITU. 



l.ovo is a boy by poets styk'd ; 

Thou spmv llui rod aiul si>oil tlio fliilil. 

HuMt.r,,i. I'Ji' tl. Ciiil. i. ULTLIiK. 

Wliipinug, that's viitue's govoiuess, 
Tuton^ss of iirts ami scieiicfs ; 
TliiU iinMuls lUo gross mistakes of nature, 
Ami imls new lile into dull matter ; 
Tlmt lays louudatiou lor renown, 
And all the honors of tlie gown. 

lliiMbr.,s. P.irll/. t\l.I^i CUILUK. 



■WoUK AND Tl.AY. 

If all the year were playing liolidays. 
To sport- would be ns tedious as to work 



SHAKUSPEARE. 



L'ESTRANGE. 



How doth the little busy bee 
Improve eaeh shining hour. 

And gather liouey all the day, 
Krom every opening llower ! 

For Satan liuds some misehief still 

For idle hands to do. 
SifN^ .r.v. 

Though this may be play to you, 
"T is death to ns. 

f\Mts : riit B-'yt .i«.' 'A* f >v,it. 

QlAlUlKIXIXO. 

Lot dogs delight to bark and bite, 
For God hath made them so ; 

Lot boai-s and lio\is growl and light. 
For "t is their uatui-o too. 



But, ehildi-en, you should never let 

Your angry passions rise ; 
Yovn- little hands were never made 

To tear each other's eyes. 
S,.V.V17. ^^'Ai'^- 



When they are young, they 
Are like bells rung baekwnrds, nothiiiii luit noise 
And giddiness. 

HV wiMo«/.l/«iry. BEAUMONT and ILLICIIEK. 

Ah, happy hills ! ah, plcivsing shade ! 

Ah, lields beloved in vain ! 
Where once my eareless ehildhood strayed, 

A stranger yet to pain ! 
1 feel the gales that from ye blow 
A momentary bliss bestow. 

Oh .1 Lhst^tur J'r^i^i!ifUl<>'tCi>negt. GRAY. 



Cim.iHsii Pays. 
Sweet childish days, that were as long 
As twenty days are now. 



T>> J Sutterjtv. 



WORDSWORTH. 



Meuuy Youth. 
Life ! how pleasant in thy morning. 
Young Faney's rays the hills adorning I 
t'old-pansing Caution's lesson seeming. 

We frisk away. 
Like sehool-boys at th' cxpeete.l warning, 

To joy and play. 

Life went a Maying 
With Nature, Hope, aiul Toesy, 

When 1 was young ' 



Wk/A and A^- 



S. T. COLBKIDCE. 



shore. 

MlLl-OS. 



Careless Chilphood. 
As children gath'ring pebbles on the 

One eare it henixl, at the other out it went. 

7>,.l/«* UNrf Crf«i.iV. £.vt iv. CHAUCER. 

Children blessings seem, but torments aiv ; 
When young, our follv, and when old, our fear. 

/V» ci-rto. OTXVAV. 

1 remember, I ivmember 

How my ehildhood tleeted by, — 
Hie mirth of its December, 

And the warmth of its July. 

/ K.-m'-oifr. / AVwf'-rV.-. l-RAEn. 



Just at the age "twixt boy and youth, 

When thought is speech, and speech is truth. 

,W,trm:tii. lulrAim: t,< Otiit. ii. SCOTT. 

Naught eared this body for wind or weather 
When vouth and 1 lived in "t together. 

)■„,«...,./.■<.■.. S. T. COLKRn.O^ 

Oh, Mirth and Innoeenee ! Oh, Milk and Water ! 
Ye happy mixtures of more happy days ! 

"; ISVRON. 

Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, 
Whih^'roudly riding o'er the ;i:ane realm 

In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes ; 

Youth on the pi-ow, and I'leasure at the helm : 

Ko.nuiUess of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, 

That, hushed in grim repose, expects his evening 
pi-ey. 

r*<-/r.ir>/. II.!. 



GRAV. 



Yet, ah ! why should they know their fate, 
Since sorrow never comes too late, 

And happiness too swiftly Hies > 
Thought would destroy their paradise. 

No more ; — where ignorance is bliss, 
'T is folly to be wise. 

On ■> ntfttil' l-nysf ./ V'W" CMvf. CRAV 




POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



T 



j 



\ 



N 



>^ ^ 



M 1 v^ 



^ 



;v 



<N 



5^1 

^ ^ s^ 






5 \. 

I 






^ > 




¥ 



N ..J 



^ 



$ 
^ 



^ H 



-^ 






5 



s 



,\^ 




POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



FRIENDSHIP. 



BENEDICITE. 

God's love and peace be with thee, where 
Soe'er this soft autumnal air 
Lifts the (lark tresses of thy hair ! 

Whether through city casements comes 
Its kiss to thee, in crowded rooms. 
Or, out among the woodland blooms, 

It freshens o'er thy thoughtful face, 
Imparting, in its glad embrace, 
Beauty to beauty, grace to grace ! 

Fair Nature's book together read, 

The old wood-iiaths that knew our tread. 

The maple sluidows overhead, — 

The hills we climbed, the river seen 
By gleams along its deep ravine, — 
All keep thy memory fresh and green. 

Where'er I look, where'er I stray. 
Thy thought goes with me on my way, 
And hence the prayer I breathe to-day : 

O'er lapse of time and change of scene, 
The weary waste which lies between 
Thyself and me, my heart I lean. 

Thou lack'st not Friendship's spellword, nor 
The half-unconscious power to draw 
All hearts to thine by Love's sweet law. 

With these good gifts of God is cast 
Thy lot, and many a chai™ thou hast 
To liold the blessed angels fast. 

If, then, a fervent wish for thee 

The gracious heavens will heed from me. 

What should, dear heart, its burden be ? 

The sighing of a shaken reed, — 
What can I more than meekly plead 
The greatness of our common need ? 



God's love, — unchanging, pure, and true, — 
The Paraclete white-shining through 
His peace, — the fall of Hermon's dew ! 

With such a jirayer, on this sweet day, 
As thou inayst hear and I may .say, 
1 greet thee, dearest, far away ! 

JOHN GKEENLEAF WlMTTinR. 



EARLY FRIENDSHIP. 

TiiK half-seen memories of childish days. 
When pains and pleasur<!S lightly came and went ; 
The sympathies of boyhood rashly spent 
In fearful wanderings through forbidilen ways ; 
The vague, but manly wish to tread the maze 
Of life to noble ends, — whereon intent, 
Asking to know for what man here is sent. 
The bravest heart must often pause, and gaze; 
The firm resolve to seek the chosen end 
Of manliood's judgment, cautious and mature, — 
Each of these viewless bonds binds friend to friend 
With strength no selfish purpose can secure : 
My hap]>y lot is this, that all attend 
That friendship which first came, and wliich shall 
last endure. 

AUBREV DE VBRE. 



FRIEND.SIIIP. 

FROM "HAMLET," ACT UI. SC. 2. 

IIam. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man 
As e'er my conversation coped withal. 

Hon. my dear lord — 

Ham. Nay, do not think I flatter : 

For wh.at advancement may I hope from thee 
That no revenue hast but thy good .sjiirits. 
To feed and clothe thee ? Why should the poor 

be flattered ? 
No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp. 
And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee. 
Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou 
hear? 



112 



POEMS Ol' THE AFFECTIO.XS. 



Since my dear soul was mistress of lier choice, 
And could of men distinguish, her election 
Hath sealed thee for herself; for thou hast been 
As one, in suffering all, that suffers notliing, — 
A man that Fortune's bulfets and rewards 
Hast ta'en with equal thanks ; and blessed are 

those 
Whose blood and judgment are so well co-mingled, 
That they are not a pijie for Fortune's finger 
To sound what stop she please : Give me that 

man 
That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him 
In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart. 
As I da thee. 

SHAKtSPEARE. 



FRIENDSHIP. 

A ra'DDY drop of manly blood 

The surging sea outweighs ; 

The world uncertain comes and goes. 

The lover rooted stays. 

I fancied he was tied, — 

And, after many a year. 

Glowed unexhausted kindliness. 

Like daily sunrise there. 

My careful heart was free again ; 

frienil, my bosom said. 

Through thee alone the sky is arched. 

Through thee the rose is red ; 

All things through thee take nobler form. 

And look beyond the earth ; 

The mill-round of our fate appears 

A sun-path in thy worth. 

Me too thy nobleness has taught 

To master uiy despair ; 

The fountains of my hidden life 

Are through thy friendship fair. 

KAEPH Waldo Emekson. 



THE MEMORY OF THE HEART. 

If stores of dry and learned lore we gain, 
We keep them in the memory of the brain ; 
Names, things, and facts, — whate'er we knowl- 
edge call, — 
There is the common ledger for them nil; 
And images on this cold surface traced 
Make slight impression, ami are soon ell'aced. 
But we've a page, nmre glowing and more bright. 
On which our fiiendshi]) and our love to write ; 
That these may never from the soul depait. 
We trust them to the memory of the heart. 
There is no dinnning, no efViicement there ; 
Each new jiulsation keeps the record clear ; 
Warm, golden letters all the tablet fill. 
Nor lose their lustre till the heart stands still. 

DANtni. WEIJSri R, 



ISILL AND JOE. 

Come, dear old comrade, you and I 
Will steal an hour from days gone by, — 
The shining days when life was new. 
And all was bright as morning dew, — 
The lusty days of long ago. 
When you were Bill and 1 was Joe. 

Your name may Haunt a titled trail. 
Proud as a cockerel's rainliow tail ; 
And mine as brief appendix wear 
As Tam O'.Shanter's luckless mare ; 
To-day, old friend, remember still 
That I am Joe and you are Bill. 

You 've won the great world's envied prize, 
And grand vou look in people's eyes, 
With H O N. ami L L. D. 
In big brave letters, fair to see, — 
Your fist, old fellow ! off they go ! 
How are you, Bill ? How are you, Joe ? 

You 've worn the judge's ermined robe; 
You've taught your name to half the globe; 
You 've sung mankind a deathless strain ; 
You 've made the dead past li\'e again : 
The world may call you wliat it will. 
But you and I are Joe and Bill. 

The chaffing young folks stare and say, 
"See those old buffers, bent and gray ; 
They talk like fellows in their teens! 
Mad, poor old boys ! That 's what it nieans," — 
And shake their heads ; they little know 
The throbbing hearts of Bill and Joe ! 

How Bill foi'gets his hour of pride. 
While Joe sits smiling at his side ; 
How Joe, in spite of time's disguise. 
Finds the old schoolmate in his eyes, — 
Those calm, stern eyes that melt and fill 
As Joe looks fondly up at Bill. 

Ah, pensive scholar, what is fame ! 

A fitful tongue of leaping Hame ; 

A giddy whirlwind's fickle gust, 

That lifts a pinch of mortal dust : 

A few swift years, and who can show 

Whicli dust was Bill, and which was Joe ' 

The weary idol takes his stand, 

Holds out his bruised and aching hand, 

While gaping thousands come and go, — 

How vain it seems, this empty show ! 

Till all at once his pulses thrill, 

'T is ])oor old Joe's " God bless you. Bill 1 " 



FRIENDSHIP. 



113 



Anil shall \V(! breathe in hajipiiT sjiliures 
h'he names that pleased oin- mortal ears, — 
In some sweet lull of harp and song, 
For eartli-born spirits none too long, — 
Just whispering of the world below. 
Where this was Bill, and that was Joe ? 

No matter ; while our, home is here 
No sounding name is half so dear; 
When fades at length our lingering day, 
Who cares what pompous tombstones say? 
Read on the liearts tliat love us still. 
Hie jacet Joe. Hicjacet Bill. 

Oliver Wendell holmes. 



DREAMS AND liEALITIE.S. 

Rosamond, thou fair and good 
And perfect flower of womanhood ! 

Thou royal rose of June ! 
Why didst thou droop before tliy time ? 
Why wither in the first sweet piime ? 

Why didst thou die so soon ? 

For, looking backward tlirougli my tears 
On thee, and on my wasted years, 

I cannot choose but say. 
If thou hadst lived to be my guide. 
Or thou hadst lived and I had died, 

'T were better far to-day. 

child of light, golden head ! — 
Bright sunbeam for one moment shed 

Upon life's lonely way, — 
Why didst thou vanish from our sight ? 
Could tliey not spare my little light 

From lieaven's unclouded ilay .' 

friend so true, friend so gooiV ! — 
Thou one dream of my maidenhood. 

That gave youth all its charms, — 
What had I done, or what hadst thou. 
That, tlirough this lonesome world till now. 

We walk with empty arms ? 

And yet had this poor soul been fed 
With all it loved and coveted ; 

Had life been always fair. 
Would these dear dreams that ne'er depart, 
That thrill with bliss my inmost heart, 

Forever tremble ther<' ? 

If still they kept their earthly place. 
The friends I held in my embrace, 

And gave to death, alas ! 
Could I have learned that clear, calm faith 
That looks beyond the bonds of death, 

And almost longs to pass ? 



.Sometimes, I think, tlio tilings we see 
Arc shadows of the things to be ; 

That what we plan we build ; 
That every hope that hath been crossed, 
And every dream we thought was lost, 

In heaven shall be fulfilled ; 

That even the children of the brain 
Have not been born and died in vain, 

Though here unclothed and dumb ; 
But on some brighter, better shore 
They live, embodied evermore, 

And wait for us to come. 

And when on that last day we rise, 
Caught up between the earth and skies, 

Then shall we hear our Lord 
Say, Thou hast done with doul>t and death, 
Henceforth, according to thy faith. 

Shall be thy faith's revvai'd. 

rnoiijic Carv. 



THE DEAD FRIEND. 



'IN HEMORIAM." 



The path by which we twain did go, 

Whicli led by tracts that pleased us well, 
Througli four sweet years arose and fell. 

From Hower to flower, from snow to snow. 

But where the path we walked began 
To slant the fifth autumnal slope. 
As we descen<led, following Hope, 

There sat the Shadow feared of man ; 

Who broke our fair companionship. 
And spread his mantle dark and cold. 
And wrapped thee formless in the fold. 

And dulled the munnur on thy lip. 

When each by turns was guide to each. 
And Fancy light from Fancy caught. 
And Thought leapt out to wed with Tliought 

Ere Thought could wed itself with Speech ; 

And all we met was fair and good, 
And all was good that Time could bring, 
And all the secret of the Spring 

Moved in the cliambers of the blood ; 

I know that this was Life, — the track 
Whereon with equal feet we fared ; 
And then, as now, the day prepared 

The daily burden for the back. 

But this it was that made me move 

As light as carrier- birds in air ; 

I loved the weight 1 had to bear 
Because it needed htJp of Love : 



114 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



Nor could I weary, hoart or limb, 

When mighty Love would cleave in twain 
The lading of a single pain, 

And part it, giving lialf to him. 

But I remained, whose hopes were dim, 

Whose life, whose thoughts were little worth, 
To wander on a darkened earth. 

Where all things round me breathed of him. 

friendship, equal-poised control, 
heart, with kindliest motion warm, 

sacred essence, other form, 

solemn ghost, crownM soul ! 

Yet none could better know than I, 
llow nnieli of act at human liands 
Tiie sense of human will demands, 

liy which we dare to live or die. 

Whatever way my days decline, 

1 felt and feel, though left alone, 
Ills being working in mine own, 

The footsteps of his life in mine. 

My pulses therefore beat again 
For other friends that once I met ; 
Nor can it suit me to forget 

The mighty hopes that make us men. 

1 woo your love ; 1 count it crime 
To mourn for any overmuch ; 

I, the divided half of such 
A friendship as had mastered Time ; 

Which masters Time, indeed, and is 
F.terniil, separate from fears : 
The all-assuming mouths and years 

Can take no part away from this. 

days and hours, your work is this, 
To hold me from my proper place, 
A little while from his embrace, 

For fuller gain of after bliss : 

That out of distance might ensue 

Desire of nearness doubly sweet ; 

.\nd unto meeting when we meet. 
Delight a hundred-fold accrue. 

Tlu> hills are shadows, and they flow 

From form to form, and nothing stands ; 
They melt like mist, the solid lands, 

I, ike clouds they shape themselves and go. 

Rut in my spirit will I dwell, 

.\nd dream my dream, and liohl it true ; 
For tho' my lips may breathe adieu, 

1 camiot think the tiling farewell. 

ALFRED TENNVSON. 



PARTED FUIENDS. 

Friend after friend departs : 

Who hath not lost a friend ? 
There is no union here of hearts 

Tliat finils not here an end ; 
Were this frail world our only rest, 
Living or dying, none were blest. 

Beyond the flight of time. 

Beyond this vale of death. 
There surely is some blessed clime 

Where life is not a breath. 
Nor life's affections transient fire. 
Whose sparks fly upward to expire. 

Tliere is a world above. 

Where parting is unknown ; 
A whole eternity of love. 

Formed for the good alone ; 
And faith beholds the dying here 
Translated to that happier sphere. 

Thus star by star declines. 

Till all are passed away. 
As morning high and higher shines. 

To pure and perfect day ; 
Nor sink those stars in empty night ; 
They hide themselves in heaven's own light. 
James Montgomery. 



MARTI .\L FRIENDSHIP. 

FROM •■CORIOLANUS." ACT IV. SC. 5. 
[Aufidius the Volsciaii to Caius Marcius Coriolanus.] 

AuF. Marcius, Marcius ! 

Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from 

my heart 
A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter 
Shouhl from yond' cloud speak divine things, 

and say, 
" 'T is true," 1 'd not believe them more than thee. 
All-noble Marcius. — Let me twine 
Mine arms about that body, where-against 
My grained ash an hundred times hath broke. 
And scared the moon with splinters I Here 1 clip 
The anvil of my sword ; and do contest 
As hotly and as nobly with thy love. 
As ever in ambitious strength I did 
Contend against thy valor. Know thou first, 
I loved the maid I married ; never man 
Sighed truer breath ; but that I see thee here. 
Thou noble thing ! more dances my rapt heart 
Than when 1 first my wedded mistress saw 
Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars ! I tell 

thee. 
We have a power on foot ; and I had purpo.se 
Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn. 



FKIENDSHIP. 



115 



Or lose mine iinn for't. Tliou hast beat lue out 
Twelve several tiiiios, and 1 have nightly since 
Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thysell' and me, 
We have been down together in my sleep, 
Unbuckling helms, listing each other's throat, 
And waked hall' dead with nothing. Worthy 

Marcius, 
Had we no other quarrel else to Rome, but that 
Thou art thence banished, we would muster all 
From twelve to seventy ; and, pouring war 
Into the bowels of ungrateful Home, 
Like a bold flood o'erbear. 0, come ! go in. 
And take our friendly senators by the hands ; 
Who now are here, taking their leaves of me. 
Who am preparcil against your territories, 
Tliough not fur Kome itself. 

A thousand welcomes ! 
And more a friend than e'er an enemy ; 
Yet, Marcius, that was much. 

SHAKESPEARE. 



WHEN TO THE SE.S.SIONS OF SWEET 
SILENT THOUGHT. 



SONNET XXX. 



Whe.n' to the sessions of sweet silent thought 
I summon up remembrance of things past, 
I sigh the lack of many a thing 1 sought, 
And with old woes new wail my dc^ar time's waste ; 
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow. 
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night. 
And weep afresh love's long-since-cancelled woe, 
And moan the expense of many a vanished sight. 
Then can I gi-ieve at grievances foregone. 
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er 
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, 
Whicli 1 iu;w pay, as if not paid before ; 

But if the while I think on thee, dear friend. 
All losses are restored, and sorrows end. 

SHAKESPEARE. 



JAFFAR. 

.Iaffar, the Bai'mecide, the good vizier, 
The poor man's hope, the fi-iend without a peer, 
Jatfar was dead, slain by a doom unjust ; 
And guilty Haroun, sullen with mistrust 
Of what the good, and e'en the bad, might .say. 
Ordained that no man living from tliat day 
Should dare to speak his name on pain of death. 
All Araby and Persia held tlieir breath ; 

All but the brave Mondeer : he, proud to show 
How far for love a grateful soul could go, 
And facing death for very scorn and gric^f 
For his great heart wanted a great relief), 



Stood forth in IJagdad daily, in the square 
Where once had stood a happy house, and there 
Harangued the tremblers at the scymitar 
On all they owed to the divine Jatfar. 

" liring me this man," the caliph cried ; tlie man 
Was brought, was gazed upon. The iimtes began 
To bind his arms. " Welcome, brave cords," 

cried he ; 
" From bonds far worse Jaff'ar delivered me ; 
From wants, from shames, from loveless house- 
hold fears ; 
Made a man's eyes friends with delicious tears ; 
Restored me, loved me, put me on a jiar 
With his great .self. How can I pay Jaff'ar ?" 

Haroun, who felt that on a .soul like this 
Tlie mightiest vengeance could but fall amiss, 
Now deigned to smile, as one great lord of fate 
Might smile upon another half as great. 
He said, " Let worth grow frenzied if it will ; 
Tlie caliph's judgment shall be master still, 
(io, and since gifts so move thee, take this gem. 
The richest in the Tartar's diadem, 
And hold the giver as thou deemest fit ! " 
"Gifts!" cried the friend; lie took, and hold- 
ing it 
High toward the heavens, as though to meet his 

star. 
Exclaimed, "Thi.s, too, I owe to thee, Jaff'ar ! " 

Leigh Hunt. 



THE MEETING OF THE SHIPS. 

" We take e.lch other by the hand, and we exchange a few words 
and looks of kindness, and wc rejoice together for a few short mo- 
ments : and then days, months, years intervene, and we see and 
know notliing of e-ich other." — WASHINGTON IRVING. 

Two barks met on the deep mid-sea, 
When calms had stilled the tide ; 

A few bright days of summer glee 
There found them side by side. 

And voices of the fair and brave 
Hose mingling thence in mirth ; 

And sweetly floated o'er the wave 
The melodies of earth. 

Moonlight on that lone Indian main 

( 'loudless and lovidy slept ; 
While dancing step and festive strain 

Eacli deck in triumph swept. 

And hanils were linked, and answering eyes 

With kindly meaning shone ; 
0, brief and psussing sympathies. 

Like leaves together blown ! 



116 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



A little wliile such joy was cast 

Over the ilecii's rc[iose, 
Till the loud singing winds at last 

Like trumpet music rose. 

And proudly, freely on their way 

The parting vessels bore ; 
In calm or storm, by rock or bay, 

To meet — 0, nevermore ! 

Never to blend in victory's cheer, 

To aid in hours of woe ; 
And thus bright spirits mingle here, 

Such ties are formed below. 

Felicia Hemans. 



THE VALE OF AVOCA. 

TuF.RB is not in this wide world a valley so sweet 
As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters 

meet ; 
0, the last ray of feeling and life must depart 
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my 

heart ! 

Yet it was not that Nature had .shed o'er the scene 
Her purest of crystal and brightest of green ; 
'T was not the soft magic of streamlet or hill, — 
0, no ! it was something more e-xijuisite still. 

'T was that friends, the beloved of my bosom, 

were near, 
Who made every dear scene of enchantment 

more dear, 
And who felt how the best charms of naturi> im- 

jirove, 
When we see them reflected from looks that we 

love. 

Sweet A'ale of Avoea ! how calm coidd 1 rest 
In thy bosom of shade, with the friends 1 love 

best ; 
Where the storms that we feel in this cold world 

should cease. 

And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in 

peace. 

TmtMAS Moore. 



■WE HAVE BEEN FRIENDS TOGETHER. 

We have been friends together 

In sunshine and in shade, 
Since first beneath the chestnut-tree 

In infancy we jilayed. 
But coldness dwells within thy heart, 

A cloud is on thy brow ; 
We have been friends together. 

Shall a light word part us now ? 



We have been gay together ; 

We have laughed at little jcsLi ; 
For the fount of hope was gushing 

Warm and joyous in our breasts. 
But laughter now hath fled thy lip, 

And sullen glooms thy brow ; 
V/e have been gay together. 

Shall a light word part us now 

We have been sad together ; 

We have wept with bitter te.'.rs 
O'er the grass-grown giavei> where slumbeie.. 

The hopes of early years. 
The voices wliich were silent then 

Would bid thee clear thy brow ; 
We have been sad together, 

Shall a light word part us now ? 

Carcli.\e Elizabeth Sarah Norton. 



THE QU.iRREL OF FRIENDS. 

FROM "CHRISTABEL." 

.Alas ! they had been friends in youth : 
But whispering tongues can poison truth ; 
And constancy lives in realms abov.? ; 

And life is thorny ; and youth is >'ain ; 
.\nd to be wroth with one we love 

Doth work like madness in the brain. 
And thus it chanced, as I divine, 
With Roland anil Sir Leoline ! 
Each spoke words of high disdain 

And insult to his heart's best Ijrother ; 
They parted, — ne'er to meet again ! 

But never either found another 
To free the hollow heart from paining. 
Tliey stood aloof, the .scars remaining, 
Like clifi's which had been rent asunder ; 

A dreary sea now flows between. 
But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder 

Shall wholly do away, I woen. 

The marks of that which once hath been. 

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. 



THE ROYAL GUEST. 

They tell me I am shrewd with other men ; 

AVith thee I 'm slow, and diiiicult of speech. 
With others I may guide the car of talk : 

Thou wing'st it oft to realms beyond my reacL 

If other guests should come, I 'd deck my hair. 
And choose my newest garment from the shelf; 

When thou art bidilen, I would clotlie my heart 
With holiest purpose, as for God himself. 



FRIENDSHIP. 



117 



For them 1 whiU- tin' hours with tide or song, 
Or web of fancy, fringed with careless rhyme ; 

But how to liud a fitting lay i'or thee, 
Who hast the harmonies of every time ? 

O friend beloved ! I sit apart and dumb, — ' 
Sometimes in sorrow, oft in joy divine ; 

My lip will falter, but my prisoned heart 
Springs forth to measure its faint pulse witli 
thine. 

Thou art to me most like a royal guest. 

Whose travels bring him to some lowly roof, 

Wliere simple rustics spread their festal fare 
And, blushing, own it is not good enough. 

Bethink thee, then, whene'er thou com'st to me, 

From high emprise and noble toil to rest. 
My thoughts are weak and trivial, matched with 
thine ; 
But the poor mansion offers thee its best. 

JULIA Ward Howe. 



TOO LATE I STAYED. 

Too late I stayed, — forgive the crime ! 

Unheeded flew the hours : 
How noiseless falls the foot of Time 

That only treads on flowers ! 

And who, with clear account, remarks 

The ebbings of his glass. 
When all its sands are diamond sparks, 

That dazzle as they pass ? 

O, wlio to sober measurement 
Time's happy swiftness brings. 

When birds of paradise have lent 
Their plumage to his wings ? 

William Robert spencer. 



WE ARE BRETHREN A'. 

A ii.iPPY bit hame this auld world would be 
1 f men, when they 're here, could make shift to 

agree. 
An' ilk said to his neighbor, in cottage an' ha', 
" Come, gi'e me your hand, — we are brethren a'." 

I ken na why ane wi' anither should tight, 
^Vlien to 'gree would make ae body cosie an' right, 
When man meets wi' man, 't is the best way ava. 
To say, "Gi'e me your hand, — we are breth- 
ren a'." 

My coat is a coarse ane, an' yours may be fine, 
.\nd 1 maun ilriuk water, while you may drink 
win** , 



But we baith ha'e a leal heart, unspotted to 

shaw ; 
Sae gi'e nie your hand, — we are brethren a'. 

The knave ye would scorn, the uufaithfu' deride ; 
Ye would stand like a rock, wi' tlie truth on 

your side ; 
Sae W'ould I, an' naught else would 1 value a 

straw : 
Then gi'e me your hand, — we are brethren a'. 

Ye would scorn to do fausely by woman or man ; 
I hand by the right aye, as weel as I can ; 
We are ane in our joys, our affections, an' a' : 
Come, gi'e me your hand, — we are brethren a'. 

Your mother has lo'ed you as mithers can lo'e ; 
An' mine has done for me what mithers can do ; 
We are ane high an' laigh, an' we shouldna be 

twa ; 
Sae gi'e me your hand, — we are brethren a'. 

We love the same simmer day, sunny and fiiii' ; 
Hame ! oh, how we love it, an' a' that are there ! 
Frae the pure air of heaven the same life we 

draw : 
Come, gi'e me your hand, — we are brethren a'. 

Frail shakin' auld age will soon come o'er us 

baith, 
An' creeping alang at his back will be death ; 
.Syne into the same mither-yird we will fa' : 
Come, gi'e me your hand, — we are brethren a'. 

Robert mcoll. 



THE MAIIOGANY-TREE. 

Christmas is here ; 
Winds whistle shrill. 
Icy and chill. 
Little care we ; 
Little we fear 
Weather without, 
Sheltered about 
The mahogany-tree. 

Once on the boughs 
Birds of rare plume 
Sang, in its bloom ; 
Night-birds are we ; 
Here we carouse, 
Singing, like them. 
Perched round the stem 
Of the jolly old tree. 

Here let us sport, 
Boys, as we sit, — 
Laughter and wit 
Flashing so free. 



118 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



Life is but sliort, — 
When v/u are gone, 
Let thum sing on, 
Round tlie old tree. 

Evenings we knew, 
Happy as tliis ; 
Faces we miss, 
Pleasant to see. 
Kind hearts and true. 
Gentle and just, 
Peace to your dust ! 
We sing round the tree. 

Care, like a dun. 
Lurks at the gate : 
Let the dog wait ; 
Happy we '11 be ! 
Drink, evciy one ; 
Pile up the coals ; 
Fill the red bowls. 
Round the old tree ! 

Drain we the cup. — 
Friend, art afraid ? 
Spirits are laid 
In the Red Sea. 
Mantle it up ; 
Empty it yet ; 
Let us forgot. 
Round the old tree ! 

Sorrows, begone ! 
Life and its ills. 
Duns and their bills. 
Bid we to flee. 
Come with the dawn, 
Blue-devil sprite ; 
Leave us to-night. 
Round the old tree ! 

William makepeace Thackeray. 



GIVE ME THE OLD. 

OLD WINE TO DRINK. OLD WOOD TO BURN. OLD BOOKS 
TO READ, AND OLD FRIENDS TO CONVERSE WITH. 

Old wine to drink ! — 
Ay, give the slippery juice 
That drippoth from tlio grape thrown loose 

■Within the tun ; 
Plucked from beneath the cliff 
Of sunny-sided Tenc^ritfe, 

And ripened 'ncatli the blink 

Of India's sun ! 

Peat whiskey hot. 
Tempered with well-boiled water ! 
These make the long night shorter, — 

Forgetting not 
Good stout old English porter. 



Old wood to burn ! — 
Ay, bring the hillside beech 
From where the owlets meet and screech, 

And ravens croak ; 
The crackling pine, and cedar sweet ; 
Bring too a (■lump of fragrant peat. 
Dug 'neath the fern ; 

The knotted oak, 

A fagot too, perliap, 
Whose bright Haiiie, dancing, winking, 
Shall light us at our drinking ; 

While the oozing sap 
Shall make sweet music to our thinking. 

Old books to read ! — 
Ay, bring those nodes of wit. 
The brazen-clasped, the vellum writ, 

Time-honored tomes ! 
The same my sire scanned before. 
The same my grandsire thumbed o'er. 
The same his sire from college bore, 
The well-earned meed 

Of Oxford's domes ; 

Old Homer blind, 
Old Horace, rake Anacreon, by 
Old Tully, Plautus, Terence lie ; 
Wort Arthur's olden minstrelsie. 
Quaint Burton, ijuainter Spenser, ay ! 
And Gervase Mark ham's venerie, — 

Nor leave behind 
The Holye Book by which we live and die. 

Old friends to talk ! — 
Ay, bring those chosen few. 
The wise, the courtly, and the true. 

So rarely found ; 
Him for my wine, him for my stud. 
Him for my easel, distich, bud 
In mountain walk ! 

Bring Waltci! good ; 
With soulful FuEi) ; and learned Will, 
And thee, my allcr ctju (dearer still 

For every mood). 

ROBERT HlncHLEV MESSENGER. 



AULD LANG SYNE. 

Should auld acquaintance be forgot. 
And never brought to min' ? 

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, 
And days o' lang syne ? 

CHORUS. 

For auld lang syne, my dear. 

For auld lang syne. 
We '11 tak a cup o' kindness yet, 

For auld lang syue. 



rUIENDSHIl'. 



119 



We twa )iae run about tlie braes, 

And pu'd tlie gowans fine ; 
But we 've wandered mony a weary foot 

Sin' auld lang syne. 

For auld, etc. 

We twa hae paidl't i' tlie burn, 

Frae mornin' sun till dine ; 
But seas between us braid hae roared 

Sin' auld lang syne. 

For auld, etc. 

And here 's a hand, my trusty fiere. 

And gie 's a hand o' thine ; 
And we '11 tak a right guid-willie waught 

For auld lang syne. 

For auld, etc. 

And surely ye '11 be your pint-stowp, 

And surely I '11 be mine ; 
And we '11 tak a cup o' kindness yet 
For auld lang syne. 

For auld, etc. 

Robert burns. 



PLATONIC. 

I HAD sworn to be a bachelor, she had sworn to 
be a maid, 

For we quite agi-eed in doubting whether matri- 
mony paid ; 

Besides, we had our higher loves, — fair science 
ruled my heart. 

And she said her young affections were all wound 
up in art. 

So we laughed at those wise men who say that 
friendship cannot live 

'Twixt man and woman, unless each has some- 
thing more to give : 

We would be friends, and friends as true as e'er 
were man and man ; 

I 'd be a second David, and she Miss Jonathan. 

We scorned all sentimental trash, — vows, kisses, 

tears, and sighs ; 
High friendship, such as ours, might well such 

childish arts despise ; 
We liked each other, that was all, quite all there 

was to say. 
So we just shook hands upon it, in a business 

sort of way. 

We shared our secrets and our joys, together 

hoped and feared. 
With common pui-pose sought the goal that 

young Ambition reared ; 



We dreamed together of the days, the dream- 
bright days to come. 

We were strictly confidential, and we called 
each other " chum." 

And many a day we wandered together o'er the 
hilis, 

I seeking bugs and huttertlies, and she, the 
ruined mills 

And rustic bridges, and the like, that picture- 
makers prize 

To run in with their waterfalls, and groves, and 
summer skies. 

And many a quiet evening, in hours of silent 

ease. 
We floated down the river, or strolled beneath 

the trees. 
And talked, in long gradation from the poets to 

the weather. 
While the western skies and my cigar burned 

slowly out together. 

Yet through it all no whispered word, no tell- 
tale glance or sigh. 

Told aught of warmer sentiment than friendly 
sympathy. 

We talked of love as coolly as we talked of 
nebulcB, 

And thought no more of being one than we did 
of being three. 

"Well, good by, chum !" I took her hand, for 

the time had come to go. 
My going meant our parting, when to meet, we 

did not know. 
I had lingered long, and said farewell with a 

very heavy heart ; 
For although we were but friends, 't is hard for 

honest friends to part. 

" Good-by, old fellow ! don't forget your friends 

beyond the sea. 
And some day, when you 've lots of time, drop a 

line or two to me." 
The words came lightly, gayly, but a great sob, 

just behind, 
Welled upward with a story of quite a dill'erent 

kind. 

And then she raised her eyes to mine, — great 

liquid eyes of blue. 
Filled to the brim, and running o'er, like violet 

cups of dew ; 
One long, long glance, and then I did, what I 

never did before — 
Perhaps the tears meant friendship, but I 'm 

sure the kiss meant more. 

William B. terkett. 



120 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



A TEMPLE TO FRIENDSHIP. 

"A TEMPI.R to Friendship," cried Laura, en- 
chanted, 

" I '11 build in this garden ; the thought is di- 
vine." 

So the temple was built, and she now onlj' 
wanted 

An image of Friendship, to place on the shrine. 

So she Hew to the sculptor, who sat down before 

her 
An image, the fairest his art could invent ; 
But so cold, and so dull, that the youthful 

adorer 
Saw plainly this was not the Friendship she 

meant. 

"0, never," said she, "could I think of en- 
shrining 

An image whose looks are so joyless and dim ; 

But yon little god upon roses reclining. 

We '11 make, if you please, sir, a Friendsliip of 
him." 

So the bargain was struck ; with tlie little god 

laden. 
She joyfully flew to her home in the grove. 
"Farewell," said the sculptor, "you 're not the 

tirst maiden 

Who came but for Friendsliip, and took away 

Love ! " 

THOMAS Moore. 



FRAGMENTS. 

Friendship. 
Friendship ! mysterious cement of the soul ! 
Sweet'ner of life ! and solder of society ! 

Tilt Grttvt. ^- ^'- 

Friendship is the cement of two minds. 
As of one man the .soul and body is ; 
Of which one cannot se\-er but the other 
Sufiers a needful separation. 

Friendship 's the image of 
F.ternitv, in which there's nothing 
llovable, nothing mischievous. 



Flowers are lovely ; Love is flowev-like ; 

Friendship is a sheltering tree ; 
n the Joys, that came down shower-like, 

Of Friend.ship, Love, and Liberty, 
Ere 1 was old ! 

)'m,//, ».,rf ^^e S. T. COLEKIUGE. 



GEO. CHAPMAN'. 



Heaven gives us friends to bless the present 

scene ; 
Eesumes them, to prepare us for the ne.\t. 

AigJit Thotifrltu. YOUNG. 

'T is sweet, as year by year we lose 
Friends out of sight, in faith to muse 
How grows in Paradise our store. 

Burial of the Dta^i. KERLE- 

1 i)raise the Frenchman,* his remark was shrewd, 
How sweet, how passing sweet is solitude ! 
But grant me still a friend in my retreat, 
AVhom I may whisper. Solitude is sweet. 

Rcttremeiit. COWPER, 



Choice Fiuexds. 

True happiness 
Consists not in the multitude of friends, 
Ihit in the worth and choice. 

Cynthia's Reveis. BEX JONSON. 

A generous fi'iendship no cold medium knows, 
Burns with one love, with one lesentment glows. 

lititd. Book ix. Homer. Popes Train. 

Statesman, yet friend to truth ! of soul sincere. 
In action faithful, and in honor clear ; 
Who broke no promise, served no jirivate end. 
Who gained no title, and who lost no friend. 

Epistte to Mr. AMisoii. POPE. 

Like the stained web that whitens in the sun, 
Grow pure by being purely shone upon. 

LaltaRookh: The Vtlted Prophet 0/ Kliorassan. T. MOORi:. 

Who ne'er knew joy liut friendship might divide. 
Or gave his father grief but when he died. 

Epitaph OH the Hon. S. Harrourl. Popn. 

Though last, not least, in love ! 

yulius Casar, Act Hi. Sc. l. SHAKESPEARE. 

F.\ITHFUL FniENDS. 
Friendship above all ties does bind the heart ; 
And faith in friendship is the noblest part. 

Henry I'. EARL OF OKRERV. 

Be kind to my remains ; and 0, defend, 
Against your judgment, your departed liiend ! 

tpistU to Consrez^e- DRYDEN 



SUMMEI! FltlENDS. 

summer friendship. 
Whose flattering leaves, that shadowed us in 
Our prosperity, with the least gust drop oli' 
In the autumn of adversity. 



The M.itd 0/ Honor. 

• L.i Bruytre. says Bnrtlelt. 



MASSlNCEa 



FRIENDSHIP. 



121 



Like summer friends, 
Flies of estate and sunneshiue. 

The Aftsltier. GEORGE HERBERT. 

What the declined is 
He shall as soon read in the eyes of others 
As feel in his own fall : for men, like butterflies, 
Sliow not their mealy wings but to the summer. 

Trot!us and Cressida, Act iii. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEAK E. 

Friends to be Shunned. 

The man that hails you Tom or Jack, 
And proves, by thumpinj,' on j'our back, 

His sense of your great merit. 
Is such a friend, that one liaj need 
Be very much his friend indeed 

To pardon, or to bear it. 

On Fritndskip. COWPER. 

Give me the avowed, the erect, the manly foe. 
Bold I can meet, — perhaps may turn his blow ; 
But of all plagues, good Heaven, thy wrath can 

send, 
Save, save, oh ! save me from the Candid Friend I 

i\fw Morahfy. GEORGE CANNING. 



Friendship and Love. 

Friendship is constant in all other things, 
Save in the office anu att'airs of love. 

Much Ado about \othi>i^. Act ii. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE. 

If 1 speak to thee in Friendship's name. 
Thou think' st I speak too coldly ; 

If I mention Love's devoted flame. 
Thou say'st I speak too boldly. 

How Shall I If'oo f T. MoORE. 

Friendship, like love, is but a name, 
L'nless to one you stint the flame. 

'T is thus in friendship ; who depend 
On many rarely find a friend. 

The Hare and Matty Frictids. GAY. 

Q0ARREL.S OF FrIENDS. 

I have shot mine arrow o'er the house, 
And hurt my brother. 



A friend should bear his friend's infirmities, 
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. 

yultus Casar, Act iv. Sc, 3. 



SHAKESPEARE. 



Hamlet, Act v. Sc. 2. 



SHAKESPEARE. 



Brother, brother, we are both in the wrong. 

The Bci'i'ar's Opera. Act ii. 5^. s. GAY. 



Hospitality. 

I 've often wished that I had clear, 
For life, six hundred pounds a year, 
A handsome house to lodge a friend, 
A river at my garden's end. 

Imitation 0/ Horace, Book ii. 5a/. 6. SWIFT. 

True friendship's laws are by this rule e.xprest, 
Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest. 

Odyssey, Book xv. Tratislatton 0/ POPE. HOMER. 

Whoe'er has travelled life's dull round. 
Where'er his stages may have been, 

May sigh to think he .still has found 
The warmest welcome at an inn. 

IV'rttteti on a Wtttdow o/att Inn, SHENSTONE. 

And do as adversaries do in law, 

Strive mightily, but eat and drink as fiiends. 

Tamiitg o/the Skrezo, Act i. Sc, 2. Shakespear E- 

Sir, you are very welcome to our house : 

It must appear in other ways than words. 

Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy. 

The Merchant c/ Vcmce, Adv. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE. 

Good Counsel. 

Neither a borrower nor a lender be. 
For loan oft loses both itself and fiiend. 

Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE. 

Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar : 
The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, 
Graiiple them to thy soul with hoops of steel. 

Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE. 

Turn him, and see his threads : look if he be 
Friend to himself, that would be friend to thee : 
For that is first required, a man be his own ; 
But he that 's too much that is friend to none. 

Underwood, BEN JONSON. 

Lay this into your breast : 
Old friends, like old swords, still are trusted best. 

Duchess o/tWalfy, JOHN WEBSTER. 



122 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



COMPLIMENT AND ADMIRATION. 



WHEN IN THE CHRONICLE OF WASTED 
TIME. 

SONNET CVI. 

When in the chronicle of wasted time 
1 see descrijitions of the fairest wiglits, 
And beauty making beautifvil old rhyme, 
In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights-, 
Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best 
Of hand, of foot, of liii, of eye, of brow, 
I see their antiijue pen would have expressed 
Even such a beauty as you master now. 
So all their praises are but prophecies 
Of this our time, all you prefiguring ; 
And, for they looked but with divining eyes, 
They had not skill enough your wortli to sing ; 
For we, which now behold these present days. 
Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to 
praise. 

SHAKESPEARE. 



O MISTRESS MINE. 

FROM "TWELFTH NIGHT," ACT II. SC. 3. 

O MISTRESS mine, where are you roaming ? 
O, stay and hear ! yoiu' true-love 's coming 

That can sing both high and low ; 
Trip no further, pretty sweeting. 
Journeys end in lovers' meeting, — 

Every wise man's son doth know. 

What is love ? 't is not hereafter ; 
Present mirth hath present laughter ; 

What 's to come is still unsure : 
In delay there lies no plenty, — 
Then come kiss me, Sweet-and-twenty, 

Youth 's a stutf will not endure. 

Shakespeare. 



PORTIAS PICTURE. 

FROM "THE MERCHANT OF \'ENICE." ACT III. SC. 2. 

F.\ir, Portia's counterfeit ? What demi-god 
Hath come so near creation ? Move these eyes ? 
Or whether, riding on the balls of mine, 
Seem they in motion ? Here are severed lips. 
Parted with sugar breath ; so sweet a bar 
Should sunder such sweet friends : Here in her 

hairs 
The painter plays tlie spider ; and hath woven 
A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men, 
Faster than gnats in cobwebs : But her eyes, — 



How could he see to do them ? having made one, 
Methinks it should have power to steal both his. 
And leave itself unfurnished. 

SHAKESPEARE. 



OLIVIA. 

FROM "TWELFTH NIGHT," ACT L SC. 5. 

A'lOL.i. 'T is beauty truly blent, whose red 
and white 
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on : 
Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive, 
1 f y ou will lead these graces to the grave. 
And leave the world no copy. 

SHAKESPEARE. 



TO MISTRESS MARGARET HUSSEY. 

Mekry Margaret, 

As midsummer flower, 

Gentle as falcon, 

Or hawk of the tower ; 

With solace and gladness, 

JIuch mirth and no madness, 

All good and no badness ; 

So joyou.sly. 

So maidenly. 

So womanly 

Her demeaning, 

In everything 

Far, far passing 

That I can indite. 

Or sulfice to write, 

Of merry Margaret, 

As midsummer flower, 

Gentle as falcon 

Or hawk of the tower ; 

As patient and as still, 

And as full of good-will. 

As fair Isiphil, 

Coliander, 

Sweet Pomander, 

Good Cassander ; 

Stedfast of thought, 

Well made, well wrought ; 

Far may be sought 

Ere you can find 

So courteous, so kind. 

As merry ilargaret. 

This midsummer flower. 

Gentle as falcon. 

Or hawk of the tower. 

JOHN SKELTON. 



COMPLIMENT AND ADMIRATION. 



123 



THE FORWARD VIOLET THUS DID 
I CHIDE. 

SONNET XCIX. 

Ttie forward violet thus did I chide : — 

Swt'et thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet 

tliat sinells. 
If not fiom my love's breath ? tlie purple pride 
Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells, 
1 11 my love's veins thou hast too gi-ossly dyed. 
The lily 1 condemned for thy hand. 
And buds of marjoram had stolen thy hair : 
The roses fearfully on thorns did stand, 
One blushing shame, another white despair ; 
A tliird, nor red nor white, had stolen of tioth, 
And to this robbery had annexed thy breath; 
But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth 
A vengeful canker eat him up to death. 
More flowers I noted, yet I none could see, 
But sweet or color it had stolen from thee. 

SHAKESPEARE. 



THERE IS A GARDEN IN HER FACE. 

FROM "AN HOURE'S RECREATION IN MUSICKE." l6o6. 

There is a garden in her face. 

Where roses and white lilies blow ; 

A heavenly paradise is that place. 
Wherein all pleasant fruits do grow ; 

There cherries grow that none may buy. 

Till cherry-ripe themselves do cry. 

Those cherries fairly do enclose 

Of orient pearl a double row. 
Which when her lovely laughter shows, 

They look like rosebuds filled with snow ; 
\et them no peer nor prince may buy, 
Till cherry-ripe themselves do cry. 

Her eyes like angels watch them still, 
Her brows like bended bows do stand. 

Threatening with piercing frowns to kill 
All that approach with eye or hand 

Tliese sacred cherries to come nigh. 

Till cherry-ripe themselves do cry. 

Richard Allison. 



MY SWEET SWEETING. 

FROM A MS. TEMP. HENRY VIII, 

Ah, my sweet sweeting ; 

My little pretty sweeting, 

My sweetiug will I love wherever I go ; 

She is so proper and pure. 
Full, steadfast, stable, and demure. 

There is none such, you may be sure. 
As my sweet sweeting. 



In all this world, as thinketh me, 
Is none so pleasant to my e'e. 
That I am glad so oft to see, 

As my sweet sweeting. 
When I behold my sweeting sweet, 
Her face, her hands, lier minion feet, 
They seem to me there is none so mete, 

As my sweet sweeting. 

Above all other praise must I, 
And love my pretty pygsnye, 
For none 1 find so womanly 
As my sweet sweeting. 

Anonymous. 



THE WHITE ROSE. 

SENT BY A YORKISH LOVER TO HIS LANCASTRIAN 
MISTRESS. 

If this fair rose offend thy sight, 

Placed in thy bosom bare, 
'T will blush to find itself less white, 

And turn Lancastrian there. 

But if thy ruby lip it spy. 
As kiss it thou mayest deign. 

With envy pale 't will lose its dye, 
And Yorkish turn again. 

ANONYMOUS. 



A VISION OF BEAUTY. 

It was a beauty that I saw, — 
So pure, so perfect, as the frame 
Of all the universe were lame 

To that one figure, could I draw. 

Or give least line of it a law ; 
A skein of silk without a knot ! 

A fair march made without a halt ! 

A curious form without a fault ! 
A in'inted book without a blot ! 
All beauty ! — and without a spot. 

Ben Jonson. 



GIVE PLACE, YE LOVERS. 

Give place, ye lovers, here before 
That spent your boasts and brags in vain ; 

My lady's beauty passeth more 

The best of yours, I dare well sayen, 

Than doth the sun the candle-light. 

Or brightest day the darkest night. 

And thereto hath a troth as just 

As had Penelope the fair ; 
For wdiat she saith, ye may it trust, 

As it by writing sealed were : 



124 



I'OEMS UK TllK Al'Flit'TlUNS. 



And vii'tiii's Imtli slic iniiiiy hid' 
Tliiili 1 with pi'ii liuvii skill til slimv. 

I coulil rt'liparso, il llml 1 wiml.l, 
Tliii wliolo I'llVi'l of Niiluni's i>liiiiit, 

Wlll'll sllO luul lost tlll^ pi'lfwt IIKlllKI, 

Till' liki' lo wlidiii slit' I'liulil ntit paint : 
With wiiii^'iiij; Immls, limv slu' did cry, 
And wliiil slu' siiid, 1 kiunv it uyo. 

I kimw slm swoiv with nijC'iiS mind, 

lli'i' kiiifjddin nnly si't ii|iiirt, 
Thi'i'o was no loss liy hiw ol' kind 

Tlint I'oiild liiivo >;oiii' so nciir hci' hnirt ; 
And this WHS c'liii'lly nil lii'i' piiin ; 
*'Shi' could not nmki' llio likf iij^Miii." 

Sith Niitniv thus j;uvi> lii'V the pniisi', 
'I'll bo I ho I'hii'lVst work slii' wroni;ht, 

In I'liitli, nii'l.liink, sonm liotlor ways 
On yoni' lu'luill' niijjht woU In- sought, 

Tlmn to coni|iiiii', as ye havo doiii", 

To match llio candlo with tlio sun. 

IIIINKV llOVVAKO. lAkl. OK Sl'KKIV. 



TO IMS MISTRESS, 
ULizAiiinii, yuituN oi-' ikmit-mia. 

Vdii nioani'i- lu'antit's of tlu> night, 
That luioily satisly our cyi's 

Moiv hy your niimln'r than your light, — • 
Yon coininon people' of tho skies, 
Wlmt aro you whi-n tho moon shall rise ? 

You onrions chanters ot" the wood. 

That warble torth Uaiiie Nature's hiys, 

Tliiiiking your passions understood 

liy yonr weak accents. - what 's your praise 
When riiiloinol her voice sliall riiisc If 

Von violets that lii'st appear. 

liy yonr .pure purple umnlles known, 

liike the piimd virgins of the year. 
As if the spring were all your own, — 
What are yon when the rose is blown f 

So when my mistress shall be seen 
In form and beauty ot her mind : 

liy virtue lirst. tlien choice, a i|neen, — 
Tell me, if she were lu>t designed 
The eclipse and glory of her kind? 

SIK IIUNKV WOTTON 



CONSTANCY. 

On" \\\wn it. 1 have loved 
Thivo whole days together; 

And am like ^ love three more. 
If it prove fair weather. 



Time shall moult away his wings, 

Krc he shall discover 
In the whole wide world ngiiiu 

Snch a constant lover. 

I'liil the spile on 't is, no praise 

Is due at all to nie ; 
Love with me had made no stays, 

Had it luiy been but she. 

Had it any been but she. 

And that very face. 
There had been at least ere this 

A dozen in her |ilace. 

SIK JOM.N SUCKLING. 



nill.l.l.S TllK KAU;. 

On m hill there grows a llower, 
Fair befall the dainty sweet ! 

liy that llower there is a bower 
Where the heavenly liaises meet. 

In that bower there is a chair, 
Kringed all about with goM, 

Where doth sit the fairest I'air 
That ever eye did yet behold. 

II is riiiUis, fair and briglit, 
She that is the sliep\ierd's joy, 

She that Vemis did despite, 
.■\nd did blind her.lillle boy. 

Who would not that face admire? 

Who would not this saint adoro ? 
Who would not this sight desire ? 

Though he thought to see no more. 

Thou that art the shepherd's uneen. 
Look upon thy love-sick .swain ; 

liy thy comfort have been seen 
I'cad men bivnght to life again. 

Nicholas Kkuton 



rilll.LlS IS MY ONLY ,IOV. 

I'lm.Ms is my only .joy 

Kaithless as the wind or seas ; 
Sometimes coiuiug. sometinies coy. 
Yet she never fails to please. 
If with a fiwvu 
I am cast down, 
rhillis. smiling 
.\nd beguiling, 
Makes me happier than befoi-e. 

Though, alas ! too late I tinJ 
Nothing can her fancy li.'c ; 

Yet the moment slie is kind 
1 lorgive her all her tricks ; 



COMPLIMKNT AND AU.VliUAl'iON. 



125 



Whirli tlioiigli I nee, 
I can't get liec ; 
Slie deceiving, 
I believing, 
What need lovers wish for more ? 

SiK Charles Sedlev. 



GO, LOVEIA' ROSE. 

Go, lovely rose ! 
Tell her that wastes her time and me. 

That now she knows, 
When 1 riwinlile her to thee. 
How sweet and fair she seerui) to be. 

Tell her that 's young. 
And slums to have her graces spied. 

That hailst thou sprung 
In deserts, where no men abide. 
Thou must have uncoinmeuded died. 

Small is the worth 
Of beauty from the light retired ; 

I'.iil her come forth, 
Suffer hers(;lf to be desired, 
And not blush so to be admired. 

Then die, that she 
The common fate of all things rare 

May re;id in thee ; 
How small a part of time they share, 
That aro so wondrous sweet and fair. 

B.UMUNU Wallek. 

jTANZA AD&F.O i!Y HENRV KIRKE WHITE. 

Yet, though thou fade, 
From thy dead leaves let fragrance rise ; 

And teach the maid. 
That goodness Time's rude hand defies. 
That virtue lives when beauty dies. 



OX A GIIJDLE. 

That which her slender waist confined 
Shall now my joyful tfjmples bind ; 
No monarch but would give his crown. 
His arms might do what this hath done. 

It was my heaven's extrernest sjihere, 
The |iale which held that lovely deer : 
My joy, my giief, my hope, my love. 
Did all within this circle move. 

A narrow compass ! and yet there 
Dwelt all that 's good, and all that 's fair. 
Give me but what this riblxju Ixiund, 
Take all the rest the sun goes round ! 

F.UUI Nt. WALLER. 



DKINK TO 



MK ON'LY 
KYES. 



WITH THINK 



I'ROM "THE FOREST." 

DlilSK to inc only with thine eyes. 

And I will pledge with mine ; 
Or leave a kiss but in the cup, 

And 1 'II iKit look for wine. 
The thirst that from the soul doth rise 

Doth ask a drink <liviiic ; 
liut might I of .love's nectar suji, 

1 would not change for thine. 

1 sent thee late a rosy wreath. 

Not so much honoring thee 
As giving it ii liii|ic that there 

It could not withered tie ; 
lint thou thereon didst only breathe 

And wmt'st it back to me ; 
Since when it grows, anil smells, 1 swear. 

Not of itself but thee ! 

I'liiujsTRATUS (Creek), Trani. 

latiotl of &BN JONSON. 



I.OVK. 

PROM "THE MERCHANT Ol' VENICE," ACT IIL SC. 3. 

Tell me where is fancy bred. 
Or in the heart, or in the head ( 
How begot, how nourished '( 
lieply, reply. 

It is iiigenrlered in the eyes, 
With gazing fed ; and fancy dici" 
In the cradle where it lies. 

Let us all ring fancy's kneil ; 

I 'II begin it, — ding, dong, bell. 
Ding, dong, bell. 

.SHAKESPEARE. 



TO A LADY AOMIRI.N'G HKRSEI-K IN A 
L00KING-G1.A.SS. 

Fair lady, when you see the grace 

Of beauty in your looking-glass ; 

A stately forehead, smooth and high. 

And full of princely majesty ; 

A s|iarkling eye no gem so fair, 

Whose lustre dims the f-'ypiian star ; 

A glorious cheek, divinely sweet, 

Wherein both rom^n kindly meet ; 

A chen-y lip that would entice 

Even gods U) kiss at any price ; 

You think no ls,-auty is m rare 

That with your shiulow might comf>arc ; 

That your nflection is alone 

The thing that men most ilote upon. 



126 



POE.MS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



Madam, alas I your glass doth lie, 
And you arc luucli deceived ; for I 
A beauty know of riclier grace 
(Sweet, be not angry), 'tis your face. 
Hence, then, 0, learn more mild to be, 
And leave to lay your blame on me : 
If me your real substance move. 
When you so much your shadow love. 
Wise nature would not let your eye 
Look on her own bright majesty ; 
Which, had you once but gazed upon, 
You could, except yourself, love none : 
What then you cannot love, let me. 
That face 1 can, you cannot see. 

Now you have what to love, you '11 say. 
What then is left for me, I pray ? 
My face, sweet heart, if it please thee ; 
That which you can, 1 cannot see : 
So either love shall gain his due, 
Yoiu's, sweet, in me, and mine in yon. 

Thomas Randolph. 



WELCOME, WELCOME, DO I SING. 

Welcome, welcome, do I sing, 
Far more welcome than the spring ; 
He that parlclh from you never 
Shxill enjoy a spiing forever. 

Love, that to the voice is near. 
Breaking from your ivory pale, 

Need not walk abroad to hear 
The delightful nightingale. 

Welcome, welcome, llicn I sing, etc. 

Love, that still looks on your eyes, 
Though the winter have begun 

To benumb our arteries, 
Shall not want the summer's sun. 
Welcome, welcome, then I sing, etc. 

Lore, that still may see your cheeks, 
Where all rareness still reposes, 

Is a fool if e'er he seeks 
Other lilies, other roses. 

Welcome, loelcmne, then I sing, etc. 

Love, to whom your soft liji yields. 
And perceives your breath in kissing, 

All the odors of the fields 

Never, never shall be missing. 

William Browne. 



WHENAS IN SILKS MY JULIA GOES. 

Whenas in silks my Julia goes. 

Then, then, me thinks, how sweetly flowes 

That liquefaction of h%T clothes. 



Next, when I cast mine eyes and see 
That brave vibration each way free, 
how that glittering taketli me ! 

K. HERRICK. 



A VIOLET IN HER HAIR. 

A VIOLET in her lovely hair, 
A rose upon her bosom fair ! 

But 0, her eyes 
A lovelier violet disclose. 
And her ripe lips the sweetest rose 

That 's 'neath the skies. 

A lute beneath her graceful liand 
Breathes nuisic forth at her conunand ; 

But still her tongue 
Far richer music calls to birth 
Than all the minstrel power on earth 

Can give to song. 

And thus she moves in tender light. 
The purest ray, where all is bright, 

Serene, and sweet ; 
And sheds a graceful influence round, 
That hallows e'en the very ground 

Beneath her feet ! 

CHARLES SWAIN. 



THE TRIBUTE. 

No splendor 'neath the sky's proud dome 

But serves her for foniiliar wear ; 
The far-fetched diamond finds its home 

Flashing and smouldering in her hair ; 
For her the seas their pearls reveal ; 

Art and strange lands her pomp supply 
With purple, chrome, and cochineal. 

Ochre, and lapis lazuli ; 
The worm its golden woof presents ; 

Whatever runs, flies, dives, or delves. 
All doH" for her their ornaments. 

Which suit her better than themselves ; 
And all, by this their power to give 

Proving her right to take, proclaim 
Her beauty's clear prerogative 

To profit so by Eden's blame. 

COVENTRY PATMORE. 



THE COMPLIMENT. 

I DO not love thee for that fair 
Rich fan of thy most curious hair ; 
Though the wires thereof be drawn 
Finer than the threads of lawn. 
And are softer than the leaves 
On which the subtle spider weaves. 



COiMPLIMENT AND ADMIIIATION. 



127 



I do not love thee for those llowers 
Growing on tliy cliceks, — love's bowers ; 
Though snch cunning them hath spread, 
None can paint them wliite and red : 
Love's golden arrows thence are shot, 
Yet for thetn 1 love thee not. 

I do not love thee for those soft 
Red coral li]]s I 've kissed so oft ; 
Nor teeth of pearl, the double guard 
To speech whence nnisic still is heard. 
Though from those lips a kiss being taken 
Might tyrants melt, and death awaken. 

I do not love thee, () my fairest, 
For that richest, for that rarest 
Silver pillar, which stands under 
Thy sound head, that globe of wonder ; 
Though that neck be whiter far 
Than towers of polished ivory are. 

TnOMAS carew. 



THE rOKTKAlT. 

Give place, ye ladies, and liegone. 
Boast not yourscdves at all : 
For here at hand approacheth one 
Whose face will .stain you all. 

The virtue of her lively looks 
Excels the precious stone : 
I wish to liave none other books 
To read or look upon. 

In each of her two crystal eyes 
Smileth a naked boy : 
It would you all in heart suffice 
To see that lamp of joy. 

I think Nature hath lost the mould 
Where she her shape did take ; 
Or else 1 doubt if Nature could 
So fair a creature make. 

In life she is Diana chaste, 

In truth Penelope ; 

In word and eke in deed steadfast : 

What will you more we say 1 

If all the world were sought so far, 
Who could find such a wight ? 
Her beauty twinkleth like a star 
Within the frosty night. 

Her rosial color comes and goes 
With such a comely giace, 
More ruddier too than in the rose, 
Within her lovely face. 



At Bacchus' feast none .shall her meet, 
Nor at no wanton play, 
Nor gazing in an open street, 
Nor gadding as astray. 

The modest mirth that she doth use 
Is nii.xt with .shamefastness ; 
All vice she doth wholly refuse, 
And liateth iilleness. 

Lord ! it is a world to see 
How virtue can rejjair 
And deck in her such honesty, 
Whom Nature made so lair ! 

How Uiight 1 do to get a grall'e 
Of this unsjiotted tree ? 
For all the rest are plain but chalf, 
Which seem good com to be. 

Thomas Hevwood. 



ROSALINE. 

Like to the clear in highest sphere 
Where all imperial glory .shines : 
Of s(dfsame color is her hair, 
Whether unfolded, or in twines : 

Heigh-ho, fair Rosaline ! 
Her eyes are .sapphires set in snow. 
Resembling heaven by every wink ; 
The gods do fear whenas they glow. 
And 1 do tremble when I think 

Heigh-ho, would she were mine ! 

Her cheeks are like the blushing cloud 
That beautifies Aurora's face. 
Or lik(^ the silver crimson shrou<l 
Tliat I'hti'bus' smiling looks doth grace : 

Heigh-ho, fair Rosaline ! 
Her lips are like two builded roses 
Whom ranks of lilies neighbor nigh. 
Within which bounds she balm encloses 
Apt to entice a deity : 

Heigh-ho, would she were uuue ! 

Her neck is like a stately tower 
Where Love himself imprisoned lies 
To watch for glances every hour 
From her divine and .sacred eyes ; 

Heigh-ho, fair Rosaline ! 
Her paps are centres of delight. 
Her iireasts are orbs of heavenly frame. 
Where Nature moulds the dew of light 
To feed perfection with the .same : 

Heigh-ho, would she were mine ! 



1 L'S 



I'OIOMS 111'' I'lIK AI'KKOTIONS. 



Wilh .■iii'iil |";nl, Willi nili.V IVil, 
Willi miulilc' wliilc, Willi Niipiiliiri' I'liu'. 
Ilrr liiiiiy I'vnry wuv i-" I'l'il. 
Vol Nlll'l ill llMU'll ,lllll swv'nl 111 vii'W ; 

lli'inli-lm, I'lvir linsuliiu' ! 
Niiluii' lii'i'm'll' lii'i' sliiii"' iiilmiri'H ; 
Till' Ktnl.-i ail' wimiuli'il in hfv sij{lit ; 
Anil l.iivi' rorKiiUiis lii» lu'uvi'iilv lin'H 
Ami 111 lii'f I'Vi's Ills liriiiiil dnlli HrIiI : 

ll('i,i;li lio. wuiiM '.111' wiTc mini' I 

'I'lioil iiiiiNi' mil. Nyinplis, UikiikIi 1 li.'imwii 
Tlio nliwmr nl' I'liii' Ui'isiiliiii'. 
Siiii'ii I'm- 11 I'liir tlnMii'ti I'liiror mnii'. 
Nor I'm' lii'i' viiluot so iliviiii' : 

lli'inlilii>. I'liii' Ifusiiliiii' ! 
lli'igliliii, my lii'iii'l! woulil liml tlml slio wi-ro 
mliiti ! 

I IliiM.Vl l.illHlll. 



liKMNl'A. 

rSiMll Till' "IIAl'l. Ill' lllli UH'\." 

On 111 r wliito Invimt ii spiuUliiiK I'lws slii' wmv, 
WliioU .li'ws mi.uUl kiss, nnil liiliili'U lulmi', 
lli'i- livi'ly looks II siiii>;lilly miml ilisi'losi', 
ijHiU'k US lior I'yos, Hinl »s iiiilixi'il as llioso : 
Kavors lo iioui', to all .slio smili's oxlomls ; 
Oh slio ivji'ols. Imt iiovor oin'o olVomls, 
llrixlil lis till- smi, lior i-yi's llio ga/i'is sliiki'. 
Anil, liki> llu' snii, llioy sliino on nil aliki". 
Yi'l. !{i'i»'<'''>i' "''""'• """' sw<'<'"n'ss voiil of iniili', 
Mi^lil liiili' lii-v I'lUills, if lii'lli's liiul I'linlls lo hiili' ; 
Ir lo lii'V sliiiro soiiii' IViiiulo onori. I'iiU, 
Look on hn liii'i', ami you'll loi-jp't tluMii uU. 

MUN.VXIUK ISM'li. 

TO \ l.APV, W It'll .>^OMK I-AINTKU 
I'l.OWKUS. 

VliiWKlss to tUo I'lviv ; toyoii those llowovs 1 luinj;. 
Ami sti'ivi> to jjiv.-l you with an oailior si>iiii>;, 
V'lowciN swpi't, ami ,«ay, ami ili-Uoalo liko you ; 
Kuilili'ius of iunoi'i-ui'o, ami hoauty loo, 
Willi llowoi-s Iho iJiaoos himl tlioir yellow hair, 
Auil llowoiy wivaths oouscutiu); lovois wear. 
l''Unvi>i-s, till' solo luxury wliii'h tialmv know, 
111 I'Mi'ii's \>uiv ami suillloss jtai\loii givw. 
To lol'li.'f I'oruis are ix>U)ilu'i' tasks asoijsm'il ; 
Tho Klu'ltoiiu)! oak ivsisis tlio sloiiiiy wiiul. 
The touglu'i- yew ivpcls iiivailiujs toes, 
.\ml the tail piiio lor fuluiv iiavios jjiwws : 
Hut this soft family to oaivs unknown, 
Weiv Ihuu for iiloasuiv ami iloUght nloiio. 
<;ay without toil, aiul lovely without rtrt. 
They s(>viiij! to ehoer the sense ami .ijlail the heart 
Nov hlush, my fair, to own you eopy these ; 
Your Ih'sI, your sweetest euipiiv is — to please. 

• A.V.'SA UITIVIA l>A»>tM'l.ll. 



8HK WAS A rilANTOM OF DlOl.lGUT. 

.SiiK was II pliaiiloiii ol' ili'lii;lil 

When lirsl she fjleameil ii|ion my sii;ht ; 

.\ lovely aiiparilion, sent 

To he II immient's ornanienl ; 

Her eyes as slurs of Iwihulil fair ; 

Like Twilinhl's. loo, her iliisky hair ; 

Hnl all things else ahoiil her ilrawn 

Kroni May-lime ami llie elieerlnl dawn ; 

A ilani'iiig shaiie, an image gay. 

To liaiinl. lo slarlle, ami waylay. 

I saw her upon nearer view, 
,\ spirit, yet a woman too ! 

II or honseholil molions light ami free, 
Ami steps of virginlilierly : 

.\ eouulenam-e in whirli iliil meet. 

Swi'i't rei'oiils, promises us sweel ; 

A .'reiilure not too hriglit or good 

Kor liunian milnre's daily food, 

Kor Irausieiil sorrows, simple wile-i. 

I'raise, Mame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. 

.\ml now I see wilh eye serene 

The very pulse of the mueliine ; 

.\ heing hrealhiiig thoughlful hreatli, 

A traveller helweeii life and death ; 

The I'l'ason linn, the temperate will, 

Kmlnranee. I'oivsighl, slivnglh, ami skill ; 

A perfeet woman, nohly planned 

To warn, lo eomforl, ami eommund ; 

Ami yet a spirit .still, ami bright 

With something of uii angi'l-liglit. 

Wll t lAM \VOKl>S\V0RTn. 



THK i;0.>^K OK TllK WOKl.O. 

l.ii, when the l.onl made north ami south, 

.\nd suu ami moon oulaimM, he, 
Korlh hiiuging eaeh by woiil of mouth 

III oixler of its dignity, 
Oiil man fiMin the erude ehiy expivss 

Itv se'iueuee, ami, all else deeived, 
lie formed the woman ; nor might less 

Than SabKilh sueli a work sueeeeil. 

Ami still with favor singled out, 

Mari>'d less than man by mortal fall. 
Her dis|>ositioii is devvmt. 

Her eoniiteiiam-e augx'lieal. 
No faithless thought her instinet slilxmU-s 

Itiil faiiey eheekei-s settled sense, 
Like alteration of the elonds 

On noonday's a/uiv \H'rmaueiioo. 



CUMl'LlMliiVT ANIJ AUMIK.VnuN. 



rlZ'J 



I'lin! i'i)ui'l('«y, I'DtiipimiU'o, imihi,', 

Dcc'iliio iMivlhiun llnlily lixuil, 
Ami iiiJjiulHi! H|iriiiix i'niiji iIiki lifgrum 

()I'hoiih(i mill H|iiril. nwiM:tly iiiixwl. 
Ili^i' iiimli'Hly, liiM' i'IiIi^I'i^hI. ki'ui'i', 

'I'lic! c'l'HliiH i'|jiH|iiii|{ Vi'Iiuh' hIiIc, 
Ih iiiit(>ril Id (li'ji'i't tlm liii'ir 

lll'liiiii will) wiiiilil ullriinl. itn pjiiln. 

Wrong iliiri'N iiol in Iht luimitncu H|mulc, 

Nor Hpiiltril lliiiil;{lll IIh Ulilll iJIhiiIiihu 
Umlcr till- |iriili'nl of ii iihintli 

OiitliniH^fiiip; Naliiro'H liount, tlio roHu. 
Ill inirnl iiinl iiimjiiiiiI's Iiiiw iliNcritul I 

How iirlli'HH in licr vniy iiit ! 
How cimiliil in ili)iri>iirHii I how Hwi»-t 

Till' iiiiiroril 111' liiT li|i>< iijhI lii'iirl. ! 

How (Jiiil to rail tnii; iiii<lijii:t'H liiMil 

Ami woinitn'H vuiy niiliiiii hiiini), 
How itniiiihli! iukI Innoi'imt 

Ilur JilriiHUro in liiir powrr In I'lmrin 1 
llow liiinilily citi'i^l'iil to iittnu't, 

Though i'IowmimI willi nil lln' «onl ilrHiiim, 
Cuiinuliliil iipUtuili! Mxuot, 

Uiveraity tliot never tircM ! 

CoVKNiUy I'AIMomi. 



SONO 



TiiK kIiii])!! ulorii! lilt otlinrs prizo, 

Till- IViiliinrH of tljo IHIr : 
1 look loi' Hpirit ill liiir oyoH, 

Ami iiii.'itiiiii;{ in liirr iiir. 

A (liiiiKutlc I'liuek, III! ivory arm, 

Sliiill nii'iir my wIhIhih win : 
Oivii nil* an fiiiiiniitinl t'oriii, 
'I'hat HjmukH It niiinl williiii, 

A liiiif wli(!r« iiwfnl limior ;»liini;», 
WliiTii Mcnw! itml HwiMitnimB move, 

lAmI imgol innoi'iim:!; ivAtium 
'I'lie temlenicHB of love, 

Tlii'Hi! lire till- Hoiil of Iii'iiuly'H fninie ; 

Witlioiit wlioHi! vitril iiiil 
nnliiii^lii'il nil lior fiiiitiiiitd Hoeni, 

Ami nil licr roHiin ilnml. 

Hut nil I wlii-ri! Iiotli llii'ir rlinrnm unite, 

Mow pIM'feil JH tllll vil'W, 

With livery inmge of ilflight, 
With gruiicH ever iiuw ; 

Of power to rharni the grentiiHt woe, 

The wilili'Ht rn({ii eontrol, 
l)iiriiKin(( inililniiKH o'i'r the hrow, 

Ami rnptiii'u through the hoiiI. 



Their power hut fninlly lo iixpreHK 

All IniiKiin;,;!! niiixt ileiipnlr ; 
lint H'l, lii'liiiM Ai'|>ii»in'H I'nee, 

Anil reiiil it perleet there. 

Ma UK AKKNIIIOII. 



SIIK I.S NOT KAIK ■[■() OIJTWAKIJ VIKW. 

.Sill', in not fnir to oiitwnnl view, 

As ninny niniileim he ; 
Her lovelimiHM I never knew 

Until hIiii Hiniliiil on inn : 
'I, llirn I nnw her eye wiiH hrigllt, — 
A wi'll of love, n Hpriiip; of light. 



liiil now her loiikn are eoy niel eoM ; 

To niiiiii they ne'er reply ; 
Anil yet 1 eeiiHii not to hiiholil 

The love-light in her eye : 
Her very I'rowiiH are fnirer fur 
Thun HiiiileH uf olliur niniiliiiiN ure I 

llAUll.ltV CoLi: 



1(10011. J 



A MKAl.TII. 

I MM, tliiii I'lip III one nimle up 

Of loveline'in nioiie, 
A woniiiii, of her geiille Hex 

The Keeining jmrngon ; 
To whom the hetter eleinentM 

Ami kimlly Htarii linve given 
A form HO fnir, that, like the air, 

'TIh leMH of eiirth than heaven. 

Ill r every tone iit niiii<ii''H own, 

Like tlioHe of inoniin^ hii'iN, 
Ami Moniething ninie llinii imliiily 

l)well« evi'r ill lirr woiil-i ; 
Tllll eoinage of her heart are I hey. 

Anil fi'oni her lljm eaeli IIowh, 
Ah one may mie the liiirileneil liee 

Forth inHiie I'loni the roMe. 

AHiietionH are an tlioiightH to her, 

The imiaxiireH of In-r lioiii'H ; 
Hit I'eelingM have llm fmgraney, 

The fienliiieiei of yoiiiig lloweiH ; 
Ami lovely pniHiom, ehaliging oft, 

Sn fill her, Hlie ii|ipi'ai« 
The iiiingi' of tlieiimiilveH hy tnrnH, 

Till' iilol of jinnt yeurH ! 

Of lier bright fare one glnnee will linco 

A pietiire on the hrniii, 
Ami of her voiee in eehoing lienrtu 

A Houml niiiHt long n-niniii ; 



130 



rOKMS OK THE AFFECTIONS. 



But memory, such as mine of her, 

So very much eniicars, 
When deatli is nigh my hilest sigh 

Will not be life's, but here. 

1 nil this cup to one mucli' up 

Of loveliness alone, 
A woman, of her gentle so.v 

The seeming paragon. 
Her healtli ! unil would on earth there stood 

Somi" more of swell a frame, 
Tlial life miglit be all poetry, 

And weariness a name. 

Edward Coati: pinknev. 



SHE WALKS IN HEAITTY. 

"HEBREW MELODIES." 

She walks in beauty, like the night 
("If cloudless clinu's and starry skies. 

And all tliat's best of dark and bright 
Meet in her aspect and her eyes, 

Thus mellowed to that tender liglit 
Wliich heaven to gaudy day ilenies. 

One shade the more, one ray the le.ss. 
Had half impaired the nameless grace 

Which waves in every raven tress 
Or softly lightens o'er her face, 

Wliere thoughts serenely sweet express 
How pure, how clear their dwelling-place. 

And on that chei'k and o'er that brow 

So soft, so calm, yet eloi]iient. 
The smiles that win, the tints that glow. 

Hut tell of days in goodness spent, — 
A mind at peace with all below, 

A heart whose love is innocent. 

lt\'KO\ 



A SI.EF.riNG nEAUTV. 

Slrep on ! and dream of IIeavi<n awhile ! 

Though shut so dose thy laugldng eyes. 
Thy losy lips still wear a smile. 

And move, and breathe delicious sighs. 

Ah ! now soft blushes tinge her cheeks 
.\nd mantle o'er her neck of snow ; 

Ah ! now she murmurs, now she speaks. 
What most 1 wish, and fear, to know. 

She starts, she trembles, and she weeps ! 

Her fair hands folded on her breast ; 
— And now, how like a .saint she sleeps I 

A seraph in the r«*lms of rest ! 



Sleep on secure ! Above control, 

Tliy thoughts belong to Heaven and thee ; 
And may the secret of thy soul 

Remain within its sanctuary ! 



Samuel Rogers. 



0, FA Hi EST OF THE KUKAL MAIDS! 

0, FAlKKsr of the rural maids ! 
Thy birth was in the forest shades ; 
Green boughs, ami glimpses of the sky, 
Were all that met thine infant eye. 

Thy sports, thy wanderings, wlii'n a child. 
Were ever in the sylvan wiki. 
And all the beauty of the place 
Is in tliy heart and on thy face. 

The twilight of the trees and rocks 
Is in the light shade of thy lock.- , 
Thy step is as the wind, tlnit weaves 
Its playful way among the leaves. 

Thine eyes are springs, in whose serene- 
And silent waters heaven is seen ; 
Their lashes are tlie herbs that look 
On their young figures in the brook. 

The forest depths, by foot unprcssed, 
Are not more sinhws tlian thy breast ; 
The holy peace, that tills the air 
Of those calm solitudes, is there. 

Wn.HAM Cl'LLliN HRVANT- 



HER LIKENESS. 

A oii;i., who has so nniny wilful ways 

She would have caused .lob's patiein-e to for- 
sake him ; 
Yet is so rich in all that 's girlhooil's praise, 
Did .lob himself ui>on her goodness gaze, 
A little better slie would suiely nuvke him. 

Yet is this girl 1 sing in naught uncommon. 
And very far from angel yet, I trow. 

Her faults, her sweetnesses, are purely bunnui ; 

Yet she's more lovable as simple woman 
Than any one diviner tliat I know. 

Therefore I wish that she may safely keep 

This womanhede, and change not, only grow : 
From maid to matron, youth to age, may creep, 
And in perennial blessedness, still reap 

On every band of that which she doth sow. 
DINAH Maria mulock Ck mk 



II 



COMPLIMENT AND ADMIRATION. 



131 



I FEAR THY KISSES, GENTLE MAIDEN. 

I FEAR thy kisses, gentle maiilcn ; 

Thou neeilest not fear mine ; 
My spirif is too deeply laden 

Ever to burden thine. 

I fear thy mien, thy tones, thy motion ; 

Thou needest not fear mine ; 
Innocent is the heart's devotion 

WitU whieh I worship thine. 

PF-RCV bysshe Shrllev. 



BLACK AND BLUE EYES. 

The brilliant black eye 

May in triumph let fly 
All its darts witliont earing who feels 'em ; 

But the soft eye of blue. 

Though it scatter wounds too, 
Is much better pleased when it heals 'em ! 
Dear Fanny ! 

The black eye may say, 

" Come and worship my ray ; 
By adoring, perhaps you may move me ! " 

But the blue eye, half hid, 

Says, from under its lid, 
" I love, and am yours, if yon love me ! " 
Dear Fanny ! 

Then tell me, O why, 
In that lovely blue eye. 
Not a charm of its tint I discover ; 
Or why should you wear 
The only blue pair 
That ever said " No " to a lover ? 
Dear Fanny ! 

Thomas Moore. 



LET THE TOAST PASS. 

FROM '-THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL." 

Here 's to the maiden of bashful fifteen ; 

Here 's to the widow of fifty ; 
Here 's to the flaunting extravagant quean. 
And here 's to the housewife that 's thrifty. 
Let the toast pass, 
Drink to the lass, 
I '11 warrant she '11 prove an excuse for the glass. 

Here 's to the charmer whose dimples we prize. 
Now to the maid who has none, sir ; 

Here 's to the girl with a [air of blue eyes, 
And here 's to the nymph with but one, sir. 
Let the toast pass, etc. 



Here 's to the maid with a bosom of snow ; 

Now to her that's as brown as a berry ; 
Here 's to tlie wife with a face full of woe. 

And now to the damsel tliat 's merrj'. 
Let the toast pass, etc. 

For let 'em be clumsy, or let 'em be slim. 
Young or ancient, I care not a feather ; 
So fill a pint bumper quite up to tlie brim. 
So fill up your glasses, nay, fill to the brim, 
And let us e'en toast them together. 
Let the toast pass, etc. 

Richard brinslev Sheridan. 



MY LITTLE SAINT. 

I CARE not, though it be 

By the preciser sort thought popeiy : 

We poets can a license show 

For everything we do. 
Hear, then, my little saint ! 1 '11 pray to thee. 

If now thy happy mind, 

Amidst its various joys, can leisure find 

To attend to anything so low 

As what I say or do. 
Regard, and be what thou wast ever, — kind. 

Let not the blest above 

Engross thee quite, but sometimes hither rove : 

Fain would I thy sweet image see, 

And sit and talk with thee ; 
Nor is it curiosity, but love. 

.Ah ! what delight 'twould be, 
Wouldst thou sometimes by stealth converse with 
me ! 

How should I thy sweet commune prize. 

And other .joys despise ! 
Come, then ! I ne'er was yet denied by thef 

I would not long detain 

Thy soul from bliss, nor keep thee here in pain ; 

Nor should thy fellow-saints e'er know 

Of thy escape below : 
Before thou'rt missed, thou shouldst return again. 

Sure, heaven must needs thy love. 
As well as other qualities, improve : 

Come, then ! and I'ecreate my sight 

Witli rays of thy pure light ; 
'T will cheer my eyes more than the lamps above. 

But if Fate 's so severe 

As to confine tliee to thy blissful sphere, 

(And by thy absence I shall know 

Whether thy state be so,) 
Live happy, and be niindful of me there. 

John Norris 



132 



rOEMS OF THE AFFECTION^. 



A GOLDEN GIRL. 

Lucy is a golden girl ; 

Uut a man, a vuin, should woo her ! 
Tlu'V who seek her shrink aliaek, 

When they should, like stonns, pursue her. 

All her smiles are hid in light ; 

All her hair is lost in splendor ; 
Hut she hath the eyes of Night 

And a heart that 's over-tender. 

Yet the foolish suitors fly 

(Is 't excess ol' dread or duty ?) 
From the starlight of her eye, 

Leaving to neglect her beauty ! 

Men by fifty seasons taught 

Leave her to a young beginner, 
Who, without a second thought. 

Whispers, wooes, and straight must win her. 

Lucy is a golden girl ! 

Toast her in a goblet brimming ! 
May the man tliat wins her wear 

On his heart the Kose of Women ! 

Bryan waller VROCTEK ISttrry CarnHMtiil 



THE MILKING-MAID. 

The year stood at its equinox. 
And bluff the North was blowing, 

A bleat of lambs came from the Hocks, 
Green hardy things were growing ; 

I met a inaiil with shining looks 
Where milky kine were lowing. 

She wore a kerchief on her neck. 
Her bare arm showed its dimple. 

Her apron s)iread without a speck. 
Her air was frank and simple. 

She milked into a wooden pail. 
And sang a country ditty, — 

An innocent fond lovers' tale. 
That was not wise nor witty, 

Pathetically rustical, 

Too pointless for the city. 

She kept in time without a beat. 
As true as churdi-bell ringers. 

Unless she tapjied time with her feet. 
Or squeezed it with her fingers : 

Her clear, nnstudied notes were sweet 
As many a practised singer's. 

I stood a minute out of sight. 

Stood silent for a minute. 
To eye the pail, and creamy white 

The frothing milk within it, — 



To eye the comely milking-niaid. 

Herself so fresh and creamy. 
" Good day to you ! " at last I said ; 

She turueit her head to see me. 
"Good day !" she said, with lifted head ; 

Her eyes looked soft and dreamy. 

And all the while she milked and milked 

The grave cow heavy-lailcn : 
I 've seen grand ladies, plumed and silked, 

But not a sweeter maiden ; 

But not a sweeter, fresher maid 

Than this in homely cotton, 
Whose pleasant face and silky braid 

I have not yet forgotten. 

Seven springs have passed since then, as I 

Count with a sober sorrow ; 
Seven springs have come and passed me by, 

And spring sets in tomorrow. 

I '^■e half a nund to shake myself 
Free, just for once, from London, 

To set my work upon the shelf. 
And leave it done or undone ; 

To rtm down by the early train. 

Whirl down with shriek and whistle, 

And feel the bluff north blow again, 
And mark the sprouting thistle 

Set up on waste patch of the lane 
Its green and tender bristle ; 

And spy the scarce-blown violet banks, 
Crisp primrose-leaves and others. 

And watch the lambs leaji at their pranks. 
And butt their patient mothers. 

Alas ! one point in all my plan 

My serious thoughts lieniur to : 
Seven years have passed for maid and man, 

Seven years have passed for her too. 

Perliaps my rose is over-blown. 

Not rosy, or too rosy ; 
Perhaps in farm-house of her own 

Some husband keeps her cosy. 
Where I should show a face unknown, — 

Good-by, my wayside posy I 

CHRISTINA GEORCINA ROSSETTI. 



AT THE CHURCH GATE. 

Although I enter not. 
Yet round about the spot 

Ofttimes I hover ; 
And near the sacred gate 
With longing eyes I wait, 

Expectant of her. 



COMPLIMENT AND ADMIRATION. 



133 



The minster bell tolls out 
Above the city's rout, 

And noise luiii humming ; 
They 've hushed the minster bell ; 
The organ 'gins to swell ; 

She 's coming, coming ! 

My lady comes at last, 
Timid and stepping fast. 

And hastening hither. 
With modest eyes downcast ; 
She comes, — she 's here, she 's past ! 

May Heaven go with her ! 

Kneel undisturbed, fair saint ! 
Pour out your praise or plaint 

Meelcly and duly ; 
I will not enter there, 
To sully your pure prayer 

With thoughts unruly. 

But suffer me to pace 
Round the forbidden place. 

Lingering a minute, 
Like outcast spirits, who wait, 
And see, througli heaven's gate, 

Angels within it. 

William Makepeace Thackeray. 



SWEET, BE NOT PROUD. 

Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes. 
Which starlike sparkle in their skies ; 
Nor be you proud tluit you can see 
All hearts your captives, yours yet free. 
Be you not proud of that rich hair. 
Which wantons witli tlie lovesick air ; 
Whenas that ruby which you wear, 
Sunk from the tip of your soft ear. 
Will last to be a precious stone 
When all your world of beauty 's gone. 

Robert Herrick. 



VERSES WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM. 

Here is one leaf reserved for me. 
From all thy sweet memorials free ; 
And here my simple song might tell 
The feelings thou must guess so well. 
But could 1 thus, within thy mind, 
One little vacant comer find. 
Where no impression yet is seen, 
Where no memorial yet has been, 
O, it should be my sweetest care 
To write my name forever there ! 

T. MOORE. 



FEAGMENTS. 

C'O.MPHMENTS. 
Where none admire, 't is useless to excel ; 
Where none are beau.x, 't is vain to be a belle. 

SolUoguy on a Beauty in Ihf Country. LORD LVTTLETON. 

That man that hath a tongue, 1 say, is no man, 
If with his tongue he cannot win a woman. 

Tiuo Oentlenien of I'erona, Act iij. Sc. I. SHAKESPEARE. 



WOMAX. 

And when a lady 's in the case. 

You know all other things give place. 

TItt Hare and Many Frieuiis, J. GAY. 

woman ! lovely woman ! nature made thee 
To temper man ; we had been brutes without you. 
Angels are painted fair, to look like you ; 
There 's in you all that we believe of heaven ; 
Amazing brightness, purity, and truth. 
Eternal joy, and everlasting love. 

Venice Preserved, Act i. Sc. i. T. OTWAY. 

From women's eyes this doctrine I derive : 
They sparkle still the right Promethean fire ; 
They are the books, the arts, the Academes, 
That show, contain, and nourish all the world. 

Love's Labor Lost, Act iv. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE. 



Personal Charms. 

Such was Zuleika ! such around her shone 
The nameless charms unmarked by her alone ; 
The light of love, the purity of grace, 
The mind, the music breathing from her face, 
The heart whose softness harmonized the whole, 
And oh ! that eye was in itself a Soul. 

Bride 0/ Abydos, Cant. \. BVRON. 



Is she not passing fair '! 

Two Cenltenien 0/ I 'erona. Act v 



SHAKESPEARE. 



And she is fair, and fairer than that word. 

Merchant 0/ Venice. Act i. Sc. i. SHAKESPEARE. 

There 's nothing ill can dwell in sucli a temple : 
If the ill spirit have so fair a house. 
Good things will strive to dwell with 't. 

Tlie Tempest. Act \. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE. 

Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. 

As You Like It, Act i. Sc. 3. SHAKESPI-:ake 



Here 's metal more attractive. 

Hamlet, Act iu Sc, i. 



SHAKF.SPr.AKrL 



184 



POEMS OK THE Al'l'KCTIONS. 



She is pretty to walk witli, 

And witty to talk witli, 

And pleasant, too, to think on. 

Brettnoralf, AC) ii. 



Sir J. SUCKLING. 



Hut from tlie hoop's bewitt'liing round. 
Her very slioc lias power to wound. 

Fables: The Sfidtr and fht Bte. E. MOORE. 

We call it only pretty Fanny's way. 

An Htf^y lean Old Beauty, T. PAKNELL. 

The fair, the chaste, and unexprossive she. 

As roM Like It, Act iii. JV. 2. SHAKESPEARE, 

Angels listen when she speaks ; 

She 's my delight, all mankind's wonder ; 
But my jealous heart wouhi break. 

Should we live one day asunder. 
Seng. Earl of Rochester. 



lMrARTI.\I, AkFKCTION. 

How happy could 1 be with either. 
Were t' other dear charmer away. 

Begnar's Opera, Act ii. Sc. i, ]. GAY. 

Had sighed to many, though he loved but one. 

Childe Harold's Pilsrimase. Cant. i. BYRON. 



Compliments fkom Nature. 

0, tho\i art fairer than the evening air. 
Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars. 

Faustus. MARLOWE. 

When ho shall die, 
Take him and cut him out in little star.s, 
And he will make the face of heaven so fine, 
That all the woild \vill be in love with night. 
And pay no worship to the garish sun. 

Romeo and Juliet, Act iii. Se. a. SHAKESPnARE. 

Hei' eyes the glow-worm lend thee. 
The shooting-stars attend thee ; 

And the elves also, 

Whose little eyes glow 
Like the sparks of fiie, befiiend thee. 

Tke Nl£ht Ptere to Julia. R. HERRICK, 

The sweetest garland to the sweetest maid. 

Toa Letity : vith a Present o/ Flowers, T, TlCKELL. 



When you do dance, I wish you 
A wave o' th' sea, that you might ever do 
Nothing but that. 



irinter's Tate, Act iv. Sc, 4. 



SlIAKESPEARR. 



Some asked me where the Rubies gi'ew. 

And nothing 1 did say. 
But with my linger pointed to 

The lips of Julia. 

7'Ae Pod 0/ Rubies, and the Quarrte 0/ Pearls, R. HERRICK 

Cherry ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry, 

Full and fair ones, — Come and buy ; 

If so be you ask me where 

They do grow, I answer, there. 

Where my Julia's lips do smile. 

There's the land, or cherry-isle. 

Cherry Ripe, R. IlBRRICK. 

Except I be by Sylvia in the night, 
There is no nnisic in the nightingale. 

7'w'C Gentlemen o/Verona, Act'\\\, Sc. I. SHAKESPEARE. 

But thy eternal summer shall not fade. 

Sonnet X VI 1 1, SHAKESPEARE. 

Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life ! 
The evening beam that smiles the clouds away. 
And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray ! 

The Bride o/ Abydos, Cant, ii. BYRON. 



The Poet's ApsiiiiATioN. 
That eagle's fate and mine are one, 

Which, on the shaft that made him die. 
Espied a feather of his own, 

Wlierewith ho wont to soar so high. 

To a Lady sinking a Sons o/ his Composing, U. WALLER. 

Is she not more than painting can express, 
Or youthful poets fancy when they love ? 

The Fair Penitent, Act iii. Sc. \, N. ROWS. 



'T is sweeter for thee despairing, 
Than aught in the world beside, - 

Jessy. 



- Jessy 



Flattery. 
Banish all compliments but single truth. 



F,uthfiil Shepherdess. 



BEAUMONT nnd FLETCHER. 



LOVE. 



135 



LOVE. 



IF IT BE TRUE THAT ANY BEAUTEOUS 
THING. 

1 F it be true tliat any beauteous thing 
liaises the pure ami just desire of man 
From earth to God, the eternal fount of aU, 
.SuL'li I believe my love ; for a.s in her 
.So fair, in whom I all besides forget, 
I view the gentle work of her Creator, 
1 have no eare for any other thing, 
Wliilst thus I love. Nor is it marvellous, 
.Since the ell'ect is not of my own jiower, 
If the soul iloth, by nature tempted forth, 
Enamoied through the eyes, 
liepose upon tlie eyes which it resembleth, 
And through them riseth to the Primal Love, 
As to its end, and honors in admiring ; 
For who adores the Maker needs must love his 
work. 

Michael ANCFLO (Italian). Translation 

of J. H. Taylor. 



SONNET. 

MrsES, that sing Love's sensual empirie, 

.\nd lovers kindling your enraged tires 

.\t Cupid's bonfires burning in the eye, 

lilown with the empty breath of vain desires ; 

Vou, that prefer the painted cabinet 

I'.efore the wealthy jewels it doth store ye, 

'I'liat all your joys in dying figures set, 

.\iid stain the living substance of your glory ; 

Abjure those joys, abhor their memory ; 

.\iid let my love the honored subject be 

I If love and honor's complete history ! 

Vour eyes were never yet let in to see 

The majesty and riches of the mind. 

That dwell in darkness ; for your god is blind. 

GEORGE CHAPMAN. 



THE MIGHT OF ONE FAIR FACE. 

The might of one fair face sublimes my love, 
I'or it hath weaned my heart fiom low desires ; 
Nor death 1 Iici-d, nor purgatorial fires. 
Thy beauty, antepast of joys above. 
Instructs me in the bliss that saints approve ; 
For 0, how good, how beautiful, must be 
The God that made so good a thing as thee. 
So fair an image of the heavenly Dove ! 



Forgive me if I cannot turn away 

From those sweet eyes that are my earthly 

heaven, 
For they are guiding stars, benignly given 
To tempt my footsteps to the upward way ; 
And if 1 dwell too fondly in thy sight, 
1 live and love in God's peculiar light. 

Michael Angelo (Italian). Translation 
of J. H. TAYLOR. 



WERE I AS BASE AS IS THE LOWLY 
PLAIN. 

Were I as base as is the lowly plain. 

And you, my Love, as high as heaven above. 

Yet should the thoughts of me your humble 

swain 
Ascend to heaven, in honor of my Love. 

Were I as high as heaven above the plain. 
And you, my Love, as humble and as low 
As are the deepest bottoms of the main, 
Wlieresoe'er you were, with you my Love should 
go-' 

Were you the earth, dear Love, and I the skies. 
My love should shine on you like to the sun. 
And look ujjon you with ten thousaml eyes 
Till heaven waxed blind, and till the world were 
done. 

Wlieresoe'er I am, below, or else above you, 

Wheresoe'er you are, my heart shall truly love 

you. 

Joshua Sylvester. 



LIGHT. 



The night has a thousand eyes, 

The day but one ; 
Ye* the light of the bright world dies 

With the dying sun. 

The itiind has a thousand eyes. 

And the heart but one ; 
Yet the light of a whole life dies 

When its love is done. 

tRANCIS W. BOURDtl-LON' 



136 



rOEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



LOVE IS A SICKNESS. 

Love is a sickness full of woes, 

All rcnioilics refusing ; 
A plant that most with cutting grows, 
Most barren with best using. 
Why so ? 
More wo enjoy it, more it ilies ; 
If not enjoyeil, it sighing cries 
Heigh-ho ! 

Love is II torment of the minil, 

A tempest everlasting ; 
And Jove hath made it of a kind, 
Not well, nor full, nor fasting. 
Why so ? 
More wo enjoy it, more it dies ; 
If not enjoveil, it sighing cries 
'ileigh-ho ! 

SAMUEL DA.\1EL. 



rillLLIPA AND CORYDOK. 

In the merry month of May, 
In a morn by break of day, 
Witli a troop of damsels playing 
Forth I rode, forsooth, a-nuiying. 
When anon by a woodside. 
Where as May was in his pride, 
I espii'd, all alone, 
I'liillida and Corydon. 

Much ado there was, God wot ! 

He would love and .she would not : 

She said, " Never man was true :" 

He says, " None was false to you." 

He said he had loved hci' long : 

She says, " Love sliould have no wrong." 

Corydon he would kiss her thei\. 
She says, " Maids must kiss no men 
Till they do for good and all." 
Then she made the shepheril call 
All the heavens to witness, truth 
Never loved a truer youth. 

Tlius. with many a pretty oath. 
Yea and nay, and faith and troth, — 
Such as silly shepherds use 
When they will not love abuse, — 
Love, which had been long dehuled. 
Was with kisses sweet concluded ; 
And Phillida, with garlands gny. 
Was made the lady of the May. 

Nicholas Breton. 



LOVE SCORNS DEGREES. 

FROM "THE MOUNTAIN OF THE LOVERS." 

Love scorns degrees; the low he lifteth high, 
The high he draweth down to that f.ui plain 
Whereon, in his divine eiiuality. 
Two loving hearts may meet, nor meet in vain ; 
'(iainst sucli sweet levelling Custom cries aniain. 
But o'er its harshest utterance one bland sigli, 
Hrcathed passion-wise, doth mount victorious 

still. 
For Love, earth's lord, must have his lordly will. 

?AUL H. havne. 



THE SHEPHERD AND THE KING. 

All ! what is love ? It is a pretty thing, 
As sweet unto a shepherd as a king, 

And sweeter too ; 
For kings have cares that wait upon a crown, 
And cares can make the sweetest face to frown : 

Ah then, ah then, 
If country loves such sweet desiivs gain. 
What lady would not love a shepherd swain ? 

His flocks are folded ; he comes home at night 
As merry as a king in his ddiglit, 

And merrier too ; 
For kings bctliink them what the state require. 
Where sheplierds, careless, carol by the f.vn : 

Ah tlien, ah then. 
If country loves such sweet desires gain. 
What lady \vo\ild not love a shepherd swain ? 

He kisseth first, then sits as blithe to eat 
His cream and curd as doth the king his meat. 

And blither too ; 
For kings have often fears when they sup. 
Where shepherds dread no poison in their cup : 

Ah then, ah then. 
If comitry loves such sweet desires gain. 
What lady would not love a shepherd swain ? 

Upon his couch of straw he sleeps as sound 
As doth the king upon his beds of down. 

More sounder too ; 
For cares cause kings full oft their sleep to spill. 
Where weaiy sh ■plierils lie and snort their fill : 

Ah tlien, ah then, 
If country loves such sweet desires gain, 
What laiiy would not love a shepherd swaiu ? 

Thus with his wife lie spends the year as blithe 
.\s doth the king at every tide or syth, 
.■\nd blither too ; 



LOVE. 



137 



Fur kings have wtirs hikI broils to take in hand, 
Wlioii sliepherds laiigli, and lovu upon the land ; 

Ah then, uh then, 
I r country loves s\ich sweet desires gain, 
\\'hut lady would not love a shepherd swain ? 

ROBLKT GREENE. 



TELL ilE, MY HEART, 
LOVE. 



IF THIS BE 



When Delia on the plain appears. 
Awed hy a thousand tender fears, 
1 would approach, but dare not move ; — 
Tell me, my heart, if this be love. 

Whene'er she speaks, my ravished ear 
No otlier voice than hers can hear ; 
No other wit but hers ajiprove ; — 
Tell me, my heart, if this be love. 

If she some other swain commend. 
Though 1 was once his fondest friend, 
His instant enemy I prove ; — 
Tell me, my heart, if this be love. 

When she is absent, I no more 

Delight in .all that pleased before. 

The clearest spring, the shadiest grove ; — 

Tell me, my heart, if this be love. 

When fond of power, of beauty vain. 
Her nets she spread for every swain, 
I strove to hate, but vainly strove ; — 
Tell me, my heart, if this be love. 

Gkorge. Lord Lvttei.ton. 



MY TRUE-LOVE HATH MY HEART. 

My tnie-love hath my heait, and I have his, 
liy just e.xchange one to the other given : 

I hohl his ilcar, anil mine he cannot miss. 
There never was a better bargain driven : 

My true-love hath my lieart, and I have his. 

His heart in me keeps him and me in one ; 

My heart in him liis thoughts and senses guides : 
lie loves my heart, for once it was his own ; 

I cherish his because in me it bides : 
My true-love hath my lieart, and I have his. 

SIR I'HiLfp Sidney. 



I SAW TWO CLOUDS AT MORNING. 

I SAW two clouds at morning. 

Tinged by the rising sun. 
And in tlie dawn they floated on, 

Ancl mingled into one ; 
I thouglit tliat morning cloud was blest, 
It moved so sweetlv to the west. 



I saw two sunnner currents 

Flow smoothly to their meeting. 

And join their course, with silent force, 
In peace each othei' greeting ; 

Calm was their course through baidcs of green, 

\\'hile ilimpling eddies played between. 

Su(di be your gentle motion. 

Till life's last pulse shall beat ; 
Like summer's beam, and summer's stream, 

Float on, in joy, to meet 
A calmer sea, where storms shall cease, 
A purer sky, where all is peace. 

John Gakuinek Calkins bkainard. 



THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY. 

It was a friar of orders gray 
Walkeil forth to tell his beads ; 

And he met with a lady fair 
Clad in a pilgrim's weeds. 

" Now Christ thee save, thou reverend friar ; 

I pray thee tell to me. 
If ever at yon holy shrine 

My true-love thou didst see." 

" And how should I know your true-love 

From many another one ?" 
" 0, by his cockle hat, and staff. 

And by his sandal shoon. 

" But chieHy by his face and mien. 

That were so fair to view ; 
His flaxen locks that sweetly curled. 

And eyes of lovely blue." 

" lady, he is dead and gone ! 

Lady, lie 's dead .and gone '. 
And at his head a gi'een grass turf, 

And at his heels a stone. 

" Within these holy cloisters long 

He languished, and he died. 
Lamenting of a lady's love, 

And 'plaining of her pride. 

" Here bore liim barefaced on his bier 

Six proper youths and tall. 
And many a tear bedewed his grave 

Within yon kirkyard wall." 

" And art thou dead, thou gentle youth ? 

And art thou ilead and gone ? 
And didst thou die for love ofni" ? 

Break, cruel heart of stcnie !" 



1^8 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



"0, weep not, lady, weep not so ; 

Some ghostly coniloit seek ; 
Let not vain sorrow rive thy heart, 

Nor tears bedew thy cheek." 

" 0, do not, do not, holy friai, 

My sorrow now reprove ; 
For I have lost the sweetest youth 

That e'er won lady's love. 

" And now, alas ! for thy sad loss 

I '11 evermore weep and sigh ; 
For thee I only wished to live. 

For thee I wish to die." 

" Weep no more, lady, weep no more, 

Tliy sorrow Is in vain ; 
For violets plucked, the sweetest showers 

Will ne'er make grow again. 

" Our joys as >vinged dreams do fly ; 

Why then should sorrow. last ? 
Since grief but aggravates thy loss, 

Grieve not for what is past." 

" 0, say not so, thou holy friar ; 

I pray thee, say not so ; 
For since my true-love died for me, 

'T is meet my tears should flow. 

" And will he never come again ? 

Will he ne'er come again ? 
Ah, no ! he is dead, and laid in his grave. 

Forever to remain. 

" His cheek was redder than the rose ; 

The comeliest youth was he ! 
But he is dead and laid in his grave : 

Alas, and woe is me ! " 

" Sigh no more, lady, sigh no more. 

Men were deceivers ever : 
One foot on sea and one on land, 

To one thing constant never. 

" Hadst thou been fond, he had been false, 

And left thee sad and heavy ; 
For young men ever were fickle found. 

Since summer trees were leafy." 

" Now say not so, thou holy friar, 

I pray thee say not so ; 
My love he had the truest heart, 

0, he was ever true ! 

"And art thou dead, thou much-loved youth. 

And didst thou die for me ? 
Then fareuell home ; for evermore 

A pilgrim 1 will be. 



" But first upon my true-love's grave 

My weary Umbs 1 'U lay. 
And thrice 1 '11 kiss the green-grass tui'f 

That wraps his breathless clay." 

" Yet stay, fair lady ; rest awhile 

Beneath this cloister wall ; 
The cold wind through the hawthorn blows. 

And drizzly rain doth fell." 

" 0, stay me not, thou holy friar, 

O, stay me not, I pray ; 
No drizzly rain that falls on me 

Can wash my fault away." 

"Yet stay, fair lady, turn again, 

And dry those pearly tears ; 
For see, beneath this gown of gray 

Thy own true-love appears. 

" Here forced by grief and hopeless love. 

These holy weeds I sought ; 
And here, amid these lonely walls, 

To end my days I thought. 

" But haply, for my year of gi-ace 

Is not yet passed away. 
Might 1 still hope to win thy love, 

No longer would I stay." 

"Now farewell grief, and welcome joy 

Once more unto my heart ; 
For since I have found thee, lovely youth. 

We nevermore will part." 

Adapted from old ballads by THOMAS PEKCV. 



THE HERMIT. 

FROM "THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD." 

"Turn, gentle Hermit of the dale, 

And guide my lonely way 
To where j'on taper cheers the vale 

With hospitable ray. 

" For here forlorn and lost I tread, 
With fainting steps and slow ; 

Where wilds, immeasurably spread. 
Seem lengthening as I go." 

"Forbear, my son," the Hermit cries, 
"To tempt the dangerous gloom ; 

For yonder faithless pliantora flies 
To lure thee to thy doom. 

" Here to the houseless child of want 

My door is 0|)en still ; 
And though my portion is but scant, 

1 give it with good will. 



I 



X>OVE. 



13 J 



" Then turn to-night, and freely share 

Whate'er my cell bestows ; 
My nishy couch and frugal fare, 

My blessing and repose. 

" No flocks that range the valley free 

To slaughter 1 condemn ; 
Taught by that Power that pities me, 

I learn to pity them : 

" But from the mountain's gi'aasy side 

A gxiiltless feast I bring ; 
A scrip with herbs and fruits supplied, 

And water from the spring. 

"Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego; 

All earth-born cares are wrong : 
Man wants but little here below. 

Nor wants that little long." 

Soft as the dew from heaven descends. 

His gentle accents fell : 
The modest stranger lowly bends. 

And follows to the cell. 

Far in a wilderness obscure 

The lonely mansion lay ; 
A refuge to the neighboring poor. 

And strangers led astraj'. 

No stores beneath its humble thatch 

Required a master's care : 
The wicket, opening with a latch. 

Received the harmless pair. 

And now, when busy crowds retire 

To take their evening rest. 
The Hermit trimmed his little fire, 

And cheered his pensive guest ; 

And spread his vegetable store, 
And gayly pressed and smiled ; 

And, skilled in legendary lore. 
The lingering hours beguiled. 

Around, in sympathetic mirth, 

Its tricks the kitten tries ; 
The cricket chirrups on the hearth ; 

The crackling fagot flies. 

But nothing could a charm impart 
To soothe the stranger's woe ; 

For grief was heavy at his heart. 
And tears began to flow. 

His rising cares the Hermit spied. 
With answering care opprest : 

"And whence, unhappy youth," he cried, 
"The sorrows of thv breast ? 



" From better habitations spurned. 

Reluctant dost thou rove ! 
Or grieve for friendship uiireturned. 

Or unregarded love ? 

"Alas ! tlie joys that fortune brings 

Are trifling, and decay; 
And those who jirize the paltry things 

More trifliug still than they. 

" And what is friendship but a name, 

A charm that lulls to sleep ; 
A sliade that follows wealth or fame. 

And leaves the wretch to weep? 

" And love is still an emptier sound. 

The modern fair one's jest ; 
On earth unseen, or only found 

To warm the turtle's nest. 

"For shame, fond youth ! thy sorrows hush. 

And spurn the sex," he said ; 
But while he s]ioke, a rising blush 

His lovelorn guest betrayed. 

Surprised, he sees new beauties rise. 

Swift mantling to the view ; 
Like colors o'er the morning skies. 

As bright, as transient too. 

The bashful look, the rising breast, 

Alternate spread alarms : 
The lovely stranger stands confest 

A maid in all her charms. 

"And, ah ! forgive a stranger rude, 

A wretch forlorn," she cried; 
" Whose feet unhallowed thus intrude 

Where heaven and you reside. 

" But let a maid thy pity share. 
Whom love has taught to stray ; 

Who seeks for rest, but finds despair 
Companion of her way. 

' ' My father lived beside the Tyne, 

A wealthy lord was he ; 
And all his wealth was marked as mine, — 

He had but only me. 

" To win me from his tender arms. 

Unnumbered suitors came ; 
Who ]iraised me for imputed charms. 

And felt, or feigned, a flame. 

" Each hour a mercenary crowd 

AVith richest proffers strove : 
Among the rest young Edwin bowed. 

But never talked of love. 



140 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



"In hiimlile, simplest liiibit cbul. 

No weiiltli or power had ho ; 
Wisiloiu and worth were all he had, 

But these were all to nie. 

" And when beside nie in the dale 

He carolled lays ol love, 
His breath lent fragrance to the gale 

And uiusiu to the grove. 

"The blossom opening to the day. 

The dews of heaven refined, 
Could naught of purity display 

To emulate his mind. 

" The dew, the blossoms of the tree, 
With charms inconstant shine ; 

Their charms were his, but, woe to me ! 
Their constancy was mine. 

"For still I tried each fickle art. 

Importunate and vain; 
And while his passion touched my heart, 

1 triumphed in his pain : 

" Till, quite ilejected w^ith my scorn, 

He left me to my pride ; 
And sought a solitude forlorn, 

In secret, where he died. 

" But mine the sorrow, mine the fault. 

And well my life shall pay ; 
I '11 seek the solitude he sought. 

And stretch me where lie lay. 

"And there forlorn, despairing, hid, 

I '11 lay me down and die ; 
'T was so for me that Edwin did, 

And so for liim will I." 

"Forbid it. Heaven !" the Hermit cried. 

And clasped her to his breast ; 
The wondering fair one turned to chide, — 

'T was Edwin's self that pressed. 

" Tnrn, Angelina, ever dear. 

My charmer, turn to see 
Thy own, thy long-lost Edwin here, 

Kestored to love and thee. 

"Thus let me hold thee to my heart. 

And every care resign : 
And shall we nevei', never part. 

My life, — my all that 's mine? 

" No, never from this hour to part, 

AVe '11 live and love so true : 
The sigh that rends thy constant heart 

Shall break thy Eilwin's too." 

OLiVEii Goldsmith. 



ON LOVE. 

TirERE is no worldly pleasure here bcdow. 

Which by experience doth not folly prove ; 
But among all the follies that I know. 

The sweetest folly in the world is love ; 
But not that passion which, with fools' consent. 

Above the reason bears imperious sway, 
Making their lifetime a perpetual Lent, 

As if a man were born to fast and pray. 
No, that is not the humor I approve, 

As either yieUling pleasure or promotion ; 
I like a mild and lukewarm zeal in love, 

Although I do not like it in devotion ; 
For it has no coherence with my creed. 

To think that lovers die as they pretend ; 
If all that say they dy had dy'd indeed. 

Sure, long ere now thi; world had had an end. 
Besides, we need not love but if we please, 

No destiny can force men's disposition ; 
And how can any die of that disease 

Whereof himself may be his own physician ? 
But some seem so distracted of their wits. 

That I would think it but a venial sin 
To take some of those innocents that sits 

In Bedlam out, and put some lovers in. 
Yet some men, rather than incur the slander 

Of true apostates, will false martyrs prove, 
But I am neither Iphis nor Leander, 

I '11 neither drown nor hang myself for love. 
Jlethinks a wise man's actions should be such 

As always yield to reason's best advice ; 
Now, for to love too little or too much 

Are both exti'cams, and all e.ftreanis are vice. 
Yet have I been a lover by report. 

Yea 1 have dy'd for love, as others do; 
But, praised be God, it was in such a sort. 

That I revived within an hour or two. 
Thus have I lived, thus have I loved till now. 

And find no reason to repent me yet ; 
And whosoe\'er otherways will do. 

His courage is as little as his wit. 

Sir Robert Aytin 



MY CHOICE. 

Sii.\Li. I tell you whom I love ? 

Hearken then awhile to me ; 
Anil if such a woman move 

As I now shall versify. 
Be assured 't is she or none. 
That I love, and love alone. 

Nature did her so much right 
As she scorns the help of art. 

In as many virtues dight 
As e'er vet embiaei"' ■' lieart. 




PERFUME. 

What gift for passionate lovers shall we find ? 

Not flowers nor books of verse suffice for me, 

Nor splinters of the odorous cedar-tree, 

And tufts of pine-buds, oozy in the wind; 

Give me young shoots of aromatic rind. 

Or samphire, redolent of sand and sea, 

For all such fragrances I deem to be 

Fit with my sharp desire to be combined. 

My heart is like a poet, whose one room, 

Scented with Latakia faint and fine. 

Dried rose-leaves, and spilt attar, and old wine, 

From curtained windows gathers its warm gloom 

Round all but one sweet picture, where incline 

His thoughts and fancies mingled with perfume. 



Edmund William Gosse. 




AFFAIRE D'AMOUR. 

FOR v.. W. W. 



One pale November day 
Flying Summer paused. 
Tin')' sa)- : 
And growing l)e)klcr, 
O'er rosy shoukler 

Threw her lovei sucii a glance 
That Autumn's heart began to 
dance. 

(O happy lover!) 



A leafless peach-tree bold 
Thought for him she smiled, 

I 'm toUl ; 
And, stirred by love, 
His sleeping sap did move. 
Decking each naked branch with 

green 
To show her that her look was seen ! 
(Alas, poor lover !) 



But Summer, laughing, tied. 
Nor knew he loved her ! 
'T is saiil 
The peach-tree sighed. 
And soon he gladly died: 
And Autumn, weary of the chase, 
Came on at Winter's sober pace 
(O careless lover !) 



Makgaret Deland. 



LOVE. 



141 



So much good so tnily trieil, 
Some for less were deiHed. 

Wit slie liatli, witlioiit desire 

To make known how mueli slie hath ; 
And her anger llames no higher 

Than may litly sweeten wrath. 
Full of [lity as may he, 
Though perhaps not so to me. 

Reason mastei's every sense, 
And her virtues grace her birth ; 

Lovely as all excellence, 

Modest in lier most of mirth. 

Likelihood enough to ]irove 

Only worth could kindle love. 

Such she is ; and if you know 

Such a one as I have sung ; 
Be she brown, or fair, or so 

That she be but somewhat young ; 
Be assured 't is she, or none. 
That I love, and love alone. 

William Brow.nh. 



LOVE NOT ME FOR COMELY GRACE. 

LnvE not me for comely grace, 
For my jileasing eye or face. 
Nor for any outward part, 
No, nor for my constant heart ; 
For those may fail or turn to ill. 
So tliou and I shall sever ; 
Keep therefore a true woman's eye, 
And love me still, but know not why. 
So hast thou the same reason still 
To dote upon me ever. 

Anonymous. 



DISDAIN RETURNED. 

Hk that loves a rosy cheek. 

Or a coral lip admires, 
Or from starlike eyes doth seek 

Fuel to maintain his fires ; 
As old Time makes these decay. 
So his flames must waste away. 

But a smooth and steadfast mind. 
Gentle thought.s, and calm de.sire.s, 

Hearts with eipial love combined, 
Kindle never-dying tires : — 

Where these are not, I despise 

Lovely clieeks or li]is or eyes. 

Tif'.MAS CAREW. 



LOVE ME LITTLE, LOVE ME LONG. 

ORIGINALLY PRINTI-.O IN 1569. 

Love me little, love me long ! 
Is the burden of my song : 
Love that is too hot and strong 

Burnetii soon to waste. 
Still I would not have thee cold, — 
Not too liackwai'd, nor too bold ; 
Love that lasteth till 't is old 

Fadeth not in haste. 
Love me little, love me long ! 
Is the burden of my song. 

If thou lovest me too much, 

'T will not prove as true a touch ; 

Love me little more than such, — 

For I fear the end. 
I 'in with little well content. 
And a little from thee sent 
Is enough, with true intent 

To be steadfast, friend. 

.Say thou lovest me, while thou live 
I to thee my love will give. 
Never dreaming to deceive 

While that life endures ; 
Nay, and after death, in sooth, 
I to thee will keep my truth. 
As now when in my May of youth : 

This my love assures. 

Constant love is moderate ever, 
Ami it will through life persever ; 
Give me that with true endeavor, — 

I will it restore. 
A suit of durance let it be, 
For all weathers, — that for me, — • 
For the land or for the sea : 

Lasting evermore. 

Winter's cold or summer's heat. 
Autumn's tempe.sts on it beat ; 
It can never know defeat. 

Never can reljel , 
Such the love that I would gain, 
Such the love, I tell thee ]ilain. 
Thou must give, or woo in vain : 

So to thee — farewell ! 

ANONYMOUS. 



THE LOVELINESS OF LOVE. 

It is not Beauty I demand, 

A crystal brow, the moon's despair. 
Nor the snow's daughter, a white hand. 

Nor mermaid's yellow pride of hair : 



142 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



Tell me not of your starry I'yes, 
Your lips that seem on roses ted, 

Your breasts, where t'uiiiil tumbling lies 
Nor sleeps for kissing of his bed, — 

A bloomy pair of vermeil cheeks 
Like Hebe's in lier ruddiest hours, 

A breath that softer nmsie speaks 

Than summer winds a-wooing flowers ; — 

These are but gauds : nay, what are lips ? 

Coral beneath the ocean-stream, 
Whose brink when your adventurer slips 

Full oft he perisheth on them. 

And what are cheeks, but ensigns oft 
That wave hot youth to fields of blood ? 

Did Helen's breast, though ne'er so soft. 
Do Greece or Ilium any good '! 

Eyes can with baleful ardor burn ; 

Poison can breath, that erst perfumed ; 
There 's many a white hand holds an urn 

With lovers' hearts to dust consumed. 

For crystal brows there 's naught within ; 

They are but empty cells for pride ; 
He who the Siren's liair would win 

Is mostly strangled in the tide. 

Give me, instead of Beauty's bust, 

A tender heart, a loyal mind. 
Which with temptation I would trust. 

Yet never linked with error find, — 

One in whose gentle bosom I 

Could pour my secret heart oi woes. 

Like the care-burdened lioney-fly 

That hides his murmurs in the rose, — 

My earthly Comforter ! whose love 

So indefeasible might be 
That, when my spirit wonned above. 

Hers could not stay, for sympathy. 

Anonymous. 



A MAIDEN'S IDEAL OF A HUSBAND. 



PROM "THE CONTRIVANCES." 



Genteel in personage. 
Conduct, and equipage, 
Noble by heritage. 

Generous and free ; 
Brave, not romantic ; 
Learned, not pedantic ; 
Frolic, not frantic ; 

This must he be. 



Honor maintaining, 
Meanness disdaining, 
Still entertaining, 

Engaging and new. 
Neat, but not finical ; 
Sage, but not cynical ; 
Never tyrannical. 

But ever true. 

HENRY CAREY. 



THE LANDLADY'S DAUGHTER. 

TllKEE students were travelling over the Rhine ; 
They stopped when they came to the landlady's 

sign ; 
" Good landlady, have you good beer and wine ? 
And where is that dear little daughter of thine ? " 

" My beer and wine are fresh and clear ; 
My daughter she lies on the cold death-bier ! " 
And when to the chamber they made their way. 
There, dead, in a coal-black sluine, she lay. 

The first he drew near, and the veil gently raised, 
And on her pale face he mournfully gazed : 
"Ah ! wert thou but living yet," he said, 
" I 'd love thee from this time forth, fair maid ! " 

The second he slowly put back the shroud. 
And turned him away and wept aloud : 
" Ah ! that thou liest in the cold death-bier ! 
Alas ! 1 have loved thee for many a year ! " 

The third he once more uplifted the veil, 
And kissed her upon her mouth so pale : 
" Thee loved I always ; I love still but thee ; 
And thee will I love through eternity ! " 

From the German of IIuland. Translation 
of J. S. DWIGHT. 



THREE LOVES. 

There were three maidens who loved a king ; 

They sat together beside the sea ; 
One cried, " I love him, and I would die 

If but for one day he might love me ! " 

The second whispered, "And I would die 
To gladden his life, or make liim great." 

The third one spoke not, but gazed afar 
With dreamy eyes that were sad as Fate. 

The king he loved the first for a day. 
The second his life with fond love blest ; 

And yet the woman who never spoke 

Was the one of the three who loved him best.\ 

LCCY H. HOOPER. ' 



LOVE. 



143 



A WOMAN'S QUESTION. 

Before I trust my l^ite to thee, 

Or place my hand ir. thiue, 
Before I let thy future give 

Color and form to mine, 
Before I peril all for thee, 
Question thy soul to-night for me. 

1 break all slighter bonds, nor feel 

A shadow of regret : 
Is there one link within the past 

That holds thy spirit yet ? 
Or is thy faith as clear and free 
As that which I can pledge to thee ? 

1)066 there within thy dimmest dreams 

A possible future sliine, 
Wherein thy life could henceforth breathe, 

I'ntouched, unshared by mine ? 
1 f so, at any pain or cost, 
V, tell nie before all is lost ! 

Look deeper still ; if thou canst feel, 

Within thy inmost soul. 
That thou hast kept a portion back, 

While I have staked the whole, 
Let no false pity spare the blow. 
But in true mercy tell me so. 

Is there within thy heart a need 

That mine cannot fultil ? 
One chord that any other hand 

(.'ould better wake or still? 
Speak now, lest at some future day 
lly whole life wither and decay. 

Lives there within thy nature hid 

Tlie demon-spirit, change, 
.Shedding a passing glory still 

On all things new and strange? 
it may not be thy fault alone, — 
But shield my heart against thine own. 

Couldst thou withdraw thy hand one day 

And answer to my claim, 
That fate, and that to-day's mistake, — 

Not thou, — had been to blame ? 
Some soothe their conscience thus ; but thou 
Wilt surely warn and save me now. 

Nay, answer tiot, — I dare not hear ; 

The words would come too late ; 
Yet I would spare thee all remorse. 

So comfort thee, my fate : 
Whatever on my heart may fall, 
lieniember, I wmild risk it all ! 

ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER. 



A WOMAN'S ANSWER 

I WILL not let you say a woman's part 
Must be to give exclusive love alone ; 

Dearest, although I love yon so, my heart 
Answers a thousand claims besides your own. 

I love, — what do I not love ? Earth and air 
Find space within my lieart, and myriad things 

You would not deign to heed are cherished there, 
And vibrate on its very inmost strings. 

I love the summer, with her ebb and flow 

Of light and warmth and music, that have 
nursed 

Hertender buds to blossoms . . . and you know 
It was in summer that 1 saw you first. 

I love the winter dearly too, . . . but then 
I owe it so much ; on a winter's day. 

Bleak, cold, and stormy, you returned again, 
When you had been those weary months away. 

T love the stars like friends ; so many nights 
I gazed at them, when you were far from me. 

Till I grew blind with tears . . . those far-off lights 
Could watch you, whom I longed in vain to see. 

I love the flowers ; happy hours lie 

Shut up within their petals close and fast : 

You have forgotten, dear ; but they and I 
Keep every fragment of the golden Past. 

I love, too, to be loved ; all loving praise 
Seems like a crown upon my life, — to make 

It better worth the giving, and to raise 

Still nearer to your own the heart you take. 

I love all good and noble souls ; — I heard 
One speak of you but lately, and for days, 

Only to think of it, my soul was stirred 
In tender memory of such generous praise. 

I love all tliose who love you, all who owe 
Comfort to you ; and I can find regret 

Even for those poorer hearts who once could know, 
And once could love you, and can now forget. 

Well, is my heart so narrow, — I, who spare 
Love for all these ? Do I not even hold 

My favorite books in special tender care. 
And prize them as a miser does his gold ? 

The poets that you used to read to me 

While summer twilights faded in the sky ; 

But most of all I think Aurora Leigh, 

Because — because — do you rcnieniber why ? 



144 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



Will you be jealous ? Did you guess before 
I lo%'ed so many things ? — Still you the best : — 

Dearest, remember that I love you move, 
0, more a thousaiul times, than all the rest ! 

AniiLAIDE ANNE I'ROCTER, 



THE LADY'S "YES." 

"Yes," I answered you last night; 

"No," this morning, sir, I say. 
Colors seen by candle-light 

Will not look the same by day. 

When the viols played their best, 
Lamps above, and laughs below, 

Love me sounded like a jest, 
Fit for yes or lit for no. 

Call me false or call me free, 
Vow, whatever light may shine, 

No man on your face shall see 
Any grief for change on mine. 

Yet the sin is on us both ; 

Time to dance is not to woo ; 
Wooing liglit makes tickle troth, 

Scorn of >ac recoils ou you. 

Learn to win a lady's faith 

Nobly, as the thing is high. 
Bravely, as for lile and death, 

With a loyal gravity. 

Lead her from the festive boards. 

Point her to the stari-y skies. 
Guard her, by your trutliful words, 

Pure from courtship's flatteries. 

By your truth she shall be true. 

Ever true, as wives of yore ; 
And her i/cs, once said to you, 

Shall be Yes forevermore. 

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNMNG. 



THE MAID'S KEMONSTKANCE. 

Never wedding, ever wooing. 
Still a lovelorn heart pursuuig. 
Read you not the wrong you 'le doing 

lu my cheek's pale hue f 
All my lil'e with sorrow strewing, 

Wed, or cease to woo. 

Rivals banished, bosoms plighted. 
Still our days arc disunited ; 
Now the lamp of hope is lighted. 

Now half quenched appears, 
Damped and wavering and benighted 

ilidst mv sighs and tears. 



Charms you call your dearest blessing, 
Lips that thrill at your caressing. 
Eyes a mutual soul confessing. 

Soon you '11 make them grow 
Dim, and worthless your possessing. 

Not with age, but woe ! 

Thomas Campbell. 



LOVE'S SILENCE. 

Because I breathe not love to everie one, 
Nor do not use set colors for to weare, 
Nor nourish special locks of vowed haire. 

Nor give each speech a full point of a groaue, — 

The courtlie nymphs, acquainted with the nioane 
Of them who on their lips Love's standard beare, 
"What! he.'" say they of me. "Now I 
dare sweare 

He cannot love: No, no! let him alone." 
And think so still, — if Stella know my miiule. 

Profess, indeed, I do not Cupid's art ; 

But you, faire maids, at length this true shall 
linde, — 

That his right badge is but worne in the hearte. 
Dumb swans, not chattering pies, do loveis 

prove : 
They love indeed who (puike to say they love. 

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. 



GIVE ME MOKE LOVE OR MORE 
DISDAIN. 

Give me more love or more disdaiu ; 

The torrid or the frozen zone 
Brings equal ease unto my pain ; 

The temperate atl'ords me none; 
Either extreme, of love or hate. 
Is sweeter than a calm estate. 

Give me a storm ; If it be love. 
Like Danae in a golden shower, 

I swim in pleasure ; if it prove 
Disdaiu, that torrent will devour 

My vulture hopes ; and he 's possessed 

Of heaven that's but from hell released; 

Then crown my joys, or cure my pain ; 

Give me more love or more disdain. 

THOMAS carew. 



LOVE DISSEMBLED. 

FROM ■• AS YOU LIKE IT." ACT III. SC. 5. 

Think not I love him, though I ask for him ; 

'T is but a peevish boy : — yet he talks well ; — 
But what care I for words ? — yet words do well. 
When he that speaks them )ileases those that ht ar. 




TifHE'JiiiNise 



DHi^KESri/SlIE. 



LOVE. 



14r 



Ijiit, sure, he 's proud ; and yet his pride becomes 

liiiu : 
He '11 make a proper man : The best thing in him 
Is his eomplexiou ; and faster than his tongue 
Did make ofi'ence, his eye did heal it up. 
He is not very tall ; yet for his years he 's tall ; 
His leg is but so so ; and yet 't is well : 
There was a pretty redness in his lip, 
A little riper and more lusty red 
Than that mixed in his cheek ; 't was just the 

difference 
Betwixt the constant red, and mingled damask. 
There be some women, Silvius, had they marked 

him 
In parcels, as I did, would have gone near 
To fall in love with him : but, for my part, 
I love him not, nor hate him not ; and yet 
I have more cause to hate him than to love him ; 
For what had he to do to chide at me ? 
He said mine eyes were black, and my hair black ; 
And, now I am remembered, scorned at me : 
I marvel, why I answered not again : 
But that 's all one ; omittance is no quittance. 

SHAKESPEARE. 



OTHELLO'S BEFEIfCE. 

FRO.M "OTHELLO." ACT I. SO. 3. 

Othello. Most potent, gi-ave, and reverend 

signiors, 
My very noble and approved good masters, — 
That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter. 
It is most true ; true, I have married her : 
The veiy heau and front of my offending 
Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my 

speech. 
And little blessed with the soft plirase of peace ; 
For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith, 
Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used 
Their dearest action in the tented Held ; 
And little of this great world can I speak, 
Jlore than pertains to ieats of broU and battle ; 
And therefore little shall I grace my cause 
In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious 

patience, 
1 will a round unvarnished tale deliver 
Of my whole course of love ; what drugs, what 

charms. 
What conjuration, and what mighty magic, — 
For such proceeding I am cliarged withal, — 
I won his daughter. 

I '11 present 
How I did thrive in this fair lady's love, 
And she in mine. 

Her father loved n)e ; oft invited me ; 



Still questioned me the stoiy of my life. 

From year to year ; — the battles, sieges, fortunes, 

That I have passed. 

1 ran it through, even from my boyish days, 

To the very moment that he bade me tell it : 

Wherein 1 spake of most disastrous chances. 

Of moving accidents by Hood and field ; 

Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly 

breach ; 
Of being taken by the insolent foe, 
And sold to slavery ; of my redemption thence. 
And portance in my travel's liistory : 
Wherein of antres vast, and deserts idle, 
Kough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads 

touch heaven. 
It was my hint to speak, — such was the process ; 
And of the Cannibals that each other eat, 
Tile Anthropojihagi, and men whose heads 
Do gi'ow beneath their shoulders. This to hear. 
Would Desdemona seriously incline : 
But still the house affairs would draw her thence ; 
Which ever as she could with haste despatch, 
She 'd come again, and with a gi'eedy ear 
Devour up my discourse. Which 1 observing. 
Took once a pliant hour ; and found good means 
To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart. 
That I would all my pilgrimage dilate. 
Whereof by parcels she had something heard. 
But not inteutively: I did consent ; 
And often did beguile her of her tears. 
When 1 did sjieak of some distressful stroke. 
That my youth suffered. My story being done, 
She gave me for my pjains a world of sighs : 
She swore, — in faith 't was strange, 't was pass- 
ing strange ; 
'Twas })itiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful : 
She wished she had not heard it ; yet she wished 
That Heaven had made her such a man : she 

thanked me ; 
And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, 
I should teach him how to tell my story. 
And that would woo her. Upon this hint, I 

spake : 
She loved me for the dangers I had passed. 
And I loved her that she did pity them. 
This only is the witchcraft I have used : 
Here comes the lady, let her witness it. 

SHAKESPEARE. 



AH, HOW SWEET. 

FROM ■' TYRANNIC LOVE," ACT IV. SC. 1. 

Ah, how sweet it is to love ! 

Ah, liow gay is young desire ! 
And what pleasing pains we prove 

When we first approach love's fire ! 
Pains of love be sweeter far 
Thau all other pleasures are. 



14ti 



I'OEMS Ol'- TllK AFFECTIONS. 



Sijjlis which am fioui Kivni's bhiwii 
■ Do hut gently laiuvti tho hmrl : 
K'eii tho twiis Ihi'y shi'il iiloini 

Cui-o, like trickling hiilm, their smart. 
Lovers, when they hise tlieir breiith, 
Bleed luviiy in eiisy ileiith. 

Love anil Tinu' with reverence use, 
Treat them liUe a jiarting I'rieml ; 

Nor tho guliU'n gil'ts refuse 

Which in youth sincere they scml : 

For each year their price is more, 

Ami they less simple than before. 

Love, like spring-tides full ami high, 
Swells in I'very youthful vein ; 

lint each tide does less sui)ply, 
Till they tjuite shrink in again. 

If a i\ow in age appi'ar, 

'T is but rain, and runs not I'lcar. 

JonN DKVOEN. 



WHY, I.OVICI.Y (llAUMKK? 

I>KOM "THE niVU." 

Why, lovely charmer, tell me why, 
So very kind, and yet so shy ? 
Why does that cold, forbidding air 
liive damps of sorrow and despair ! 
Or why that smile my soul subdue. 
And kindle up my llanu's auow < 

In vain ymi strive with nil your art, 
By tu\i>6 to fire and freeze my heart ; 
When 1 behold a face so fair. 
So sweet a look, so soft an air. 
My ravished soul is charmed all o'er, 
1 cannot love tlu'c less or more. 

Anonymous. 



1 PRITHEE SEND ME BACK MY UEAKT, 

1 I'KiTiiKK send mo back my heart. 

Since 1 cannot have thine ; 
For if from yours you will not part. 

Why thcii shouidst thou have mine > 

Yet, now I think on 't, let it lie ; 

To tind it were in vain ; 
For thou 'st a thief in either eye 

Would steal it back again. 

Why should two hearts in one bi-east lie. 
And yet not lodge together ! 

Love ! whore is thy .symvwthy 
If thus our bivasts thou sever > 



But love is such a mystery, 

1 cannot lind it out ; 
For when 1 think I 'm liest resolved 

1 then am most in doulil. 

Then farewell care, ami farewell woo ; 

1 will no longer pine ; 
For 1 '11 believe I Inive her heart 
As much as .she has mine. 

SIR JOnN SUCKLING. 

DOUtniTY DEEDS MY LADY PLEASE. 

Iv d.nighty deeds my lady please, 

Kight .soon 1 '11 nanint my stood. 
And strong his arm and fast his seat 

That bears frae me the meiul. 
ril wear thy colors in my cap. 

Thy iiicture at my heart. 
And iie tlnit bonds not to thine eyo 
Shall rue it to his snnirt ! 

Then tell me how to woo thee. Love ; 

O, tell mi! how to woo thee ! 
For thy dear sake uae care I '11 take, 
Though ne'er another trow me. 

If gay attire delight thine eye, 

1 '11 dight mc in array ; 
1 '11 tend thy chamber door all night. 

And squire thee all the day. 
If sweetest .sounds can win thine oar. 

These sounds 1 '11 strive to catch ; 
Thy voice 1 'U steal to woo thysell, 

'i'hat voice that nane can match. 

But if fond love thy heart can gain, 

1 never Inoke a vow ; 
Nae maiden lays her skaith to me ; 

1 never loved but you. 
For you alone 1 ride the ring. 

For you 1 wear the blue ; 
For you alone 1 strive to sing, 
0. tell me how to woo ! 

Then tell nu< how to woo thei', Love ; 

0, tell nu> how to woo thee '. 
For thy dear sake nae eare I '11 take, 
Though ne'er another trow me. 

C.K.\UA.M OF GAKTMORB. 

TO ALTUEA FKOM I'ltlSON. 
When Love with unconfin^d wings 

Hovers within my gates, 
And my divine Altliea brings 

To whisper at my grates ; 
When 1 lie tangled in her hair 

Anil fettered with her eye. 
The I'irds that wanton in tho air 

Knnsv no s\ich liberty. 



LOVE. 



147 



Whoii llowin^ cups pass swiftly I'ouiiJ 

Witli no allaying Tliaiiies, 
Our cai'eless lieads witli rosus crowned, 

Our licai-ts with loyal flames ; 
When thirsty griel' in wine we steep, 

Wlien liealths and draughts go free, 
Fishes that tipple in the deep 

Know no such liberty. 

When, linnet-like confinM, 

With .shriller throat shall sing 
The mercy, sweetness, majesty 

And glories of my King ; 
Wlien I shall voice aloud how good 

He is, how great should be. 
The enlarged winds, that curl the flood, 

Know no such liberty. 

Stone walls do not a prison make, 

Nor ii'on bars a cage ; ■ 
Minds innocent and quiet take 

That for an hermitage ; 
If I have freedom in my love, 

And in my soul am free, 
Angels alone, that soar above. 

Enjoy such lil)erty. 

CoLONF.L Richard LovELACii. 



RIVALRY IN LOVE. 

Of all the torments, all the cares. 

With wliich our lives are curst ; 
Of all the plagues a lover bears. 

Sure rivals are the worst ! 
By partners in each other kind, 

Atilictions easier grow ; 
In love alone we hate to lind 

Companions of our woe. 

Sylvia, for all the pangs you see 

Are lalioring in my breast, 
I beg not you would favor me ; — 
Would you but slight the rest ! 
•How great soe'er your rigors are. 

With them alone I '11 cope ; 
I can endure my own despair. 
But not another's hope. 

\\'iLLiAM Walsh. 



TO A VKRY YOUNG LADY. 

Ah, f'hloris ! that I now could sit 
As unconcerned as when 

Your infant beauty could beget 
No plrasure, nor no pain. 



When 1 the dawn used to admire, 
And jiraised the coming d:iy, 

I little thought the growing tire 
Must take my rest away. 

Your charms in liarmless childhood lay, 

Like metals in the mine ; 
Age from no face took more away. 

Than youth concealed in thine. 

But as your charms insensibly 

To their perfection prest. 
Fond Love as unperceived did Hy, 

And in my bosom rest. 

My passion with your beauty grew. 

And Cupid at my heart, 
Still as his mother favored you, 

Threw a new flaming dart. 

Each gloried in their wanton part ; 

To make a lover, he 
Employed the utmost of liis art ; 

To make a Beauty, she. 

Though now I .slowly bend to love 

Uncei'tain of my fivte. 
If your fair self my chains approve, 

I shall my freedom hate. 

Lovers, like dying men, may well 

At first disordered be. 
Since none alive can truly tell 

What fortune they must see. 

SIR CHARLES SEDLEV, 



THE FLOWER'S NAME. 

Here 's the garden she walked across, 

Arm in my arm, such a short while since : 
Iliirk ! now I push its wicket, the moss 

Hinders the hinges, and makes them wince. 
She must have reached this shrub ere she turned, 

As back with that murmur the wicket swung : 
For she laid the poor snail my chance foot spurned. 

To feed and forget it the leaves among. 

Down this side of the gravel-walk 

She went while her rolie's edge bru.shed the box: 
And here she paused in her gracious talk 

To point me a moth on the milk-white phlox. 
Roses, ranged in valiant row, 

I will never think that she passed you by ! 
She loves you, noble roses, I know ; 

lUit yonder see wliere the rock-plants lie ! 

This flower she stopped at, finger on lip, — 
Stoo[ied over, in doubt, as settling its claim ; 

Till she gave me, with juide to make no slip. 
Its soft meandering Spanish name. 



148 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



What a name ! was it love ur \\n\M ! 

Speech half aslueii, of song liall' awake ? ' 
I must learn Spanibh one of these ilays, 

Only for that slow sweet name's sake. 

Roses, if I live and ilo well, 

I may bring her one of these days, 
To fix you fast with as fine a spell, — 

Fit you each with his Spanish plirase. 
But do not tletain me now, for she lingers 

There, like sunshine over the ground ; 
And ever I see her soft white lingers 

Searching after the hud she found. 

Flower, you Spaniard ! look that you grow not, - 

Stay as you are, and be loved forever ! 
Bud, if I kiss you, 't is that you blow not, — 

Jlind ! the shut pink mouth opens never ! 
For while thus it pouts, her lingers wrestle, 

Twinkling the audacious leaves between, 
Till round they turn, and down they nestle: 

Is not the dear mark still to be seen ? 

Where I find her not, beauties vanish ; 

Whither I follow her, beauties (lee. 
Is there no method to tell her in Spanish 

June's twice June since she breathed it with me? 
Come, bud ! show nie the least of her traces; 

Treasure my lady's lightest Ibotfall : 
Ah I you may flout and turn up your faces, — 

Roses, you are not so fair after all ! 

Robert Bkowninc. 



WHY? 



Why came the rose ? Because the sun, in shining. 
Found in the mould some atoms rare and fine : 

And, stooping, drew and warmed them into grow- 
ing. — 
Dust, with the spirit's mystic countersign. 

What made the perfume ? All his wondrous kisses 
Fell on the sweet red mouth, till, lost to sight. 

The love became too exquisite, and vanished 
Into a viewless rapture of the night. 

Why did the rose die ? Ah, why ask the (piestion ? 

There is a time to love, a time to give ; 
Slie perished gladly, folding close the .secret 

Wherein is garnered what it is to live. 

Mary Louise Ritter. 



A MATCH. 

If love were what the rose is, 

And I were like the leaf. 
Our lives would grow together 
In sad or singing weather. 



Blown fields or Howerful closes. 
Green pleasure or gray grief; 

If love were what the rose is. 
And I were like the leaf. 

If I were what the words are. 

And love were like the tune. 
With double sound and single 
Delight our lips would mingle, 
Witli kisses glad as birds are 

That get sweet rain at noon ; 
If I were what the words are, 

And love were like the tune. 

If you were life, my darling, 
And I, your love, were death. 

We 'd shine and snow together 

Ere March made sweet the wc-ather 

With daffodil and starling 
And hours of tVuitful breath ; 

If you were life, my darling. 
And I, your love, were death. 

If you were thrall to sorrow, 

And I were page to joy. 
We 'd jilay for lives and seasons. 
With loving looks and treasons. 
And teai-s of night and morrow. 

And laughs of maid and boy ; 
If you were thrall to sorrow, 

And I were page to joy. 

If you were Ainil's lady. 

And I were lord in May, 
AVe 'd throw with leaves for hours, 
And draw for days with flowers, 
Till day like night were shady. 

And night were bright like day ; 
If you were April's lady. 

And 1 were lord in May. 

If you were queen of pleasure, 

And I were king of pain, 
We 'd hunt down love together, 
Pluck out his flying-feather, 
And teach his feet a measure. 

And find liis mouth a rein ; 
If you were queen of pleasure. 

And I were king of pain. 

ALC.ERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE, 



THE FLOWER 0' DUMHLANE. 

The sun has ganedown o'er the lofty Ben Lomond, 
And left the red clouds to preside o'er the scene, 

AVhile lanely I stray in the calm summer gloamin', 
To muse on sweet Jessie, the Flower o' Dum- 
blnne. 



LOVE. 



149 



I low sweet is the biier, wi' its saf't I'aulilin' blos- 
som, 

Ami sweet is the birk, wi' its mantle o' green ; 
Yet sweeter and fairer, anil dear to this bosom, 

I s lovely young Jessie, the Flower o' Dumblane. 

She 's modest as on y, and blithe as she 's bonnie, — 
For guileless simplicity marks her its ain ; 

And far be the villain, divested of feeling, 

W'ha 'd bliglit in its bloom the sweet Flower o' 
Dumblane. 

Sing on, thou sweet mavis, thy hymn to the 
e'ening ! — 
Thou 'rt dear to tlie echoes of Calderwood glen ; 
Sae dear to this bosom, sae artless and winning, 
Is channing young Jessie, the Flower o' Dum- 
blane. 

How lost were my days till I met wi' my Jessie ! 

The sports o' the city seemed foolish and vain ; 
I ne'er saw a nymph I would ca' my dear lassie 

Till charmed wi' sweet Jessie, the Flower o' 
Dumblane. 

Though mine were the station o' loftiest gi'andeur, 
Amidst its profusion 1 'd languish in pain. 

And reckon as naething the height o' its splendor. 
If wanting sweet Jessie, the Flower o' Dum- 
blane. 

ROBERT TANNAHILL. 



MARY MORISON. 

Mary, at thy window be ! 

It is the wislied, the trysted hour ! 
Those smiles and glances let me see 

That make the miser's treasure poor : 
How blithely wad I bide the stoure, 

A weary slave frae sun to sun. 
Could I the rieli reward secure, 

The lovely JIary Morison. 

Vestiven when to the trembling string 
The dance gaed through the lighted ha'. 

To thee my fancy took its wing, — 
I sat, but neither heard nor saw : 

Tliough this was fair, and that was braw, 
And yon tlie toast of a' the town, 

1 sighed, and said amang them a', 

" Ve are na JIai-y Morison." 

ilary, canst thou wreck his peace 

Wha for thy sake wad gladly dee ? 
Or canst thou break that heart of his, 

Whase only faut is loving thee ? 
If liive for love Jhou wilt na gie. 

At least be pity to me shown ; 
A thought ungentle canna be 

The thought o' Mary Morison. 

UOBF.RT BURNS. 



0, 8.AW YE THE LASS? 

0, SAW ye the lass wi' the bonny blue een ? 
Her smile is the sweetest that ever was seen ; 
Her cheek like the rose is, but fresher, I ween ; 
She 's the loveliest lassie that trips on the green. 
The home of my love is below in the valley, 
Where wild-llowers welcome the wandering bee ; 
But the sweetest of flowers in that spot tliat is 

seen 
Is the maid that I love wi' the bonny blue een. 

When night overshadows her cot in tlie glen. 
She '11 steal out to meet her loved Don.ald again ; 
Anil when the moon shines on the valley so green, 
I '11 welcome the lass wi' the bonny blue een. 
As the dove that has wandered away from his 

nest 
Returns to the mate his fond heart loves the best, 
I '11 fly from the w'orld's false and vanishing scene, 
To my dear one, the lass wi' the bonny blue een. 

Richard Ryan. 



THE LASS OF RICHMOND HILL. 

On Richmond Hill there lives a lass 
More bright than May-day morn, 

Whose charms all other maids surpass, — - 
A rose without a thorn. 

This lass so neat, with smiles so sweet, 
Has won my right good-will ; 

I 'd Clowns resign to call her mine, 
Sweet lass of Richmond Hill. 

Ye zephyrs gay, that fan the air, 
And wanton thinugh the grove, 

0, wlus]ier to my charming fair, 
I die for her I love. 

How happy will the shepherd be 
Who calls this nynijih his own ! 

0, may her choice be ti.\ed on me ! 
Miue 's fixed on her alone. 

JAMES UPTON 



THE BROOKSIDE. 

I WANDERED by the brookside, 

I wandered by the mill ; 

I could not hear the brook flow, — 

The noisy wheel was still ; 

There was no burr of grasshopper. 

No chirp of any bird, 

But the beating of my own heart 

Was all the sound I heard. 



150 



POEiMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



I sat beneatli the elm-tree ; 

I watched the long, long shade, 

And, as it grew still longei', 

I did not feel afraid ; 

For I listened for a footfall, 

I listened for a word, — 

But the beating of my own heart 

Was all the sound I heard. 

He came not, — no, lie came not, — 
The night came on alone, — 
The little stars sat, one by one, 
Each on his goUlen throne ; 
The evening wind jiassed by my cheek, 
The leaves above were stirred, — 
But the heating of my own heart 
Was all the sound I heard. 

Fast silent tears were flowing, 
When something stood behind ; 
A hand was on my shoulder, — 
I knew its touch was kind : 
It drew me nearer, — nearer, — 
■We did not speak one word. 
For the beating of our own hearts 
Was all the sound we heard. 

richard monckton milnes, 
Lord Houghton. 



MV DEAR AND ONLY LOVE, I PRAY. 

Mv dear and only love, T pray 

That little world, of TIIKK, 
Be governed by no other sway 

Than purest monarchie. 
For if confusion have a part. 

Which virtuous souls ahhore. 
And hold a synod in thine heart, 

1 11 never love thee more. 

As Alexander I will reign, 

And 1 will reign alone ; 
My thouglits did evermore disdain 

A rival on my throne : 
He either fears his fate too nuich, 

Or his deserts are small, 
That dares not put it to the touch. 

To gain or lose it all. 

But I will reign, and govern still. 

And always give the law. 
And have each subject at my will, 

And all to stand in awe ; 
But 'gainst my batteries if I find 

Thou kick, or vex me sore, 
As that thou set me up a blind, 

I '11 never love thee mon\ 



And in the empire of thine heart. 

Where 1 should solely be, 
If others do pretend a part, 

Or dare to vie with me. 
Or if committees thou erect. 

And go on such a score, 
I '11 laugh and sing at thy neglect, 

And never love thee more. 

But if thou wilt prove faithful then, 

And constant of thy word, 
I '11 make thee glorious by my pen, 

And famous by my sword ; 
I '11 serve thee in sucli noble ways 

Was never heard before, 
I '11 crown and deck thee all with bays, 

And love thee more and more. 

James Graham. Marquess 
of mo.n'trose. 



LOVE AND TIME. 

Two pilgrims from the distant plain 
Come quickly o'er the mossy ground. 

One is a boy, with locks of gold 

Thick curling round his face so fair ; 

The other pilgrim, stern and old, 
Has snowy beard and silver liair. 

The youth with many a merry trick 

Goes singing on his careless way ; 
His old companion walks as ijuick, 

But speaks no word by night or day. 
Where'er the old man treads, the grass 

Fast fadeth with a certain doom ; 
But where the beauteous boy doth pass 

Unnumbered Howers are seen to bloom. 

And thus before the sage, the boy 

Trips lightly o'er the blooming lands, 
And proudly hears a pretty toy, — 

A crystal glass with diamond sands. 
A smUe o'er any brow wouM pass 

To see him frolic in the sun, — 
To see him shake the crystal glass, 

And nuike the sands more quickly run. 

And now they leap the streamlet o'er, 

A silver thread so white and thin. 
And now they reach the open door, 

And now they lightly enter in : 
" God save all here," — that kind wish H;i 

Still sweeter from his lips so sweet ; 
"God save you kindly," Norah cries, 

"Sit down, my cliild, and rest and eat." 

"Thanks, gentle Norah, fair and good, 
We '11 ic'st awhile our weary feet ; 



LOVE. 



151 



15ut though this old man neeileth food, 
Thero 's nothing liere that he can eat. 

His taste is strange, he eats alone. 
Beneath some ruined cloister's cope, 

Or on some tottering turret's stone, 
While I can only live on — Hope ! 

" A week ago, ere you were wed, — 

It was the very night before, — 
Upon so many sweets I fed 

While passing by your mother's door, — 
It was that dear, delicious hour 

When Owen here the nosegay brought. 
And found you in the woodbine bower, — 

Since then, indeed, I 've needed naught." 

A blush steals over Norah's face, 

A smile comes over Owen's brow, 
A tranquil joy illumes the place. 

As if the moon were shining now ; 
The boy beholds the pleasing pain. 

The sweet confusion he has done. 
And shakes the crystal glass again. 

And makes the sands more ijuickly run. 

" Dear Norali, we are pilgrims, bound 

Upon an endless path sublime ; 
We pace the green earth round and round. 

And mortals call us Love and Ti.ME ; 
He seeks the many, I the few ; 

I dwell with peasants, he with kings. 
We seldom meet ; but when we do, 

1 take his glass, and he my wings. 

" And thus together on we go, 

Where'er I cliance or wish to lead ; 
.\nd Time, whose lonely steps are slow. 

Now sweeps along with liglitning speed. 
Now on our bright predestined way 

We must to other regions pass ; 
But take this gift, and night and day 

Look well upon its truthful glass. 

" How quick or slow the bright sands fall 

Is hid from lovers' eyes alone. 
If you can see them move at all. 

Be sure your heart has colder grown. 
'T is coldness makes the glass grow dry, 

The icy hand, the freezing brow ; 
P.ut warm the heart and breathe the sigh. 

And then they'll pass you know not how." 

She took the glass where Love's warm hands 

A bright impeiTious vapor cast. 
She looks, but cannot see the sands. 

Although she feels tliey 're falling l;ist. 
But cold hours came, and then, alas ! 

She saw them falling iVozen through. 
Till Love's warm light suffused the glass. 

And hid the loosening sands from view ! 
r)i-:>jis Fi-oRFNcn macCarthv. 



FLY TO THE DESERT, FLY WITH ME. 

SONG OF NOURMAHAL IN "THE LIGHT OF THE HAREM." 

" Fly to the desert, fly with me. 

Our Arab tents are rude for thee ; 

But oh ! the choice what heart can doubt 

Of tents with love or thrones without ? 

" Our rocks are rough, but smiling there 
The acacia waves her yellow hair, 
Lonely and sweet, nor loved the less 
For flowering in a wilderness. 

"Our sands are bare, but down their slope 
The silvery-footed antelope 
As gracefully and gayly springs 
As o'er the marble courts of kings. 

" Then come, — thy Arab maid will be 
The loved and lone acacia-tree. 
The antelope, whose feet shall bless 
With their light sound thy loneliness. 

" Oh ! there are looks and tones that dart 
An instant sunshine through tlie heart. 
As if the soul that minute caught 
Some treasure it through life had sought ; 

" As if the very lips and eyes 
Predestined to have all our sighs. 
And never be forgot again. 
Sparkled and spoke before as then ! 

" So came thy every glance and tone, 
When first on me they breathed and shone ; 
New, as if brouglit from other spheres, 
Yet welcome as if loved for years ! 

" Then fly with me, if thou hast known 
No other flame, nor falsely thrown 
A gem away, that thou hadst sworn 
Should ever in thy heart be worn. 

" Come, if the love thou hast for me 
Is pure and fresh as mine for thee, — 
Fresh as the fountain underground, 
When first 't is by the lapwing found. 

" But if for me thou dost forsake 
Some other maid, and rudely break 
Her worshipped image from its base. 
To give to me the ruined place ; 

' ' Then, fare thee well ! — I 'd rather make 
My bower upon some icy lake 
When thawing suns begin to shine. 
Than trust to love so false as thine ! " 

There was a jiathos in this lay. 

That even without enchantment's art 

Would instantly have found its way 
Deep into Selim's burning heart ; 



15:^ 



POEMS OF THK AFFECTIONS. 



But bivatliiiig, as it did, a tone 
To earthly lutes and lips unknown ; 
With eveiT chord IVesh t'l'oni the touch 
Of music's spirit, 't was too much ! 
Starting, he ilaslied away the cup, — 

Which, all the time of this sweet a:i'. 
His hand had held, untasted, up. 

As it 't were fixed by magic there, 
And naming her, so long unnamed, 
So long luiscen, wildly exclaimed, 
"0 Nourmahal ! Nourmahal 1 

llailst thou but sung this witching sti-ain, 
I could forget — forgive thee all. 

And never leave those eyes agaiu." 

Tlie mask is off, — the chaiiu is wrought, — 
And Selim to liis heart has caught, 
In blushes, more than ever bright. 
His Nourmahal, his Harem's Light ! 
And well do vanished frowns enhance 
The charm of every lirightencd glance ; 
And dearer seems each ilawning smile 
For having lost its light awhile ; 
And, happier now for all her sighs, 

As on his arm her head reposes. 
She whispers him, with laughing eyes, 

" Remember, love, the Feast of Roses I " 

Thomas Moore. 



THE WELCOME. 

Come in the evening, or come in the morning ; 
Come when you 're looked for, or come without 

warning ; 
Kisses and welcome you '11 find liere before you, 
And the oftener you come here the more I '11 
adore you ! 
Light is my heart since the day we were 

plighted ; 
Red is my cheek that they told me was 

blighted ; 
The green of the trees looks far greener than 

ever. 
And the linnets are singing, "True lovers 
don't sever ! " 

I '11 pull you sweet flowers, to wear if you choose 
them ! 

Or, after you've kissed them, they'll lie on my 
bosom ; 

I '11 fetch from the mountain' its breeze to inspire 
you ; 

I '11 fetch from my fancy a tale that won't tire 
you. 
0, your step 's like the rain to the summer- 
vexed fanner. 
Or sabre and shield to a knight witliont avnim- ; 



I'll sing you sweet songs till the stars lise 

above me, 
Then, wandering, I'll wish you in silence to 

love me. 

We '11 look through the trees at the cliff and the 

eyrie ; 
We '11 tread round the rath on the track of the 

fairy ; 
We '11 look on .the stai's, and we '11 list to the 

river. 
Till you ask of your darling what gift you can 
give her. 
0, she'll whisper you, "Love, as unchange' 

ably beaming, 
And trust, when in secret, most tunefully 

streaming ; 
Till the starlight of heaven above us shall 

quiver. 
As our souls How in one down eternity's river." 

So come in the evening, or come in the morning ; 
Come when you 're looked for, or come without 

warning ; 
Kisses and welcome you '11 find hero before you. 
And the oftener you come here the more I 'II 
adore you ! 
Light is my heart since the day we wera 

plighted ; 
Red is my cheek that they told me was 

blighted ; 
The green of the trees looks far greener than 

ever. 
And the linnets are singing, "True lovers 
don't sevei' ! " 

THOMAS DA\'IS. 



COME INTO THE GARDEN, MAUD. 

Come into the garden, Maud, 

For the black bat, night, has flown ! 

Come into the garden, Maud, 
I am here at the gate alone ; 

And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad, 
And the musk of the roses blown. 

For a breeze of morning moves. 
And the planet of Love is on higb, 

Beginning to faint in the light that she loves. 
On a bed of datlbdil sky, — 

To faint in the light of the sun that she lovc^ 
To faint in its light, and to die. 

All night have the roses beard 

The flute, violin, bassoon ; 
All night has the casement jessamine stirred 

To the dancers dancing in tune, — 
Till a silence fell with the waking bird, 

.V'ld a hush with the setting nioon. 



LOVE. 



153 



I said to tlie lily, "There is Imt one 

With whom she hiis heart to be gay. 
When will the dancers leave her alone ? 

She is weary ol' danee and play." 
Now half to the setting moon are gone, 

And half to the ri.sing day ; 
Low on the sand and loud on the stone 

The last wheel echoes away. 

I said to the rose, "The brief night goes 

In babble and revel and wine. 
young lord-lover, what .sighs ai-e those 

For one that will never be thine ? 
But mine, but mine," so I sware to the rose, 

" For ever and ever mine ! " 

And the soul of the rose went into my blood, 

As the music clashed in the hall ; 
And long by the garden lake I stood. 

For I heard your rivulet fall 
From the lake to the meadow and on to the 
wood. 

Our wood, that is dearer than all ; 

From the meadow your walks have left so sweet 
That whenever a March-wind sighs, 

He sets the jewel-print of your feet 
In violets blue as your eyes. 

To the woody hollows in which we meet. 
And the valleys of Paradise. 

The slender acacia would not .shake 

One long milk-bloom on the tree ; 
The white lake-blossom fell into the lake. 

As the pimpernel dozed on the lea ; 
But the rose was awake all night for your sake. 

Knowing your i)romise to me ; 
The lilies and roses were all awake. 

They sighed for the dawn and thee. 

Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls, 
Come hither ! the dances are done ; 

In gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls. 
Queen lily and rose in one ; 

Shine out, little head, sunning over with curls, 
To the flowers, aiid be their sun. 

There has fallen a splendid tear 

From the passion-llower at the gate. 
She is coming, my dove, njy dear ; 

She is coming, my life, my fate I 
The red rase crie.s, "She is near, .she is near ;" 

And tlie white rose weeps, "She is late ; " 
The larkspur li.sten.s, " I hear, I hear ; " 

And the lily whispers, " I wait." 

She is coming, my own, my sweet ! 

Were it ever so airy a tread. 
My heart would hear her and beat. 

Were it earth in an earthly bed ; 



My dust would hear her and beat. 
Had 1 lain for a century dead ; 

Would start ami tremble under her feet. 
And blossom in purple and red. 

ALFRhu Tennyson. 



CA' THE YOWES TO THE KNOWES. 

Ca' the yowcs to the knowes, 
Ca' them where the heatlicr grows, 
Ca' them tvltcre the burnie rowcs. 
My bminic dearie. 

Hark the mavis' evening sang 
Sounding Clouden's woods amang ; 
Then a-faulding let us gang, 
Jly bonnie dearie. 

We '11 gae down by C'louilen side, 
Thro' the hazels .spreading wide, 
O'er the w'aves that sweetly glide 
To the moon sae clearly. 

Yonder t'louden's silent towers, 
Where at moonshine midnight liQurs, 
O'er the dewy bending flowers. 
Fairies dance sae cheerie. 

Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear : 
Thou 'rt to Love and Heaven sae dear, 
Nocht of ill may come thee near. 
My bonnie dearie. 

Fair and lovely as thou art. 
Thou hast stown my very heart ; 
I can die — but canna part, 
My bonnie dearie. 

While waters wimple to the sea ; 
While day blinks in the lift sae hie ; 
Till clay-cauld death shall blin' my e'e, 
Ye shall be my dearie. 

Robert Burns, 



CHARLIE MACHIIEE. 

Come over, come over 
The river to me. 
If ye are my laddie. 
Bold Charlie machree. 

Here 's Mary McPherson 
And Susy O'Linn, 
Who say ye 're faint-hearted, 
And darena jilunge in. 

But the dark rolling water. 
Though dee]i as the sea, 
1 know willna scare ye, 
Nor keep ye frae me ; 



irA 



POEMS OF I'llK AFKECl'IONS. 



For stout is yer back, 
And strong is yer ami, 
Anil till' lioart in yor l>03om 

Is laillil'iil anil warm. 

Come over, come over 
The river to me, 
If ye are my ladilie, 
Bold Charlie naichree ! 

I see him, 1 see him ! 
He 's idunged in the tide, 
His strong arms are dashing 
Tlie big waves aside. 

0, the dark rolling water 
Shoots switt as the sea. 
Hut blithe is tile glanco 
Of his bonny blue e'e. 

And his cheeks are like roses, 
Twa buds on a bough ; 
Who says ye 're faint-hearted. 
My brave Charlie, now ? 

Ho, ho, foaming river. 
Ye may roar as ye go. 
But ye eaiina bear Charlie 
To the dark loch below ! 

Come over, come over 
The river to me. 
My true-hearted laddie. 
My Cliarlie machree ! 

He 's sinking, he "s sinking, 
O, what shall I do ! 
Strike out, Charlie, boldly. 
Ten strokes and ye 're thro' ! 

He 's sinking, Heaven ! 
Ne'er fear, nnm, ne'er fear ; 
I 've a kiss for ye, Charlie, 
As soon as ye 're here ! 

He rises, I see him, — 
Five stiokes, Charlie, inair, — 
Ho 's shaking the wet 
From his bonny brown hair ; 

He conquei-s the current. 
He gains on the sea, — 
Ho, where is the swimmer 
Like Charlie nuicbree ' 

Come over the river. 
But once come to nie. 
And I '11 love ye forever, 
Dear Charlie machree ! 



>^ 



He s sinking, he 's gone, — 

God ! it is I, 

It is 1, who have killed him — 
Help, help ! — he must die ! 

Help, help ! — ah, he rises, — 
Strike out and ye 're free ! 
Ho, bravely ilone, Charlie, 
t)nce more now', for me ! 

Now cling to the rock. 
Now gie us yer hand, — 
Ye 're safe, dearest Charlie, 
Ye 're safe on the land ! 

Come rest in my bosom, 
K there ye can sleep ; 

1 canna speak to ye, 
1 only can weep. 

Ye 've crossed the wild river, 
Ye 've risked all tor me. 
And I '11 pait frae ye never. 
Dear Charlie machree ! 

William J. Hoppin. 



ROBIN ADAIR. 

WHAr 's this dull town to me ? 

liobin 's not near, — 
He whom I wished to see. 

Wished for to hear ; 
Where 's all the joy and mirth 
Made life a heaven on earth, 
0, they're all tied with thee, 

Robin Adair ! 

What nmde the assembly shine ? 

Robin Adair : 
What made the ball so fine F 

Robin was there : 
What, when the play was o'er. 
What made my heart so sore ! 
O, it was iMirting with 

Robin Adair ! 

But now thou art far from me, 

Robin Adair ; 
But now I never see 

Robin Adair ; 
Yet him 1 loved so well 
Still in my heart shall dwell ; " 
0, I can ne'er forget 

Robin Adair ! 

Welcome on shore again, 

Robin Adair ! 
Welcome once more again, 

Robin Adair ! 



LOVE. 



155 



I feel thy trembling hand ; 
Tears iu thy eyelids stand, 
To gi'eet thy native land, 
Robin Adair. 

Long I ne'er saw thee, love, 

Robin Adair ; 
Still I [Jrayed for thee, love, 

Robin Adair ; 
When thou wert far at sea, 
Many made love to me, 
But still I thought on thee, 

Robin Adair. 

Come to my heart again, 

Robin Adair ; 
Never to part again, 

Robin Adair ; 
And if thou still art true, 
I will be constant too. 
And will wed none but you, 

Robin Adair ! 

ladv Caroline Keppel. 



THE SILLER CROUN. 

"And ye sail walk iu silk attire, 

Ajid siller hae to spare, 
Gin ye '11 consent to be his bride. 

Nor think o' Donald mair." 

O, wha wad buy a silken goun 

Wi' a puir broken heart ? 
Or what 's to me a siller croun 

Gin frae my love I part ? 

The mind whose meanest wish is pure 

Far dearest is to me, 
And ere I 'm forced to break my faith, 

I 'II lay me doun an' dee. 

For I hae vowed a virgin's vow 

My lover's fate to share, 
An' he has gi'en to me his heart, 

And what can man do mair ? 

His mind and manners won my heart : 

He gratefu' took the gift ; 
And did I wish to seek it back. 

It wad be waur than theft. 

The langest life can ne'er repay 

The love he bears to me, 
And ere I 'm forced to break my faitli, 

I '11 lay me doun an' dee. 

SOSANNA BLAMIKH. 



ANNIE LAURIE.* 

Maxwelton banks are bonnie, 

Where early fa's the dew ; 
Where me and Annie Laurie 

Made up the promise true ; 
Made up the promise true. 

And never forget will I ; 
And lor bonnie Annie Laurie 

I '11 lay me down and die. 

She 's backit like the peacock, 

She 's breistit like the swan. 
She 's jimp about the middle. 

Her waist ye weel micht span ; 
Her waist ye weel micht span, 

And she has a rolling eye ; 
And for bonnie Annie Laurie 

I '11 lay liie down and die. 

William Douglas. 



THE SONG OF THE CAMP. 

" GrvE us a song ! " the soldiers cried, 

The outer trenches guarding, 
Wlien the heated guns of the camps allied 

Grew weary of bombarding. 

The dark Redan, in silent .scoff. 
Lay grim and threatening under ; 

And the tawny mound of the Malakolf 
No longer belched its thunder. 

There was a pause. A guardsman said : 
" We storm the forts to-morrow ; 

Sing while we may, another day 
Will bring enough of sorrow." 

They lay along the battery's side, 

Below the smoking cannon : 
Brave hearts from Severn and from Clyde, 

And from the banks of Shannon. 

They sang of love, and not of fame ; 

-Forgot was Britain's glory : 
Each heart recalled a diti'ercnt name. 

But all sang "Annie Laurie." 

Voice after voice caught up the song. 

Until its tender passion 
Rose like an anthem, rich and strong, — 

Their battle-eve confession. 

Dear girl, her name he dared not speak. 

But as the song grew louder. 
Something upon the soldier's cheek 

Washed off the stains of powder. 

• A dau|;htcr of Sir Robert Laurie, whom 3 Mr. Douglass 
courted in vain, but whose name he inimortaliifcd. ^ays LfiumOfrs. 



156 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



Beyoud the darkening ocean burned 

The bloody sunset's enibej-s, 
While the Crimean valleys learned 

How English love remeniburs. 

And once again a fire of hell 
Rained on the Russian ([uarters, 

With scream of shot, and burst of shell, 
And bellowing of the mortars ! 

And Irish Nora's eyes are dim 

For a singer dumb and gory ; 
And English Mary mourns for him 

Who sang of "Annie Laurie." 

Sleep, soldiers ! still in honored rest 
Your truth and valor wearing : 

The bravest are the tenderest, — 
The loving are the daring. 

Bavard Taylor. 



NANNY, WILT THOU GANG WI' ME; 

Nanxy, wilt thou gang wi' me, 

Nor sigh to leave the Haunting town ? 
Can silent glens have charms for thee. 

The lowly cot and russet gown ? 
Nae langer drest in silken sheen, 

Nae langer deckeil wi' jewels rare. 
Say, canst thou quit each courtly scene, 

Where thou wert fairest of the fair ? 

Nanny, when thou 'rt far awa. 

Wilt thou not cast a look behind ? 
Say, canst thou face the flaky snaw, 

Nor shrink before the winter wind ? 
0, can that soft and gentle mien 

Severest hardships learn to bear, 
Nor, sad, regret each courtly scene, 

Where thou wert fairest of the fair ? 

Nanny, canst thou love so true. 

Through perils keen wi' me to gae ? 
Or, when thy swain mishap shall rue. 

To share with him the pang of wae ? 
Say, should disease or pain befall. 

Wilt thou a.ssnme the nurse's care, 
Nor, wishful, those gay scenes recall 

Where thou wert fairest of the fair ? 

And when at last thy love shall die. 

Wilt thou receive his parting breath ? 
AVilt thou repress each struggling sigh. 

And cheer with smiles the bed of death ? 
And wilt thou o'er his much-loved clay 

Strew flowers, and drop the tender tear ? 
Nor then regret those scenes so gay. 

Where thou wert fairest of the fair ? 

BISHOP Thomas prrcy. 



SMILE AND NEVER HEED ME. 

Though, when other maids stand by, 
I may deign thee no reply. 
Turn not then away, and sigli, — 

Smile, and never heed me ! 
If our love, indeed, be such 
As must thrill at every touch. 
Why should others learn as much ? — 

Smile, and never heed me ! 

Even if, with maiden pride, 
I should bid thee quit my side. 
Take this lesson for thy guide, — 

Smile, and never heed me! 
But when stars and twilight meet, 
And the dew is falling sweet. 
And thou hear'st my coming feet, — 

Then — thou then — mayst heed me! 
CHARLES Swain. 



WHISTLE, AND I'LL COME TO YOU, 
MY LAD. 

WHISTLE, and I 'II come to you, my lad, 
whistle, and I '11 come to you, my lad, 
Tho' father and niither and a' should gae mad, 
whistle, and I '11 come to you, my lad. 

But warily tent, when ye come to court me. 
And come na unless the baik-yett be a-jee: 
Syne np the back stile, and let naebody see. 
And come as ye were na coniin' to me. 
And come, etc. 
whistle, etc. 

At kirk, or at market, whene'er ye meet nie. 
Gang by me as tho' that ye cared nae a flie ; 
But steal me a blink o' your bonnie black e'e. 
Yet look as ye were na lookin' at me. 
Yet look, etc. 

whistle, etc. 

Aye vow and protest that ye care na for me. 
And whiles ye may lightly my beauty a wee ; 
But court nae anither, tho' jokin' ye be, 
For fear that she wile your fancy frae me. 
For fear, etc. 

whistle, etc. 

Robert burns. 



THE WHISTLE. 

'You have heard," said a youth tolas sweet- 
heart, who stood. 
While he sat on a corn-sheaf, at daylight's 
decline, — 



LOVE. 



157 



*' You have heard of the Danish boy's whistle of 
wood ? 
1 wish tliat that Daiiisli boy's wliistle were 
mine. " 

^'And what would you do with it? — tell me," 
she said, 
While an arch smile played over her beautiful 
face. 
" I would blow it," he answered ; " and then my 
fair maid 
Would fly to my side, and would here take her 
place." 

^' Is that all you wish it for ? That may be yours 
Without any magic," the fair maiden cried : 

"A favor so slight one's good nature secures;" 
And she playfully seated herself by his side. 

" I would blow it again," said the youth, " and 
the charm 
Would work so, that not even Modesty's check 
AVould be able to keep from my neck your fine 
arm ; " 
She smiled, — and she laid her fine arm round 
his neck. 

"Yet once more would I blow, and the music 
divine 
Would bring me the third time an exquisite 
bliss : 
Y'ou would lay your fair cheek to this brown one 
of mine, 
And your lips, stealing past it, would give me 
a kiss." 

The maiden laughed out in her innocent glee, — 
" What a fool of yourself with your whistle 
you 'd make ! 
For only consider, how silly 't would be 

To sit there and whistle for — what you might 
take ! " 

ROBERT STORV. 



BEHAVE YOURSEL' BEFORE FOLK. 

Behave yoursel' before folk. 

Behave yoursel' before folk. 
And dinna be sae nule to nu'. 

As kiss me sae before folk. 
It wouldna give me meikle pain. 
Gin we were seen aiul heard by nane, 
To tak' a kiss, or grant you ane ; 

But gudesake I no before folk. 

Behave yoursel' before folk. 

Behave youi-sel' before folk, — 
Whate'er you do wlien out o' view, 

I?e cautious nve before folk ! 



Cou.sider, lad, how folks will crack, 
And what a great ati'air they'll mak' 

0' naething but a simple smack, 

That 's gi'en or ta'en before folk. 
Behave yoursel' before folk. 
Behave yoursel' before folk, — 

Nor gi'e the tongue o' old and young 
Occasion to come o'er folk. 

I 'm sure wi' you I 've been as free 
As ouy modest lass should be ; 
But yet it doesna do to see 

Sic freedom used before folk. 

Behave yoursel' before folk, 

Behave yoursel' before folk, — 
I '11 ne'er submit again to it ; 

So mind you that — before folk ! 

Ye tell me that my face is fair : 
It may be sae — I dinna care — 
But ne'er again gar't blush so sair 

As ye hae done before folk. 

Behave yoursel' before folk. 

Behave yoursel' before folk, — 
Nor heat my cheeks wi' your mad freaks. 

But aye be douce before folk ! 

Ye tell me that my lips are sweet : 
Sic tales, I doubt, are a' deceit ; — 
At ouy rate, it 's hardly uieet 

To prie their sweets before folk. 

Behave yoursel' before folk. 

Behave yoursel' before folk, — 
Gin that's the case, there 's time and place. 

But surely no before folk ! 

But gin ye really do insist 

That I .should sufl'er to be kissed, 

Gae get a license frae the priest. 

And mak' me yours before folk ! 

Behave yoursel' liefore folk, 

Behave yoursel' before folk, — 
And when we 're ane, baith flesh and bane. 

Ye may tak' ten — before folk ! 

Alexander Rodger. 



THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS 
LOVE. 

Come live with me and be my love, 
And we will all the jdeasures prove, 
That hills and valleys, dales and fields, 
And all the craggy mountains yield. 
There will we sit upon the rocks. 
And see the shepherds feed their flocks 
By shallow rivers, to whose falls 
Jlelodious birds sing madrigals. 
And will I make thee beds of roses, 
With a thousand fragrant posies ; 



IfuS 



I'dKMS Ol'' TlIK AKI''K('I'1UNS. 



A cap of (lowoia niiil ii Iditlu 
KiiiliniiiU'ii'il all Willi Iciivi'H of niyrllo ; 
A gciwn iimilu iil' lliii liiu'sl wool 
Wliirli IVcmi our pi'clty Imiilis wii imll ; 
SlippiTs liiinil I'liiiici'ly l"r llm iMiht, 
Willi biicUldS ol' Mil' imirsl gold ; 
A lioll ol' slniw, luiil ivy Imil.s, 
Willi I'onil clusiis mill ujhIiit .hUuIs. 

Thii slu'plu'nl suiiiiis shall diiiico iiiul siii^ 
For tliy ili'li^lil I'lU'li Miiy iiioriiiiig ; 
Ami ir llicsii iilwisiMH's limy tlioo iiiovo, 
Thon livo with iiiu luid bo my lovo. 

CUKISIOI'llliK MARlAiWI^ 



THE NVMl'll'S UKPIA'. 

Ik nil llic worlil ami lovo wcrr yoiiii);, 
And Inilli in ovory sliii|iluM'd's toiif^iio, 
Tlii'so |iit'lly |iliiiisui'<'s might mo move 
To live with llii'i', mid lie thy lovo. 

Timo drivos Iho Hooks I'lom Hold to fold, 
Wluiii livois nigc mid looks gvuw oold ; 
And Pliilomol hooomoth dumb, 
Tho lost ooniiiliiin ol' oaros to oome. 

Tho dowel's do fiido, mid wmilon liolJs 
To wayward wintoi' vookoniiif,' yiolils ; 
A lionoy tongiio, iv lioiiil of gull, 
la fanoy's spiiiig, but son-ow's lull. 

Thy gowns, thy shoos, thy bods ol' roaos. 
Thy Clip, thy kirtlo, and thy jiosioa. 
Soon broak, soon withor, .10011 loigotton, 
In folly ripo, in iiwson rotton. 

Thy bolt of straw and ivy biiils, 
Thy ooral idiisps mid nmlior stvida ; 
All thoso ill 1110 no niomis oan niovo 
To 001110 to tlioo and bo thy lovo. 

lint oonld youth last, and love still breed, 
}lad joys no dato, nor ago no uood, 
Thon tlioso doliglits my mind might movo 
To livo willi lliro and 1)0 thy love. 

SIK WALTUR KAI-UU.II. 



M.\IM> Mn.l.K.l!. 

M.M'D Mi'ii.K.K, on a summor's day, 
Kakod tho inoadow swoot with hay. 

Rouoath lior loni hat glowoil llu- woalth 
Of siniplo beauty iiiul lustio lioalth. 

Singing, she wrought, and her moriy gloe 
Tho mook-bird oolioed from his troo. 



]5ut, whoii she glauoed to the far-olV town, 
W'hili' I'loiii its hill-slopo looking down, 

The swoot .song diod, and a vagno unrest 
.\iid a namoloss longing lillod lior liroaat, — 

i\ wish, that slio hardly dari'd to own, 
Kor .soiiiolliiiig bi'ltor than slio had known. 

The .liidgo rodo slowly down the lauo. 
Smoothing his horse's oliostnnt mane. 

lie drew his bridle in the shade 

(If tlio apple-trees, to greet the maid. 

And ask a draught from the spring that llowcJ 
Through tho meadow, across the road. 

.She stoojiod where the I'ool spring bubbled up, 
And Idled for him her small tin eup. 

And bbislied as she gavi' it, lnnkiiig down 
On her foot so bare, mid her tatteroil gown. 

"Thanks !" said tlie.liulgo, " a sweeter drauglil 
Kroin a fairer hand was never ijuaired." 

He spoke of the grass and llowiTs and trees, 
Of tho singing birds and the hnmming bees ; 

Thon tfllked of the haying, and wondered whether 
Tile elo\id in the west would bring foul weather. 

And Maud forgot her brier-tovn gown, 
And her gnioofiil ankles, hare and brown. 

And lislonod, while a pleased surprise 
Looked from her long-Iashod hazel eyes. 

At last, like one who for delay 
Seeks a vain oxonso, he rode away. 

Maud Midler looked and sighed : "Ah mo ! 
That 1 tho .liidgo's bride might be ! 

" Ho wonhl dross mo up in silks so fine, 
And praise and toast me at his wine. 

" My father should wear a hi-oadeloth coat. 
My brother should sail a painted boat. 

" 1 M dross my mother so grand and gay, 
.■\nd the hiby shouhl have a new toy oaoh day. 

".•\nd 1 'd feed the hungry and elotlio the poor. 
.\nd all should bless me who loft our door." 

The .hulgo looked baek as lie elimbod the hill. 
And saw Maud AluUer atnuding still : 

" A form moTO fair, a face more sweet, 
Ne'er hath it been my lot to meet. 





# 



/^/^ t/^/^- 



LOVE. 



159 



" And lior modest answer and graceful air 
Sluiw lier wise aiid good as she is fair. 

" Would she were mine, and I to-day, 
Like her, a harvester of hay. 

" No doubtful balance of rights and wrongs, 
Nor weary lawyers with endless tongues, 

" I5ut low of cattle, and song of birds, 
And liealtli, and ijuiet, and loving words." 

Hilt he thought of his sister, proud and cold, 
And his mother, vain of her rank and gold. 

So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on. 
And Maud was left in the field alone. 

But the lawyers smiled that afternoon, 
When he hummed in court an old love tune ; 

And the young girl mused beside the well, 
Till the rain on the unraked clover fell. 

He wedded a wife of richest dower, 
Who lived for fashion, as he for jiower. 

Yet oft, in his marble hearth's bright glow, 
He watched a picture come and go ; 

And sweet Maud Muller's hazel eyes 
Looked out in their innocent surprise. 

Oft, when the wine in his glass was red, 
He longed for the wayside well instead. 

And closed his eyes on his garnished rooms. 
To dream of meadows and clover blooms ; 

And the proud man sighed with a secret pain, 
" Ah, that 1 were free again ! 

" Free as wlien I rode that day 

Where the barefoot maiden raked the hay." 

Sl\e wedded a man unlearned and poor. 
And many diildren played round her door. 

I'lit care and sorrow, and child-birth pain, 
Left their traces on heart and brain. 

And oft, when the summer sun .shone hot 
On the new-mown hay in the meadow lot, 

And she heard the little spring brook fall 
Over the roadside, through the wall. 

In the shade of the apple-tiee again 
She saw a rider diaw his rein. 

And, giizing down witli a timid giaee, 
She felt his pleased eyes read her face. 



Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls 
Stretclied away into stately halls ; 

The weary wheel to a spinnet turned, 
The tallow candle an astral bunied ; 

And for him who sat by the chimney lug. 
Dozing and grumbling o'er pipe and mug, 

A manly form at her side she saw. 
And joy was duty and love was law. 

Then she took up her burden of life again. 
Saying only, "It might have been." 

Alas for maiden, alas for judge, 

For rich repiner and household drudge ! 

God pity them both ! and pity us all. 
Who vainly the dreams of youth recall ; 

For of all sad words of tongue or pen. 

The saddest are these : " It might have been I " 

Ah, well ! for us all some sweet hope lies 
Deeply buried from human eyes ; 

And, in the hereafter, angels may 
Eoll the stone from its grave away ! 

John Greenleaf Whittier. 



QUAKERDOM. 



THE FORMAL CALL. 



TllRoiTOH her forced, abnormal quiet 
Flaslied the soul of frolic riot, 
And a most malicious laughter lighted up her 
downcast eyes ; 
All in vain I tried each topic. 
Ranged from polar climes to tropic, — 
Every commonplace I started met with yes-or-no 
replies. 

For her mother — stiff and stately. 
As if starched and ironed lately — 
Sat ei-ect, with rigid elbows bedded thus in curv- 
ing palms ; 
Tlicre she sat on guard before us, 
And in words precise, decorous. 
And most calm, reviewed the weather, and recited 
several psalms. 

How without abruptly ending 

Tliis my visit, and offending 
Wealtliy neighbors, was the ])roblem which em- 
ployed my mental care ; 

Wlien the butler, bowing lowly, 

Uttered cleai-ly, stiffly, slowly, 
"Madam, jdease, the gardener wants you," — 

Heaven, I thought, has heard my prayer. 



160 



POEMS OP THE AFFECTIONS. 



" Paiilon mo ! " she gniiuUy uUon.'il ; 
Bowing low, I glmily iiuitti-roil, 
"Suivly, nimiam ! " ami, ivUuveil, 1 tunu'ii to 
soaii the ilauglitcr's I'aoi' : 
Ha ! what in'iit-iip miitli oiittlashes 
From tuMUMtli tlioso ju'iuillod lashes ! 
How till" lUill ol' Quakci- custom yields to Na- 
miv's brilliant grace. 

Brightly springs the prisoned fountain 

From the side of Delphi's mountain 
When the stone that weighed upon its buoyant 
life is thrust aside : 
So the long-enforced stagnation 
Of the maiden's conversation 
Now imparted live-fold brilliance to its ever- 
varying tide. 

Widely ranging, i^uiekly changing, 
Witty, winning, fixmi beginning 
I'nlo end I listened, merely Hinging in a casual 
wonl ; 
KloipuMit, and yet how simple ! 
Hand and eye, and eddying dimple, 
"Tongue and lip together made a music seen as 
well as lieanl. 

When the nooi\day woods ai'e ringing. 
Ail the bii-ils of sununer singing, 
.Suddenly there falls a silence, and wo know a 
serpent nigh : 
So upon the door a rattle 
Stopped our animated tattle. 
And the stately mother found us prim enough to 
suit her I'yc. 

Ctl.XKLES O. HALPINE. 



THE CHESS-BOArai. 

My little love, do you n>memWr, 

Ere we weix> gi\>wu so sadly wise. 

Those evenings in the bh'ak PecemlxM-, 

I'urtained warm from the snowy weather. 

When you and 1 played chess together. 

Checkmated by each other's eyes ! 

Ah ! still I see your soft white hand 
Hovering warm o'er Queen and Knight ; 

Brave Fawns in valiant Kittle stand ; 
The double Castles guai>l the wings ; 
The Bishop, K-nt on distant tl.ings, 
Moves, sidling, through the tight. 

Onr fingers touch ; our glances meet. 
And falter ; falls yonr gvilden hair 

Against my cheek : your Kisom swe*t 
Is heaving. Down the lield, your Queen 
Rides slow, her soldiery all between, 

And checks lue unaware. 



Ah nie ! the little battle 's done : 
l>ispei-st is all its chivalry. 
I'nll many a move since then have wo 
Mill life's perplexing checkers made, 
.\nd many a game with fortune played ; 

What is it we have won ? 

This, this at least, — if this alone : 

That never, never, nevermore. 

As in those old still nights of yoiv, 
(Eiv we were grown so .<:adly wise,) 
Can you and I shut out the skies. 

Shut out the world and wintry weather. 
And, eyes exchanging warmth with eyes, 

Flay chess, as then we played together. 

ROUEKV Bl'LWKR. LORD LVrTON. 



soxc. 



Too late, alas ! I must confess. 
Yon need not arts to move me ; 

Such charms by miture you jiossess, 
'T were madness not to love ye. 

Then span- a heart you nniy surprise, 
And give my tongue the glory 

To boast, though my unfaithful eyes 
Betray a tender story. 

JOUN WILMOT, liARL OF ROCHESTER. 



Sl'MMEK HAYS. 

In sumn\er, when the days were long. 
We walked together in the wood : 

Our heart was light, our step was strong ; 
weet thitterings wore theiv in onr blood. 
In summer, when the days weiv long. 

We strayed from morn till evening came; 
We gi\therod lloweiis, and wove us cixnvns; 

We walked mid poppies ivd as flame. 
Or si\t uivm the yellow downs ; 

And always wished our life the same. 

In summer, when the days weiv long. 
We leaped the hedgx'-row, ciw-^sed the bivok; 

And still her voice flowed forth in song, 
Or else she ivad some graceful book. 

In summer, when the days were long. 

And then we s;it K'neath the trees, 
With shadows lessening in the luxiu ; 

And in the suidight and the breeze, 
We feasteil, many a gorgi'ons .Inne, 

While larks weiv singing o'er the leas. 



LOVE. 



161 



111 summei', when the ilnys were long, 
On iliiiiity chu'kuii, snow-wliite breiul, 

Wi' IViisti'd, with no gnu'u but soiij; ; 
^Vt! pluclcud wiUl stiiiwbenies, ripe niiJ reJ, 

lu siminier, when the days were long. 

We loved, and yet we knew it not, — • 
For lovins seemed like breathinj; then ; 

We fonnd a heaven in every spot ; 
Saw angels, toi/, in all good men ; 

And dreiiniod ul' God in giovo and grot. 

In summer, when the days are long, 
Alone I wander, muse nlime. 

I see her not ; but that olil sung 
Under the fragrant wind is blown. 

In summer, when the, days are lojig. 

Alone I wamlcr in the wood : 
But one fair spirit hears my sighs ; 

And half I see, so glad and good. 
The honest daylight of her eyes, 

That oharmeil me under earlier skios. 

In summer, when tlie days are long, 
I love her as wo loveil of old. 

My heart is light, my stej) is sti'ong ; 
For love brings bnek those hours of gold. 

In sunnner, when the days are long. 

ANONYMOUS. 



FORGET THEE? 

■"Forget thee?" — If to dream by night, and 
muse on thee by day. 

If all the worship, deeii and wild, a jioet's heart 
ean pay. 

If prayers in ahsenee breatlieil for thee lo Heav- 
en's proteeting power. 

If winged thoughts that Hit to tliee - a tliousand 
in an hour, 

If busy Faney blending thee with all niv future 
"h)t, -" 

If this tliou eall'st "forgetting," thou indeed 
shalt bo forgot ! 

" Forget theo ? " — Bid the forest-birds forget 

their sweetest tune ; 
" Foi'got thee ? " — Bid the sea forget to swell 

beneath the moon ; 
Bid the thirsty (lowers forget to ilrink the eve's 

refreshing dew ; 
Thyself forget thine "own dear land," and its 

"mountains wild and blue;" 
Forget each old familiar face, each long-renicm- 

bered sjiot ; — 
When the.se things are forgot by thee, theu thou 

shalt be forgot ! 



Kei'p, if thou wilt, thy maiden peace, still calm 
and fancy-free. 

For God forbid thy gladsome heart should grow 
less glad for me ; 

Yet, while that heart is still unwon, O, bid not 
mine to rove, 

lint let it nurse its humble faith and uncomplain- 
ing love ; 

If these, preserved for patient years, at hist avail 
me not, 

Forget me tlion ; — but ne'er believe that thou 
canst bo forgot I 

JoUN MOULTKIH. 



DINNA ASK ME. 

0, uiNNA ask me gin I lo'o ye : 

Troth, I daurna tell ! 
Diinia ask nie gin I lo'e ye, — 

Ask it o' yoursel'. 

0, dinna look sae sair at me, 

For wool ye ken mo true ; 
0, gin ye look sae sair at me, 
1 daurna look at you. 

When ye gang to yon braw braw town. 

Ami bonnier lassies see, 
0, dinna, ,Iamie, look at them. 

Lest ye should mind na me. 

For I could never bide the lass 
That ye 'd lo'e niair than me ; 

And 0, I 'ni svu'o my heart wad brak, 
tiin ye 'd prove fause to me ! 

JOHN DUNI.OP. 



SONG. 



At setting day and li.sing morn. 

With .soul tliat still shall love thee, 
I '11 ask of Heaven thy afe return, 

Willi all that can improve thee. 
I '11 visit aft the birken bush. 

Where (irst thou kindly told me 
Sweet tales of love, and hid thy blush, 

AVliilst round thou didst infold me. 
To all our haunts 1 will repair, 

By gn^enwood shaw or fountain ; 
Or where the summer day I 'd share 

With thee ujion yon mountain ; 
There will I tell the trees ami flowers. 

From thoughts unfeigned and tender, 
By vows you 're mine, by love is yours 

A heart which cannot wander. 

Al-I AN RAMSAY, 



16: 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



LOVE. 

All thoughts, all passions, all delights, 
Whatever stirs this mortal frame, 
All are but ministers of Love, 
And iced his sacred Hauie. 

Oft in my waking dreams do 1 
Live o'er again that happy hour, 
When midway on the mount I lay 
Beside the ruined tower. 

The moonshine stealing o'er the scene 
Had blended with the lights of eve ; 
And she was there, my hope, my joy. 
My own dear Genevieve ! 

She leaned agaiust the armed man. 
The statue of the armed knight ; 
She stood and listened to my lay, 
Amid the lingering light. 

Few sorrows hath she of her own, 
My hope ! my joy ! my Genevieve ! 
She loves me best whene'er I sing 
The songs that make her grieve. 

I played a soft and doleful air, 
I sang an old and moving story, — 
An old rude song, that suited well 
That ruin wild and hoary. 

She listened with a flitting blu.sh. 
With downcast eyes and modest grace ; 
For well she knew, I could not choose 
But gaze upon her face. 

I told her of the Knight that wore 
Upon his shield a burning brand ; 
And that for ten long years he wooed 
The Lady of the Land. 

I told her how he pined : and ah ! 
The deep, the low, the pleading tone 
With which I sang another's love 
Interpreted my own. 

She listened with a flitting blush, 
With downcast eyes and modest grace ; 
And .she forgave me that 1 gazed 
Too fondly on her face. 

But when I told the cruel scorn 
That crazed that bold and lovely Knight, 
And that he crossed the mountain-woods. 
Nor rested day nor night ; 

That sometimes from the savage den. 
And sometimes from the darksome shade, 
And sometimes starting up at once 
In green and sunny glade, 



There came and looked liim in the face 
An angel beautiful and bright ; 
And that he knew it was a Fiend, 
This miserable Knight ! 

And that unknowing what he did. 
He leaped amid a mnrdernus band. 
And saved from outrage worse than death 
The Lady of the Land ; 

And how she wept, and clasped his knees ; 
And how she tended him in vain ; 
And ever strove to expiate 

The scorn that crazed lus brain ; 

And that she nursed him in a cave. 
And how his madness went away. 
When on the yellow forest-leaves 
A dying man he lay ; 

— His dying words — but when I reached 
That tenderest strain of all the ditty. 
My faltering voice and pausing harp 
Disturbed her soul with pity ! 

All impulses of sonl and sense 
Had thrilled my guileless Genevieve ; 
The music and the doleful tale. 
The rich and liahny eve ; 

And hopes, and fears that kindle hope, 
Au undistingnishable throng, 
And gentle wishes long subdued. 
Subdued and cherished long. 

She wept with pity and delight. 
She blushed with love, and virgin shame ; 
And like the murmur of a dream, 
I heard her breathe my name. 

Her bosom heaved, — she stepped aside, 
As conscious of my look she stept, — 
Then suddenly, with timorous eye 
She fled to me and wept. 

She half enclosed me with her arms, 
She pressed me with a meek embrace ; 
And bending back her head, looked up. 
And gazed ujion my face. 

'T was partly love, and partly fear. 
And partly 't was a bashful art 
That I might rather leel than see 
The swelling of her heart. 

I calmed her fears, and she was calm. 
And told her love with virgin pride ; 
And so I won my Genevieve, 

My bright and beauteous Bride. 

Samuel Tavlor Coleridge. 






LOVE 



163 



WHEN THE KYE COMES HAME. 

Come, all yc jolly shepherds 

That whistle through the glen, 
I '11 tell ye of a secret 

That courtiers Jinna ken : 
What is the greatest bliss 

That the tongue o' man can name ? 
'T is to woo a bonny lassie 
When the kye comes hame ! 
When the kye comes hame, 
When the kye comes hame, 
'Tween the gloaming and the Tiirk, 
When the kye comes hame ! 

'T is not beneath the coronet. 

Nor canopy of state, 
'T is not on couch '^f velvet, 

Nor arbor of the great, — 
'Tis beneath the spreading hirk. 

In the glen without the name, 
Wi' a bonny, bonny lassie. 

When the kye comes hame ! 
When tlie kye comes hame, etc. 

There the blackbird bigs his nest 

For the mate he Iocs to see. 
And on the topmost bough, 

0, a happy bird is lie ; 
Where he pours his melting ditty, 

And love is a' the theme. 
And he '11 woo his bonny lassie 

When the kye comes hame ! 
When the kye comes hame, etc. 

When the blewart bears a pearl, 

Anil the daisy tm'ns a pea. 
And the bonny luckeu gowau 

Has fauldit up her ee. 
Then the laverock I'rae the blue lift 

Doops down, an' thinks nae shame 
To woo his bonny lassie 

When the kye comes hame ! 
Wlien the kye comes hame, etc. 

See yonder pawkie shepherd, 

That lingers on the hill. 
His ewes are in the fauld. 

An' his lambs are lyiug still ; 
'Yet he downa gang to bed. 

For his heart is in a flame. 
To meet his bonny lassie 

When the kye comes hame ! 
When the kye comes hame, etc. 

■When the little wee bit heart 

Rises high in the breast. 
An' the little wee bit starn 

Rises reil in the east. 



there 's a joy sae dear, 

Tliat the heart can hardly frame, 
Wi' a bonny, bonny lassie, 

When the kye comes hame ! 
When the kye comes hame, etc. 

Then since all nature joins 

In this love without alloy, 
0, wha wad prove a traitor 
To Nature's dearest joy ? 
0, wha wad choose a crown, 
Wi' its perils and its fame, 
And miss his bonny lassie 
When the kye comes hame ? 
Wlien the kye comes hame. 
When the kye comes hame, 
'Tween the gloaming and the mirk, 
When the kye comes hame ! 

James Hogg. 



LADY BARBARA. 

Earl G.^wain wooed the Lady Barbara, 
High-thoughted Barbara, so white and cold ! 
'Mong broad-branched beeches in the summer 

shaw. 
In soft green light his passion he has told. 
When rain-beat winds did sliriek across the wold, 
The Earl to take her fair reluctant ear 
Framed passion-trembled ditties manifold ; 
Silent she sat his amorous breath to hear. 
With calm and steady eyes ; her heart was other- 
where. 

He sighed for her through all the summer weeks ; 
Sitting beneath a tree whose fruitful boughs 
Bore glorious apples with smootli, sliining cheeks. 
Earl Gawain came and wliispered, " Lady, rouse '. 
Thou art no vestal held in holy vows ; 
Out with our falcons to the pleasant heath." 
Her father's blood leapt up into her brows, — 
He who, exulting on the trumpet's breath. 
Came charging like a star across the lists of 
death. 

Trembled, and passed before her high rebuke : 
And then she sat, her hands clasped round licr 

knee : 
Like one far-thonghted was the lady's look, 
For in a morning cold as misery 
Clie saw a lone sliip sailing on the sea ; 
Before the north 't was driven like a cdoud, 
High on the poop a man sat mournfully ; 
The wind was whistling through mast and 

shroud. 
And to the wliistling wind thus did he sing 

aloud : — 



164 



I'OK.MS Ol'' THE AFFECTIONS. 



" Didst look lust iiif,'ht upon my native vales, 
Thou Sun ! that from tlio drenching sea hast 

clomb ! 
Ye demon winds ! that glut my gniiing sails, 
I'lion the salt sea must 1 evei- roam, 
Wander forever on the barren foam .' 
<), happy are ye, resting mariners ! 

Death, tliat thou wouldst eome and take me 

home ! 
A hand unsi'en this vessel onward steels. 
And onward I must lloat through slow, moon- 
measured years. 

"Ye winds ! when like a curse yo drove us on. 

Frothing the waters, and along our way, 

Nor cape nor headland through red mornings 

shone, 
One wept aloud, one sliuddered down to jiray. 
One howled, ' Upon tlie deep we are astray.' 
On our wild hearts his words fell like a blight : 
In one short hour my hair was strieken gi'ay, 
For all the erew saidi ghastly in my sight 
As we went driving on through the cold starry 

night. 

" Madness fell on me in my loneliness. 
The sea foameil curses, and tlie reeling sky 
IJeeame a dreadfvil face which did oppress 
Me with the weight of its unwinking eye. 
It tied, when I burst forth into a cry, — 
A shoal of tiends came on me from the deep ; 

1 hid, but in nil corners they did pry, 

And dragged me forth, and rouiul diil dance and 

leap ; 
They mouthed on mo in dream, and tore me 

from sweet sleep. 

"Stmnge constellations burned above my head. 
Strange birds around the vessel shrieked and Hew, 
Strange shapes, like shadows, through the clear 

sea lied. 
As our lone ship, wide-winged, came rippling 

through. 
Angering to foam the smooth and sleeping blue." 
The lady sighed, " Far, far u]ion the sea. 
My own Sir Arthur, eouhl I die with yon ! 
The wind blows shrill between my love and me." 
Foiul heart I the space between was but the apple- 
tree. 

There was a cry of joy ; witli .seeking hamls 
She lied to him, like worn bird to her nest; 
Like washing water on tlie tigured sands. 
His being came and went in sweet unrest. 
As from tlu' mighty shelter of his breast 
The Uady Barliara her head uprears 
^Vithawan smile, "Methinksl 'm but half blest : 
Xow when I 've found thee, after weary year-s 
I cannot see thee, love ! so blind 1 am with tears." 

ALI'.XANUEK s.MnH. 



ATALANTA'S RACE. 

FROM "THE KAKTHLV PARADISB." 

ATALANTA VIOTOUIOUS. 

An'B there two runners did the sign abide 
Foot set to foot, — a young man slim and fair. 
Crisp-haired, well knit, with hrm limbs often tried 
In places where no man his strength may spare ; 
I'ainty his thin coat was, and on his hair 
A golden circlet of renown he wore. 
And in his hand an olive garland bore. 

I5ut on this day with whom shall he conteml ' 
A maid stood by him like Diana clad 
When in the woods she lists her bow to bend. 
Too fair for one to look on and lie glad. 
Who scarcely yet has thirty suminers had. 
If lie must still behold her from afar ; 
Too fair to let the world live free from war. 

She seemed all earthly matters to forget ; 
Of all tormenting lines her face was clear, 
Her wide gray eyes njiflu the goal were set 
Calm and unmoved as tliough no soul were near ; 
But her foe trembled as a man in fear. 
Nor from her loveliness one moment tnrneil 
His anxious face witli fierce desire that bnincd. 

Now through the hush there broke the trum- 
pet's clang 
.lust as the .setting sun made eventide. 
Then from light feet a sjinrt of dust there sprang. 
And swiftly were they running siiie by side ; 
Hut silent did the thronging folk abide 
I'litil the turning-post was reached at last, 
.\nd rouml about it still abreast they passed. 

Hut when the people saw how close they ran, 
When half-way to tlie starting-point they were, 
A erv of joy broke forth, whereat the man 
Headed the white-foot runm'r, ami drew near 
Unto the very end of all his fear; 
And scarce his straining feet thegroumlconld feel. 
And bliss unhoped for o'er his heart 'gan steal. 

But midst the loud victorious shouts he heard 
Her footsteps drawing nearer, and the sound 
Of lluttering raiment, and thereat afeard 
His Hushed and eager face he turned aronnd. 
And even then he felt her past him bound 
Fleet as the wind, but scari'ely saw her there 
Till on the goal she laid her lingers fair. 

There stood she breathing like a little child 
Amid some warlike elainor laid asleep. 
For no victorious joy her ivd lips smiled, 
Her cheek its wonted freshness diii but keep; 
No glance lit u)) her clear gray eyes and deeji. 
Though some divine thought softened all her face 
As once more rang the trumpet through the place. 



LOVE. 



lei 



But licr late foe stopped shoi't amidst his course, 
One moment gazed upon lier piteously, 
Then with a groan his lingering feet did force 
To leave the spot whence lie hi^r eyes could see ; 
And, changed like one who knows his time must be 
Hut short and bitter, without any word 
He knelt before the bearer of the sword ; 

Then high rose up the gleaming deadly blade, 
I'.ared of its flowers, ami through the i;rowded place 
Was silence now, and midst of it the maid 
Went by the poor wretcli at a gentle pace. 
And he to hers upturned his sad white face; 
Nor did his eyes behold another sight 
Ere on his soul there fell eternal night. 

ATALANTA CONQUICIIKU. 

Now has the lingering month at last gone by, 
Again are all folk round the running place, 
\or other seems the dismal pageantry 
Than heretofore, but that another face 
Looks o'er the smooth course ready for the race ; 
For now, beheld of all, Jlilanion 
Stands on the spot lie twice has looked upon. 

But yet — what change is this tliat holds the 
maid ? 
Hoes she indeed see in his glittering eye 
More than disdain of the sharp shearing blade. 
Some happy hope of help and victory ? 
The others seemed to say, " We come to die. 
Look down upon us for a little while. 
That dead, we may bethink ns of thy smile." 

IJut lie — what look of mastery was tliis 
He cast on her? why were his lips so red ? 
Why was his face so Hushed with happiness? 
So looks not one who deems himself but dead. 
E'en if to death he bows a willing head ; 
So rather looks a god well pleased to lind 
Some earthly damsel fashioned to his mind. 

Why must she drop her lid.s before his gaze. 
And even as she casts adown her eyes 
Hedden to note his eager glance of praise. 
And wish tliat she were clad in other guise? 
Why must the memory to her heart arise 
Of things unnoticed when they first were heard. 
Some lover's song, some answering maiden's word ? 

What makes these longings, vague, witliout a 

name. 
And this vain pity never felt before. 
This sudden languor, this contempt of fame, 
This tender sorrow for the time ]past o'er. 
These doubts that grow each miiinte more and 

more ? 
M'hy does she tremble as the time grows near. 
And weak defeat ami woful victory fi^ar ? 



But while she seemed to hear her beating heart, 
Above tlieir heads the trumpet blast rang out, 
And forth they sprang ; and she must [ilay her 

part ; 
Then flew her white feet, knowing not a doubt. 
Though slackening once, she turned her head 

about. 
But then she cried aloud and faster fled 
Than e'er before, and all men deemed him dead. 

But with no sound he raised aloft his hand. 
And thence what seemed a ray of light there llcw 
And past the maid rolled on along the sand ; 
Then trembling she her feet togetlier drew, 
And in her heart a strong desire there grew 
To have the toy ; some god she thought had 

given 
That gilt to her, to make of earth a heaven. 

Then from the course with eager steps she ran, 
And in her odorous bosom laid the gold. 
But when she turned again, the great-limbed 

man 
Now well ahead she failed not to behold. 
And minilful of her glory wa.xing cold. 
Sprang up and followed hhu in hot pursuit, 
Though with one hand she touched the golden 

fruit. 

Note, too, tlu^ bow that she was wont to bear 
She laid aside to grasp the glittering prize. 
And o'er her shoulder from the ijniver fair 
Three arrows fell and lay before her eyes 
Unnoticed, as amidst the people's erics 
She s]iiang to head the strong Milanion, 
Who now the turning-post had wellnigh won. 

But as he set his mighty hand on it. 
White fingers underneath his own were laid, 
And white limbs from his dazzled eyes did Hit. 
Then he the second fruit cast by the maid ; 
But she ran on awliilo, then as afraid 
Wavered and stopped, and turned and made no 

stay 
Until the globe with its bright fellow lay. 

Then, as a troubled glance she east around. 
Now far ahead the Argive could she see, 
And in h(!r garment's hem one hand she wound 
To keep the double prize, and strenuously 
Sjied o'er the course, and little doubt had she 
To win the day, though now but scanty space 
Was left betwixt him and the winning place. 

Short was the way nnto such wingfed feet. 
Quickly slie gained ujiou him till at last 
He turned about her eager eyes to meet. 
And from his hand the third fair apple cast. 
She wavered not, but turned and ran so fast 



16G 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIOXS. 



After the prize tliat should her bliss fulfil, 
That in her haud it lay ere it was still. 

Nor did she rest, but turned about to win 
Once more, an unblest, woful victory — 
And yet — and yet — wliy does lier breath begin 
To fail lier, and her feet drag heavily ? 
Wliy fails she now to sec if far or nigli 
The goal is ? Why do her gray eyes gi'ow dim ? 
Why do these tremors run through every limb ? 

She spreads her arms abroad some stay to find 
Else must she fall, indeed, and findeth this, 
A strong man's arms about her body twined. 
Nor may she shudder now to feel liis kiss. 
So wrapped she is in new, unbroken bliss : 
Made liappy that the foe the prize hatli won, 
She weeijs glad tears for all her glory done. 

William Morris. 



FATIMA AND EADUAN. 

FROM THE SPANISH. 

" Diamante falso y tingido, 
Engastado en pedcrnal," etc 

"False diamond set in flint! hard heart in 

haughty breast ! 
By a softer, warmer bosom the tiger's coucli is 

prest. 
Thou art fickle as the sea, thou art wandering 

as the wind, 
And the restless ever-mounting flame is not 

. more hard to bind. 
If the tears 1 shed were tongues, yet all too few 

would be 
To tell of all the treachery that tliou hast shown 

to me. 
Oh ! I could chide thee sharply, — but every 

maiden knows 
' That she who chides her lover forgives him ere 

he goes. 

"Thou hast called me oft the flower of all Gre- 
nada's maids, 
Thou hast said tliat by the side of me the first 

and fairest fades ; 
And they thought tliy heart was mine, and it 

seemed to every one 
That what thou didst to win my love, for love of 

me was done. 
Alas ! if tliey but knew thee, as mine it is to 

know. 
They well miglit see another mark to which 

thine arrows go ; 
But thou giv'st little heed, — for I speak to one 

who knows 
That she who chides her lover forgives him ere 

he goes. 



"It wearies me, mine enemy, tliat I must weep 

and bear 
What fills thy heart with triumph, and fills my 

own witli care. 
Tliou art leagued with those that hate me, and 

ah ! thou kuow'st 1 feel 
That cruel words as surely kill as sharpest hlades 

of steel. 
'T was the doubt that thou wert false that wrung 

my heart with pain ; 
But, now 1 know thy perfidy, I shall be well 

again. 
I would proclaim tliee as thou art, — hut every 

nraiden knows 
That she who chides her lover forgives him ere 

he goes." 

Thus Fatima complained to the valiant Raduan, 

Where underneath tlie myrtles Alhambra's foun- 
tains ran : 

The Moor was inly moved, and, blameless as he 
was. 

He took her white liand in Ids own, and pleaded 
thus his cause ; 

"0 lady, dry those star-like eyes, — their dim- 
ness does me wrong ; 

If my heart be made of flint, at least 't wiU keep 
thy image long ; 

Thou hast uttered cruel words, — but I grieve 
the less for those. 

Since she who chides her lover forgives him ere 

he goes." 

William cullen Bryant. 



FIRST LOVE. 

FROM "DON JUAN." CANTO I. 

'T IS sweet to hear. 
At midnight on the blue and moonlit deep. 

The song and oar of Aihia's gondolier. 

By distance mellowed, o'er the waters sweep ; 

'T is sweet to see tlie evening star apjiear ; 
'T is sweet to listen as the night-winds creep 

From leaf to leaf ; 't is sweet to view on high 

The rainbow, based on ocean, span tlie sky. 

'T is sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark 
Bay deep-iiioutheil welcome as we draw near 
home ; 

'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark 
Our coming, and look brighter when we come ; 

'T is sweet to be awakened by the lark. 

Or lulled by falling waters ; sweet the hum 

Of bees, the voice of girls, the song of birds, 

The lisp of children, and their earliest wolds. 



Il 



LOVE. 



167 



Sweet is the vintage, when the showering grapes 
In Bacchanal profusion reel to earth, 

Purple and gushing ; sw^eet are our escapes 
From civic revelry to rural mirth ; 

Sweet to the miser are his glittering heaps ; 
Sweet to the father is his tirst-horn's birth ; 

Sweet is revenge, — especially to women, 

Pillage to soldiers, prize-money to seamen. 

'T is sweet to win, no matter how, one's laiu'els, 
By blood or ink ; 't is sweet to put an end 

To strife ; 't is sometimes sweet to have our 
quarrels. 
Particularly with a tiresome friend ; 

Sweet is old wine in bottles, ale in barrels ; 
Dear is the helpless creature we defend 

Against the world ; and dear the school-boy spot 

\\'e ne'er forget, tliough there we are forgot. 

Km sweeter still than this, than these, than all. 
Is first and passionate love, — it stands alone. 

Like Adam's recollection of his fall ; 

The tree of knowledge has been plucked, — 
all 's known, — 

And life yields nothing further to recall 
Worthy of this ambrosial sin, so shown. 

No doubt in fable, as the unforgiven 

Fire which Prometheus filched for us from 
heaven. 

BYRON. 



A MAIDEN WITH A JIILKING-PAIL. 



'VN'hat change has made the pastures sweet, 
And reached the daisies at my feet. 

And cloud that wears a golden hem ? 
This lovely world, the hills, the sward, — 
They all look fresh, as if our Lord 

But yesterday had finished them. 

And here 's the field with light aglow : 
How fresh its boundary lime-trees show ! 

And how its wet leaves trembling shine ! 
Between their trunks come through to me 
The morning sparkles of the sea, 

Below the level browsing line. 

1 see the pool, more clear by half 
Than pools where other waters laugh 

Up at the breasts of coot and rail. 
There, as she passed it on her way, 
1 saw reflected yesterday 

A maiden with a milking-pail. 

There, neither slowly nor in haste, 
One hand upon her slender waist. 
The other lifted to her pail, — 



She, rosy in the morning light. 
Among the water-daisies white, 

Like some fair sloop appeared to sail. 

Against her ankles as she trod 
Tlie lucky buttercups did nod : 

1 leaned upon the gate to see. 
The sweet thing looked, but did not speak ; 
A dimple came in either cheek. 

And all my heart was gone from me. 

Then, as I lingered on the gate. 
Anil she came up like coming fate, 

1 saw my picture in her eyes, — 
Clear daucirg eyes, more black than sloes ! 
Cheeks like the mountain pink, that grows 

Among white-headed majesties ! 

I said, " A tale was made of old 
That I would fain to thee unfold. 

Ah ! let me, — let me tell the tale." 
But high she held her comely head : 
" 1 cannot heed it now," she said, 

" For carrying of the milking-pail." 

She laughed. What good to make ado ? 
1 held the gate, and she came through. 

And took her homeward path anon. 
From the clear pool her face had fled ; 
It rested on my heart instead. 

Reflected when the maid was gone. 

With happy youth, and work content. 
So sweet and stately, on she went. 

Right careless of the untold tale. 
Each step she took 1 loved her more, 
And followed to her dairy door 

The maiden with the milking-pail. 



For hearts where wakened love doth lurk, 
How fine, how blest a thing is work ! 

For work does good when reasons fail, — 
Good ; yet the axe at every stroke 
The echo of a name awoke, — 

Her name is Mary Martindale. 

I 'm glad that echo was not heard 
Aright by other men. A bird 

Knows doubtless what his own notes tell ; 
And 1 know not, — but I can say 
I felt as shamefaced all that day 

As if folks heard her name right well. 

And when the west began to glow 
I went — I could not choose but go — 

To that same dairy on the hill ; 
And while sweet Mary moved about 
Within, I came to her without. 

And leaned upon the window-sill. 



1G8 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



Tho givi'deii border where I stood 

Wfts sweet with pinks and southernwood. 

1 spoke, — her iinswer seemed to I'liil. 
1 smelt tlie jiinks, — 1 eouhl not see. 
Tile dusk eiime down iiiul sheltered me. 

Aud in tho dusk she lieurd my tnlo. 

Aiid wliat is left that 1 should tc'U I 
I begged 11 kiss, — I pleaded well ; 

The rosebud lips did long deelino ; 
But yet, 1 think — I think 't is true — 
That, leaned at last into the dew, 

One little instant they were mine ! 

O life ! how dear thou hast lieeonio ! 
Slu' laugheil at dawn, and 1 was dumb ! 

But evening eounsels best i)revail. 
Fair shine the bhu' that o'er her spreads, 
Green be the pastures where she treads, 

Tho maiden witli the milking-pail ! 

J [IAN INGELOW. 



SONG OF THE JIILKilAID. 

FROM "QUEEN MARV. ' 

Shame upon von, Kobin, 

Shanu' upon you now ! 
Kiss mv would you ? with my hands 

Milking the eow ? 

Daisies grow again, 

Kingeups lilow again. 
And you eame and kissed lue milking the cow. 

Kobin came behiml me, 

Kissed mo well 1 vow ; 
Cuir him eiiuld 1 ? with my hands 

Jlilkiug the eow ? 

Swallows tly again. 

Cuckoos cry again. 
And you came and kissed nie milking the cow. 

Come, Robin, Kobin, 

Come and kiss me now ; 
Help it can I ? with my hands 

Milking the cow ? 

Kingdoves eoo again, 

All things woo again, 
Come behind and kiss me milking the cow ! 

ALFRED TE.NNVSON. 



THE MILKMAID'S SONG. 

Turn, turn, for my cheeks they burn, 

Tuin by the dale, my Harry ! 

Fill pai>, till j>ail, 

He has turned by the dale, 

And there bv the stile waits H.ury. 



Fill, mi. 

Fill, pail, fill, 

For there by the stile waits Harry ! 

The world may go round, the world may staniJ 

still, 
Hut I can milk and marry. 
Fill pail, 
I can milk and marry. 

Wheugh, wlieugh ! 

0, if we two 

Stood down there now by the water, 

I know who 'd carry me over the ford 

As bravo as a soldier, as proud as a lord. 

Though 1 don't live over the water. 

Wheugh, wheugh ! he's whistling through. 

He's whistling "The Farmer's Daughter." 

Give down, give down, 

My crumpled brown ! 

Ho shall not take the roail to the town, 

For 1 '11 meet him licyond the water. 

Give down, give down. 

My crumpled brown ! 

And send me to my Harry. 

Tho folk o' towns 

May have silken gowns, 

15ut I can milk and marry, 

Fill pail, 

1 can milk ami marry. 

Wheugh, wheugh ! he has whistled through 

Ho has whistled through the water. 

Fill, till, with a will, a" will. 

For he 's whistled through the water, 

And he's whistling down 

The way to the town, 

And it's not "Tho Farmer's Daughter !" 

Churr, churr ! goes the cockchafer. 

The sun sets over the water, 

Churr, churr ! goes the coekeliafer, 

I 'm too late for my Harry ! 

•■Vnd, O, if he goes a-soldiering, 

The cows they may low, the bells they may ring, 

B\it I '11 neither nulk nor marry. 

Fill pail, 

Neither milk nor marry. 

My brow lieats on thy tiank, Fill pail. 

Give down, good wench, give down ! 

1 know the primrose bank. Fill pail. 

Between him and the town. 

Give down, good wench, give down, Fill pail. 

And he shall not reach the town ! 

Strain, strain ! he 's whistling again. 

He 's nearer by half a mile. 

More, more ! 0, never before 

Were you such a weary w Idle ! 

Fill, fill"! he's crossed the hill, 



LOVE. 



161) 



I can see him down by the stile, 

Ho 's passed the hay, he 's coming this way, 

I lu 's coming to me, my Harry ! 

<MV(! silken gowns to the folk o' towns. 

He's coming to nie, my Harry I 

There 's not so grand a dame in the land. 

That she walks to-night with Harry ! 

Come late, come soon, come sun, come moon, 

O, I can milk and marry. 

Fill pail, 

1 can milk and marry. 

Wliciigli, whcugh ! lie has whistled through, 

l\ly Harry ! my lad ! my lover ! 

.Set the sun and fall the dew. 

Heigh-ho, merry world, what's to do 

Tliat you 're smiling over and over ? 

Up on the hill and down in the dale, 

And along the tree-tops over the vale 

Shining over and over. 

Low ill the gi'ass and liigh on the bough. 

Shining over and over, 

•world, have you ever a lover ? 

You were so dull and cold just now, 

world, have you ever a lover ? 

1 could not see a leaf on the tree, 

And now I could count them, one, two, three, 

Count them over ami over. 

Leaf from leaf like lips apart, 

Like lips apart for a lover. 

And the hillside beats with my beating heart, 

And the apple-tree blushes all over. 

And the May bough touched me and made me 

start, 
And the wind breathes warm like a lover. 

Pull, jiuU I and the pail is full. 

And milking 's done and over. 

Wlio would not sit liere under the tree? 

What a fair fair thing's a green field to see ! 

lirim, brim, to the rim, .ah me ! 

I have set my pail on the daisies ! 

It seems so light, — can the sun be set ? 

The dews must be heavy, my cheeks are wet, 

I could cry to have hurt the daisies ! 

Harry is near, Hairy is near, 

.My heart 's as sick as if he were here, 

.My lips are burning, my checks arc wet. 

He hasn't uttered a word as yet, 

ISut the air's a.stir with his praise.s. 

My Harry ! 

Tlie air's astir with your praises. 

He has scaled the rock by the pixy's stone, 
He's among the kingcups, —he picks me one, 
I love the grass that 1 tread upon 
When 1 go to my Harry ! 



He lias jumped the brook, he has climbed the 

knowe. 
There 's never a faster foot I know, 
Hut still he seems to tarry. 

Hariy ! Harry ! my love, my pride, 
My heart is leaping, my arms are wide ! 
lioU up, roll up, you dull hillside. 

Roll up, and bring my Harry ! 

They may talk of glory over the sea. 

But Hairy 's alive, and Harry 's for me. 

My love, my lad, my Harry ! 

Come spring, come winter, come sun, come snow. 

What cares Dolly, whether or no, 

Wliile I can milk and marry ? 

Right or wrong, and wrong or right. 

Quarrel who iiuarrel, and tight who fight. 

But I '11 bring my pail home every night 

To love, and home, and Hariy ' 

We '11 drink our can, we '11 eat our cake. 

There 's beer in the barrel, there 's bread in the 

bake. 
The world may sleep, the world may wake, 
But I shall milk and marry. 
And marry, 

1 shall milk and marry. 

Sydney Dobell. 



FETCHING WATER FROM THE WELL. 

Eaiu.y on a .sunny morning, while the lark was 

singing sweet. 
Came, beyond the ancient farm-house, sounds of 

lightly tripping feet. 
'T was a lowly cottage maiden going, — why, let 

young hearts tell, — 
With her homely pitidier laden, fetching water 

from the well. 
Shadows lay athwart the pathway, all along the 

fpiiet lane, 
And the breezes of the morning moved them to 

and fro again. 
O'er the sunshine, o'er the shadow, passed the 

maiden of the farm. 
With a charmed heart within her, thinking of 

no ill nor hann. 
Pleasant, surely, were her musings, for the nod- 
ding leaves in vain 
Sought to press their brightening image on her 

ever-busy brain . 
Leaves and joyous birds went by her, like a dim, 

half-waking dream ; 
And her soul was only conscious of life's gladdest 

summer gleam. 
At the old lane's shady turning lay a well of 

water bright, 
Singing, soft, its hallelujah to the giiuimis niorji- 

ill'' liL'lit. 



170 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



Fem-leaves, broad ami green, bent o'er it where 

its silvery (Iroplets fell, 
And the fairies dwelt beside it, in the spotted 

foxglove bell. 
Back she bent the shading fern-leaves, dipt the 

pitcher in the tide, — 
Drew it, with tlie dripping waters Howing o'er 

its glazed side. 
But before her arm could place it on her shiny, 

wavy hair. 
By her side a youth was standing ! — Love re- 
joiced to see the pair ! 
Tones of tremulous emotion trailed upon the 

morning breeze. 
Gentle words of heart-devotion whispered 'ueatli 

the ancient trees. 
But the holy, blessed secrets it becomes nie not 

to tell : 
Life had met another meaning, fetching water 

from the well ! 
Down the rural lane they saunteied. lie the 

burden-pitcher bore ; 
She, with dewy eyes down looking, grew more 

beauteous than before ! 
When they neared the silent homestead, up he 

raised the pitcher light ; 
Like a fitting crown he placed it on her hair of 

wavelets bright : 
jimblems of the coming burdens that for love of 

him she 'd bear. 
Calling every burden blessed, if his love but 

lighted there. 
Then, still waving benedictions, further, further 

off he lirew, 
■While his shadow seemed a glory that across the 

pathway grew. 
Now about her household duties silently the 

maiden went. 
And an ever-radiant halo o'er her daily life was 

blent. 
Little knew the aged matron as her feet like 

music fell. 
What abundant treasure found she fetching water 

from the well ! 



Anonymous. 



AUF WIEDERSEHEN !* 



The little gate was reached at last, 
Half hid in lilacs down the lane ; 
She pushed it wide, and, as she past, 
A wistful look she backward cast, 
And said, " Auf wkdcrschcn .'" 

• Ti]I wc iiifet nsaiiil 



With hand on latch, a vision white 

Lingered reluctant, and again 
Half doubting if she did aright, 
.Soft as the dews that fell that night. 
She said, " Auf luiedersehen ! " 

The Iam[i's clear gleam flits up tlie stair ; 

1 linger in delicious j>ain ; 
Ah, in that chamber, whose rich air 
To breathe in thought 1 scarcely dare, 

Tliinks she, " Auf wiedcrschen ! " 

'T is thirteen years : once more I press 

The turf that .silences the lane ; 
1 hear the rustle of her dress, 
1 smell the lilacs, ami — ah yes, 
1 hear, " Auf mcderscheii .' " 

Sweet piece of bashful maiden art ! 

The English words had seemed too fain, 
But these — they drew us heart to heart. 
Yet held us tenderly apart ; 

She said, " Auf wicdersehni ! " 

James Russell Lowell 



MEETING. 

The gray sea, and the long black laml ; 
And the yellow half-moon large and low ; 
And the startled little waves, that leap 
In fiery ringlets from their sleep. 
As I gain the cove with pushing prow. 
And quench its speed in the slushy sand. 

Then a mile of warm, sea-scented beach ; 

Three fields to cross, till a farm appears : 

A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch 

And blue spurt of a lighted match, 

.-\n<l a voice less loiul, through its joys and fears. 

Than the two liearts, beating each to each. 

Robert Browning* 



SWEET MEETING OF DESlliES. 

I GREW assured, before 1 asked, 

That she 'd be mine without resen'e. 
And in her unclaimed graces basked 

At leisure, till the time should serve, - 
With just enough of dread to thrill 

The hope, and make it trebly dear : 
Thus loath to speak the word, to kill 

Either the hope or happy fear. 

Till once, through lanes retju'ning late. 
Her laughing sisters lagged behind ; 

And ere we reached her father's gate, 
Vc paused with one laesentient mind : 



LOVE. 



171 



And, in the iliin and perfumed mist 

Their coming stayed, vvlio, blithe and free, 

And very women, loved to assist 
A lover's opportunity. 

Twice rose, twice died, my tremliling word ; 

To faint and frail cathedral cliimes 
Spake time in music, ami we heard 

The chafers rustling in the limes. 
Her dress, that touclied me where I stood ; 

The warmth of her confided arm ; 
Her bosom's gentle neighborhood ; 

Her pleasure in her power to charm ; 

Hit look, her love, her form, her touch ! 

The least seemed most by blissful turn, — ■ 
lUi.-isful but that it pleased too much, 

And taught the wayward soul to yearn. 
It was as if a harp with wires 

Was traversed by the breath I drew ; 
And 0, sweet meeting of desires ! 

She, answering, owned that she loved too. 

CO\ HNTRY PATMORE. 



ZARA'S EAR-RINGS. 

FROM THE SPANrSH. 

" My ear-rings ! my ear-rings ! they 've dropt 

into the well. 
And what to say to Muca, I cannot, cannot tell." 
'T was thus, Granada's I'ountain by, spoke Albu- 

harez' ilanghter, — 
"The well is cleep, far down they lie, beneath 

the cold blue water. 
To me did .Muca give them, when he spake his 

sad farewell. 
And what to say when he comes back, alas ! I 

cannot tell. 

" My ear-rings ! my ear-rings ! they were pearls 
in silver set. 

That when my Moor was far away, I ne'er sliould 
him forget. 

That I ne'er to other tongue should list, nor 
smile on other's tale. 

But remember he my lips had kisscil, pure as 
those ear-rings pale. 

When he comes back, and hears that I have 
drop|)ed theui in the well, 

0, what will Mur;a think of me, I cannot, can- 
not tell. 

"My ear-rings! my ear-lings 1 he'll say they 
should liave been. 

Not of pearl and of silver, b>it of gold and glit- 
tering sheen. 



Of jasper and of onyx, and of diamond shining 

cleai-j 
Changing to the changing light, with r.adiance 

insincere ; 

hangeful i 

befitting well, — 
Thus will he think, — and what to say, alas ! I 

cannot tell. 

" He '11 think when 1 to market went I loitered 

by the way ; 
He '11 think a willing ear I lent to all the lads 

might say ; 
He'll think some other lover's hand among my 

tresses noosed. 
From the ears where he had placed them my 

lings of pearl unloosed ; 
He '11 think when I was sporting so beside this 

marble ivell. 
My pearls fell in, — and what to say, alas I I 

cannot tell. 

"He'll say I am a woman, and we are all the 
same ; 

He '11 say I loved when he was here to whisper 
of his lliime — 

But wlien he went to Tunis my virgin troth had 
broken. 

And thought no more of Mui;a, and cared not 
for his token. 

My ear-rings ! my ear-rings ! 0, luckless, luck- 
less well ! 

For what to say to Mu9a, alas ! I cannot tell. 

"I '11 tell the truth to Mu9a, and I hope he will 

believe, 
That I have thought of him at morn, and thought 

of him at eve ; 
That musing on my lover, when down the sun 

was gone, 
His ear-rings in my hand I held, by the fountain 

all alone ; 
And that my mind was o'er the sea, when from 

my hand they fell. 

And that deep his love lies in my heart, as they 

lie in the well." 

John Gibson Lockhart. 



O SWALLOW, SWALLOW, FLYING 
SOUTH. 

FROM "THE PRINCESS." 

Swallow, Swallow, Hying, fiying South, 
Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves, 
And tell her, tell her what I tell to thee. 

tell her, Swallow, thou th.at knowest each. 
That bright and fierce and fickle is the Sontli, 
Anil dark and true and tender is the Novlli. 



172 



I'OEMS OK THE AKl-'ECTION'S. 



O Swallow, Svvnllow, if 1 could roUuw, :iiiil 
light 
Upon Ik'I' liittice, 1 would jiipi' and trill, 
And c'hoeji and twittor tweuty luilliou lo\-e3. 

wore I thou thiit she might tiike uie in, 
And lay nie on her bosom, and hor heart 
Would rock the snowy eiadle till 1 died ! 

Why lingeveth she to elotho her heart with 
love, 
Delaying ns the tender ash delays 
To clothe horseir, when all the woods arc green ? 

tell her, Swallow, tliat thy brood is tlowu : 
Say to her, I do but wanton in the South, 
r>ut ill tlie N'ortli long sinee my nest is nnule. 

O tell her, brief is life, but love is long, ^ 
And brief the sun of summer in the North, 
And brief the moon of beauty in the South. 

Swallow, Hying from the golden woods, 
Fly to her, and pipe ami woo her, and nuike hor 

mine. 
And tell her, tell lier, tliat 1 follow thee. 

AiFKi-.n Tennyson. 



ATHULF AND KTHII.DA. 

Aniui.F. Appeared 

The prineess with tliat merry eliild Trinee Guy : 
He loves me well, and nnide hi'r stop and sit, 
And sat upon her knee, and it so elmneed 
That in his various ehatter he denied 
That I eould hoUl his hand within my own 
So closely as to hide it : this being tried 
Was proved against him ; he insisted then 
I eouhl not by his royal sister's hand 
Do likewise. Starting at the random word. 
And dumb with trepidation, there I stood 
Some seconds as bewitched ; then 1 looked up, 
.\iid in her face behehi an orient tlush 
Of half-bewildered pleasure ; fivni wliieli traneo 
She with an instant ease resumed hei-self, 
.'\nd frankly, with a pleasant laugh, held out 
Her arrowy hand. 

I thought it trembled as it lay in mine, 
liut yet her looks were clear, direct, and fit'O, 
.\nd said that she felt nothing. 

SuiKoc. .\nd what felt'st thou ? 

.Arin'LK. A sort of swarming, curling, tivmu- 
Ions tumbling, 
.\s though there were an ant-hill in my bosom. 
1 said I was ashamed. — Sidroe, yon smile ; 
If at my folly, well ! But if you smile, 
Suspicious of ft taint ujion my heart. 
Wide is your error, and you never loved. 

^^ T # Hf.nrv Taylor. 



SEVEN Tl.MlvS THREE. 
Love. 

I LE.\XED out of window, I smelt the white clover. 
Dark, dark was the garden, I saw not the gate ; 
"Now, if there be footsteps, he conu's, my one 
lover — 
Hush, nightingale, hush ! O sweet nightin- 
gale, wait 
Till 1 listen and hear 
If ft step draweth near. 
For my love he is late ! 

"The skies in the darkness stoop nearer ami 
nearer, 
A cluster of stars hangs like fruit in the tree. 
The fall of the water emnes sweeter, comes clearer : 
To what art thou listening, ami what dost thou 
see '! 
Let the star-clustei's glow, 
Let the sweet waters How, 
And cross cjuiekly to me. 

"You night-moths that hover where honey brims 
over 
Fiimi sycamore blossoms, or settle or sleep ; 
You glow-worms, shine out, ami the pathway 
discover 
To him that comes darkling along the rough 
steep. 
Ah, my saihu', make haste. 
For the time runs to waste, 
And my love lieth deep, — 

"Too deep for swift felling; and yet, my one 
lover, 
I 've conned thee an answer, it waits thee to- 
night." 
By the sycamore passed he. and through the 
white clover ; 
Then all the sweet speech I had fashioned 
took llight ; 
But I '11 love him more, more 
Thau e'er wife loved before. 
Be the days dark or bright. 

Jean Ingelow. 



A SPINSTER'S STINT. 

Six skeins and three, six skeins and three ! 

Good nuither, so you stinted me. 

And here they be, — ay, six and three ! 

Stoji, busy wheel ! stop, noisy wheel ! 
Long shadows down my eliamlx-r steal, 
.\nd warn me to make haste and ivo' 



LOVE. 



'T is iloue, — the spinniiif! work loinplcte, 

licai't of mine, what miikes you bent 
So fust and sweet, so fust and sweet ! 

1 must iuive wheat and ]iinks, to stiek 
My hat fi'oni brim to ril>bon, thiek, — 
Slow hands of mine, bo nuick, bo ijuiek ! 

One, two, three stars along the skies 
Uegin to wink their golden eyes, — 
I 'U leave my thread all knots and ties. 

moon, so red ! O moon, so red ! 
Sweetheart of nijjht, j;o straight to bed ; 
Love's light will answer in your stead. 

A-ti]>toe, beekoning me, he stands, — 
Stoji trembling, little foolish hands. 
And stop the bands, and stop the bamls ! 

ALlCli cakv. 



TllIC SPINNING-WHEEL SONG. 

Mellow the moonlight to shine is beginning ; 
t'lose by the window young Eileen is spinning ; 
Bent o'er the tire, her blind grandmother, sitting, 
Is eroaning, and moaning, and drowsily knit- 
ting, — 
" Eileen, aehora, I hear some ono tapping." 
" "r is the ivy, dear mother, against tlie glass 

flapping." 
" Eileen, 1 surely hear somebody sigliing." 
" "I" is the sound, mother dear, of the summer 

wind dying." 
Merrily, cheerily, noisily whirring, 
Swings the wheel, spins the reel, wliile the foot's 

stirring ; 
Sprightly, and lightly, and airily ringing. 
Thrills the sweet voice of the young maiden 
singing. 

"What 's that noise that I hear at the window, 

I womler .' " 
" 'T is the little birds chirping the holly-bush 

under." 
" What makes you bo shoving and moving your 

stool on. 
And singing all wrong that old song of ' The 

C'oolun ' ?" 
There 's a form at the casement, — the form of 

her truedove, — 
And he whispers, with face bent, " I 'ni waiting 

for you, love ; 
Get up on the stool, through the lattice step 

lightly. 
We '11 rove in the grove while the moon 's shin- 
ing brightly." 



Jlerrily, cheerily, noisily whirring. 

Swings the wheel, spins the reel, while the foot 's 

stirring ; 
Sprightly, and lightly, and airily ringing. 
Thrills the sweet voice of the young maiden 

singing. 

The maid shakes her head, on her lip lays her 
lingers, 

Steals up from her seat, — longs to go, and yet 
lingers ; 

A frightened glance turns to her drowsy grand- 
mother. 

Puts one foot on the stool, spins the wheel with 
the other. 

Lazily, easily, swings now the wheel round ; 

Slowly and lowdy is heard now the reel's sound ; 

Noiseless and light to the lattice above her 

The maid steps, — then leaps to the arms of her 
lover. 

Slower — and slower — and slower the wheel 
swings ; 

Lower — and lower — and lower the reel rings ; 

Ere the reel and the wheel stop their ringing and 
moving. 

Through the grove the young lovers by moon- 
light are roving. 

John Francis wallkr. 



SOMEBODY. 

SoMKBODY 's courting somebody, 
Somewhere or other to-night ; 
Somebody 's whispering to somebody, 
Somebody 's listening to somebody, 
Under this clear moonlight. 

Near the bright river's How, 
Running so still and slow. 
Talking so soft and low. 
She sits with Somebody. 

Pacing the ocean's shore, 
Edged by the foaming roar, 
Worils never used before 
Sound sweet to Somebody. 

T'nder the maide-tree 
Peep though the shadow be. 
Plain enough they can see, 
liright eyes has Somebody. 

No one sits up to wait, 
Though she is out .so late, 
All know she 's at the ^."*''i^- 
Talkiiig with Sonieboily. ' 



174 



I'OEMS OK THE AFKECriON'S. 



Tiptoe to parlor iloor ; 
Two shadows ou the lloor ! 
Moonlight, revoiil no more, — 
Susy and Somebody. 

Two, sitting side by side 
Float witli the ebbing tide, 
" Tluis, dearest, may we glide 
Througli lil'e," says Somebody. 

Somewhere, Somebody 
Makes love to Somebody, 
To-niglit. 

ANONYMOUS. 



DANCE LIGHT. 

"Ah! sweet Kitty Neil, rise up from that 
wheel, — 
Your neat little foot will be weary with sjiin- 
ning ! 
('omo trip down with me to the syeamore-lree : 
Half the parish is there, and the dance is be- 
ginning. 
Tlio sun is gone down, but the full harvest moon 
Shines sweetly and cool on the dew-wliitened 
valley ; 
Wliile all the air rings with the soft, loving 
things 
Eaeh little bird sings in the green shaded alley." 

■With a blush and a smile Kitty rose up the while, 
Her eye in the glass, as she bound her hair, 
glancing ; 
'T is hard to refuse when a young lover sues, 
So she could n't but choose to go otf to the 
dancing. 
And now on the green the glad groups are seen, — 
Each gay-hearted lad with the lass of his 
choosing ; 
And Pat, without fail, leads out sweet Kitty 
Neil, — 
Somehow, when he asked, she ne'er thought 
of refusing. 

Now Feli.x Magee put his pipes to his knee. 
And with flourish so free sets each couple in 
motion : 
With a cheer and a bound the Inds jiatter the 
ground ; 
The maids move around just like swans on the 
ocean. 
Cheeks bright as the rose, feet light as the doe's, 

Now coyly retiring, now boldly advancing : 
Search the world all around, from the sky to the 
ground. 
No such sight can be found as an Irish lass 
dancing ! 



Sweet Kate ! who could view your bright eyes 

of deep blue. 

Beaming humidly through their dark lashes so 

mildly. 

Your fair-turned arm, heaving Vireast, rounded 

form, 

Nor feel his heart warm, and his pulses throb 

wildly ? 

Young Pat feels his heart, as he gazes, dejiart, 

Subdued by the smart of such painful yet 

sweet love : 

The sight leaves his eye as he cries with a sigh, 

Dimcc litjht, for my heart it lies under your 

feet, love ! 

John Francis Waller. 



BELIEVE ME, IF ALL TIIDSK ENDEAR- 
ING YOUNG CllAUMS. 

Believe me, if all those endearing young 
charms, 
Which I gaze on so fondly to-day, 
Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my 
arms, 
Like fairy-gifts fading away. 
Thou wouldst still be adored, as this njonu'ut 
thou art. 
Let thy loveliness fade as it will, 
And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart 
Wo\ild entwine itself verdantly slill. 

It is not while beauty ami youth are thine own. 

And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear. 
That the fervor and faith of a soul may be known. 

To which time will but make thee more dear ! 
No. the heart that has truly loved never forgets, 

But as truly loves on to the close. 
As the sunflower turns to her god when he sets 

The same look wdiich she turned when he rose ! 
TiioMAS Moore. 



THE SLEEPING BEAUTY. 

from "THE DAY DREAM." 

Year after year unto her feet, 

She lying on her coiudi alone, 
Across the purple coverlet. 

The maiden's jet-black hair has grown ; 
On either side her tranced form 

Forth streaming from a braid of pearl ; 
The slumberous light is rich and warm, 

And moves not on the ruuiidcd curl. 

The silk star-broidered coverlid 
Unto her limbs itself doth mould. 

Languidly ever ; and an\id 

Her full black ringlets, dnwiuvaid rolled. 



INSCRll'TlON ON MONUMi'lNT 
Cak Hill Ctmi'/i-rv, iidu- i\\is!iiiii:^ti>ii ^ D. C. 

[I'RONT j 

JOHN HOWARD l'A\NI'; 

.Author 1)1 " Home, Swcut Hoiik- " 
iiorn Juno 9, lyc)!. l>icil April y, 1S52 



[kkau] 

Sure when thy gentle s])irit fled 

To realms above the azure dome, 

With outstrrUhccl arms Ood's angel said, 

' W'elcomc to Heaven's home, sweet home.' 




y. 

> 



Ei. 

o 



1- J* 
5' :% 






5S 



I 



LOVE. 



170 



GluwH forth f.ar.h softly slmdoweil arm, 
Witli bracelets of tin; (liiimond biiyliL 

llor i.'oiisliiiit lioaiity ilolli iiil'Dnii 
Stillness with love, and day with light. 

.She sleeps : her breathings are not heard 

In palaeu chambers far apart. 
'I'he fragrant tresses are not stirred 

That lie upon her eharnied heart. 
She sleeps ; on either hajnl upswells 

Tlie gold-fringed pillow lightly prest : 
.She sleeps, nor dreams, but ever dwells 

A perfcet fonn in jjerfect lest. 



rilK IlKVIVAI.. 

A toueli, a kiss ! the eharm was snapt. 

There rosea noise of striking (:hH;kH, 
And feet that ran, and iloors that elaj)!, 

And barking dogs, and crowing cocks ; 
A fnlli'r light ilhnnincd all, 

A lireezi' through all the garden swept, 
A sudden hubbub shfiok the hall, 

And sixty feet the fountahj leapt. 

The hedge broke in, the banner Ijlew, 

The butler drank, the stewaril scrawled. 
The lire shot up, the martin Hew, 

The paiTot screamed, tlu; peacock sfpiailed. 
The maid and page renewed their strife. 

The palace barjged, atjil buzzed atjd clackt. 
Ami all the long-])ent stream of life 

Dashed downward in a cataract. 

At last with these the king awoke, 

And in his chair himscdf upreared, 
And yawned, and rubbed his face, and spoke, 

" IJy holy rood, a royal beard ! 
How say you ? wi; have slept, my lords. 

My Is'ard has grown into my lap." 
The barons swore, with many words, 

'T was but an after-dinner's nap. 

"i'ardy," rctunicd the king, " but still 

My joints are something stilfor so. 
My lord, and shall we jiass the bill 

I mentioneil half an hour ago?" 
The cliancellor, sedate and vain. 

In eonileons words returned reply : 
liut dallied with his golden chain. 

And, smiling, put the question by. 



TIIK DEIMIirl'I'.K. 

And on her lover's arm she leant. 
And round her waist she felt it fold ; 

And far across the hills they went 
In that new world which is the old. 



Across the hills, and far away 
l!i;yond their utujost purph; ]'ini. 

And deep ijito the <lying day, 

The liajijiy princess I'ollowed him. 

" 1 'd sleep aiiollicr hundred years, 

O love, for such another ki.ss ;" 
"O wake forever, love," she hears, 

"O love, 't was such as this and this." 
And o'er them many a sliding star. 

And many a merry wijid was bonic, 
And, streamed thiough many a gohlen bar. 

The twilight melti'd into morn. 

" O eyes long laid in happy sleep ! " 

" happy sleeji, that lightly lied ! " 
"O happy kiss, that woke thy sleep I" 

"(J lovo, thy kiss would wake the dead ! " 
And o'er them many a llowing range 

Of vapor buoyeil the descent hark ; 
And, rapt thro' many a rosy change. 

The twilight dieil into tlie dark. 

" i\ hundred summers ! can it be '( 

Anil whither goest thou, tell me where?" 
" O, seek my father's court with nn;, 

Kor there are greater wonders there." 
And o'er the hills, and far away 

I'eyond thidr utnjost [lurple lim, 
lieyond the night, across the ilay. 

Thro' all the world she followed him. 

AI.FKf'.O TnNNVSON. 



i,orniNVAl!. 

FROM "MARMION. ' CASTO V. 

0, YOTTNO T,ochinvar is come out of the west. 
Through all the wide Horder his steed was the 

best ; 
And, save his good broadswonl, he weajion had 

none. 
He rode all unarmed, and lie rode all ahine. 
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war. 
There never was kniglit like the young Lochinvar 

He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for 

stoni% 
He swam the Eske liiver where ford there was 

none ; 
But, ere he alighted at Xetherby gate. 
The bride had consented, the gallant came late ; 
For a laggiird in love, and a dastard in war. 
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. 

So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall, 
Among bridesmen, .and kinsmen, and brothers, 
and all. 



17G 



POEMS OF THE AFKECTIOiN'S. 



Then spoke the • bride's father, his hand on his 

sword 
(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a 

word), 
' ' 0, come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, 
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochin- 

var ? " 

" I long wooed your daughter, my suit you de- 
nied ; — 
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its 

tide, — 
And now I am come, with tliis lost love of mine, 
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. 
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, 
That would gladly be bride to the young Locli- 
invar." 

The bride kissed the goblet ; the knight took it 
up, 

He quaffed off the wine, and threw down the cup. 

She looked down to blusli, and she looked up to 
sigh. 

With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. 

He took her soft hand, ei'e her mother could 
bar, — 

" Now tread we a measure," said young Loch- 
invar. 

So stately his form, and so lovely her face, 

That never a hall such a galliard did grace ; 

While her mother did fret, and her father did 
fume, 

And tlie bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet 
and plume ; 

And the bridemaidens whispered, "'T were bet- 
ter by far 

To have matched our fair cousin with young 
Lochinvar." 

One touch to her h;ind, and one word in her ear. 
When they reached the liall-door, and the chargei- 

stood near ; 
So light to the cronpe the fair lady he swung, 
So light to the saddle before her he sprung ; 
"She is won ! we are gone ! over bank, Imsh, 

and scaur ; 
They '11 have fleet steeds that follow," quoth 

young Lochinvar. 

There was mounting 'mong Grjemes of the Neth- 

erby clan ; 
Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, tliey rode 

and they ran ; 
There was racing and chasing on C'annobie Lee, 
But the lost hricle of Netherby ne'er did they see. 
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, 
Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Loch- 
invar ? 

siK waltkk Scott. ' 



THE EVE OF ST. AGNES. 

St. Agnes' Eve, — ah, bitter chill it was ! 

The owl, for all Ids featliers, was a-cold ; 

The hare limped trembling through the fi-02cii 

grass. 
And silent was the flock in woolly fold : 
Numb were the beadsman's fingers while he told 
His rosary, and while his frosted breath, 
Like pious incense from a censer old, 
Seemed taking flight for heaven without a death. 
Past the sweet virgin's picture, while his prayer 

he saith. 

His prayer he saith, this patient, holy man ; 
Then takes his lamp, and risetli from his knees. 
And back returneth, meagre, barefoot, wan. 
Along the chapel aisle by slow' degrees ; 
The sculptured dead on each side seem to freeze, 
Emprisoned in black, purgatorial rails ; 
Kniglits, ladies, praying in dumb orat'ries, 
He passeth by ; and his weak spirit fails 
To think how they may ache in icy Iioods and 
mails. 

Northward he turneth through a little door, 
And scarce three steps, ere music's golden tongtie 
Flattered to tears this aged man and poor ; 
But no, — already had his deatli-bell rung ; 
The joys of all his life were said and sung : 
His was harsli penance on St. Agnes' Eve : 
Another way he vient, and soon among 
Rougli ashes sat he for his soul's reprieve. 
And all night kept awake, for sinners' sake to 
grieve. 

That ancient beadsman heard the prelude soft : 
And so it chanced, for many a door was wide, 
From hurry to and fro. Soon, up aloft, 
Tlie silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide ; 
The level chambers, ready with tlieir pride, 
Were glowing to receive a thousand guests ; 
Tlie carved angels, ever eager-eyed. 
Stared, wliere upon their lieads the cornice rests. 
With liair blown back, and wings put crosswise- 
on their breasts. 

At length burst in tlie argent revelry, 
With plume, tiara, and all rich array. 
Numerous as shadows haunting fairily 
The brain, new-stuffed, in youth, with triumphs 

gay 
Of old romance. These let us wish away ; 
And turn, sole-thoughted, to one lady there. 
Whose heart had brooded, all that wintiy day, 
On love, and winged St. Agnes' saintly care, 
.\s she hud heard old dames full many times 

declare. 



LOVE. 



177 



They told her how, upon St. Agnes' Eve, 
Young virgins might liavo visions of deliglit, 
Ami soft ailorings from their loves receive 
I'pon the honeyed middle of the night, 
If ceremonies due they did arigjit ; 
As, supperless to bed they must retire. 
And coueh supine their beauties, lily white ; 
Nor look behind, nor sideways, but require 
Of heaven with upward eyes for all that they 
desire. 

Full of this whim was thoughtful Madeline ; 
The music, yearning like a god in pain. 
She scarcely heard ; her maiilen eyes divine. 
Fixed on tlie floor, saw many a sweeping train 
Pass by, — she heeded not at all ; in vain 
Came many a tiptoe, amorous cav.alier, 
And back retired, not cooled by liigh disdain. 
}5ut she saw not ; her heart was otherwhere ; 
She sighed for Agnes' dreams, the sweetest of the 
year. 

She danced along with vague, regardless eyes. 
Anxious her lips, her breatliing ipuck and short ; 
The hallowed hour was near at hand ; she sighs 
Amid the timbrels, and the thronged resort 
Of whisperers in anger, or in sport ; 
Mid looks of love, defiance, hate, and scorn. 
Hoodwinked with fairy fancy ; all amort 
Save to St. Agnes and her Iambs unshorn. 
And all the bliss to be before to-morrow morn. 

So, purposing each moment to retire. 
She lingered still. Meantime, across the moors. 
Had come yonng Porpliyro, with heart on fire 
For Madeline. Beside the portal doors. 
Buttressed from moonlight, stands he, and im- 
plores 
All saints to give him sight of JIadeline ; 
But for one moment in the tedious hours, 
That he might gaze and worship all unseen ; 
Perchance speak, kneel, touch, kiss, — in sooth 
such things have "oeen. 

He ventures in ; let no buzzed whisper tell ; 
All eyes be muffled, or a hundred swords 
Will storm Ids heart, love's feverous citadel ; 
For him, those chambers held barbarian hordes. 
Hyena Ibemen, and hot-blooded lords, 
Wliose very dogs would execrations howl 
Against his lineage ; not one brea.st aff'ords 
Him any mercy, in that mansion foul. 
Save one old beldame, weak in body and in soul. 

Ah, happy chance ! the nged creature came. 
Shuffling along with ivory-headed wand. 
To where he stood, hid from the torch's llame. 
Behind a broad hall-pillar, far beyond 
The sound of merriment and chorus bland. 



He startled her ; but soon she knew his face. 
And grasped his fingers in her palsied hand, 
Saying, "Mercy, Porphyro ! hie thee from this 

place ; 
Tliey are all here to-night, the whole blooil- 

tiiirsty race ! 

"Get hence ! get hence ! there's dw.arfish Hilde- 

brand ; 
He had a fever late, and in the fit 
He cursed thee and tliine, both house and land ; 
Then there 's that old Lord Maurice, not a wldt 
More tame for his gray hairs — Alas me ! flit ! 
Flit like a ghost away ! " " Ah, gossip dear, 
We 're safe enough ; here in this arm-chair sit. 
And tell me how — " "Good saints! not here, 

not here ; 
Follow me, child, or else these stones will be thy 

bier." 

He followed through a lowly arched way. 
Brushing the cobwebs with his lofty plume ; 
And as she muttered, " Well-a — well-a-day ! " 
He found him in a little moonliglit room, 
Pale, latticed, chill, and silent as a tomb. 
" Now tell me where is Madeline," said he, 
"0, tell me, Angela, by the holy loom 
Which none but secret sisterhood may see. 
When they St. Agnes' wool are weaving piously." 

" St Agnes ! Ah ! it is St. Agnes' Eve, — 
Yet men will murder upon holy days ; 
Thou must hold water in a witch's sieve. 
And be liege-lord of all the elves and fays. 
To venture so. It fills me with amaze 
To see thee, Porphyro ! — St. Agnes' Eve ! 
God's help ! my lady fair the conjurer plays 
This very night ; good angels her deceive 1 
But let me laugh awhile, I 've mickle time to 
grieve." 

Feebly she laugheth in the languid moon. 

While Porphyro upon her face doth look. 

Like puzzled urchin on an aged crone 

Who keepeth closed a wondrous riddle-book. 

As spectacled she sits in chimney nook. 

But soon his eyes grew brilliant, when she told 

His lady's purpose ; and he scarce could brook 

Tears, at the thought of those enchantments cold, 

And Madeline asleep in lap of legends old. 

Sudden a thought came like a full-blown cose, 
Flushing his lirow, and in his pained heart 
Jlade purple rint ; then doth he propose 
A stratagem, that makes the beldame start : 
" A cruel man and impious thou art ! 
Sweet lady, let her pray, and sleep and dream 
Alone with lier good angels, far apart 



178 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



From wicked men like thco. Go, go ! I deem 
Thou canst not surely be the suiiie that tlioii 
didst seem." 

" I will not harm her, by all saints I swear ! " 
Quoth Porphyi'o ; "0, may I ne'er find grace 
When my weak voice shall whisper its last 

prayer. 
If one of licr soft ringlets I di.splace, 
Or look with ruffian passion in her face : 
Good Angela, believe me by these tear.s ; 
Or I will, even in a moment's space. 
Awake, with horrid shout, my foemeu's ears. 
And beard them, though they be more fanged 

than wolves and bears." 

" Ah ! why wilt thou affright a feeble soul? 
A poor, weak, palsy-stricken, churchyard thing. 
Whose passing-bell may ere the midnight toll ; 
AVhose prayers for tliee, each morn and evening, 
Were never missed." Thus plaining, doth she 

bring 
A gentler speech from liurning Por]iliyro ; 
So woful, and of such deep sorrowing, 
That Angela gives piomise she will do 
Whatever he shall wish, betide her weal or woe. 

Which was, to lead him, in close secrecy. 
Even to Madeline's chamber, and there hide 
Him in a closet, of such privacy 
That he might see her beauty unespied. 
And win perhaps that night a peerless bride, 
While legioned fairies jiaced the coverlet. 
And pale enchantment held her .sleepy-eyed. 
Never on such a night have lovers met. 
Since Merlin paid his demon all the monstrous 
debt. 

" It shall be as thou wishest," said the dame ; 
" All cates and dainties shall be stored there 
Quickly on this feast-night ; by the tambour 

frame 
Her own lute thou wilt see ; no time to spare. 
For I am slow and feeble, and scarce dare 
On such a catering trust my dizzy head. 
Wait here, my child, with patience kneel in 

prayer 
The while. Ah ! thou must needs the lady wed, 
Or may 1 never leave my grave among the dead." 

So saying, she hobbled off with busy fear. 
The lover's endless minutes slowly passed : 
The dame returned, and whisiiered in his ear 
To follow her ; with aged eyes aghast 
From fright of dim espial. Safe at last, 
Through many a dusky gallery, they gain 
The maiden's chamber, silken, hushed and 
chaste : 



Where Porphyro took covert, pleased amain. 
His poor guide hurried back with agues in her 
brain. 

Her faltei'ing hand upnn the balustrade, 
Old Angela was feeling for the stair. 
When Madeline, St. Agnes' charmed maid. 
Rose, like a missioned spirit, unaware ; 
With silver taper's light, and pious care. 
She turned, and down the aged gossip led 
To a safe level matting. Now prepare, 
Young Porphyro, for gazing on that bed ! 
She comes, she comes again, like ring-dove 
frayed and fled. 

Out went the taper as she hurried in ; 
Its little smoke, in pallid moonshine, died ; 
She closed the door, she panted, all akin 
To spirits of the air, and visions wide ; 
No uttered syllable, or, woe lietide ! 
But to her heart, her heart was voluble. 
Paining with eloipience her balmy side ; 
As tho\igh a tongueless nightingale should swell 
Her throat in vain, and die, heart-stifled in her 
dell. 

A casement high and triple-arched there was, 
All garlanded with carven imageries 
Of friats, and flowers, and bunches of knot-gi-ass. 
And diamoniled with panes of quaint device. 
Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes. 
As are the tiger-moth's deep-damasked wings ; 
And in the midst, 'niong thousand heraldries. 
And twilight saints, and dim emblazonings, 
A shielded scutcheon blushed with blood of 
(pieens and kings. 

Full on this casement shone the wintry moon. 
And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast. 
As down she knelt for heaven's gi'ace and boon ; 
Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest. 
And on her silver cross soft amethyst, 
And on her liair a glory, like a saint ; 
She seemed a splendid angel, newly drest. 
Save wings, for heaven. Porphyi'o grew faint : 
She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal 
taint. 

Anon his heart revives ; her vespers done. 
Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees ; 
Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one ; 
Loosens her fragrant bodice ; by degrees 
Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees ; 
Half hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed, 
Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees, 
In fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed. 
But dares not look behind, or all the charm is 
fled. 



LOVE. 



179 



Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest, 
111 sni t of wakeful swoon, perplexed she lay, 
Until the popiiied wainitli of slee)! oppi-essed 
Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away ; 
Flown like a thought, until the morrow-day ; 
Blissfully havened both from joy and pain ; 
Clasped like a missal where swart Payninis pray ; 
Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain. 
As thougli a rose should shut, and be a bud 



Stolen to this paradise, and so entranced, 
Porphyro gazed upon her empty dress. 
And listened to her breathing, if it chanced 
To wake into a slumberous tenderness ; 
'Which when he heard, that minnte did he bless. 
And breathed himself ; then from the closet 

crept, 
Noiseless as fear in a wide wilderness. 
And over the hushed carpet, silent, slept, 
And 'tween the curtains peeped, where, lo ! — 

liow fast she slept. 

Then by tlic bedside, where the faded moon 
Made a dim, silver twilight soft he set 
A table, and, half anguished, threw thereon 
A cloth of woven crimson, gold, and jet : — 
for some drowsy Morphean amulet ! 
The Ixiisterous, midnight, festive clarion. 
The kettle-drum, and far-heard clarionet. 
Affray his ears, though but in dying tone : — 
The hall-door shuts again, and all the noise is 
gone. 

And still she slept an azure-lidded sleep, 
In blanched linen, smooth, and lavendered ; 
Wliile he from ibrth the closet brought a heap 
Of candied apple, i|uince, and plum, and gourd ; 
AVitli jellies soother than the creamy curd. 
And lucent syrops, tiiict with cinnamon ; 
Manna and dates, in argosy transferred 
From Fez ; and sjiicud dainties, every one, 
From silken Samarcaud to cedared Lebanon. 

These delicates he hea]ied with glow-ing hand 
Un golden dishes and in baskets bright 
Of wreathed silver. Sumptuous they stand 
111 the retired quiet of the niglit, 
Filling the chilly room with perfume light. — 
" And now, my love, my seraph fair, awake ! 
Thou ait my heaven, and I thine eremite ; 
Open thine eyes, for meek St. Agnes' sake, 
Or I shall drowse beside thee, so my soul doth 
ache." 

Tlius whispering, his warm, unnerved arm 
Sank in her pillow. Shaded was her dream 
l!y the dusk curtains ; — 't was a midnight charm 
Impossible to melt as iced stream : I 



The lustrous salvers in the moonlight gleam ; 
Broad golden fringe upon the carpet lies ; 
It seemed he never, never could redeem 
From such a steadfast spell his lady's eyes ; 
So mused awhile, entoiled in woofed phantasies. 

Awakening up, he took her hollow Inte, — 
Tumultuous, — and, in chords that tendcre.st be, 
He played an ancient ditty, long since mute. 
In Provence called " La belle dame sans nierci ; " 
Close to her ear touching the melody ; — 
Wherewith disturbed, she uttered a soft moan : 
He ceased ; she panted ijuick, — and suddenly 
Her blue aflVayed eyes wide open shone : 
Uponhis knees he sank, pale as smooth-sculptured 
stone. 

Her eyes were open, but she still belield, 
Now wide awake, the vision of her sleep. 
There was a painful change, that nigh expelled 
The blisses of her dream so pure and deep ; 
At which fair Jladeline began to weep. 
And moan forth witless words with many a sigh ; 
While still her gaze on I'oiphyro would keep ; 
Who knelt, with joined hands ami piteous eye. 
Fearing to move or speak, she looked so dream- 
i"gly. 

" Ah, Porphyro ! " said she, " but even now 
Thy voice was at sweet tremble in mine ear, 
Made tunable with every sweetest vow ; 
And those sad eyes were spiritual and clear ; 
How changed thou art ! how pallid, chill, and 

drear ! 
Give me that voice again, my Porphyro, 
Those looks immortal, those complainings dear ! 
0, leave me not in this elernal woe. 
For if thou diest,mylove, 1 know not where to go." 

Beyond a mortal man impassioned far 
At these voluptuous accents, lie arose. 
Ethereal, flushed, and like a throbbing star 
Seen mid the sapphire heaven's deep repose ; 
Into her dream he melted, as the rose 
Bleudeth its odor with the violet, — 
Solution sweet ; meantime the frost-wind blows 
Like love's alarum pattering the sharp sleet 
Against the window-panes : St. Agnes' moon 
hath set. 

'T is dark ; quick pattereth the flaw-blown sleet : 
" This is no dream, my bride, my Madeline ! " 
'T is dark ; the iced gusts still rave and beat : 
" No dream ? alas ! alas ! and woe is 7nine ! 
Porphyro will leave me here to fade and pine. 
Cruel ! what traitor could thee hither bring ? 
I curse not, for my heart is lost in thine. 
Though thou forsakest a deceivM thing ; — 
A dove forlorn and lost, with sick, unprunM wing." 



180 



POEMS 01' THE AKFECTIOXS. 



" Jly Madeline ! sweet dveainev I lovely bride ! 

Sa}', may I lie for aye tliy vassal blest '. 

Thy beauty's shield, heart-sliaiied and vermeil 

dyed ? 
Ah, silver slirine, here will I take my rest 
Alter so many lunus of toil and (jm-st, 
A famished jjilgrim, — saved by miraele. 
Though I have found, I will not rob thy nest, 
Saving of thy sweet self : if thou think'st well 
To trust, fair Madeline, to no ruile iulidel. 

" Hark ! 't is an elfin storm from faery land, 
Of haggaixi seeming, but a boon indeed : 
Arise, arise ! the morning is at hand ; — 
The bloated wassailers will never heed : 
Let us away, my love, with happy speed ; 
There are no eai-s to hear, or eyes to see, — 
Prowned all in Khenisli and the sleepy mead : 
Awake, arise, my love, and fearless be. 
For o'er the southern moors I have a home for 
thee." 

She hurried at his words, beset with fears, 
For there were sleeping dragons all around. 
At glaring wateh, perhaps, with ready speai-s ; 
Down the wide staii-s a darkling way they found. 
In all the house was heard no human sound. 
A ehain-ilroopedlamp was lliekeriug by eaeh door ; 
The arras, rieli with horseman, hawk, and hound, 
Fluttered in the besieging wind's uproar ; 
And the long carpets rose along the gusty lloor. 

They glide, like phantoms, into the wide hall ! 
Like phantoms to the iron poreh they glide, 
Where lay the porter, in uneasy sprawl. 
With a huge empty llagon by his side : 
The wakeful bloodhound rose, and shook his hide. 
Hut his sagaeious eye an inmate owns ; 
By one, and one, the bolts full easy slide ; 
The chains lie silent on the footworn stones ; 
The key turns, and the door upon its hinges gi-oaiis. 

And they ai-e gone ! ay, ages long ago 
These lovei-s lied away into the storm. 
That night the Ixtum dreamt of majiy a woe, 
And all his warrior-guests, with shade and form 
Of w itch, and denum, and large coHin-worni, 
Wei-e long be-nightmaivd. Angela the old 
Llied palsy-twitclu'd, with meagiv face deform ; 
The beadsman, after tliousand aves told, 
For aye unsought-for slept among his ashes cold. 

John Kkats. 



CURFEW MUST NOT KING TO-XIGHT. 

Slowia" England's sun was setting o'er the hill- 
tops far away. 

Filling all the land with beauty at the close of 
one s;ul dav. 



And the last rays kissed the foiehead of a man 

and maiden fair, — 
He with footsteps slow and weary, she with 

sunny Moating hair ; 
He with bowed bead, sad and thoughtful, she 

with lips all cold and white. 
Struggling to keep back the murmur, — 
" Curfew nnist not ring to-night." 

"Sexton," Bessie's white lips faltered, pointing 

to the prison old. 
With its turrets tall and gloomy, with its walls 

dark, damp, and cold, 
" I 've a lover in that prison, doomed this very 

night to die. 
At the ringing of the Curfew, and no earthly 

help is nigh ; 
Cromwell will not come till sunset," and her 

lips grew stmngely w lute 
As she breatheil the liusky w hisper : — 
" Curfew must not ring to-night." 

" Bessie," calmly spoke the se.xton, — every word 

pierced her young heart 
Like the piercing of an arrow, like a deadly 

poisoned ilart, — 
" Long, long years I 've rung the Curfew from that 

gloomy, shadowed tower ; 
Every evening, just at sunset, it has told the 

twilight hour ; 
I have done my duty ever, tried to do it just 

and right. 
Now I 'm old I will not falter, — 

Curfew, it nuist ring to-night." 

Wild her eyes and pale her features, stern and 

white her thoughtful brow. 
As within her secret bosom 15essic made a solemn 

vow. 
She had listened while the judges read without 

a tear or sigh : 
" At the ringing of the Curfew, Basil fndenvooJ 

must die." 
And her breath came f;ist and faster, and her 

eyes grew large and bright ; 
In an undertone she nmrmured : — 
"Curfew must not ring to-night." 

With quick step slie bounded forwaixl, sprung 

within the old church door, fl I 

Left the old man threading slowly jiaths so oft ■ 

he 'd tred hefoiv ; 
Not one moment paused the maiden, but with 

eye and cheek aglow- 
Mounted up the gloomy tower, where- the boll 

swung to and fro 
As .she olimK'd the dusty ladder on which fell no 

my of light. 
Up ami up, — her white lips saying : — 
" Curfew nuist not ring to-night." 



LOVE. 



181 



Slio has reached the topmost ladJei- ; o'er her 
hniigs tile greiit, dark bell ; 

Awful is tlie gloom beneath her, like tlio path- 
way down to hell. 

Lo, tlie ponderous tongue is swinging, — 'tis the 
liour of Curlew now. 

And the siglit has eliilled her bosom, stopped 
her breatli, and paled her brow. 

Shall she let it ring .' No, never ! Hash her eyes 
witli sudden light, 

As she springs, and grasps it firmly, — 
" Curfew shall not ling to-night ! " 

Out she swung — far out; the eity seemed a 

speek of light below. 
There 'twixt heaven and earth suspended as the 

bell swung to and fro, 
And the sexton at the bell-rope, old and deaf, 

heard not the bell. 
Sadly thought, "That twilight Curfew rang 

young Basil's funeral knell." 
Still the maiden elung more lirmly, and with 

trembling lips so white. 
Said to hush her heart's wild throbbing ; — 
'• t'ui few shall not ring to-night I " 

It was o'er, the bell ceased .swaying, and the 

maiden stepped once more 
I'irinly on the dark old ladder where for hun- 

ilifd years before 
Human foot had not been planted. The brave 

deed that she had done 
Shoulil be told long ages after, as tho rays of 

setting sun 
Crimson all the sky with beauty ; aged sires, 

with heads of white. 
Tell the eager, listening children, 

" CiU'few did not ring tliat iiiglit." 

O'er the distant hills came Cromwell ; Bessie 

sees liini, and her brow. 
Lately white with fear and anguish, has no 

anxious traces now. 
At his feet she tells her story, shows her hands 

all bruised and torn ; 
And her face so sweet and pleading, yet with. 

sorrow pale and woi'n, 
Touched his heart with sudden pity, lit his eyes 

with misty light : 
" Go ! your lover lives," said Cromwell, 
"Curfew shall not ring to-night." 

Wide they Hung the massive portal ; led the 

prisoner forth to die, — 
All his bright young life before him. 'Neath the 

darkening English sky 
Uessie comes with Hying footsteps, eyes aglow 

with iove-liglit sweet ; 



Kneeling ou the turf beside him, lays his pardon 

at his feet. 
In his brave, strong arms he clasped her, kissed 

the face upturned and white. 
Whispered, " llarliug, you have saved me, — 
Curfew will not ring to-aight ! " 

ROSE hartwick Thorpe. 



THE LITTLE MILLINER. 

My girl hath violet eyes and yellow hair, 
A soft hand, like a lady's, small and fair, 
A sweet face pouting in a white straw bonnet, 
A tiny foot, and little boot upon it ; 
And all her linery to charm beholders 
Is tliegray shawl drawn tight around her shoulders, 
The plain stulf-gown and collar white as snow, 
And sweet red i)etticoat that peeps below. 
But gladly ill the busy town goes she, 
Suinmer and winter, fearing iiobodie ; 
She pats the pavement with her fairy feet, 
With fearless eyes she charms the crowded street ; 
And in her pocket lie, in lien of gold, 
A lucky sixpence and a thimble old. 

We lodged in the same house a year ago; 
She on the topmost floor, I just below, — 
She, a poor milliner, content and wise, 
I, a poor city clerk, with hopes to rise ; 
And, long ere we were friends, I learnt to love 
The little angel ou the floor above. 
For, every morn, ere from my bed I stirred. 
Her chamber iloor would ojjeii, and I heard, — 
And listened, blushing, to her coming down, 
And palpitated with her rustling gown. 
And tingled while her foot went downward slow, 
Creaked like a cricket, passed, and died beh>w ; 
Tlien peeping from the window, jileased and sly, 
I saw the pretty shining face go by, 
Healthy and rosy, fresh from slumber sweet, — 
A sunbeam in the ipiiet morning street. 

And every night, when iti from work she tript, 
Hcd to the ears I from my chamber slipt, 
That I might hear upon the narrow stair 
Her low "Good evening," as .she passed me there. 
And when her door was closed, below sat 1, 
And hearkened stilly as she stirred on high, — 
Watched the red firelight shadows iii the room, 
Fashioned her face before me in the gloom, 
.\iid heard her close tho window, lock the door, 
Moving about more lightly than before. 
And thought, "She is undressing now ! " and, oh ! 
My cheeks were hot, my heart was in a glow ! 
And I made pictures of her, — standing bright 
Before the looking-glass in bed-gown white 



182 



I'OEMS OV IIIK AFKIX'TIONS. 



Uiibiiuliiig ill a knot lior yellow hair, 

Tlieu Uii('olin(i; tiniiilly to say ii iirayoi' ; 

Till, last, tho lloor cioakeil sol'lly ovoilu'ail, 

"Neath bare I'eet trippiii}; to the little heil, — 

And all was luisln'il. Yet still 1 hearkened on. 

Till the taint sounds about the streets were gone ; 

And saw her slumbering with lijis aiwrt, 

line little baud niHin lu'r little lieiut. 

The other iiillowing a I'aee that smiled 

In slumber like tbe slumber ol'a I'bihl, 

Tbe bright hairsliiuiug round the suuiU white ear, 

The sot't breath stealing visibh^ and elear, 

And mixing with tbe moon's, wluise frosty gleam 

JIade round her rest a vaiiorous light of dream. 

Mow free she wandered in the wieked plaee. 
Protected only by her giuitle I'aei' ! 
She saw lad things — bow could she choose but 

see ? — 
She hoaitl of wantonness and misery ; 
The city closed around her night and day, 
Mut lightly, hapiiily, she went her way. 
Nothing of evil that she saw or heard 
Couhl touch a heart so innocently stirred, — 
By simple hopes that cbccivd it throughthe storm, 
And little tlutterings that kejU it warm. 
No power bad she to reason out her needs. 
To give the whence and w bercfore of her deeds ; 
Hut she was good and pure amid the strife, 
Hy virtue of the joy that was her life. 
Here, where n thousand spirits daily fall, 
Whciv heart and soul and senses turn to gall. 
She lloated, p\ire as innocent could be, 
Like a small sea-biixl on a stormy sea, 
Whii-li bivasts the billows, wafted to and fro, 
Kearless, nninjnri'd, while the strong winds blow, 
While the clouds gjitber, and tho waters roar, 
And nnghty ships arc broken on the shore. 
All winter long, witless who peejH'd tin' while. 
She sweetened tbe chill mornings with her smile ; 
When tbe soft snow was falling dimly white. 
Shining among it with a child's delight, 
Uright as a rose, thovigb nipping winds might 

blow. 
And leaving fairy footprints in the snow I 

T was w ben tbe spring was coming, when the 

snow 
Had melted, and fresh winds beg-an to blow, 
And girls weiv selling violets in the town. 
That sndilcnly a fever struik nn' down. 
The world was changed, the sense of life was 

pained, 
And nothing but a shadow -land remainwi : 
Heath came in a dark mist and looked at me, 
1 felt bis bivathing, though 1 could not see, 
Ihit heavily 1 lay and did not stir, 
.\nd bad strange iniagi's*nd dix'ams of her. 



Then came a vacancy: with feeble broath, 
1 shivered under the eidd touch of Death, 
And swooned among strange visions of the dead. 
When a voice called from heaven, and ho lied ; 
And suddenly 1 wakened, as it seemed, 
From a deep sleep wherein 1 bad not ilreamed. 

And it was night, and I could see and hear. 
And 1 \V!\s in the room I held so dear, 
And unaware, stretched out upon my bed, 
I hearkened for a footstep overhead. 

lint all was bushed. 1 looked around tbe 
room. 
And slowly made out shapes amid tbe gloom. 
The wall was reddened by a rosy light, 
A faint tiiv llickcred, and 1 knew 't was night, 
Hecause below there was a sound of feet 
Hying away along the ipiiet street, — 
When, turning my pale face and sighing low, 
I saw a vision in the ipiiet glow : 
A little ligure, in a cotton gown, 
Looking upon the tin' and stooping down. 
Her side to me, her faVe illumed, she eyed 
Two chestnuts burning slowly, side by side, — 
Her lips apart, her clear eyes strained to sec. 
Her little bands clasped tight around her knee, 
The lireligbt gleaming on her golden hi'ad. 
And tinting her white neck to rosy red. 
Her features bright, and beautiful, and pure. 
With childish fear and yearning half demure. 

sweet, sweet divam ! 1 thought, and strained 

mine eyes, 
Fearing to broak the s|iell with wonls and sighs. 

Softly she stooped, her dear face sweetly fair, 
And sweeter since a light like lo\e was tbeiv, 
Urighteniug, watehiug, more and more elate. 
As tbe nuts glowed togi'thcr in tbe gnite, 
(^raekliug with little jets of liery light. 
Till side by side they turned to ashes white, — 
Then up she leapt, her face cast otf its fear 
For nipture that itself was radiance clear. 
And would have clapped her little bands in 

glee. 
But, piiusing. bit her lips and peeped at me, 
And met the face that yearned on her so w hitely, 
And g!>ve a cry and trembled, blushing brightly, 
While, niiseil on ellnnv, as she turned to tlee, 
" Polli/ ! " 1 cried, — and grew i\s rod as she ! 

It was no divam ! tor soon my thoughts were 
dear. 
And she could tell me all, and I could hear : 
How in my sickneiss friendless I had lain, 
How the haixl {Hvple pitied not my pain ; 
How, in despite of w hat b;ul jvople s:iid, 
Slu' left her labors, stopiwd K-side my bed. 



LOVE. 



183 



Ami mirscil mo, thinking aidly 1 would ilic ; 
How, in liio cnii, tin' dunj^cr inissud nin l)y ; 
How slio liiul sou^lil I" sleid luviiy Iji'Ioi'i^ 
Tliu sii'Uni'ss passwl, iind 1 was slron^' once 

nioic. 
liy lits .siiL* told \\w -story in mini' var. 
And troiililed all llif tidlinf,' willi a loai- 
1,1'Ht liy my cold man's ln'arl slio slionld he v\M, 
l.fst 1 should think hor bohl in what she diil ; 
lint, lyiiif; on my Imd, 1 danvl to say. 
How 1 had watiilnid and loved her many ii day. 
How dear sho was to mi', and di'aror still 
l''iu' that stran;;!' kindmws douu wliihi I was ill. 
And how I I'oidil hut tliiidv that Heaven above 
Had done it all to hind mir lives in lovo. 
And I'idly crieil, tundni; her I'aeo away, 
Ami seimuiil alVaid, and answered "yea" nor 

" n'ly ; " 
Then stealinj; close, with little pants and sif^lis, 
Looked on uiy pale thin laec and earnest eyes. 
And seemed in act to lliuj; her arms aliont 
My nock ; then, hhishinj,', paused, in llutterinj,' 

donhl ; 
Last, sprang upon my Iicait, si;;hini^ and soli- 

liiiii;, 
'I'hal I niif,'hl Icrl linw ;,dailly liers was Ihriilihinf,' ! 

Ah! ne'er shall I forget until I die. 
How Inipiiily the dreamy days went by. 
While I j;rew well, anil lay with soft luiart-beats, 
Hearkening' the iileasanl murmur from the 

streets. 
And Polly by me like a snnny hcani. 
And life all chiuiged, and love a drowsy dream ! 
'T was happiness enough to lie and see 
The little golden head bent droopingly 
Over its sewing, while the still tinu' Hew, 
And my fond eyes woit iltm willi haiijiy dew ! 
Anil then, when I was lu'arly well and strong. 
And she went back to labor all day long. 
How sweet to lie alono with half-shut eyes, 
And hear the distant murmurs and the cries. 
And thiidi lu)W pure she was from pain ami 

sin. 
And how tlu^ summer days were conung in ! 
Then, as the sunset faded from the room. 
To listen for her I'ootstep in the gloom. 
To pant as it came stealing up the stair, 
To feel my whoh' life brighten unaware 
When tile soft tap eanu! lo the door, and when 
The door was opened for lici' smile again ! 
Host, the long evenings! when, lill laic at 

night, 
Shi' sat beside me in the ipiiet light. 
And happy things were said and kisses won. 
And serious ghidm'ss foiiml its vent in fun. 
Sometimes I would diaw close her shining head. 
And pour her brighl Iciir out upnii Ihe bed, 



And sho would laugh, nnil blush, and try to 

scold. 
While " Here," I cried, "1 count my wealth in 

gold I " 

Once, like a little sinner for transgression. 
She blushed upon my breasi, and made con- 
fession : 
How, when that night I wiikeiuid looked around. 
I huiuil her busy willi a charm jirofound, — 
One I'hustnnt was hersolf, my girl coid'essed, 
The other was the person she loved iM'st, 
And if they burned together side by side. 
He loved her, and she would beconui his bride ; 
And burn indeed they did, to her delight, - - 
Ami had the pielty charm not proven right .' 
Thus nnu'h, and more, with Iniiorons Joy, sho 

said. 
While hei' I'onfessor, too, grew rosy red, — 
And close together pressed two blissful faces, 
As I absolved the siniu'r, with embraces. 

And here is winter cmne again, winds blow, 
The houses and the streets are white with snow ; 
And in the long and pleasant eventide, 
Why, what is Polly nuddng at my side ? 
What lint a silk gown, beautiful and grand, 
We bought together lately in Ihe Strand ! 
What hut a dicss to go to cliureh in soon. 
And wear right ipiecnly 'ncath a honeynuion ! 
And who shiill match her with her new stiaw 

bouni'l. 
Her tiny font and litth' boot upon It: 
Kmbroidcred petticoat ami silk gown new, 
And shawd she wears as few line ladies do ( 
And she will ki^ep, to (dniini away all ill, 
The lucky sixpem^e in her ]iocket still ; 
And we will turn, come fair or cloudy weather. 
To ashes, like the chestnuts, close together I 

KUUEKT UUCltANAN. 



.SONO. 

I-'KOM " riia MIl.LUK'S DAUIiMIItK." 

It is (he miller's daughter, 

And sho is grown so deai', so dear, 
That I woldd he the jewel 

That trembles at her ear : 
Vm; hid in ringlets day iind uighl, 
I 'd touch her neck so warm and white. 

And I woidil be Ihe girdle 

About her dainty, dainty wai.st. 

And her heart would lieat against nie 
In sorrow and in rest : 

And I should know if it beat rigid, 

1 'd cliisp it iciiHid so close and tight. 



184 



POEMS OP THE AFFECTIONS. 



Aud I would be the necklace, 
And all day long to fall and rise 

Upon her balmy bosom, 

Witli her laughter or her sighs ; 

And 1 would lie so light, so light, 

I scarce should be unclasped at night. 

ALFRED TLNNVSON. 



BLEST AS THE IMMORTAL GOUS. 

Blest as the immortal gods is he, 
The youth who fondly sits by thee, 
And hears and sees thee all the while 
Softly speak, and sw-eetly snule. 

'T was this deprived my soul of rest, 
And raised such tumults in my breast : 
For while I gazed, in transport tost, 
Jly breath was gone, my voice was lost. 

My bosom glowed ; the subtle flame 
Kan quick through all my v'tal frame ; 
O'er my dim eyes a darkness hung ; 
My ears with hollow murmurs rung ; 

In dewy damps my limbs were chilled ; 
My blood with gentle horrors thrilled : 
My feeble pulse forgot to play — 
I fainted, sunk, and died away. 

From tlie Greek of SAPPHO, 
by AMliROSE PHILLIPS. 



O, DO NOT WANTON WITH THOSE 
EYES. 

0, DO not wanton with those eyes. 

Lest I be sick with seeing ; 
Nor cast them down, but let them rise, 

Lest shame destroy their being. 

O, be not angry with those fn-es. 
For then their threats will kill me ; 

Nor look too kind on my desires, 
For then my hopes will spill mo. 

O, do not steep them in thy tears. 

For so will sorrow slay me ; 
Nor spread them as distract with fears ; 

Mine own enough betray me. 

Ben Jonson. 



THE SUN-DIAL. 

'T IS an old dial, dark with many a stain : 
In summer crowned with drifting orchard 
bloom. 

Tricked in the autumn with the yellow rain. 
And white in winter like a marble tomb. 



And round about its gray, time-eaten brow- 
Lean letters speak, — a worn and shattered 
row : 

E am a StjaBc : a SliaUotoc loo art tl)au : 
i marfet t\)t iCime : sage, (Eossip, Sost tijou soc ? 

Here would the ring-doves linger, head to head ; 

And here the snail a silver course would run, 
Beating old Time ; and here the peacock spread 

His gold-green glory, shutting out the sun. 

The tardy shade moved forward to the noon ; 

Betwixt the paths a dainty Beauty stept, 
That swung a flower, and, smiling, hummed a 
tune, — 

Before whose feet a barking spaniel leapt. 

O'er her blue dress an endless blossom strayed ; 

About her tendril-curls the sunlight shone ; 
And round her train the tiger-lilies swayed, 

Like courtiers bowing till the queen be gone. 

She leaned upon the slab a little while. 
Then drew a jewelled pencil from her zone, 

Scribbled a something with a frolic smile, 
Folded, inscribed, and niched it in the stone. 

The shade slipped on, no swii'tcr than the snail ; 

There came a second lady to the place. 
Dove-eyed, dove-robed, and something wan and 
pale, — 

An inner beauty shining from her face. 

She, as if listless with a lonely love. 

Straying among the alleys with a book, — 

Herrick or Herbert, — watched the circling dove, 
And spied the tiny letter in the nook. 

Then, like to one who confirmation found 
Of some dread secret half-accounted true, — 

Who knew what hearts and hands the letter 
bound. 
And argued loving commerce 'twixt tlie two, — 

She bent her fair young forehead on the stone ; 

The dark shade gloomed an instant on her 
head ; 
And 'twixt her taper fingers pearled and shone 

The single tear that tear-worn eyes will shed. 

The shade slipped onward to the falling gloom ; 

Then came a soldier gallant in her stead, 
Swin'dng a beaver with a swaling plume, 

A ribboned love-lock rippling from his head. 

Blue-eyed, frank-faced, with clear and open brow, 
Scar-seamed a little, as the women love ; 

So kindly fronted that you marvelled how 

The frequent sword-hilt had so frayed his 
clove : 



LOVE. 



185 



Wiio switched at Psyclie plunging in the sun ; 

Uncrowned three lilies with a backward swinge ; 
And standing somewhat widely, like to one 

More used to " Boot and Saddle " than to 



As courtiers do, but gentleman withal, 

Took out the note ; — held it as one who feared 

The fragile thing he held would slip and fall ; 
Head and re-read, pulling his tawny beard ; 

Kissed it, I think, and hid it in his breast ; 

Laughed softly in a flattered, hapjjy way, 
Arranged the broidered baldrick on his crest, 

And sauntered past, singing a roundelay. 

The shade crept forward through the dying glow 
There came no more nor dame nor cavalier ; 

But for a little time the brass will show 
A small gray spot, — the record of a tear. 

Austin dobson. 



THE GOLDEN FISH. 

Love is a little golden fish, 

Wondrous shy . . . ah, wondrous shy . . . 
You may catch him if you wish ; 
He might make a dainty dish . . . 

But I . . . 

All, I 've other fish to fry ! 

For when I try to snare this prize, 

Earnestly and patiently. 
All my skill the rogue defies. 
Lurking safe in Aimee's eyes . . . 

So, you see, 

I am caught and Love goes free ! 

GEORGE Arnold. 



COME, REST IN THIS BOSOM. 

FROM " IRISH MELODIES." 

Come, rest in this bosom, uiy own stricken deer, 
Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home 

is still here ; 
Here still is the smile, that no cloud can o'ercast. 
And a heart and a hand all thy own to the last. 

Oh I what was love made for, if 't is not tlie same 
Througli joy and through torment, through glory 

and shame ? 
I know not, I ask not, if guilt 's in that heart, 
I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art. 

Thou hast called me thy Angel in moments of 

bliss, 
And thy .An<;el I '11 be, mid the horrors of tlii-i. 



Through the furnace, unshrinking, thy steps to 

pursue, 
And shield thee, and save thee, — or perish there 

too! 

THOMAS MOORE. 



WHEN YOUR BEAUTY APPEARS. 

" When your beauty appears, 

In its graces and airs. 
All bright as an angel new dropt from the skies. 

At distance I gaze, and am awed by my 
fears. 
So strangely you dazzle my eyes ! 

" But when without art 
Your kind thoughts you impart. 
When your love runs in blushes through every 
vein. 
When it darts from your eyes, when it pants 
at your heart. 
Then I know that you 're woman again." 

" There 's a passion and pride 

In our se.x," she replied ; 
' ' And thus (might I gratify both) I would do, — 

Still an angel appear to each lover beside, 
But still be a woman to you." 

THOMAS PARNELL. 



THE FIRST KISS. 

How delicious is the winning 
Of a kiss at love's beginning. 
When two mutual hearts are sighing 
For the knot there 's no untying. 

Yet remember, midst your wooing. 
Love has bliss, but love has ruing ; 
Otlier smiles may make you fickle. 
Tears for other charms may trickle. 

Love he comes, and Love he tarries, 
Just as fate or fancy carries, — 
Longest stays when sorest chidden, 
Laughs and flies when pressed and bidden. 

Bind the sea to slumber stilly, 
Bind its odor to the lily. 
Bind the aspen ne'er to quiver, — 
Then liind Love to last forever ! 

Love 's a fire that needs renewal 

Of fresh beauty for its fuel ; 

Love's wing moidts when caged and captured. 

Only free lie soars enraptured. 



180 



rOKMS OF TIllO AKFKCTIONS. 



Ciiii you Uci'i) th(^ lu'c I'lDiii niMgiiig, 
Or tlio riiig-ilovc's lu'ck rroiii rliiiiiging I 
No ! nor fcittorcd Iiovc rroin ilyiiij; 
111 till' kiHil llicri' 's no untying, 

rilOMAS CAMrilbLL. 



liEDOUlN l.OVK-SDNr.. 

FitoM tlio DpstM't 1 iiuni^ to tlier. 

On a stiillion slioil with liiv: 
Ami l\w wiiuls mr Icl't boliiml 

In llii^ siu'od of my lU'sii'o. 
I'luliT tliy window 1 stiind, 

And tlic niidiiiglit linns my cry : 
I lovo tlur, 1 lovi' 1ml tlioc ! 
With a lovo that shall not diu 
Till llie sun (jrnwii cold. 
Ami the stars are oUI, 
.4iul the lenivs of the Judfftnent 
h'ook II H fold.' 

Look fioiii thy window, and soo 

My passion and my ptiin ! 
1 lii' on the sands liolow, 

And 1 laiiU in thy disdain. 
Lot till' night-winds tomh thy lnow 
With till' liiwt of my lairniiig sigh, 
And molt tlioo to hear tho vow 
Of a lovo that shall not die 
Till the sun grows cold, 
Anil the stars are old. 
And the leaecs of the Judgment 
Book iin/old! 

My sti']is are nightly driven, 
I?y till' t'evor in my lurasl, 
To hear from thy lattiee hrtnitlu'd 

Tin' woixl that shall give iiif rost. 
Oiit'ii till' door of thy hi'iiit. 

And open thy ohamber door, 
And my kisses shall teaeh thy lips 
The lovo that shall fade no moio 
Till the sun j/niH'.v cold. 
And Ihe stars are old. 
And the lea res of the Judymoit 
Book- unfold .' 

ll.\\AKl> TAVLOK. 



SONNET UPON A STOLEN KISS. 

Now gentle sleep hath olost^d up those eyes 
Whieli, waking, kept my boldest thoughts in uwe; 
And five aeeess unto that sweet lip lies, 
Vnm\ wlu'iu'o 1 long the ivsy breath to draw. 
Metliinks no wrong it wei-o, if 1 sliouhl steal 
From those two melting rubies one poor kiss ; 
None .sees the theft tlint would the theft i-oveal, 
Nor rob 1 her of angllt what she ran niis-; : 



Nay, should 1 twenty kisses take away, 
There wonlil be little sign 1 would do so ; 
Why then should I this robbery delay? 
0, she may wake, and therewith angry grow ! 
Well, if she do, I 'II baek resloii' that one, 
And Iweiity hundivd lliousaiid more for loan. 

I'.ROKOU WiTllliR. 



SLY THOUGHTS. 

" 1 SAW him kiss your cheek ! " — "'T is true." 
" O Modesty I " — " 'T was strictly kept : 

He thought lue asleep ; at leiust, I knew 
He thought 1 thonght he thought 1 slept." 

COVliNTRV PATMORE, 



KISSES. 

My lovo luul 1 for kisses played : 

She would keep stakes — 1 was content ; 
But when I won, she would be paid ; 

This nuido me ask her what she meant. 
" I'my, since I see," ijuoth she, "your wrangling 

vein, 
Take your own kisses ; give nie mine again." 

William STKouii. 



t'liril) ANn fAMTASVE. 

CtU'lli and my Campaspe played 

At canls for kisses, — t'npid paid ; 

He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows. 

His mother's doves, and team of sparrows, — 

Loses them too ; then down he throws 

The coral of his lip, the rose 

(irowing on 's cheek (but none knows how) ; 

With these the crystal of his brow. 

And then the dimple of his chin, — 

.\11 these did my Campaspe win. 

At last he set her both his eyes ; 

Slio won, and Cupid blind ilid rise. 

O Love ! Inus she done this to thee 1 

What shall, alas ! become of me ! 

John Lvly. 



Till'. KISS. 

1. Amom) thy fancies tell me this ; 
What is the thing we call n kiss? 

2. 1 shall resolve ye what it is : 

It is a creatiuv born niul bivd 
Between the lips all cherry md, 
By love and warm desiivs fed : 
Chor. And makes more soft the bridal bed. 



li 



l.OVK. 



187. 



It is nil active llaiiif, that flica 
l''ii'><t to llie biibics if the eyes, 
And clmriiis tlioiu tlure with hillabies; 
Clwr. Aud stills tlio bride too when she cries. 

Then to the chin, the elieek, the ear, 
It liisks and Hies, — now here, now there; 
'T is now far uH', and then 't is near ; 
Clwr. And here, and there, and everywhere 

1. Has it a si)eaking virtue ? — 2. Yes. 
1. How speaks it, say? — 2. Do you Init 
this : 
Part your joined lips, — tliuji speaks your 
kiss ; 
Ckor. And this love's sweetest language is. 

1. Has it a body ? — 2. Ay, and wings, 
With thousand rare eneolorlngs ; 
And as it Hies it gently sings ; 
Chor. Love honey yields, but never stings. 

KutmkT IIUKKICK. 



THE l'l,.\ll)IK. 

Upon ane stormy Sunday, 

Coming adoon the lane, 
Were a score of bonnie lassies — 

And the sweetest I maintain 
Was Ca<l<lie, 
That I took unneath my plaiilie, 

To shield lier from the rain. 

She said that the daisies blushed 
For the kiss that 1 had ta'en ; 

I wadna hae thought the lassie 
Wad sae of a kiss complain : 
" Now, ladilie : 

I winna stay under your jiluiilic. 
If I gang hame in the rain ! " 

Hut, on an after Sunday, 

When cloud there was not ane. 

This selfsame winsome lassie 

(We chanced to meet in the hun') 
Said, " Laddie, 

Why dinna ye wear your plaid ie ? 
Wlia kens but it may rain ? " 

CnAHI.rs .SlBLEV. 



KITTY OF COLEKAINF.. 

As Ix-autiful Kitty one morning was trijiping 
With a pitcher of milk, from the faij- of Cole- 
raine, 
When she saw m« she stumbled, the pitcher it 
tumbled, 
And all tlic sweet buttermilk watered thi! plain. 



" 0, what shall I do now — 'twas looking ut you 

now ! 

Sure, sure, such a pilrhcr I 'II ne'er meet again ! 

'T was the pride of my ilairy: I) Barney M'Ch'aryl 

You 're .sent as a plague to the girls of Colo- 

rainc." 

I sat down beside her, and gently did chido her, 

Tli.'il such a misfortune should give her such 

)iain. 

A kiss then I gave her ; and <'re I did leaver her, 

&he vowed for such pleasure she'd break it 

again. 

' Twas hay-making season — I can't tell the rea- 
son — • 
Misfortunes will never come single, 'tis plain ; 
For very soon after poor Kitty's disaster 
The devil a pitcher was whole in Colerains. 

CirAKLas Dawson ska.ni.v. 



KISSING 'S NO SIN. 

Sd.MK .say tliat kissing 's a sin ; 

liut I thiidc it 's nanc ava, 
For ki.ssiug has wonn'd in this warld 

Since ever that there was twa. 

0, if it wasna lawfu' 

Lawyers wailna allow it ; 
If it wasna holy. 

Ministers wadna do it. 

If it wasna modest. 

Maidens wadini tak' it ; 
If it wasna plenty, 

I'uir folk wailna get it. 

ANONYMOUS. 



COMIN' TIIIiOUGH THE RYE. 

Gin a body meet a body 

Comin' through the rye, 
Gin a body kiss a body. 

Need a body cry I 
Every lassie has her laddi<', — 

Ne'er a ane hae I ; 
Yet a' the; lads they smile at me 

When comin' through the rye. 
Jmang the train there is a swain 

I dearly loe inijseV ; 
liid whaur his hame, or what his name, 
I dinna aire to tell. 

Gill a body meet a body 

(j'omin' fiac the town. 
Gin a body greet a body. 

Need a body frown ? 



188 



roE.MS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



Every lassie has her laddie, — 

Ne'er a ane liae I ; 
Yet a' the lads they smile at me 
When comiu' through the rye. 
Amang the train there is a swain 

I dearly lo'e myseV; 
But whaur his hame, or what his name, 
I dinna care to tell. 

AcLipted from UUR.\S. 



KISSING HER HAIR. 

Kissing her hair, I sat against her feet : 

Wove and unwove it, — wound, and I'ouiul it 

sweet ; 
Made fast therewith her hands, drew down her 

eyes. 
Deep as deep flowers, and dreamy like dim skies ; 
Witli lier own tresses bound, ami found her 

fair, — 
Kissing her hair. 

Sleep were no sweeter than her face to me, — 
Sleep of cold sea-hloom under the cold sea : 
What pain coukl get between my face and Iiers ? 
What new sweet thing would Love not relish 

worse '. 
Unless, perhaps, white Death had kissed me 
there, — 
Kissing her hair. 

ALGERNON Charles Swinburne. 



MAKE BELIEVE. 

Kiss me, though you make believe ; 

Kiss me, tliough I almost know 
You are kissing to deceive ; 

Let the tide one moment flow 
Backward ere it rise and break, 
Only for poor pity's sake ! 

Give me of your flowers one leaf. 
Give me of your smiles one smile. 

Backward roll tliis tide of grief 
Just a moment, though, tlie while, 

I should feel and almost know 

You are trifling witli my woe. 

Whisper to me sweet and low ; 
Tell me how you sit and weave 

Dreams about nie, though I know- 
It is only make believe ! 

Just a moment, though 't is plain 

You are jesting with my pain. 



AI icii- CaRV. 



LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY. 

The fountains mingle with tlie river, 

And tlie rivers with the ocean ; 
The winds of heaven mix forever. 

With a sweet emotion ; 
Nothing in the world is single ; 

All things by a law divine 
In one another's being mingle : — 

Why not I with thine i 

See ! the mountains kiss high heaven. 

And tlie waves clasp one another ; 
No sister flower would be forgiven 

If it disdained its brother ; 
And the sunlight clasps the earth, 

And the moonbeams kiss tlie sea : — 
What are all tliese kissings worth. 

If thou kiss not me ? 

PERCY BvssiiE Shelley; 



THE MOTH'S KISS, FIKST ! 

FROM "IN A GONDOLA." 

The Moth's kiss, first ! 

Kiss me as if you made believe 

You were not sure, this eve. 

How my face, your flower, had pursed 

Its petals ui) ; so, here and there 

You brusli it, till I grow aware 

Wlio wants me, and wide open burst. 

The Bee's kiss, now ! 
Kiss me as if you entered gay 
My heart at some noonday, 
A bud that dared not disallow 
The claim, so all is rendered up. 
And passively its sliattereil cup 
Over your head to sleep I Ixiw. 

Robert Browmng. 



LINES TO AN INDIAN AIR. 

serenade. 

I ARISE from dreams of thee 

In the first sweet sleep of night, 
Wlien the winds are breathing low. 

And the stars are shining bright. 
I arise from dreams of thee. 

And a spirit in my feet 
Has led me — who knows how ? — 

To thy cliamber-window, sweet ! 

The wandering airs they faint 

On the dark, the silent .stream, — 

The chain pak odors fail 

Like sweet thoughts in a dream ; 



I 



LOVE. 



18'.) 



Tlie nightingale's complaint, 

It dies upon her lieait, 
As I must (lie on thine, 

0, belovM as thou art ! 

0, lift me from the grass ! 

I die, I faint, I fail ! 
Let thy love in kisses rain 

On my lips and eyelids pale. 
My olieek is cold and white, alas ! 

ily he.art beats loud and fast : 
0, press it close to thine again. 

Where it will break at last ! 

FERCV HNSSHE SHELLEY. 



SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE. 

Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand 
Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore • 
.\lone upon the threshold of my door 
Of individual life, I shall command 
The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand 
Serenely in the sunshine as before, 
Without the sense of that which 1 forbore, . . . 
Thy touch upon the palm. The widest land 
Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine 
With pulses that beat double. What I do 
Ami what 1 dream include thee, as the wine 
Must taste of its own gi-apes. And when I sue 
God for myself, he hears that name of thine, 
.\ud sees within my eyes the tears of two. 



Inhkici) tliis very love which is my boast. 
Ami which, when rising up from breast to brow, 
Doth crown me with a rnby large enow 
To draw men's eyes and prove tlie inner cost, . . . 
This love even, all my worth, to the uttermost, 
i should not love withal, unless that thou 
Hadst set me an e.xample, shown me how, 
When first thine earnest eyes with mine were 

crossed, 
.\ncl love called love. And thus, I cannot speak 
( If love even, as a good thing of my own. 
Thy so\d hath snatched up mine all faint and 

weak, 
And ]ilaced it by thee on a golden throne, — 
.Ami tli.it I love (0 soul, we must be meek !) 
Is by thee only, whom I love alone. 



I F thou must love me, let it be for naught 
Except for love's sake only. Do not say 
" I love her for her smile . . . her look . . . her way 
Of speaking gently, — for a trick of thought 
That ndls in well with mine, and certes brought 
A sense of pleasant ease on such a day." 



For these things in themselves, belovkl, may 
15c changed, or change for thee, — and love so 

wrought, 
May be unwrought so. Neither love me for 
Thine own ilcar pity's wiping my cheeks dry, — 
A creature might forget to weep, who bore 
Thy comfort long, and lo.se tliy love therebj'. 
But love me for love's sake, that evermore 
Thou mayst love on, through love's eternity. 



I NEVEi; gave a lock of hair away 

To a man. Dearest, except this to thee. 

Which now upon my fingers thoughtfully 

I ring out to the full brown lengtli and say 

"Take it." My day of youth went yesterday ; 

My hair no longer bounds to my foot's glee. 

Nor plant I it from rose or myrtle tree, 

As girls do, any more. It only may 

Now shade on two pale cheeks, tlie mark of tears, 

Taught droo]iing from the head that hangs aside 

Through sorrow's trick. 1 thought the luneral- 

shears 
Would take this first, but Love is justified, — 
Take it thou, . . . finding pure, from all those 

years. 
The kiss my mother left here when she died. 



Sat over again, and yet once over again. 
That thou dost love me. Though the word re- 
peated 
Should seem " a cuckoo-song," as thou dost treat 

it. 
Remember, never to the hill or plain, 
Valley and wood, without her cuckoo-strain, 
Comes the fresh spring in all her green completed. 
Beloved, I, annd the darkness greeted 
liy a doubtful spiiit-voice, in that doubt's pain 
Cry : " Speak once more — thou lovest ! " Who 

can fear 
Too many stars, though each in heaven shall 

. roll, — 
Too many flowers, though each shall crown the 

year ? 
Say thou dost love me, love me, love me, — toll 
The .silver iterance ! — only minding, dear. 
To love me also in silence, with thy soul. 



My letters ! all dead paper, . . . mute and white ! — 
And yet they seem alive and quivering 
Against my tremulous hands which loose the 

string 
And let them drop down on my knee to-night. 
This said, ... he wislied to have me in his sight 
Once, as a friend : this fi.xed a d.ay in spring 
To come and touch my hand ... a simple tiling. 



190 



rOEMS OV TUK AU'ECTIONS. 



Yi'l I wi'pl fur it! this, . . . tlu' imiici's Iij;tit . . . 

Siiid, Peni; I loir tlifc ; luid 1 sunk iiiul iiimili'il 

As il'dml's riiliu'i' tlnmiliM'od on my piist. 

'I'liis siiiil, / iiiii tliiiif, - - mill so its ink has [viU'il 

Willi lyinj; at niy lioiirt tlnit Iwit too tiist. 

Ami lliis . . . O l.ovr, (liy words Imvc ill aviiili'il, 

ir wliiit this saiil, I iliiivil icpi'iit al last ! 

'I'lU': lirst liiiu' lliat the snii rosi' on tliim' oalli 
'Co lovo nw, 1 looki'il I'ovwaril lo tho moon 
'I'o shii'k™ all those liomls which si-oMU'ii too soon 
Ami qiiirkly (iml lo nnikc a lasting livtli. 
t>ni.'klovinj; hearts, 1 thonghl, may quickly 

loatlu- ; 
Ami. looking on mysell', 1 seomeil not one 
I'or sni'li nmn's love I more like an out of tnne 
Worn viol, a gooil singer woiilil he wrolh 
To sjioil his song with, ami whirh, snalelunl in 

haste, 
Is laiil ilown at the lirst iU-sonmling note. 
1 iliil not wiviig myself so, hnt 1 iitaeed 
.\ wrong on lliir. Vov perl'eet strains may Moat 
' Neath mast er-hamls,l'i\>min.strnmenlsilel'ai'eil,- 
Aiul great sonls, at one stroke, may ilo ami iloat. 



FlKsr time ho kis.seil me. lie but only kisseil 
The tingi'rs of this haml wherewith 1 write ; 
.\ml, ever sinee, it git'W niolv eleaii ami white, 
Slow to worhl greetings, nuiek with its "0 list !" 
When the angols speak. A ring of amethyst 
I eonhl not wear heiv, plainer to my sight 
Than that lirst kiss. The seeoiul passed in height 
The tii-st, ami sought thet'oivheail.aml halt missed, 
Half falling on the hair. O, beyond meed ! 
That was (he ehrism of hn-e, wliieh love's own 

eixnvii, 
With .sanetilying sweetness, did piveede. 
The thiiil upon my lips was folded down 
In perleel, purple state ; sinee when, IiuUhhI, 
I have heen piMiul, and said, "iMy love, my ow n ! " 

How do 1 love theo f Let me eonnt the ways. 

1 love theo to the depth and hivadtli and height 

My soul eaii ix'aeli, w hen iVeling ont of sight 

I'or the ends of lieing and ideal tSraee. 

I love thee lo the level of every day's 

Most ipiiet iioed, hy -sun and eandlelighl. 

1 love theo lively, as men strive for liiglit ; 

1 lovo thee puivly, as thoy turn I'l-om rraise. 

1 lovo theo with the i«i,ssion put to use 

In luy old griefs, and with my ehildliood's faith. 

1 lovo thee with a lovo 1 seeniod to lose 

With my last saints, 1 lovo thee with thehivalh, 

Smil,e,s, twirs, of all my lil'o ! — and, if tiixl ehoose, 

1 shall but lovo thoo Wttor aftor dwith. 

liLlZAUI'lll lUKKVir HKOWNING 



WAITING FOR THK GRAPES. 

TiiAi' I lovo theo, ehariuiiig maid, 1 a thousand 

times have said, 

.\nd a thousaud times more 1 have sworn it, 

r.iit 't is easy to bo seen in llie rolduess of your 

mien 

That you doubt my alVeetion — or soorn it. 

.\h me I 

Not a single grain of .sense is in the whole of 
the.se prelenees 
l'"or rejeetiiig yonr lover's iietitious ; 
Had I windows in my bosom, (1. how gladly 1 'd 
expose 'em, 
To undo yonr fantiistic suspicions ! 

Ah me ! 

Von reiieal 1 've known yon long, and you hint 
1 do you wi-oiig. 
In beginning so late to pursue ye ; 
lint 't is folly to look glum beianse people did 
not come 
I'p the stairs of yonr nni'sery to woo ye. 

Ah mo I 

111 a grapery one walks without looking at tho 
•stalks. 
While the bunches are green that they're hear- 
ing ; 
All tho pivtty little leaves that are dangling at 
the oaves 
Scarce nttriiot o'oii a moment of staring. 

Ah me ! 

Hut when time has swelled tlie grapes to a richer 
style of shapes, 
And tho sun has lent warmth to their blushes, 
Then to cheer us and to gladden, to onelinnt us 
and to madden, 
Is tho ripo ruddy glory that rushes. 

Ah nic ! 

0, 't is thou that mortals [lant wliilo they gazo 
on Rnoohus' plant, — 
0, 't is tlion, — will my simile servo ye » 
Should a damsel fair rt'pino, though noglectoil 
like n vino ? 
Both OR long shall tuiii heads toiwy-tnrvy. 

" Ah nio ! 

WitLlAM M.U'.l.NN. 



THK I.OVK-KNOT. 

Tyixo her Imniiet niider her chin. 
She tiinl her raven ringlets in. 
Ihit not alone in the silken snare 
Pill she catch her lovely lloiiting hair, 
Kor, tying hor iHninot under her chin, 
She tiinl a young man's heart within. 




Drawn by John \'r/son A/.iri/<\ 



MY S\VI':i';i'IIlv\l<-|"S I'ACK. 

My kingdom is my sweetheart's face, 
And tlicse tin.' lioiindaries I trncc : 
Nortinvard lier forehead fair; 
]5eyon(l a wilderness of .■iiilHini hair; 
A rosy cheek lo casl and west; 

Her hide nioulh 

The siinn\ south. 
It is I he south thai 1 hive iiest. 

Her eyes two crjslal lakes, 

Rippling widi light, 
Cauuhl Iroiii tlie sun by day, 
'I'he slars iiy nigiit. 
The dii)i|)les in 
I ler cheeks an<I ( hin 
Are snares whicli Love hath set. 
And I have fallen in 1 



John Allan \V\(rn. 




Ph^to. by MortHo. 



A KNOr OF ULIK. 
For the Boys ok Vale. 

She hath no gems of lustre bright T met her down the shadowed lane, 

To sparkle m her hair; Beneath the apple-tree, 

No neetl hath she of borrowed light The balmy blossoms fell like rain 

To make her beauty lair. Upon my love and me : 

Upon her shining locks alloat -Vnd what I said or what I did 

Are daisies wet with dew. That morn I never knew, 

And peeping from her lissome throat But to my breast there came and hid 

A little knot of blue. A little knot of blue. 

A dainty knot of blue, A little knot of blue, 

A ribbon blithe of hue. A love-knot strong and true. 

It fills my dreams with sunny gleams,— 'Twill hold my heart till life shall part,-| 
That little knot of blue. That httle knot of blue. 

Samuel Minturn Peck 



LOVE. 



191 



Tlioy were strolling together up the hill, 

Where the wiiul oiiini" blowing merry anil chill ; 

Anil it blew the curls a IVolicsonie rai.i', 

All over the liai)iiy peaili-eoloreil tare. 

Till scolding anil laughing, she tieii them in, 

I'mler lier lieauliriil, iliiiiiileil chin. 

Anil it blow a color, l)riglit as the bloom 
ttl'the )iinkest fuclisia's tossing [ilunie, 
All over the cheeks of the prettiest girl 
That ever imprisoned a romping curl, 
Or, in tying her bonnet under her chin. 
Tied a young man's heart within. 

Steeper and steeper grew the liill, 
Madder, merrier, chiller still, 
Th« western wind blew down, and ]ihiycd 
The wildest tricks with the little nndd. 
As, tying hci' bonnet \inder her eliin. 
She tied a young man's heart within. 

O western wind, do you think it was fair 

To play such tricks witli her llnating hair? 

To gladly, gleefully, do your be;.t 

To blow Uv.v against tlie young man's breast, 

Where he has gladly folded her in, 

And kissed her mouth and dimpled chin ! 

< > lOUery Vano, you little thought, 
An hour ago, when you besought 
This country la.ss to walk with yon, 
Alter the sun had dried the dew, 
What terrible danger you 'd be in. 
As she tied her bonnet under her ehin. 

NuKA PERRY. 



GREEN GROW THE RASHES 0! 

Grekn grow the rashes 0, 

Green grow the rashes O ; 
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend 

Are spent amang the lasses I 

There "s inuight but care on ev'ry ban'. 
In every hour that passes O ; 

■What signifies the life o' man. 
An 't were na foi- the lasses ? 

The warly race may riches chase. 
An' riches still nniy tly them O ; 

An' though at last they catch them fast, 
Their heaits <-an m;'er enjoy them ! 

Gie me a canny hour at e'en. 
My arms about my dearie O, 

An' warly cares an' warly nnii 
May all gae tap^altl■l■^il■ () ! 



l'"or you sae douce, ye sneer at this. 
Ye 're naught but senseless asses ; 

The wisest man the warl' e'er saw 
He dearly lo'ed the lasses ! 

Auld Natiire swears the lovely dears 
Her noblest work she classes : 

Her 'prentice ban' slie tried on man, 
An' then she made the lasses O ! 

RoUHRT BURNS. 



THE CIIKOXICI.E. 

MAi!GAUir..\ tirst possessed. 
If 1 remember well, my breast, 

MargiU'ita first of all ; 
But when awhile the wanton maid 
With my restless heart had played, 

Mai'tha took the Hying ball. 

Maltha .soon did it resign 
To the beauteous Catharine. 

lieauteous Catharine gave place 
(Though loath and angry she to part 
Witli the possession of my heart) 

To Eliza's eompiering face. 

Eliza till this hour might reign, 
Had she not evil counsels ta'en ; 

Fundamental laws .she broke. 
And still new favorites she chose, 
Till up in arms my passions rose, 

And east away her yoke. 

Mary then, and gentle Anne, 
Both to reign at once began ; 

Alternately they swayed ; 
And sometimes Mary was the fair. 
And .sometimes Anne the crown did wear, 

And sumetiuies both I obeyed. 

Another Mary then arose. 
And did rigorous laws impose ; 

A mighty tyrant she ! 
Long, alas ! should 1 have been 
Uinlcr that iron -.sceptred ipieen, 

Had not Rebecca set me free. 

When fail- Rebecca set me free, 

'T was then a golden time with me : 

I'ut soon those plea.sures lied ; 
For the gracious ]iniicess died 
In her youth and beauty's pride, 

And Judith reigned in her stead. 

One month, three days, and half an hour 
Judith held the .sovereign power : 
Wondrous beautiful her face ! 



192 



POEMS OF TUK AKI'KCTIONS. 



lUil Ml wiMik mill smiill 'n'l' »•'• 
Tlml. slui to K'lV"''" "'""^ ""'''• 
Ami ao SiiHiiiiiiii l""l- '"'i I'l^n'i'- 

Hut wIll'M 1s|i1m-II« I'llllU', 

Aniii'il Willi II ivsistli'ss lluiiu', 

Ami till' iiililli'iy of lu'i' oyo ; 
Whilsl nIui liriiiull.V nmii'liwl nliout, 
Oi'i'iilor I'oiuiiuists til liiiil out, 

Slio lii'iit out Susiui, liy till' liy. 

liiil in lu'i' pliii'i' 1 (lii'ii iil'i'.Vi'il 
liliirUi'.vi'il I'l's". Ix'i- vii'oroy-imuil, 

'I\> wiioin I'liMUml IV vni'imry : 
•I'liousuinl wmsi' imssioiis thou poaaossod 
•ri»i iiitonvj^iiiuii ol' I'l.V lilt'iial ; 

Uliiiw mil IVoiu sui'li iiii lUiaivliy ! 

i;,Mllli' Ili'luirUil tlu'll. 

Ami 11 lliii'l Miii>. "I'M b.'.niiii; 

'I'lii'ii .'tiiiii, iiml .'iim'. "Oil Amli'i" ". 
Ami llicii 11 inolly 'riioumsiiu', 
Ami llii'ii luiiillii'i' I'lithmiuo, 
Ami tlu'ii 11 li'iij; '■' I'" ''■'■■'• 

lUil I will Inii'lVr with llu'm In', 
Siiu'o low 111' llu'iii w-oiv liin>; with imi. 

All liij;lii'i' mill ii iiolili<r stiiiiii 
My iivi'si'iil i-miH'lvss iloos oliiim, 
lli'li'oiioni, lii'st ii' til' mum', 

Wlioiii I'.oil grunt loiij; U> iviK" '■ 

AllKMUM mwlJlV. 



(li-owii ralimn', wi'"'!-. Imw tlm limll Uu'y «UXM, 
Ami, limiiiiiK', li'oU with siu'h a siu'iiking 
j(riu'ii ! 
.lob'a war-lmi'so lii'i'i'i', his m'.'k with lliumli'V 

hiiiiK> 
Sunk to an luinihU' hmk lliul lurrii's ilniij;. 

Smell 111 llii'iiiii'i'ii of lliiw.'is. 111.' IV.'i^niiit losi- -- 
SmoU twenty tiim's- ami lli.'ii, my ili'iiv. thy 

nose 
Will tell thee (not so iiiueli for seeiit alhirsl) 
The fwentielh ilniiik less llavor lliau the liist. 

l.ove, ileiilitless, is the sweetest of all fellows; 

Yet iiileii shoiihl the little ^hI vetire. 
Ahsenee, ileiir I'liloe, is a iiair of liellows, 

That kei'iis alive the saereil live. 

UK. WHIAIUI {rnrr /•in.l.tr). 



■niK I'MllANtn'',. 

Wv. lileili;eil onv lieait.s, my love ami I, — 
I in my arms the maiileii elasiiing ; 

I eoiihl nut tell the ivason why, 
lUlt, *>, 1 tienilileil like an aspen ! 

Her lalhei's luve she hade me ijain ; 

1 went, ami shook like unv I'eeil ! 
1 strove to ael the man, in vain ! 

We hail exehansed our hearts imUieil. 

SAMIIKI. rAVlOR tOUllRllU".ll. 



TO liihov.. 

*N AI-UHH-.V IMK (.OlNl. IXIO IIIU eOl'NTKV. 

rill.on, we uinst not always he in heaven, 
Kuivver toyiiij;. o^'liiii!, kissing, hillinj; ; 

The joys for whieli 1 Ihonsamls wunhl have given. 
Will luvsenlly he seaively wurtli a sliilUng, 

'IMiv iieek is fairer than the Alpine snows. 

And. sweetly swelling, heats the down ol 
doves ; 
Thv eheek of health, a rival to the i-o.se : 

thv iioutiiig lips, the thi-one of all the loves : 
Vet, though thus heanlifnl heyond expiv.s,sion. 
I'hiit heanly fadetli hy toomneh possession, 

l''.eonomy in hn-e is peaee to natni-i', 
Mneh like eeononiv in worldly matter ; 
We should Ih- prudent, never live too fust ; 
Tivlnsioii will not. eaniiot always last. 

LovmawmiUv siHmdthrift.s, - 't is a shame, — 
Nothing their thoughtless, wild oamn'oau tame. 

Till pennry .staivs them in the faee ; 
Aiul Hheii they lind All empty pnise. 



wisiiK.-^ TO lus srrrosF.n mistukss. 

WiloK'ia; she be. 

That not impossihhi shi>. 

That shall eonmiand my heart and me ; 

Where'er she lie, 

l.oeked lip from mortal eye, 

in shady leaves of destiny. 

Till that ripe hirth 

Ofstudhd fate -stand forth. 

Ami teaeh her fair steps to our earth ; 

Till that divine 

hlea take a shrine 

Of erystal llesh. llimngh whieh to shine : 

Meet you her, my Wishes, 
Uesjieak her to my Misses, 
And Ih> ye ealled my alisent kis.ses. 

I wish her Iwuity, 

That owes not all its duty 

To gandy tiiv. or glistering ahoo-tio, 



LOVE, 



193 



Somutbing more than 
TnlTiita or tissue can. 
Or ruini>uiit fcatbor, or rich fan ; 

More than the spoil 

Of shop, or silkwormn toil, 

Or a boui^ht blush, or a set smile. 

A face, that '« Vjost 

By its own beauty dressed, 

Aud can alono command the rest. 

A faec, made up 

Out of no other shop, 

Than what Nature's white hand Bets ope. 

Days, tliat need borrow 

No part of their ^'ooj morrow, 

From a fore-spent night of sorrow. 

Days, that in spite 

Of darkness, by the lif;ht 

Of a clear mind, arc day all night. 

Nights, sweet as they 

Made short by lovers' play, 

Yet long by the absence of the day. 

I.ifi^ that dares send 

A challenge to his end, 

And when itcomcii, say, Welcome, friend ! 

Sydncian showers 

Of sweet discourse, whose powers 

Can crown old Winter's head with flowers. 

Soft silken hours, 
HjM'ii suns, shady Ijowera ; 
IJovo all — nothing within that lowers. 

Whatc'cr delight 

Can make day's forehead bright, 

Or give down to the wings of night. 

In her whole frame, 

Have Nature all the ii.ime, 

Art and ornament the shamo. 

Her flattery, 

I'ieture and poesy, 

Her counsel her own virtue be. 

I wish her store 

f)f worth may leave lier poor 

f 'f wishes ; and 1 wish — no more. 

Now, if Time knows 

That her, whose ra/liant brows 

Weave them a gariand of my vows ; 



Her, whoso just bays 

My future hopes I'an raise, 

A trophy to lier present pruiao ; 

Jler, that dares bo 

What these lines wish to seo : 

1 seiOc no further, it is Sho. 

'T is She, and here, 
Lo, I uni^lothe and clear 
My Wish's cloudy character I 

May she enjoy it, 

Whosi! merit <lar« apply it, 

liut modesty dares still deny it t 

.Such worth a:, this is 
Shall fix my flying wishes, 
And dctcrmino them to kisses. 

l/(^t her full glory, 

My fancies, lly l)i:fore yo, 

lie ye iny liotioiis, but — her story. 

klCIIAKO CKASJIA. 



THK SHEPHERD'S RESOLUTION 

SiiAtJ, I, wasting in deitpair, 
iJie because tt woman '» fair ( 
Or make pali^ my cheeks with cara 
'Cause another's rosy are ? 
lie she fairer than the day, 
Or the flowery meads in May, — 
Jf she be not so to me. 
What care I how fair she be ? 

Shall my foolish heart !«• pmed 
'(Jause 1 see a woman kind 'I 
Or a well-disposed nature 
.loined with a lovely feature I 
l!e slio meeker, kinder than 
The turtle-dove or pelican, — 
If she be not so to me, 
What care I how kind she be ? 

Shall a woman's virtues move 
Me to perish for her love 1 
Or, her well deserviiigs known, 
Make me ipiitc forget mine own ? 
He she with that goodness blest 
Which may merit name of bc'St, 
If hIu; be not such to me. 
What care I how good she be 1 

'f:<itiBe her fortune seems too high, 
Khali I jilay the tool and die ? 
Those that tear a noble njind 
Whr-re they want of riches find. 



la 



194 



rOEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



Tliiiik wiml willi tlimii tlioy would do 
Tliiit willumt tliom dam to woo ; 
And uiili'ss thiit mind t soo, 
What iiiro 1 how yroiit alio bo l 

Oruiit, or good, or kind, or t'lur, 

I will no'iir tlio nuiro di'spiur : 

If sill' lovo 1110, this boliovo, — 

1 will die 010 sho sliall griovo. 

If ahu slight 1110 wlioii I woo, 

1 oim Hoorn mid lot hor go ; — 
l'"or if sho lio not for ino. 
What oaro 1 for whom sho ho t 

GuoKOii WixnnR. 



ROSALIND'S COMPLAINT. 

Love in my hoaom, like a hoo, 

llotli iiiiok his sweet ; 
Now H itli his wings ho plays wltli me. 

Now with his foot ; 
'VVithin mi no eyes ho makes his nost, 
His ln>d amidst my tender breast. 
My kisses live his daily foast, 
And yet he ivlis me of my rest : 

All I wanton, will yo ? 

And if I slcoi), then perchoth ho 

With pretty llight. 
And makes his pillow of my knoo, 

The livelong night. 
Strike 1 the Into, hi' tunes tho string ; 
He imisie plays, if .so 1 sing ; 
He lends me every lovely thing. 
Yet, ernel, he my heart doth sting; 

\\niist ! wanton, still ye ! 

Else 1 wit li roses every day 

Will whip you henee, 
And hind you w lien yon long to piny. 

For your olVenee ; 
I '11 shut my eyes to keep you in, 
I '11 make you fast it for your sin, 
1 '11 eouiit your power not worth n pin : 
Alas ! what lievohy shall 1 win 

If he gainsay nie ! 

What if 1 lH<at the wanton boy 

With many a ro<l 1 
He will repay me with lUiuoy, 

liooause a god ; 
Then sit thou safely on my knee. 
And let thy Ivwer lUy bosom ho ; 
Lurk in my eyes, I like of fheo, 
O Cupid I so thou pity me ; 

SjKiro not, but play fhco ! 

__ Thomas Lo^e^, 



COUNTY OIJY. 

I'ROM "QUHNTIN miRWAKO." 

An ! Oonnty Ouy, the hour is nigh, 

Tho 8U11 has loft tho lea, 
The orange-llower perfimios tho liower, 

Tho broezo is on tho sea. 
The lark, his lay who (rilled all day, 

Sits hushed his partner nigh ; 
Bit'eze, bird, and (lower eonfess the hour, 

liut whoro is County Guy f 

The village maid steals (hrougli the shade, 

Hor .shepherd's suit to hoar ; 
To beauty shy, by lattiee high. 

Sings higli-liorn eavalior. 
Tho star of LovOf all stars above. 

Now ivigiis o'er ear(h and sky. 
And high and low the indnenee know, 

But where is County Guy '( 

SIK WALTUK SCOTT. 



LET NOT WOMAN E'ER COMPLAIN. 

Lkt not woman e'er eomplaiu 

Of ineonstnney in love ; 
Let not woman e'er oomplaiii 

Fiokle mail is apt to rove ; 
Iiiwk aliroaii through Nature's range, 
Natuiv's mighty law is change ; 
Ladies, would it not bestiiiugo 

Man shoulil then a monster pravo t 

Mark the wind.s and mark the skios ; 

Oeean's ehb and oeean's (low ; 
Sun and moon but sot to rise, 

Konnd and ixiuiid the seasons go. 
W'hy then a.<k of silly man, 
To op|H>,se givat Natuiv's plan ? 
Wo '11 be constant w hile we can, — 

You can be no moR', you know. 

KODUKT BVRNS. 



UNSATISFACTORY. 

" Have otlior lovers — say, my lovo — 

Loved thus iH'foro to-day 1 " 
"They may have, yes, they may, my love ; 

Not long ago they may." 

" Hut, though they worshipih-d thee, my love 

Thy maiden heart was five f " 
" llou't ask too much of me, luy lovo ; 

Don't ask too much of me." 

"Yet, now 't is you and 1, my lovo^ 
Love's wings no nion> will tly !" 

"If love could never die, my love. 
Our lovo should never die." 



LOVE. 



195 



" For sliiinie I and is tliis so, my lovu, 

And I.DVi) ami I imist go ? " 
" Imli'i'd, I do not know, my love, 

My life, I do not know." 

" You will, you must bo true, my lovi', — 

Not look and lovu anew I " 
" I '11 sec wluit I can do, my love, 

I '11 SCO wliat I can do." 

I AN'ONVMOUb. 



LOVE-LETTERS MADE IN FLOWEIiS, 

ON A PRINT OF ONE OF THEM IN A ItOOK. 

An cxiiuisitc invention this, 

Worthy of Lovr's most honeyed kiss, — 

This art of wiitin;; billel-iloux 

In buds, and odors, and bright hues I 

In saying all one feels and thinks 

In clever daffodils and pinks ; 

III [lUiis of tulips ; and in phrases, 

Cliariniiig for their trntli, of daisies ; 

Uttering, as well as silence may, 

The sweetest words the sweetest way. 

How fit too for the lady's bosom ! 

The ]ilaee where billet-doux repose 'cm. 

What delight in some sweet spot 
Combining love with garden [ilot, 
At once to cultivate one's flowers 
Anil one's epistolary powers ! 
Growing one's own choice words and fai\cic3 
In orange tubs, and beds of pansies ; 
One's sighs, and passionate declarations. 
In odorous rhetoric of carnations ; 
Seeing how far one's stocks will reach ; 
Taking due care one's flowers of speccli 
To guard from blight as well as bathos, 
And watering every day one's pathos ! 

A letter romes, just gathered. Wo 
Dote on its tender brilliancy, 
Iiihali^ its delicate expressions 
Of balm and i)ea, and its confessions 
Made with as sweet a MaidiMi's Hlush 
As ever uiorii bedewed on bush : 
('T is in rejily to one of ours, 
Made of the most convincing flowers.) 

Then, after wc havc^cissed its wit 
And heart, in water putting it 
(To keep its remarki fresh), go round 
Our little elofjuent plot of ground. 
And with enchanted hands compose 
Our answer, — all of lily and rose, 
Of tuberose and of violet. 
And Little Darling (mignonette); 



Of Look-at-me and Call-me-to-you 

(Words that, while they greet, go through you) ; 

Of Thoughts, of Klanies, Korget-mc-nol, 

llridewort, — in slioit, tlie whole blest lot 

Of vouchers for a lifelong kiss, — 

And literally, brcatliing bliss ! 

Li-K^H Hunt 



MY EYES! HOW I LOVE YOU. 

My eyes ! how I lovo you, 
Vou sweet little dove you ! 
There 's no one above you. 

Most beautiful Kitty. 

So glossy your hair is. 
Like a syljih's or a fairy's ; 
And your neck, I di-elare, is 
Exquisitely pretty 

Quito Grecian your nose is. 
And your cheeks are like roses, 
So delicious — Moses ! 

Surpasiiingly sweet ! 

Not the beauty of tulips, 
Nor tlic taste of inint-jiileps, 
Can compare with your two lips. 
Most beautiful Kate ! 

Not the black eyes of Juno, 
Nor Minerva's of blue, no. 
Nor Venus's, you know. 

Can c(|ual your own I 

. 0, how my lieart prances, 
And frolics and dances. 
When its radiant glances 

U[ion me are thrown I 

And now, dearest Kitty, 
It 'h not very ]in;tty. 
Indeed it 's a jiity. 

To keep me in sorrow I 

So, if you '11 but chime in, 

We '11 have done with our rhyniiu', 

Swap Cupid for Hymen, 

And be married to-morrow. 

John GODi'kCY Saxe 



CUPID SWALLOWED. 

T' OTHEK day, as I was twining 
Koses for a crown to dine in. 
What, of all tilings, midst the heap. 
Should 1 light on, fast asleep. 



IOC) 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



But the little desperate elf. 

The tiny trnitor, — Love liimsolf ! 

By tlio wings I jiinched him up 

LiUe a bee, ami in a cup 

Of my wine I plnngod and sank him ; 

And what d' yi-' think I did? — I drank him 

Faith, I thought him dead. Not he ! 

There he lives with tenfold glee ; 

And now this moment, with his wings 

I feel him tiekliiig my heart-strings. 

Llich hunt. 



DUNCAN GRAY CAM' HERE TO WOO. 

Duncan Gray cam' here to woo — 
Ha, ha ! the wooing o't ! 

Ou hlythe Yule night when we were fou — 
Ha, ha ! the wooing o't ! 

Maggie coost her head I'u' high, 

Looked asklent and unco skeigh, 

Gojt poor Duncan stand abeigh — 
Ha, ha ! the wooing o't ! 

Duncan fleeched and Duncan prayed — 
Ha, ha ! the wooing o't ! 

Meg was deaf as Ailsa craig — 

Ha, ha ! the wooing o't 1 

Duncan sighed Imith out and in, 

Grat his een baith bleer't and blin', 

Spak o' lowpin o'er a linn — 

Ha, ha ! the wooing o't ! 

Time and chance are but a tide — 
Ha, ha ! the wooing o't ! 

Slighted love is sair to bide — 

Ha, ha ! the wooing o't 1 

Shall I, like a fool, quoth he, 

For a haughty luz;!ie dee ? 

She may gae to — France, for me ! 
Ha, ha ! the wooing o't ! 

How it comes let doctors tell — 

Ha, ha ! the \vooing o't ! 

Meg grew sick as ho grew heal — 
Ha, ha ! the wooing o't I 

Something iu her bosom wrings, — 

For relief a sigh she brings ; 

And 0, her eon they speak sic things! 
Ha, ha ! the wooing o't ! 

Duncan was a lad o' grace — 

Ha, ha ! the wooing o't ! 

Maggie's was a piteous case — 

Ha, ha ! the wooing o't ! 

Duncan could na be lier death : 

Swelling pity smoored his wrath. 

Now they 'ro crouse and canty baith. 
Ho, ha ! the wooing o't ! 

_ ROBERT BURNS. 



THE DULE'S I' THIS BONNET o' MINE. 

LANCASHIRE DIALECT, 

The dule's i' this bonnet o' mine : 

My ribbins '11 never be reet ; 
Here, MaJly, aw 'm like lo be fine, 

For Jamie 'U be comin' to-nect ; 
He met me i' th' lone t'other day 

(Aw wur gooin' for wayter to th' well),. 
An' he begged that aw 'd wed him i' May, 

Bi th' mass, if he '11 let me, aw will ! 

■When he took my two honds into his. 

Good Lord, heaw they trembled between : 
An' aw durst n't look up in his face, 

Bocose on him seein' my e'en. 
Jly cheek went as red as a rose ; 

There 's never a mortal con tell 
Heaw hajipy aw felt, — for, thae knows. 

One could n't ha' a.\ed him theirsel'. 

But th' tale wur at th' end o' my tung : 

To let it eawt would n't be reet, 
For aw thought to seem forrud wur wrung ; 

So aw towil him aw 'd tell him to-neet. 
But, Mally, thae knows very wcel. 

Though it is n't a thing one should own, 
Iv aw 'd th' pikein' o' th' world to mysel'. 

Aw 'd oather ha Jamie or ncan 

Neaw, Mally, aw 'vc towd time my mind ; 

What would to do iv it wur thee ? 
" Aw 'd tak him just while he 'so inclined. 

An' a farrantly bargain he '11 be ; 
For Jamie 's as greadly a had 

As ever slept eawt into th' sun. 
Go, jumji at thy chance, an' get wed ; 

An' mak th' best o' th' job when it 's done ! 

Eh, dear ! but it 's time to be gwon : 

Aw should n't like Jamie to wait ; , 
Aw conuut for shame be too soon. 

An' aw would n't for th' wuld be too late 
Aw 'm o' ov a tremble to th' heel : 

Dost think 'at my bonnet '11 do ? 
" Be off, lass, — thae looks very wcel ; 

He wants uoan o' th' bonnet, thae foo ! " 
Edwin Wauch. 



RORY O'MORE; 

OR. ALL FOR GOOD LUCK. 

Young Rory O'Moi-e courted Kathleen bawu, — 
He was bold as a hawk, she as soft as the d.iwu ; 
He wished in his heart pretty Kathleen to please, 
And he thought the best way to do tint was to 
tease. 



I 



LOVE. 



J07 



f 

" Now, Kory, be aisy ! " sweet Kathleen would 

cry, 
Reproof on her lip, but a smile in her eye, — 
" With your tricks, 1 don't know, in troth, what 

I 'm about ; 
Faith ! you 'vc tazed till I 've put on my cloak 

inside out." 
" Och ! jewel," says Rory, " that same is the way 
Ye 've thrated my heart for this many a day ; 
And 't is plazed that I am, and why not, to be 

sure? 
For 'tis all for good luck," says bold Rory 

O'Moiu. 

"Indeed, then," says Kathleen, "don't think of 

the like. 
For I half gave a promise to soothering Mike : 
The ground that I walk on he loves, I '11 be 

bound — " 
"Faith! " says Roiy, " I 'd rather love you than 

the ground." 
" Now, Rory, ] '11 cry if you don't let me go ; 
Sure I dream every night that I 'm hating you 

so!" 
"Och ! " says Rory, "that same I 'm delighted 

to liear, 
For dhramcs always go by conthraries, my dear. 
So, jewel, kape dhraniing that same till ye die. 
And bright morning will give dirty night the 

black lie ! 
And 't is plazed that I am, and why not, to be 

sure ? 
Since 't is all for good luck," says bold Rorj' 

O'More. 

" Arrah, Kathleen, my darlint, you 've tazed me 

enough ; 
Sure I 'vc thrashed, for your sake, Dinny Grimes 

and Jim Duff; 
And I've made mys ■,', drinking your health, 

quite a ba.ste, — 
So I think, after that, I may talk to the praste." 
Then Ror)', the rogue, stole his arm round her 

neck. 
So soft and so white, without freckle or speck ; 
And lie looked in her eyes, that were beaming 

with light, 
And he kissed her sweet lips, — don't you think 

he w;is right T 
" Now, Rory, leave off, sir, — you '11 hug me no 

more, — 
That's eight times to-day that you've kissed me 

before." 
"Then here goes another,'-' says he, "to make 

sure ! 
For there's luck in odd numbers," says Rory 

OMore. 

liAMUEL LOVER. 



THE LOW-BACKED CAR. 

When first I saw sweet Peggy, 

'T was on a market day : 
A low-backed car she drove, and sat 

Upon a truss of hay ; 
Hut when that hay was blooming go 

And decked with flowers of spring 
No flower was there that could comt,' 

With the blooming girl I sing. 
As she sat in the low-backed car. 
The man at the turnpike Ijar 
Never asked for the toll, 
But just rubbed his owld poll, 
And looked after the low-backed oai 

In battle's wild commotion, 

The proud and mighty Mar.=i 
With hostile scythes demands his titil..s 

Of death in warlike cars ; 
While Peggy, peaceful goddess, 

Has darts in her bright eye. 
That knock men down in the market towu, 

As right and left they fly ; 
While she sits in her low-backed car, 
Than battle more dangerous far, — 
For the doctor's art 
Cannot cure the heart 
That is hit from that low-backed car 

Sweet Peggy roimd her car, sir, 

Has strings of ducks and geese. 
But the scores of hearts she slaughters 

By far outnumber these ; 
While she among her poultry sits. 

Just like a turtle-dove. 
Well worth the cage, 1 do engage, 

Of the blooming god of I>ove ! 
While she sits in her low-backed car, 
The lovers come near and far, 
And envy the chicken 
That Peggy is pickin'. 
As she sits in her low-backed car. 

O, I 'd rather own that car, sir, 

Willi Pegfjy by my side, 
Than a coach and four, and gold galore. 

And a lady for my bride ; 
For the lady would sit fominst me. 

On a cushion made with ta.<;te, — 
AVhile Peggy would sit beside me. 

With my arm around her waist. 
While we drove in the low-backed car. 
To be married by Father Mahar ; 
0, my heart would beat high 
At her glance and her sigh, — 
Though it beat in a low-backed car! 

SAHL'EL LOVT.a. 



198 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



SALLY IN OUR ALLKY. 

Of ull Iho sills thnt are so smart 

There "s iioue like pretty Sally ; 
She is the darling of my heart. 

Ami she lives in our alley. 
There is no laily in the laud 

Is half so sweet as Sally ; 
She is the darling of my heart, 

And she lives in our alley. 

Her father he makes cabbage-nets. 

And through the streets does cry 'em ; 
Her mother she sells laces long 

To such as please to buy 'cm ; 
But sure such folks could ne'er beget 

So sweet a girl as Sally I 
She is the darling of my heart. 

And she lives in our alley. 

When she is by I leave my work, 

I love her so sincerely ; 
My master comes like any Turk, 

And bangs mo most severely. 
But let him bang his bellyful, 

I '11 bear it all for Sally ; 
For she "s the darling of my heart. 

And she lives in our alley. 

Of all the days that "s in the week 

I dearly love but one day, 
And that 's the day that comes betwi^; 

The Saturday and Monday ; 
For then I 'm drcst all in my best 

To walk abroad with Sally ; 
She is the darling of my heart. 

And she lives iu our alley. 

My master carries me to church, 

And often am I blami;d 
Because I leave him in the lurch 

As soon as text is namM . 
] leave the church in sermon-time, 

And slink away to Sally ; 
She is the darling of my heart. 

And she lives in our alley. 

"Wlien Christmas comes abont again, 

0, then I shall Lave money ! 
1 '11 hoani it up, and box it all. 

And give it to my honey ; 
I would it were ten thousand pound! 

1 'd give it all to Sally ; 
She is the darling of my heart. 

And she lives in our alley. 

My master and the neinhlxirs all 
M.ike game of mo and Sally, 

And, but for her, 1 "d Ixtter bo 
A slave, and row a gidley j 



But when my si^ven long years are out, 

0, then 1 '11 marry Sally ! 

0, then we '11 wed, and then wc 'U^d, — 

But not in our alley ! 

HENRY Cartv. 



LOVELY MARY DONNELLY. 

LOVELY Mary Donnelly, it's you I love the 
best ! 

If fifty girls were round you, I 'd hardly see the 
rest. 

Bo what it may the time of day, the place be 
where it will, 

Swcot looks of Mary Donnelly, they bloom be- 
fore me still. 

Her eyes like mountain water that 's flowing on 

a rock, 
How dear they are ! how dark they arc ! and 

they give me many a shock. 
Red rowans warm in sunshine, and wetted with 

shower. 
Could ne'er e.vprcss the charming lip that has 

me in it.i power. 

Her nose is straight and handsome, her eyebrows 

lifted up, 
Her chin is very neat and pert, and smooth like 

a china cup. 
Her hair's the brag of Ireland, so weighty ami 

so fine, — 
It's rolling down upon her neck, and gather, 

in a twine. 

Tlio dance o" lost Whit-Monday night exceeded 

all before ; 
Ko pretty girl for miles about was missing from 

the Hoor ; 
But Mary kept tlic lielt of love, and 0, but she 

was gay ! 
She danced a jig, she sung a song, that took my 

heart away. 

When she stood up for dancing, her steps wci-e 

so complete 
The music nearly killed itself to listen to her 

feet; 
Tlic fiddler moaned his blindness, he heard her 

so much praised, 
But blesswl himself he was n't deaf when once 

her voice she raised. 

And evermore I 'm whistling or lilting what you 

sang, 
Your smile is always in my heart, your name 

beside my tongue ; 



LOVE. 



199 



But you 've as many sweethearts as you 'd count 

on both your hands, 
iVnd for myself there 's not a thumb or little 

finger stands. 

O, you 're the flower o' womankind in country 

or in town ; 
The higher I exalt you, the lower I 'ra cast 

down. 
If some great lord should come this way, and g£e 

your beauty bright, 
And you to b« his lady, I 'd own it was but 

right. 

0, might we live together in a lofty palace hall, 

Where joyful music rises, and where scarlet cur- 
tains fall ! 

0, might we live together in a cottage mean and 
small ; 

With sods of grass the only roof, and mud the 
only wall ! 

lovely Mary Donnelly, your beauty 'a my dis- 
tress ; 

It 's far too beauteous to be mine, but I '11 never 
wish it less. 

The proudest place would fit your face, and I 
am poor and low ; 

But blessings be about you, dear, wherever you 
may go! 

WILLUU ALLINGHAM, 



HER LETTER. 

I 'm sitting alone by the fire. 
Dressed just as I came from the dance. 
In a robe even you would admire, — 
It cost a cool thousand in France ; 
I 'm bediamonded out of all reason, 
My hair is done up in a cue t 
In short, sir, -" the belle of tlie season " 
Is wasting an hour on you. 

A dozen engagements I 've broken ; 

I left in the midst of a set ; 

Likewise a proposal, half spoken. 

That waits — on the stairs — for mo yet. 

They say he '11 be rich, — when ho grows up, ■ 

And then he adores me indeed. 

And you, sir, are turning your nose up. 

Three thousauJ njiles off, as you read. 

" And bow do 1 like my position ? " 
" And what do 1 think of New Yorlc ? " 
" And now, in my higher ambition, 
M'itb whom do I waltz, flirt, or t.ilk ? " 
" And is n't it nice to have riches 
And diamonds and silks and all that f " 
" And are n't it a cliange to the ditches 
And tunnels of Poverty Flat ( " 



Well, yes, — if you saw us out driving 
Each. day in the park, fbur-io-hand ; 
If you saw poor dear mamma contriving 
To look supcrnaturally grand, — 
If you saw papa's picture, as taken 
By Brady, and tinted at that, 
You 'd never suspect he sold bacon 
And flour at Poverty Flat. 

And yet, just this moment, when sitting 
In the glare of the grand chandelier. 
In the bustle and glitter befitting 
The " finest soiree of the year," 
In the mists of a gaze de clMiiihtry 
And the hum of the smallest of talk, — 
Somehow, Joe, I thought of " The Ferry," 
And the dance that we had on " The Fork ; " 

Of Harrison's bam, with its muster 
Of flogs festooned over the wall ; 
Of the candles that shed their soft lustra 
And tallow on head-dress and shawl ; 
Of the steps that we took to one fiddle ; 
Of the dress of my queer vis-d-vis ; 
And how I once went down the middle 
With the man that shot Sandy McGee ; 

Of the moon that was quietly sleeping 
On the hill, when the time came to go ; 
Of the few baby peaks that were peeping 
From under their bedclothes of snow ; 
Of that ride, — that to me was the rarest ; 
Of — the something you scid at the gate : 
Ah, Joe, then I was n't an heiress 
To " the best-paying lead in the State." 

Well, well, it 's all past ; yet it 's funny 
To think, as I stood in the glare 
Of fashion and beauty and money. 
That I should be thinking, right there, 
Of some one who breasted high water. 
And swam the North Fork, and all that. 
Just to dance with old Folinsbee's daughter. 
The Lily of Poverty Flat. 

But goodness ! what nonsense I 'ra writing ! 
(Mamma says my taste still is low,) 
Instead of my triumphs reciting, 
I 'm spooning on Joseph, — heigh-ho I 
And 1 'm to be " finished" by travel. 
Whatever 'a the meaning of that, — 
0, why did papa strike pay gravel 
In drifting on Poverty Flat ? 

Good night, — here 's the end of my paper ; 
Good night, — if the longitude please, — 
For niriybc, while wasting my taper. 
Your sun 's climbing over the trees. 



200 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



But know, if you haven't got riches, 
Aiul arc poor, deart-si Joe, nnd all that. 
That my heart 's somewhere there in the ditches, 
And you 've struck it, — on Poverty Flat. 

BRET H/VKTE 



WIDOW MACHREE. 

• Widow machree, it 's no wonder you frown, — 
Och hone ! widow maclireo ; 
Faith, it ruins your looks, that same dirty Mack 
gown, — 
Och hono ! widow machree. 
How iiltorcd your air, 
With that close cap you wear, — 
'T is destroying your hair, 

Which shoukl be flowing free : 
Be no longer a cliurl 
Of its black silken curl, — ■ 
Och hone ! widow machree. 

Widow machree, now the summer is come, — 

Och hone ! widow machree ; 
When everything sjniles, should a bciuty look 
glum ? 
Och lione ! widow niachi'oo ! 
See the birds go in pairs. 
And the rabbits and hares ; 
Why, even the bcara 

Now in couples agi'eo ; 
And the mule little fish, 
Tl'.ougli they can't sjiake, they wish, — 
Ocli hone ! widow machree ! 

Widow machree, and when winter ccmes in, — 

Och hone ! widow machree, — 
To be poking the fire all alone is a sin, 

Och hone ! widow machree ! 
Sure the sliovel an.l tonga 
To each other belongs, 
And Ihc kettle sings songs 

Full of family glee ; 
While alone with your cup 
Like a hermit you sup, 

Och hone ! widow machree ! 

And how do you know, with the comforts I 've 
towld, — 
Och hone ! widow niachive, — 
But you 're keeping some poor fellow out in the 
cowld > 
Och hone ! widow machree ! 
With such sins on your head. 
Sure your peace would be fled ; 
Could you sleep in your bed 

Without thinking to see 
Some ghost or some sprite. 
That would wake you each night, 

Ciying " Och hone ! mdow machree I " 



Then take my advice, darling widow machree, — 

Och hone ! widow machree ! — 
And with my advice, faith, I wish you 'd take 
me, 
Och hono ! widow machree ! 
You 'd have mo to desire 
Then to stir up the fire ; 
And sure hope is no liar 

111 whispering to mo 
That the ghosts would depart 
When you 'd me near your heart, — 
Och hone ! widow machree ! 

SAMUEL Lover. 



THE LAIRD 0' COCK PEN. 

The laird o' Cockpen ho '3 proud and he 's grc:\t, 
His mind is fci'en up with the things 0' the state ; 
He wiintod a wife his braw house to keep, 
But favor wi" wooin' was fashious to seek. 

Doun by the dyke-side a lady did dwell, 
At his table-head ho thought she 'd look well ; 
St'Clish's ae daughter o' Claverse-ha' Lee. 
A penniless lass wi' a lang pedigree. 

His wig was weel pouthered, and guid as when 

new ; 
His waistcoat was white, his coat it was blue ; 
He put on a ring, a sword, and cocked hat, — 
And wha could refuse the Laird wi' a' that f 

He took the gray mare, and rade cannilie, — 
And rapped at the yett 0' Claverse-ha' Lee ; 
" Gae tell Mistress Jean to come speedily ben : 
She 's wanted to speak wi' the Laii-d o' Cockpen." 

Mistress Jean she was makin' the elder-flower 

wine ; 
" And what brings the Laird at sic a like tiir.e ? " 
She put aff her apron, and on her silk gown, 
Her mutch wi red ribbons, and gaed awa' down. 

.\nd when she cam' ben, he boued fu' low, 
And what w-is his en-and he soon lot her know. 
Amazed was the Laird when the lady said, No, 
And wi' a laigh curtsie she tumid awa'. 

Dumfoundercd he was, but nae sigh did ho gl'e ; 
He mounted his mare, and rade cannilie. 
And aften he thought, as he gaed through theglen, 
' ' She 's daft to refuse the Laird 0' Cockpen . ' ' 

And now that the Lairvl his exit had made. 
Mistress Jean she reflected on what ihe h.id -^md ; 
" 0, for ane I '11 get better, it 's waur 1 '11 get ten ; 
I was daft to refuse the Laird o' Cockpen." 



LOVE. 



201 



Ts'eist time that the Laird and the lady were seen, 
They were gaiin arm and arm to the kirk on the 

grcL'n ; 
Now slie sits in the ha" like a weel-tapiJit lien, 
lint as yet there 's nau chiekens ajujearod at 

Coi k[ii>n. 

CAKULINA OLIPHANT. UARONLbS NAIRNI. 



THE FAITHFUL LOVERS. 

I 'd [leen away fioni her tlireo years, — about 
that. 
And I returned to find my Mary true ; 
And though 1 'd question lier, I did uot doubt 
tliat 
It was unnecessary so to do. . 

'T was by the chimney-eorner we were sitting : 

"JIary,"said 1, " have you been always true?" 
" Frankly," says she, just pausing in her knit- 

" I don't tliink I 've unfaithful been to you : 
lint for the three years jiast 1 '11 tell you what 
I 'vo done ; theu say if I 've been true or uot. 

" When first you left my grief was uncontrollable; 

Alone I mourned my miserable lot ; 
And all who saw mo tliought ine inconsolable, 

Till t'aptnin CliU'urd came from Aldershott. 
To lliit witli him amused me while 't was new : 
I don't count that nnfailhrulncss — do you / 

"The next — oh! let mo see — was Frankie 
I'liipps ; 
I nn't him at my uncle's, Christni.is-tide, 
And 'neath the mistletoe, where lips meet lijis, 
He gave me liis lirst kiss — " And here she 
siglicd. 
"We stayed six weeks at uncle's — how time 

flew! 
1 don't count that unfaithfulness — do you ? 

" Lord Cecil Fossmoro — only twenty-one — 

Lent me his horse. O, how we rode and raced ! 
\\ e scciured tlie downs — wo rode to hounds — 
such fun I 
And nften was hif arm about my waist,_— 
Tliat was to lilt nn- up and down. But who 
W.niM call just that unfaithfulness ,' Would 
y<.i. ? 

" Ml' you know Reggy Vcrc ? Ah, how he sings ! 

We met, — 'twas at a picnic. O, such weather ! 
Ill' gavi- me, look, the first of these two rings 

When we were lost in Cliefden woods together. 
All, what a happy time we spent, — we two ! 
1 don't 1 ipuiit that unfaithfulness to you. 



I " I 've yet another ring from him ; d' ye S09 

The plain gold circlet that is shining hero?" 
1 took her hand : "O Jlaiy ! can it bo 

That you — " Quoth she, "that lam Mrs. Vere. 
I don't call that unfaithfulness — do you ? " 
" No," I replied, " for 1 am married too." 

ANONYMOUS. 

— ♦ 

COOKING AND COURTING. 

FR0.\1 TOM TO NED. 

Dear Ned, no doubt you '11 be surprised 

When you receive and read this letter. 
I 've railed against the marriage state ; 

But then, you see, I knew no belter. 
I 've met a lovely girl out hero ; 

Her manner is — well — very winning; : 
We 're soon to be — well, Ned, my dear, 

I '11 tell you all, from the beginning. 

I went to ask her out to ride 

Last Wednesday — it wiw perfect weather. 
She said she could n't jKissibly : 

The servants had gone off together 
(Hibernians always rush away. 

At cousin.s' funerals to be looking) ; 
Pies must be made, and she must stay. 

She said, to do that blanch of cooking. 

"0, let me help yon," then I cried: 

" I '11 be a cooker too — how jolly ! " 
She laughed, and answered, witli a smile, 

" All right ! but you '11 repent your folly ; 
For I shall be a tyrant, sir. 

And good hard work you '11 have to grapple ; 
So sit down there, and don't you stir. 

But take this knife, and pare that apple." 

She rolled her sleeve above her ann, — 

That lovely arm, so plump and rounded ; 
Ontsiile, the morning sun shone bright ; 

Inside, the dongh she deftly jiounded. 
Her little fingers sprinkled flour. 

And roUeil the pie-crust up in masses: 
I passed the most delightful hour 

Mid butter, sugar, and molasses. 

With deep rellcction her .sweet eyes 

Ga;!ed on each pot and jian and kettle . 
She sliced the apples, filled her pies. 

And then the upper crust did settle. 
Her rippling waves of golden hair 

In one great coil were tightly twisteil ; 
But locks would break it, here and there, 

And cuil about where'er they listed. 

And then her sleeve came down, and I 
Fastened it up — her hands were doughy ; 

0, it did take the longest time ! — 

Her arm, Ned, was so round and snowy. 



202 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS, 



Slio bhiMluHi, niiii tiviublotl, and looked sliy ; 

Soiiu'lmw that iiiado im> all llio Inddor ; 
lie r :ir>li lipi looki'd no ivd that I — 

Will - loiliid lii'i- huad upon my shouldor. 

Wr 'iv lo Ih< iiirtiiiod, Nod, next nionth; 

I'omo and attend tlio wodding iwols. 
1 ivally think tliat Imolndois 

Aro till' most misonililo dovils I 
Yon 'd lu'ttcr fio for somo girl's hnud ; 

And if yon aiv nnooitain wliotlier 
Yon »lan' to inuko n dno dcnnind, 

Why, just try cooking pies together. 

ANONYMOUS. 



1'OS.SK.SSION. 

A Pof:!" loved » Star, 

And to it whisjioivd nightly, 

" IWing so fair,- why art thou, lovo, so far 1 

Or why «> iMldly shine, who sliin'st so brightly I 

O Hoanty wooed ami nn|Kvisest ! 

0, might 1 to this beating br«>ast 

r>at clasp thee oni-e, niul then die blest ! " 

That Star her IVx't's love. 

So wildly wann, made hninan ; 

Ami leaving, for his sake, her heaven alnive, 

llis Star stiHipinl cttrthwawl. and Uvnine a 

Woman. 
" Thou who hast wooed and hast iKvssest, 
My lover, answer ; Whiih was Ivst, 
'f he Star's bt-niu or the Woman's bix'ast 1 " 
" 1 miss fivm heaven," the man n'jilied, 
" .\ light that drew my spirit to it. ' 
And to the man the woman sighed, 
" I mi.'vs fivm e*irtli n jHH<t," 

KoiicKr ni'LwrR, iord L^•TTON. 



THE AGE OF WISDOM. 

llo I piYtty jvige, with the dimpUnl ohin, 
That never lias known the hirlvr's shear. 

All your wish is woman to win ; 

This is the way that Ivys K'gin, — 
Wait till you como to forty year. 

Curly gold liH-ks cover fo«<lish brains ; 

lulling and cooing is all your cluvr, — 
i>igliing, and singing of midnight strains, 
I'nder Honnylvll's window-ivines, — 

\Yiiit till you come to forty year. 

Forty tin\es over let Michaelmas jwss ; 

Oriif.ling hair the brain doth clear : 
Then you know a Ivy is an ass, ■ 
Then yon know the worth of a hiss, — 

Once you have com^o lorty year. 



I'ledgo me ronml ; 1 bid ye doclniv, 
All good fellows whose beanls aro gray, - 

Did not the fairest of the fair 

t^'ominon grow and wearisome ero 
Ever a month waa past away f 

The ix'ddest lijis that ever have kissed. 

The brightest eyes that ever hava shouo, 
May pray and whis)H'r and wo not list, 
Or look away and never lu) missed, — 
Ero yot over a month is gone. 

Gillian 's dead ! OoJ ivst her bier, — 
How I loved her twenty years syne I 

Miu'ian 's married ; but 1 sit here, 

Alone and merry at forty year, 

Dipping my nose in tlie Gascon wine. 

WILLIA.M MAKEPbACIi THACKBllAV. 



THE FIRE OF LOVE. 

FROU TMB "SXAHBN UISCBLLANBUM." I^^S. 

The firo of love in youthful blood, 
Like what is kiiulleii i\i brushwood 

Unt for a moment bums ; 
Yet in that moment makes a mighty noiso ; 
It crackles, and to vapor turns, 

Ainl soon itself destrxiys. 

But when crept into agctl veins 

It slowly burns, and tlien long remains, 

And with a silent heat. 
Like fin- in logs, it glows and warms "em long 
And though the tlanie Ih' not so givat. 

Yet is the heat as stivng. 

CllA.<iLBS SACKVILLU. EARI OP DORSST. 



LOVE. 

PROU ■niR "LAV OF THIS LAST MtNSTRPL, CANTO Ul, 

Ani> Siiid I that my linil>s wero old, 
.■\nd s;iid I that my bUvd was cold, 
And that my kindly liiv was lied, 
And my jxwr witheitHl heart was dead, 

-And that I might not sing of love > — 
How could 1, to the deaivst thenio 
That ever wan>u\l a minstix-l's divani. 

So fold, so false a recre.xnt pivvo ! 
How could I name love's very name, 
Nor wako my heart to notes of llame ! 

In \vace. Love tunes the shephenl's reed ; 
In war, he mounts the warrior's steed ; 
In halls, in gsiy attiiv is stvn : 
In hamlets, diuK-es on tlie greiui. 



FUAfiMENTS 



203 



l.ov(! rules tlic court, the camp, tho grove, 
Ami men Iwlnu-, nnil saintH (ifxjve ; 
Kor love ii> liciiveii, uud lieavcii is love. 

True love '» tlic gift which OoJ hon given 
To man alone lieneath the beavei ; 

It is not fantasy's hot fire. 

Whose wishes, soon fts granteil, lly ; 

It liveth not in fierce desire, 

With dead <lesirc it doth not die ; 
It iii the secret synipatliy, 
The silver link, the silken tie, 
Which heart to lieart, and mind to mind. 
In body and in soul can bind. 

SIR WALTEH SCOTT. 



FRAGMENTS. 

Power of Love and Beauty. 

Love, like death, 
I>evcl» all ranks, and lays the sheplnrd's crook 
IJef.ide the sceptre. 

Laityc/L^tni. E BULWCR-LVTT'JN. 

Didst thou but know the inly touch of love, 
Thou wouldat as srjon go kindle fire with snow. 
As seek to (|unich the fire of love vrith words. 

Tina Cfillimin c/ yirtna. All II. Sc. 7. SHAXEIPEARC. 

Thy fatal shafts unerring move, 
I liow bifoio thine altar. Love ! 



RtHitrkk Random. Ch. xl 



T. Smollett. 



Alas ! the love of women ! it is known 
To he a lovely and a fearful thing. 

thn yuan. Canl. U. BVRON. 

Mightier far 
Than strength of nerve or sinew, or tho sway 
f)f magic p<jtent over sun and star. 
Is love, though oft to agony distrest. 
And though his favorite scat bo feeble woman's 
breast. 

Uixlamla, WORDIWOKTH. 

There \ a blUs boyond all that tho minstrel has 
tol.l, 
When two, that are linked in one heavenly tie, 
Willi hiMrt never ijianging, an<l brow never cold, 
Love on through all ills, and love on till they 
die! 
(.•ne hour of a passion %<> cacred is worth 

Wliolc ages of heartless ami wandering bliss ; 
Aijd 0, if there be an Elysium on earth. 
It is tliiH, it is this. 

LaUa l:<Kikh : Light (/ilir Iftrttrt. Moolrs. 



Tlioso curious locks so aptly twined 
Whose every hair a soul doth bind. 

Think not eanit men /lalltrtti^ lay. T. CaKLW. 

To Sport with Amaryllis in tho kha>lo. 
Or with the tangles of Neairu's hair. 

Lytidat. MILTO.V. 

Anil Ijeaiity draws im with a single hair. 

I^af-t If/ Ihd Loli. Cant. 11. TOi-B. 

Lie ten nights awake, carving tho fashion of a 
new doublet. 

Mufh Alio about Nothiiic. AetH. .Vr. y SHAKe^l'eAfll'. 

Still harping on my daughter. 

J/amM. A(l II. 5V. 3. SMAKHSI'ltARIl. 

This is the very ecstasy of love. 

liamUI. Attn. ie. I. fitlAKUJtl'JiAKIi. 

The light that lie* 
In woman's eyes. 

Jhr limt I'vt toit. Moose, 

1 1 (uldti a 7-reciouit seeing to tho eye. 

Lni^l Lalmr Loll, All U. St. y SHAKCSPEAtir. 

With a smile tlmt glowed 
Celestial rosy red, love's proper hue. 

Paradtit Loit. Hook vlll. Mif-TON: 

Hung over her enamoied, and beheld 
Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep, 
.Shot forth peculiar graces. 

ParadiH Loit, book v. ?.IILTON. 



Love's Blindness. 

Love looks not withthe eyes, but with the mind. 
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. 

Kfidiummtr Nighft [trtam. Act I. Sc. 1. SUA KBUfBAke. 

None ever loved but at first sight they loved. 

UUnd IScggar 0/ Alexandria, CEO. CHAf'MAM, 

Who ever loved that loved not at first sight ? 

Htro and Liaiiiir. C. Maslowe, 

Rut love is blind, and lovers cannot seo 
The pretty follies that them8<;Ives commit. 

Nirchmnt c/ fcnici. Act 11, Si. I,. SIIAKItSrCAEB, 

Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul. 

Rapt effktlMk, Cam 1 POPt. 

Our souls sit close and silently within. 
And their own web from their own entrails B[iiii ; 
And when eyes meet far od', our seiiM; is such. 
That, spider-like, we feel the tcndcrest touch. 

Hariacc a la .Meilt. Act il. Si. I. DRVXiLII. 



204 



I'OEMS OV THE AFFECTIONS, 



l,ovi;'s r.viNS. 

A iiii^lity pain to lovo il iSt 

Ami 't is n \mn tlmt \M\n to miss ; 

r.iil of all iviiiis, tho gvc'.itosl vniiu 

li is to love, but lovo in viiiu. 

A. C( 

The sweetest joy, tlio wiUlcat woe is lovo 
Tlu> tuiiit of oavlU, tho odor of Uio skios 
U in it. 

riionU llmt vibrato swootoat iilciisvro 
Tliiill llio .loojwsl notoa of woo. 

On St»ji>iNfy, 



SHAKESri'ARIl. 



r. J. UAILBV. 



DUKNS. 



Fuutaatio tyf'.iiit of th« nmoroiis hoBrt, 
How hunl tliy yoko I how cruel ia thy ilnrt ! 
Thoao 'to.ftlH) thy iuigor who ivfuso thy sway, 
Ami thoao tiro puuishod most who most olwy. 

To 1)0 iu lovo wh»ro scorn is Ixjught with groans ; 
Coy looks, with hi-art-soro sighs; ono fading 

moment's mirth, 
With twonty watchful, wcavy, tedious nights : 
If hoply won, j)f"hai>s a hiiploss gain ; 
If lost, why thou a grievous labor won. 

I,ovo is liko « landscapo which doth stand 
Sn\ooth at a distance, rough at haiul. 

Oh U;,. R- "f'^>'-" 

Vows with 80 much jxission, swoats with so much 
That "t is a kind of hwivon to bo doludod by him. 

MtMxHJtr llu GrMll. Ml I. St. > N. Ltt. 

To love you was jileiusant enough. 
And 6, 't is delicious to hate you ! 

J.J MOORU. 

Sioiis, Tears, and Smilks. 
To love, 
It is to bo all made of sighs and tears. 

W* )•« il** ". ■«« V. ir. t. SHAKBSrnAKK. 



Sunshine and rain at once. 

Smiles Irom reason flow. 
To brute denied, and are of love tlie food. 

l\,r.,MtlL^I. £.vil«, MILTON, 

Tho rose is fairest when 't is budding new. 
And hope is brightest when it dawns from tears. 

The rose is sweetest washed with uiorning dew. 
And lovo is loveliest when embaUned iu tears. 

Lajj «//*« i'*'. t"""'. '»• SCOTr. 

Shyness ok Love. 

Silence in love Iwwrays more woe 
Than woiils, though ne'er so witty ; 

A lieggar that is dumb, you know, 
Mav challenge double pity. 

:•*, S,iml L^^. SIR W. RALEIOT 

I Read it, sweet maid, though itbedoncbutslij-htly : 
Who can show all his lovo dotli lovo but lightly. 



Sinmt. 



S. Daniku 



1 never tempted hor with word too large ; 
Uut, as a brother to his sister, showed 
Bashful sincerity, and conuily love. 

Akts of Love. 
Of all tho paths lead to a woman's "'vo 
Pity 's the straightest. 

AMlfWc/'A/j/.-J. .<rfl.S<-. I nPAUWONT«I\cl FIDTCHBK. 

So mourned the diuno of Ephesns her love ; 
And thus the soldier, armed with resolution, 
Told his soft t^alc, and was a thriving wo<H'r. 

KHiliirJ III. (.^.tornfl. ^rt B. i". 1. COU.BY ClBOER 

The Devi! halh not, in all his quiver's choice, 
An arrviw for the heart like a sweet voice. 

nm 7»aH. CjhI. it, BvRON. 

Love tirst invented verse, and formed the rhyme. 
The motion measui-enl, harmouiicd the chime 

0«« anJ IMd""- DRVDSS- 

rieased me, loni; choosing and beginning late. 

/^..^.J■«iA«.«-iu. ""-TON. 



IlrrMll^rt^.!!: SS:"^U ti- ., None without hope .er loved the br^,t.s. fair. 



smiled. 

rintiyni i^tl.-/t. f\>rl I. 



T. CAUi-asu.. 



O father, what a hell of witchcraft lies 
I\i the small orb of one jiarticular tear! 

^ L^VfTJ C-^VAllW. St. .lii. SMAKUSeaARB. 

SighiHl and lookoel unutterable things, 

rk.S»^.:S,«^rr ^ THOMSON. 



nut love can hoiH< when- ivason would dos]>air. 

B/ij^mm. C.EORCE. LORD LVXTELTO.-l. 

Iplk Love. 

My only Kwks 
Were woman's lewks. 
And folly "s all they 've taus'nt me. 

rv limt I t* iMt MOORK. 



FRAGMENTS. 



205 



Lovo ill your hearts as idly burns 
As firo in antique Itoman urns. 

Hiidlbrtu, Pan II CaHl. i. DUTLlli. 

Lovo sought is good, but given unsouglit is bctt/T. 

Twtt/lh Nielli, /id li. iV. 5. illlAKLlirLAKU. 



DiKCniMINATINO LoVE. 

The rose that all are praising 

Is not th(i rose for ine ; 
Too many eyes arc gazing 
Upon the costly tree ; 
But there's a rose in yonder glen 
That ahuns the Raze of other men, 
^'or mo its blossom raising, — 
O, that 's the rose for ine. 



7ht rote Ihat alt art praiiiHS. 



T. IL BAYLV. 



But the fruit that can fall without shaking, 
Indeed is too mellow for nie. 

Tht AnrUKT, UADV MARY W, MONTAGU. 

Love in a hut, with water and a crust. 

Is — Lord forgive us ! — cinders, ashcif, dust. 

Lamia. K I'ATS 

The cold in clime arc cold in Wood, 
Their love can scarce deserve the name. 

ThtClasNr. BVKOM. 



Love's Uanceijs. 

And when once the young heart of a maiden is 
stolen. 
The maiden herself will steal alter it goon. 

tttOtfllHf. MOOKE. 

And whispering, " I will ne'er consent," — con- 
sented. 

Don yuan, Catil. L HVRON. 

The fly that M\n treacle is lost in the sweets. 

Dtngar't Optra, Att ii. St. -J. J. CAV. 

Then fly lictimes, for only they 
C'omiuer Love, that run away. 

Cenqutlt bif Fllshl. T. CAkLW. 



The Sweets of Love. 

Then awake ! — the heavens look bright, my 

dear I 
'T is never too late for delight, my dear I 

And the best of all ways 

To lengthen our days, 
Is to steal a few hours from tlic night, my dear ! 

Ytutif May Mocn. Mookl:. 

Lovers' hours are long, though seeming short. 

yttwt arii Atfonli. SHAKUSfCAKC 



Love I fire ! once he drew 

With one long kiss my whole soul through 

My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew. 

Fallma. TP-NHYSON, 

A long, long kiss, a kiss of youth and love. 

Don yuan. Caul. II. BYRON. 

O'er her warm cheek, and rising bosom, move 
The bloom of young Desire and purple li;.;'it ol 
Love. 

Proirrttt o/ I'otiy. L > T. (.KAY, 

Still amorous, and fond, and billing. 
Like I'hilip and Mary on a shilling. 

Iluilibrai. fan. ill. Cant. I. UUTLntt. 

And dallies with the innocence of love. 

Twtinh Nii'lil. /Id IL Sc. «. 8llAKI'.SPr.ARI!. 

And, touched by her fair tendance, gladlicr grew. 

Paradist Loll. Book vlll. M1L10H, 

Why, she would hang on him, 
As If increase of appetite had grown 
I5y what it feil on. 



llamUI. jUI I, Sc. j. 



SllAKrirCARE, 



Imiiaradised in one another's arms. 

Paradltt Loll. Boon iv. MILTO.N. 



Mutual Love. 

Two souls with but a single thougVit, 
Two hearts that beat as one. 

Ini'omarlluSarltartafi.ytdW. MaI'.ia LXIVGLU 

FkiiI). Tiers 's my hand. 

MiKAN. And mine, with my heart in 't 

Ttmftil. Ad III. iV. I. SlIAKIISPP.ARn. 

What 's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine. 

Mra„irt/or Mcaiurt. Ad i. iv. i. SHAKESPCAKIi. 

Drink ye to her that each loves best. 

And if you nurse a flame 
That 's told but to lier mutual breast. 

We will, not ask her name. 

Dritik ye 10 htr. CaMPDCIX. 

Forever, Fortune, wilt thou prova 

An unrelenting f'>e to love ; 
And, when we meet a mutual heart, 

Come in between and bid us ijart J 

Song. TllOMiON 

And you must love him, ere to you 
He will seem worthy of your Jove. 



A f'otll Epilapk. 



Wordsworth 



Ye gods ! annihilate but space and time, 
And make two lovers happy. 

i\t.irllnnt StnOltrni on Ihe An 0/ Sinbliip in Poelrv. Ch. xL 

l'ol'l> 



206 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



Swoot to ciitrftnoo 
'J'lio rnpturod soil] by iutornungling glnnco. 
i-iitiu. MRS. Ticiin. 

Truo bi'iiuty dwells in (loop rotvcuts, 

Whilst' vi'il is iiiiri'iiuivoil 
Till luiirl with lu'iiil in couoorJ bents, 

Ami Iho lovor is bulovcd. 

r<' , WORDSWORTH. 

O tlint the dosi'rt wpiojiiy dwilling-plnce, 
With mm fiiir Spiiil tor my luiiiistor, 
TIml 1 iiilnlit all forgot llu^ huiimii riii'c, 
And, ImtiiiH no oiio, lovo but oidy her ! 

Chitih ll.ii'^'l.l, C^Ht, iv. OVKOK. 

With thee, all toils nro 8woet ; onch cliino liuth 

chiirins ; 
Earth — son nliko — our world withiu our arms. 

T/ltSrMt^/ltji/M. 1VR0N. 



TnuB Love. 

Lovo is a celestial harmony 
or likoly hearts. 

Hjm'i in J/«mr (!/■ BniH(y Sl'imsilR. 

Tho Ooils ii]>|>riivo 
The depth, and nut tho tiiinull, of thu soul ; 
A forvont, not ungovoninblo, lovo. 
Thy transports niodemte. 

/.atitumlj, Wokhswokth. 

In his do|)ortnipnt, shape, and mieu appeared 
Elysiuii beauty, nieluulioly gnioe, 
Ihviight from n iionaive, tlioiigli a hapiy vlnoe. 
Ho spiiUo of love, .suoh love n» Spirits feol 
In worlds whose oo\irso is equable niul pure ; 
No fears to bout away, — no strife to lied, — 
The imst unsighod for, and tho futm'e <-\ro. 

t,Ml.lMl,l. WOKOSWOKTII. 

Tlioit) 's boggnry in tlio lovo that can Iw reckoned. 

^NtifHV amti Ctt}f/<>tru, .4i-t \> Sc^ t. StlAKUSro.AKtl. 

Forty thousand bivthots 
ConlJ not, with idl their ijuautity of love. 
Make up my sum. 

H.imlll..t,f1,Snt. SHAKBSrSARB. 



Tk.n'dku Akfkction. 

So loving to iMv mother. 
That ho might not U'teeni tho winds of heaven 
Visit her face too routrhly. 

ll.im!M,.i.<t.S<.a, SIIAKBSPBARB. 



Dear ns the vital warmth that foods my UlV , 
Uoar ns these eyes, that woep iu fondness o'er 
thco. 

I'fNict Prtsfrttit, .-ti'lv. St, I. T, OTWAV. 

Dear ns tho light that visits those sad eyes ; 
Dear as the riiddy drops that warm myhoart. 

TJuB.tnf.l.i.' T. GKAV. 

As dear to me ns nro tho ruddy drops 
That visit my .snd heart. 

ynhus Crjilr,'//./ it. Si, I. SlIAKUSPRAKU. 

With thoo ooiivorsiiig 1 forgot all time; 

All seasons ami their eliango, nil please nliko. 

lint neither brwilh of morn when slio naeends 
-With oharm of earliest birds, nor rising .sun 
On this delightful land, nor herb, frail, llower, 
(Jlistoriiig with dew, nor frngmnoo aflir showers, 
Nor grateful evening mild, nor silent night 
With this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon, 
Or glittering starlight, without thee is sweet. 

Piiradiit LMt, S<vJt Iv. MlLTON. 



Constancy. 

All lovo is sweet, 
Oiven or ivturnod. Conuuon as light is love, 
And its familiar voice wearies not ever. 

rr\mtl>triii t'»^'nn>/ .iti II. i,'. J. SHELLDV. 

Love is indestructible : 
Its holy flame forever burnetii ; 
From Heaven it came, to Heaven returnoth ; 

It soweth bore with toil and caro, 
Uut the harvost-tiiue of Love is there. 



R. SOUTHSY. 



Cum ^ KehauM, Cant, x. 

They sin who loll ns Lovo can dio : 
With Life all other passions lly, 
All othere an> but vanity. 

Cnrtc ^ K<SAm.», Cint x, R. SOUTHBV. 

Poubt thou the stni-s are liixi. 

Doubt that the sun doth move; 
Ooubt truth to be a liar. 

But never doubt 1 lovo. 

//J«JW. Acl II. Sc, % SHAKGSTEARC 

When lovo begins to sicken and decay. 

It u.seth an onl'oivi'd ceivmouy. 

Theri' arc no tricks in plain and simple faith. 

yx/im C^litr, Ail l«. Sc. i. SIIAKUSrEAKIL 

She hugged the olTendor, and fotgavo tho ofTencft 
Sox to tho Inst. 






FRAGMENTS. 



207 



Li^litly thou say'st that woman's lovo is false, 
The thought is falser far. 

Htrtram, R. MaTUHIN. 

Yoli say to me-wards your anTcction 's strong ; 
Piay love me little, so you love me long. 

t-fne m^ tttltf.tave rrulang \<. Ml'.RRlCF:. 

I,et those love now who never loved before, 
Let those who always loved now love the more. 

PfrfigitiHtn ytnerll. T. TARNLLL: 



Inconstancy and Jealousy. 

AH love may be expelled by other love 
As poisons are by poisons. 

/t/./Kr Lnt. DRVDHN. 

Frailty, thy name is woman I 

Hamltl, All I. Sc. l. SIIAKCSPEARE. 

Ham. Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring ? 
Oi'ii. "T is brief, my lord. 
Ham. As woman's love. 

Ilamltl, /Id III. St. 7. SHAKESPEARE. 



A little month. 

tU>nltl,/leH.Sc.l. 



Shakespeare. 



Framed to make women false. 

OtMU, /la L Sc. i. Shakespeare. 

To beguile many, and bo beguiled by one. 
oiMiit, Aci Iv. Sc. I. Shakespeare. 

The lady doth protest too much, mcthinks. 

Hamlcl. Acl III. Sc. l. SHAKESPEARE. 

O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, 
That monthly changes in her circled orb. 
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. 

K>nut and Jullcl, Acl II. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE. 

0, beware, my lord, of jealousy ; 
It is the green-ej'ed monster which doth mock 
The meat it feeds on. 

oikcitt, Acl ill. Sc. J. Shakespeare. 

To be once in doubt. 
Is onco to be resolved. 
OihtUt. Act UL Sc. J Shakespeare. 



Tliat we can call these delicate creatures ouis. 
And not thfir appetites ! 

OrJillh, Acl III. Sc. 3. SMAKCSPEARC. 

But, O, what damnM minutes tells he o'er. 
Who dotes, yet doubts ; suspects!, yet strongly 
loves ! 

Ollirlta. Acl III. Sc. 3. SHAKCSPnABC, 

Trifles, light as air, 
Are to the jealous conlinuations strong 
As proofs of holy writ. 

Olhcllo, Acim.Sc.-i. SHAKESPfARR. 

With groundless fear ho thus his soul deceives : 
What phrenzy dictates, jealousy believes. 

Dtane. J. GaV. 

At lovers' perjuries, 
They say, Jove lauglis. 

Hfitnco and yutici, Acl II. Sc, 3. SHAKESPEARE. 

Fool, not to know that love endures no tie. 
And Jove but laughs at lovers' peijury. 

Piilaman and Arctic, DookW. DrVDPN. 

Nor jealousy 
Was understood, the injured lover's hell. 

J'aratUte Lou, Book V. MILTOW. 

Good heaven, the souLs of all my tribe defend 
From jealousy ! 

Ollicllc Act III. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE. 

Heaven has no rage like lovo to hatred turned, 
Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned. 

The Uimrnini! Urldi, Acl ill. 5c. 8. W. CONCREVE. 

Who love too much hate in the like extreme. 

f/onut/l Odytsey. POPE. 

They that do change old love for new, 
I'ray gods, they change for worse ! 

Tlu Arraignment 0/ Paris : CtipifCi Curte, C. PEELE. 



Possession. 

I die — but first I have possessed. 
And come wliat may, I hatit been blest. 

T/ic Ciaoiir. DVRON 



1 've lived and loved. 

lyallciuUln. Pan i. Acl IL Sc. 6. 



S. T. COLERIOCE. 



208 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



MARRIAGE. 



SONNET. 

Let me not to the marriage of true minds 

Ailinit iiiipcdiments : love is not love, 

Which alters when it alteration finds, 

Or bends with the remover to remove ; 

0, no ! it is an ever-fixed mark, 

That looks on tempests, and is never shaken ; 

1 1 is the star to every wandering hark. 

Whose worth 's unknown, althougli his height bo 

taken. 
Love 's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and 

cheeks 
Within his bending sickle's compass come ; 
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, 
But bears it out even to the edge of doom. 
If this be error, and upon me proved, 
1 never writ, uor no man ever loved. 

SlEAKESPtAKK 



LOVE. 



T)ii!nE arc who say the lover's heart 

Is in the loved one's merged ; 
0, never by love's own warm art 

So cold a plea was urged ! 
No ! — hearts that love hath crowned or crossed 

Love fondly knits together ; 
Tiut not a thought or hue is lost 

That niado a pait of either. 



It is an ill-told tale that tells 

Of " hearts by love made one ; " 
He grows who near another's dwells 

More conscious of his own ; 
In each spring up new thoughts and ])owers 

That, mid love's warm, clear weather. 
Together tend like climbing Mowers, 

And, turning, grow together. 



Such fictions blink love's better part. 

Yield up its half of bliss ; 
The wells are in the neiglibor heart 

When there is thirst in this : 
There findeth love the passion-tlowcrs 

On which it learns to thrive, 
Makes honey in another's bowers. 

But brinsrs it home to hive. 



Love's life is in its own replies, — 

To each low beat it beats, 
Smiles back the smiles, sighs back the sighs, 

And every throb repeats. 
Then, since one loving heart still throws 

Two .shadows in love's sun. 
How should two loving hearts compose 

And mingle into one ? 

THOMAS Kiddle Hervev. 



THOU HAST SWORN BY THY GOD, MY 

JEANIE, 

Thou hast sworn by thy God, my Jcanic, 

By tluit pretty white hand o' thine, 
And by a' the lowing stars in heaven, 

That thou wad aye be mine ! 
And 1 hae sworn by my God, my Jeanie, 

And liy that kind heart o' thine. 
By a' the stars sown thick owre heaven, 

That thou shall aye be mine ! 

Then foul fa' the hands that wad loose sic bands, 

And the heart that wad part sic luve ! 
But there 's nae hand can loose the band. 

But the finger o' God abuve. 
Though the wee, wee cot maim be my bield. 

All' my cliiithing ne'er sae mean, 
I wad lap me up rich i' the faiilds o' luve, -- 

Heaven's armfu' o' my Jean ! 

Her white arm wad be a pillow to me, 

Fu' safter than the down ; 
An' Luve wad winnow owre us his kind, kind 
wings, 

An' sweetly I 'd sleep, an' soun'. 
Come here to me, thou lass o' my luve ! 

Come here and kneel wi' me ! 
The morn is fu' o' the presence o' God. 

An' I canna pray without thee. 

The morn-wiud is sweet 'mang the beds o' new 
flowers, 

Tlie wee birds sing kindlie an' hie ; 
Our gudenian leans owre his kail-yard dike, 

Ami a blythe auld bodie is he. 
The Book maun be ta'eu whan the carle comes 
hanie, 

Wi' the holie psalmodie ; 
And thou maun speak o' ine to thy God, 

And I will speak o' thee, 

ALLA.N CUNNINCKAM. 



MARRIAGE. 



209 



ADAM DESCRIBING EVE. 

FROU "PARADISE LOST." BOOK VIII. 

Mine eyes he closed, but open left the cell 
Of fancy, my internal sight, by which 
Abstract, as in a trance, nicthought I saw. 
Though sleeping, where 1 lay, and saw the shape 
Still glorious before whom awake I stood ; 
Who, stooping, opened my left side, and took 
From thence a rib, with cordial spirits warm, 
And life-blood streaming fresh ; wide was the 

wound, 
But suddenly with flesh filled up and healed : 
The rib ho farmed and fashioned with his hands ; 
Under his forming hands a creature grew. 
Manlike, but dillerent sex, so lovely fair, 
Tliat what seemed fair in all the world seemed 

now 
Mean, or in her summed up, in her contained 
And in her looks, which from that time infused 
Sweetness into my heart, unfelt before. 
And into all things from her air inspired 
The spirit of love and amorous delight. 
Slie disappeared, and left mo dark ; I waked 
To find her, cr forever to deplore 
Her loss, and other plea.sures all abjure : 
Wlien out of hope, behold her, not far off. 
Such as I .saw her in my dream, adorned 
With what all earth or Heaven could bestow 
To make her amiable. On she came, 
Led by her heavenly Maker, though unseen, 
And guided by his voice, nor uninformed 
Of nuptial sanctity and marriage rites ; 
Grace was in all her steps, Heaven in her eye. 
In every gesture dignity and love. 
I, overjoyed, could not forbear aloud : 
"This turn hath made amends; thou hast 

fulfilled 
Thy words. Creator bounteous and benign, 
Giver of all things fair, but fairest this 
Of all thy gifts, nor enviest. I now see 
Done of my bone, flesh of my flesh, myself 
Before me ; Woman is her name, of man 
Extracted : for this cause he shall forego 
Father and mother, and to his wife adhere ; 
And they shall bo one flesh, one heart, one soul." 
She heard me thus, and though divinely 

brought. 
Yet innocence and virgin modesty, 
Hit virtue and the conscience of her worth, 
That would be wooed, and not unsought be won. 
Not obvious, not obtrusive, but retired. 
The more desirable ; or, to say all, 
N.-kture hcr.self, thougli pure of sinful thought, 
Wrouglit in her so, tlial, seeing me, slie turned ; 
I followed her ; she what was honor knew. 
And with obsequio^js majesty approved 
My pleaded reason. To the nuptial bower 



I led her blushing like the mom : all Heaven, 
And happy constellations on that hour 
Shed their sclectest influence ; the earth 
Gave sign of gratulation, and each hill ; 
Joyous the birds ; fresh gales and gentle airs 
Whispered it to the woods, and from their wings 
Flung rose, flung odors from the spicy shrub, 
Disporting, till the amorous bird of night 
Sung spousal, and bid haste the evening star 
On his hill-top, to light the bridal lamp. 

When I approach 
Her loveliness, so absolute she seems. 
And in herself complete, so well to know 
Her own, that what she wills to do or say 
Seems wisest, virtuousest, discrcctest, best ; 
All higher knowledge in her presence falls 
Degraded, wisdom in discourse with her 
Loses discountenanced, and like folly shows ; 
Authority and reason on her wait. 
As one intended first, not after made 
Occasionally ; and, to consummate all. 
Greatness of mind and nobleness their seat 
Build in her loveliest, and create an awe 
About her, as a guard angelic placed. 

fTeither her outside formed so fair, nor aught 

So much delights me, as those graceful acts, 
Those thousand decencies that daily flow 
From all her words and actions, mixed with lov» 
And sweet compliance, which declare unfeigned 
Union of mind, or in us both one .soul ; 
Harmony to behold in wedded pair 
More grateful than harmonious sound to the ear. 

Milton. 



TO A LADY BEFORE MARRIAGE 

0, FoniiED by Nature, and refined by Art, 
With charms to win,- and sense to fix the heart ! 
By thousands sought, Clotilda, canst thou free 
Thy crowd of captives and descend to me 1 
Content in shades obscure to waste thy life, 
A hidden beauty and a country wife ? 
O, listen while thy summers are my theme ! 
Ah ! soothe thy partner in his waking dicam ! 
In some small hamlet on the lonely jilain, 
Where Thames through meadows rolls his mazy 

train. 
Or where high Windsor, thick with greens ar- 

raycti. 
Waves his old oaks, and spreads his ample shade. 
Fancy has figured out our calm retreat : 
Already round the visionary seat 
Our limes begin to shoot, our flowers to spring, 
The brooks to murmur, and the birds to sing. 



210 



roEMS or THE affections. 



AVhciv dost tbou lip, thou tliiiily iioopleil green, 
'I'liiiu iii\iin'lcss luwn, aiul village yi't uiisoen, 
WluMV Wilis, oontoiilod with their imtivo giouiul, 
Ne'er tnivelleil ruither than ten furlongs rouiul. 
And the tanned iieusant and Ifis ruddy bride 
Woiv born together, and togi-ther died, 
Wlieiv early larks best tell the nioniiiig light, 
And only I'hiloniel disturbs the night 1 
Miilst gaixleiis hero my humble pile shall rise, 
With sweet.s surrounded of ten thousand dyes ; 
All savage where the embroidered gaixlens end, 
The haunt of eehoes, shall my woods nseeud ; 
And oh ! if Ho;iveu the ambitious thought np- 

provo, 
A rill shall warblo 'cross tho gloomy grove, — 
A little rill, o'er )>ebbly beds eonveyed, 
Oiish down the steep, and glitter thi-ough tlic 

glade. 
What eheering .seenis these boi-dering banks ex- 
hale ! 
How loud that heifer lows from yonder vale ! 
That tlu'ush how shrill ! his note so clear, so 

high, 
lie drowns eaeh featheivd minstrel of the .sky. 
Here let me Ir.iee beneath thi- imrple.l morn 
The deep-mouthed beagle and the sprightly horn, 
Ov lure the troul with well-iUssembled Hies, • 
Or feteh the IhilteHug partridge from tho skies. 
Nor shall thy hand disdain to crop the vine. 
The downy peaeh, or llavoivd neetarinc ; 
Or rob the U'ehive of its golden hoard. 
And bear the unlmight luxnrianee to thy Kxird. 
Sometimes my books by day shall kill the hours, 
While from thy needle rise the silken llowei^ 
And tlioii, by turns, to ease my feeble sight, 
Kesume the volume, and deceive the night. 
0, when 1 niirk thy twinkling eyes opprest, 
Solt whispering, let me warn my love to ivst ; 
.Then wateh thee, charmed, while sleep locks 

every sense. 
And to sweet Heaven commend thy innoeeuee. 
Thus reigned our fathers o'er the rural fold, 
Wise, h.ile, and honest, in the days of old ; 
Till courts arose, where suKstanee pays for show. 
And sjwcious joys aiv Iwught with real woe. 

Thomas Ticklll. 



Tlir. XirillT HF.FOUF, THE WEDDING 
OK, TEN YEARS AFTER. ^ 

Thf country w.iys arc full of niiif, ' ";,';, 

The Uiuglis toss in the f.xding light, 
The winds blow out the sunset's tin-, 

.\nd .sudden dropiH'th down the night. 
I sit in this familiar ixxiui, 

Where mud-splashed hunting squiivs resort ; 
My solo coni|viiiioii in the gloom 

This slowly dying pint of port. 



'Mong all the joys my soul hath known, 

'Mong errors over w liieh it grieves, 
I sit at this dark hour alone. 

Like Antuinn mid his withered leavtis. 
This is a night of wild farewells 

To all the past, the good, the fair ; 
To-morrow, and my wedding belU 

Will ninko a music in the air. 

Like a wet fisher tempest-tost, 

Who sees throughout the weltering night 
Afar on some low-lying coast 

Tho streaming of a rainy light, 
I saw this hour, — aud now 't is come ; 

The rooms are lit, the feast is set ; 
Within the twilight 1 am dumb, 

Sly heiirl filled with a vaguo regret. 

I cannot say, in Eastern style. 

Where'er she tivads the pansy blows; 
Nor call her eyes twin stars, her smile 

A sunlvam, and her mouth a rose. 
Ncr can I, as your bridegrooms do. 

Talk of my raptures. 0, how soro 
The fond romance of twenty-two 

Is parodied ere thirty-four! 

To-night I shake hands with the past, — 

Familiar years, adieu, ailieii ! 
.Vii unknown door is oinn cast, 

An empty future wide and new 
Stands waiting. ye naked rooms. 

Void, desolate, without a charm! 
Will Love's smile chase your lonely glooms. 

And drape your walls, and make them warmi 

Tlie man who know, while he was young. 

Some soft and soul-subduing air. 
Melts when again he hears it sung. 

Although 'I is only half so fair. 
So I love thee, and love is sweet 

(My Florence, 't is the cruel truth) 
Because it can to age repeat 

That long-lost jwssion of my youth. 

0, often did my spirit melt, 

niurred Icttei-s, o'er your artless rhymes! 
Fair tross, in which the sunshine dwelt, 

I 'vc kissed ihcc many a million times! 
And now 't is done. — My jiassionato tears. 

Mad pleadings with an iron fate, 
.\nd all the sweetness of my years. 

.\i\; blackened ashes in the grate; 

Then ring in the wind, my wedding chimes ; 

Smile, villagers, at every door ; 
Old ehuirhyai\l, stulVed with buried crimes, 

Be clad in sunshine o'er and o'er ; 



MARRIAGE. 



::ii 



And yoiitliful maidens, wtiito and swoot, 
Saillur your blossoms fur aud wide ; 

And wil.h a bridal chorus greot 
This liuppy bridcjjroom iiml hia brido. 

"Tlii» hiipiiy bridegroom I" tbero in .sin 

At bolloHi of my tlmnkk'.ss mood • 
Wbiit il' di'.scrt ulono could win 

Kor nio lifc'.s cliicfcst (.jriico and good? 
I.I1VU givi'.H itself ; (uid if not given, 

No genius, beauty, atiito or wit, 
No golil of earth, no gem of heaven, 

is rich enough to imrehaso it. 

It may be, Florence, loving thee, 

My lieart will its old memories keep; 
Like some worn sea-sholl fnjui the .sea, 

Killed with the music of the deep. 
And you may watch, on nights of rain, 

A shadow on my brow encroach ; 
lie startled by my sudden |iiiin, 

And tenderness of self-reproach. 

It may be that your loving wiles 

Will cull a sigh from fiir-olf years J 
It may be that your hap|iii'st smiles 

Will brim my eyes with hojieless tears j 
It m.ay be that my sleeping breiitli 

Will shake, with painful visions wrung; 
Anil, in tho awful trance of death, 

A stranger's name be on my tongue. 

Ye phantoms, born of bitter blood, 

Ye ghosts of passion, lean and worn, 
Ye terrors of a lonely mood, 

What do ye hero on a wedding-morn 1 
For, OH the dawning sweet and fast 

Through all the heaven spreads and llowa, 
Within life's discord, rude and vast, 

Love's subtle music grows and grows. 

Ami lightened is tho heavy curso, 

And clearer is the weary road ; 
The very worm tho sea-weeds nurso 

Is eared for by the Eternal Uod. 
My lov(S palo blossom of the snow, 

lias pierced earth wet with wintry showers, 
may it drink the sun, and blow, 

And be followed by all tho year of flowers ! 

Black Bayard from tho .stable bring ; 

The rain is o'er, tho wind is down, 
Round stirring fanns tho birds will sin/;, 

The dawn stand in the sleeping town. 
Within an hour. This is her gate, 

Hor sodden roses droop in night. 
And — omblum of my hap])y fato — 

In one dear window tle-re is light. 



Tho dawn is oozing pnlo and coM 

Through tho damp east for many a mile ; 
When half my title of life is told. 

Grim-featured Time begins to smile. 
I.aat star of night that lingercst yet 

In that long rift of rainy gray, 
Oather thy wasted splendors, sot, 

Aud die into my weddiJig day. 

ALUXANUUK SMITH. 



TIIK I5U1DE. 

rUOM "A llAl.LAt) UPON A WlioniNC." 

Till', maid, and theicby hangs a tale, 
Kor such a maid no Whitsun-alo 

Could (iVer yet produce : 
No grape that 's kindly rijie could bo 
So round, so plump, so soft as sho. 

Nor half .so full of juice. 

Iler linger was so snudl, tho ring 

Would nut stay on which they dul bring, — 

1 1 was too wide a peck ; 
And, to say truth, — for out it miuit, — 
It looked like the great collar — just — 

Abiut our young colt's neck. 

ller feet beneath her petticoat, 
Like little mice, stole in and out. 

As if they feared the light ; 
But 0, «ho dances such a way I 
No sun upon an Easter-day 

Is lialf .so lino a sight. 

Hor chlioks so rare a white was on. 
No daisy makes comparison ; 

Who sees them is undone ; 
I''or streaks of r<'d wcue mingled (here, 
^>uch as are on a Katherine pear, 

Tho side that 's next the sun. 

Iler lips were red ; and one was thin, 
Compared to that was next her chin. 

.'^onu' bee had stung it newly ; 
lint, Dick, her eyes so guard her fuco, 
1 duiht no more nimn them guzo, 

Than on the sun in July. 

Her mouth so small, when she doos speak, 
Thou 'dst sv/ear her teeth hor words did break. 

That they might pajisago got ; 
But she .so handled still the matter. 
They came as good us ours, or better. 

And are not spent a whit. c 

* • • • • 

Sir joun suckling. 



212 



POEMS OK TFIE AFFECTIONS. 



THE URIDE. 

FROM "THli EPITIIALAMICV.'* 

LoE I \vhere sho comes along with portly pace, 
Lyko Pha'bc, fioiu lier chamber of the East, 
Arysing forth to run lier mighty race, 
Clad all in white, tliat seems a virgin best. 
So well it hor beseems, that ye would wecne 
Some angoll sho had beeiio. 
Her long loose yellow locks lyko golden wyro, 
Sprincklcd with pcrlc, and pel ling llowres at weene, 
Doo lyko a golden mantle her attyrc, 
And, being crowned with a giiland groene,* 
Scorn lyko some mayden queene. 
Hor modest oyos, abashed to behold 
So many gazers 03 on hor do stare, 
Upon tho lowly ground affi.xtd arc. 
No daro lift up her countenance too bold, 
But blush to hearo hor prayscs suug so loud, — 
So farro fixim being proud. 
Nftthlesac doo yo still loud her prayscs slug, 
That all tho woods may answer, and your eccho 
ring. 

Toll me, ye merchants daughters, did ye see 

So fayrc a creature in your towno before ; 

So swcot, so lovely, and so mild as sho, 

Adornd with beautyes grace and vertuos store ? 

Her goodly eyes lyko saphyi-os shining bright, 

Hor forehead yvory white, 

Her chcokos lyke apples which tho sun hath 

rudded, 

Hor lips lyko cherries, charming men to byte. 

Her brest lyko to a bowl of creamo uucruddcd, 

Hor paps lyko lyllies budded, 

Her snowio nccke lyko to a marble towre, 

And all her bo<.ly like a jwUaco fayre. 

Ascending up, with many a stately stayre, 

To honors seat and chastities sweet bowi-e. 

Why stand yo still, yo virgins, in amaze, 

I'pon hor so to gaze. 

Whiles yo forget your former lay to sing, 

To which the woods did answer, and your eccho 

ring ? 

Edmund spe-nser. 



HEBREW AVEDDING. 

PROV "THE PALL Op JERUSALEM." 

To the sound of timbmls sweet 
Movi.ig slow our solemn feet, 
Wa have Kirno thee on the road 
To the virgin's blei>t abode ; 
With thy yellow torches gleaming, 
And thy scarlet mantle streaming, 
-•Vud tho canopy above 
Swaying as we slowly move. 



Thou hast loft tho joyous feast, 
And tho mirth and wine have ceased ', 
And now wo set thee down before 
The jealously unclosing door, 
That the favored youtli admits 
Where the veil6d virgin sits 
In the bliss of maiden fear. 
Waiting our soft tread to hear, 
And tho music's brisker din^ 
At the bridegroomis entering in, 
Entering in, a welcome guest, 
To tho chamber of his rest. 



CUOBUS OF MAIDENS. 

Now the jocund song is thine, 

Bride of David's kingly line ; 

How thy dove-like bosom trcmbleth, 

And thy shrouded eye resembleth 

Violets, when the dews of eve 

A moist and tremulous glitter leave 

On the bashful seaUd lid ! 
Close within tho bride-veil hid. 
Motionless thou sitt'st and mute ; 
Save that at the soft salute 
Of each entering maiden friend. 
Thou dost rise and softly bend. 

Hark ! a brisker, merrier glee ! 
Tho door unfolds, — 't is he ! 't is he ! 
Thus we lift our lamps to meet him. 
Thus we touch our lutes to greet him. 
Thou shalt give a fonder meeting, 
Th«u shalt give a tenderer greeting. 

HE.NRV HART M1LUA.V, 



MARRIAGE. 

FROM " HUMAN LIFE.' 

Then before All they stand, — the holy vow 
And ring of gold, no fond illusions now. 
Bind her as his. Across tho threshold led, 
.\nd every tear kissed ofTas soon as shed, 
His house sho entere, — there to be a light. 
Shining within, when all without is night ; 
A guardian angel o'er liis life presiding. 
Doubling his pleasures and his capes dividing, 
Winning hini Uuk when mingUjig in tho throng,! 
Back from a world we love, alas ! too long, 
To fireside happiness, to hours of case. 
Blest with that charm, the certainty to please. 
How oft her eyes rend his : litr gentle mind 
To all his wishes, nil his thoughts inclined ; 
Still subject, — over on the watch to borrow 
Mirth of his mirth and sorrow of his .lorrow ! 



MAIUUAOE. 



213 



Tlio soul of iiiusii' sIuiiiIk'Im ill the uliell, 
Till wuki'il uiid kindled by tbe master's apcll, 
And feeling hearts — touch them but rightly — 

pour 
A thousaud melodies unhcnrd before I 

samurl Rocgrs. 



SEVKN TIMES SIX. 

<01vrNG IN MARRIACU. 

To bear, to nurse, to rear, 

To watch, and then to lose : 
To see uiy bright ones di.suppear, 

Dmwn up like morning dews ; — 
To bear, to nurse, to rear. 

To watch, and then to lose : 
This liavo I done when God drew near 

Among his own to choose. 

To hear, to heed, to wed. 

And with thy lord depart 
In tears that he, as soon as shed, 

Will let no longer smart. — 
To hear, to heed, to wed, 

This while tliou didst I smiled. 
For now it was not God who said, 

"Mother, give mk thy child." 

O fond, fool, and blind, 

To God 1 g;ivo with tears ; 
But, when a ninn like grace wouM find, 

My sold put by her fears. 
O fond, fool, and blind, 

God guards in happier spheres ; 
That man will guard wlicie ho did hind 

Is hope for unknown years. 

To hear, to heed, to wed. 

Fair lot that maidens chooso, 
Thy mother's tendcrcst words are said, 

Thy face no more .she views ; 
Thy mother's lot, my dear, 

Sho doth in naught accuse ; 
Her lot to bear, to nurse, to roar, 

To love — and then to lose. 

JliAN INCiPLOW. 



LIKE A LAVEROCK IN THE LIFT. 

1 r 's wo two, it 's wc two for aye. 

All the world, and wo two, and Heaven bo our 

stay ! 
Like a laverock" in the lift.t sing, O bonny 

bride I 
All the world was Adam once, with Eve by his 

side. 



What 'a the world, my lass, my love 1 — what can 

it do ? 
I am thine, and thou ari: miuo ; life is sweet and 

now. 
If the world have missed the mark, let it etand 

hy; 
For wo two havo gotten leave, and once more 

will try. 

Like a laverock in the lift, sing, bomiy bride 1 
It 's we two, it 's wo two, happy side by side. 
Take a kiss from mo, thy man ; now the song 

begins : 
"All is mado afresh for us, and the brave heart 

wins." 

When the darker days come, and no sun will 

^iliine, 
Thou shalt dry my tears, lass, and I '11 dry thino. 
It's wo two, it's wo two, while tho world's 

away, 
Sitting by the' golden sheaves on our wedding 

day. 

JKAN INCSLOW. 

— »^— 

NOT OURS THE VOWS. 

Not ours the vows of such as plight 

Their troth in sunny weather. 
While leaves are green, and skies are bright, 

Td walk on flowers together. 

But we havo loved as those who tread 

The thorny path of sorrow. 
With clouds above, and cause to dread 

Yet deeper gloom to-uiorroW. 

Tluit thorny path, those stormy skies, 

Havo drawn our spirits nearer ; 
And rendered us, by sorrow's tics, 

Cach to tho other dearer. 

Love, horn in hours of joy and mirth. 
With mirlli and joy may perish ; 

That to which darker hours gave birth 
Still more and more we cherish. 

It looks beyond the clouds of time. 
And through death's shadowy portal ; 

Mado by adversity sublime, 
By faith and hope immortal. 

OURNARD Barton, 



A WIFE. 

TROM "PHILIP VAN ARTEVULDE." 

SiiK was a creature framed hy lovo divine 
l''or mortal love to muse a life away 
In pondering her perfections ; so unmoved 
Amidst the world's contentions, if they touched 



214 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



Ko vital ciiotJ nor troubled wl-.at she loved, 
Pliilosopliy might look litr iu the f;ico, 
Ami, like a hermit stooping to the well 
That yields him sweet rclVeshment, might therein 
See ^ut his own E'Toiiity reflected 
With a iiioro lieavcnly tenclt-riiess of hue ! 
Yet whilst the world's ambitious empty cares, 
Its sni;ill dis([uictudes and insect stings, 
Disturbed her never, she was one made up 
Of feminine affections, and her life 
Wfis one full stream of love from fount to sea. 

uijNRY Taylor. 



DOLCINO TO MARGAUET. 

The world goes up and the world goes down. 
And the sunsiiine follows the rain ; 

And yesterday's sneer, and yesterday's frown. 
Can never como over again. 
Sweet wif«, 
Ko, never come over again. 

For woman is warm, ihough rir.n be cold, 

And the night v-ill hallow the day ; 
Till the heart which at eren wrs ^.'eal■y and old 
Can rise in tho morning gay, 

Sweet wife, 
To its work in the morning gay, 

Charles Kincslev. 



CONNUBIAL LIFE. 

FROM "THE SEASONS I SPRING." 

But happy they ! the liappicst of their kind ! 
Whom gentler stars unite, and in one fate 
Their hearts, their fortunes, and their beings 

blend. 
'T is not tho coai-ser tie of human laws, 
Unnatural oft, and foreign to the mind, 
That binds their peace, but harmony itself. 
Attuning all their passions into love ; 
Where friendship full-exerts her softest power, 
Perfect esteem enlivened by desiro 
Inefl'able, and sympathy of soul ; 
Thought meeting thought, and will preventing 

will, 
With boundless confidence : for naught but love 
Can answer love, and render bliss secure. 
Jleantime a smiling offspring rises round. 
And mingles both their graces. By degiees, 
The human blossom blows ; and every day, 
Soft as it rolls along, shows sonic new charm. 
The father's lustre and the mother's bloom. 
Then infant reason grows apaoc, and calls 
For the kind hand of an assiduous care. 
Delightful task ! to rear the tender thought, 



To teach the young idea how to shoot. 
To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind. 
To breathe the enlivening spirit, and to (ix. 
The generous purpose in the glowing breast. 
0, speak the joy ! ye whom the sudden tear 
Surprisos often, while you look around, 
AvA nothing stiikos your eyo but sighls of bliss. 
All v.irious nature pressing on tlic heart ; 
An elegant sulllcioncy, content, 
Uetirenieut, rural quiet, friendship, books. 
Ease and alternato labor, useful life, 
rrogi'es.sive virtue, and approving Heaven. 
These aj-o the matchless joys of virtuous love ; 
And thus their moments fly. The Seasons thus, 
As ceaseless round .1 jarring world they roll, 
Still find them happy ; and consenting Spring 
.Sheus her own rosy garland on their heads : 
Till evening comes at last, sereno and mild ; 
When after the long vernal day of life, 
Kv.aniored move, as more remcmbranco swells 
With many a proof of recollected love, 
Togetlier down they sink in social sleep ; 
Together freed, their gentle spirits tly 
To scenes where love and bliss immortal reign. 

JAMIIS THOMSON. 



FRAGMENTS. 

FORELOOKINGS. 

Why don't the men propose, mamma, 
Why don't the men propose ? 

irhv dotl't the *nfn frc'fiine I T. H. IlAVLy. 

Warnings. 

This house is to be let for life or years ; 
Her rent is sorrow, and her income tears ; 
Cnpid, 't has long stood void ; her bills make 

known. 
She must be dearly let, or let alono. 

£mUtms, Bot U. lo. F. QUARLES 

Look ere thou leap, see ere thou go. 

0/ tVivirts' and Thriving T. TUSStR. 

Thus grief still treads upon the heels of pleasure ; 
Married in haste, we may repent at leisure 

Thf OldBachttor, Aet\. St. l. W. CONCREVE. 

Men are April when they woo, December when 
they wed. 

J«J you LilX II.AclUSt.t. SHAKESPEAR E. 

And oft the careless find it to their cost. 
The lover in the husband may be lost. 

Ad-.'iif lo a Lad^. LORD LVTTELTON. 



I 



MARRIAGE. 



215 



llEnCENAKY MATCHEa. 

JIaidcns like moths are ever caught by glare, , 
And Mammon wins his way where seraphs miglit 
despair. 

£n£tish Dardi and Scotch Reviewers. BYRON. 



PossimnTiEs. 

Find all his having a:id his holding 
Reduced to eternal noise and scolding, — 
The conjugal petard that tears 
Down all portcullises of ears. 

Hudibras. BUTLER. 

Abroad too kind, at home 't is steadfast hate, 
And one eternal tempest of debate. 

Love 0/ Fatru. E. YOUNG 

Curse on all laws but those which love has made 
Love, free as air, at sight of human ties, 
Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies. 

Eloisa to Abelard. POPE 



Certainties. 

The kindest and the happiest pair 
Will find occasion to forbear ; 
And something every day they live 
To pity and perhaps forgive. 

Mutual Forbearance. C 



Advicb. 

Mis.?es ! the tale that I relate 

This lesson seems to carry, — 
Clioose not alone a proper mate. 

But proper time to marry. 

Pairing Time Anticipated, COWPER. 

Let still the woman take 
An elder than herself : so wears she to him, 
So sways slje level in her husband's heart. 
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves. 
Our fancies are more giddy and unfinn. 
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and won, 
Than women's are. 

Then let thy love be younger than thyself, 
Or ihy alfection cannot hold the bent. 

Twelfth Ni£ht, Att 0. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE 



Such duty as the subject owes the prince, 
Even such a woman oweth to her lui.sband. 

Tamittff 0/ the Shrew, Act v. St. 3. SHAKESPEARE. 

.She who ne'er answers till a husband cools. 
Or, if she rules him, never shows she niles. 

MoraC Essays : Fpiitte 11, POPE, 

And truant husband should return, and say, 
" My dear, I was tlie first who came away." 

Do* ynan. Cant. i. BYRG.N'. 



The Happy Lot. 

My latest found, 
Heaven's last best gift, my ever new delight. 

Paradise Lost, Book 1. MILTON. 

She is mine own ! 
And 1 as rich in having such a jewel 
As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl. 
The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold. 

Ttoo Cent, oj I'trona, Act ii. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE. 

Plow much the wife is dearer than the bride. 

AnlrreentarOde. LORD LVTT6LT0N. 

Time still, as he flies, brings increase to her truth. 
And gives to lier mind what he steals from het 
youth. 

The Haffy Marriage. E.MOORE. 

And when with envy Time, transported, j 

Shall tliink to rob us of our joys. 
You 11 in your girls again lie courted, 

Aiul 1 '11 go wooing in my boys. 

n'mi/reda. T. PERCY. 

True Love is but a humble, low-born thing, 
And hath its food served up in earthen ware ; 
It is a thing to walk with, hand in hand, 
Through the everj'-dayness of tliis work-day 
world, 

A simple, fireside thing, whose quiet smile 
Can warm earth's poorest hovel to a home. 
Lne ]■ R. Lowell 



>1C 



POEMS OF THE- AFFECTIONS. 



HOME. 



MY WIFE 'S A ■WINSOME WEE THING. 

She is a winsome weo thing, 
She is a handsome wee thing, 
Slic is a bounic wee thing, 
This sweet wee wife o' mine. 

I never saw a fairer, 

1 never lo'od a dearer, 

And neist my heart I '11 wear her, 

For fear my jewel tine. 

She is a winsome wee thing, 
She is a handsome wee thing, 
She is a bonnio wee thing. 
This sweet wee wife o' mine. 

The warld's wrack we share o't, 
The warstle and the care o't : 
Wi' her I '11 blythely bear it, 
And think my lot divine. 

Robert burns. 



SONNETS. 

My Love, 1 have no fear that thon shouldst die ; 
Albeit 1 ask no fairer life than this, 
Whose nnnibering-clock is still thy gentle kiss. 
While Time and Peace with hands unlocked fly, — 
Yet care I not where in Eternity 
Wo live and love, well knowing that there is 
No backward step for those who feel the bliss 
Of Faith as their most lofty yearnings high : 
Love hath so purified my being's core, 
Jleseems I scarcely should be startled, even. 
To find, some morn, that thou liadst gone before ; 
Since, with thy love, this knowledge too was 

given. 
Which each calm day doth strengthen more and 

more. 
That they who love are but one step from Heaven. 



I CANNOT think that thou shouldst pass away, 

Whose life to mine is an etern.-il law, 

A piece of nature that can have no flaw, 

A new and certain sunri.'se every day ; 

But, if thou art to be another ray 

About the Sun of Life, and art to live 

Free from all of thee that was fugitive. 

The debt of Love I will more fully pay, 

Not downcast with the thought of thee so high. 



But rather raised to be a nobler man. 

And more divine in my humanity, 

As knowing that the waiting eyes which scan 

My life are lighted by a purer being. 

And ask meek, calm-browed deeds, with it agree- 



Our love is not a fading, earthly flower : 
Its wingM seed dropped down from Paradise, 
And, nursed by day and night, by sun and 

shower. 
Doth momently to fresher beauty rise : 
To us the leafless autumn is not bare. 
Nor winter's rattling boughs lack lusty green. 
Our summer hearts make summer's fulness, where 
No leaf, or bud, or blossom may be seen : 
For nature's life in love's deep life doth lie. 
Love, — whose forgetfulness is beauty's death. 
Whose mystic key these cells of Thou and 1 
Into the infinite freedom openeth, 
And makes the body's dark and narrow grate 
The wind-flung leaves of Heaven's palace-gate. 



I THOVGHT our love at full, but I did err ; 
Joy's wreath drooped o'er mine eyes; I could not 

see 
That sorrow in our happy world must be 
Love's deepest spokesman and interpreter. 
But, as a mother feels her child fii-st stir 
Under her heart, so felt I instantly 
Deep in my soul another bond to thee 
Thrill with that life we saw depart from her; 
mother of our angel eliild ! twice dear ! 
Death knits as well as parts, and still, 1 wis, 
Her tender radiance shall infold us here, 
Even as the light, borne up by inward bliss, 
Threads the void glooms of space without a fear,i 
To print on faithest stai's her pitying kiss. 

James Russell Lowell. 



ADAM TO EVE. 

FROM " PARADISE LOST." BOOK IX. 

FAlKEST of creation, last and best 
Of all God's works, creature in whom excelled 
Whatever can to sight or thought be formed. 
Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet ! 
How art thou lost, how on a sudden lost. 
Defaced, deflowered, and now to death devote ! 
Rather, how hast thou yielded to transgress 



HOME 



217 



The strict forbiddance, how to violate 
The sacred fruit forbidden ! Some cureed fiaud 
Of enemy hath beguiled thee, yet unknown, 
And me with thee hath ruined, for with thee 
Certain my resokition is to die. 
How can I live without thee, how forego 
Thy sweet converse, and love so dearly joined, 
To live again in these wild woods forlorn ? 
Should God create another Eve, and 1 
Another rib afford, yet loss of thee 
Would never from my heart ; no, no, I feel 
The link of nature draw me : flesh of flesh. 
Bone of my bone thou art, and from thy state 
Jline never shall be parted, bliss or woe. 

However, I with thee have fixed my lot. 
Certain to undergo like doom ; if death 
Consort with thee, death is to me as life ; 
So forcible within my heart I feel 
The bond of nature draw me to my own, 
.My ovrn in thee, for what thou art is mine ; 
Our state cannot be severed, we are one, 
One flesh ; to lose thee were to-lose myself. 

MILTON. 



LORD WALTER'S WIFE. 

"But why do you go?" said the lady, while 

both sate under the yew. 
And her eyes were alive in their depth, as the 

kraken beneath the sea-blue. 

" Because I fear yo\i," he answered ; — " because 

you are far too fair, 
And able to strangle my soul in a mesh of your 

gold-colored hair." 

" 0, that," she said, " is no reason ' Such knots 

are ijuickly undone. 
And too much beauty, I reckon, is nothing but 

too much sun." 

"Yet farewell so," he answered; — "the sun- 
stroke 's fatal at times. 

1 value your husband. Lord Walter, whose gallop 
rings still from the limes." 

" 0, that," she said, " is no reason. You smell 

a rose through a fence : 
If two should smell it, what matter ? who gi-uni- 

bles, and where 's the pretence ? " 

"But I," he replied, "have promised another. 

■when love was free, 
Tq Jove her alone, alone, who alone and afar loves 

mc." 



"Why, thai," she sai<l, "is no rea-son. Love* 

always free, 1 am told. 
Will you vow to be safe from the hcadachf; on 

Tuesday, and think it will hold ? " 

" But you," he replied, " have a daughter, a 
young little child, who was laid 

In your lap to be pure ; so I leave you ; the 
angels would make me afraid." 

"0, that," she said, "is no reason. The angcU 

keep out of the way ; 
And Dora, the child, observes nothing, although 

you should please me and stay." 

At which he rose up in his anger, — " Why, 
now, you no longer are fair ! 

Why, now, you no longer are fatal, but ugly and 
hateful, I swear." 

At which she laughed out in her scorn, — " Tliese 

men ! 0, these men ovemicc. 
Who are shocked if a color not virtuous i» 

frankly put ou by a vice." 

Her eyes blazed upon liini — " And you ! You 

bring us your vices so near 
That we smell them ! you think in our presence 

a thought 't would defame us to hear ! 

"What reason had you, and what right, — I 
appeal to your soul from my life, — 

To find me too fair as a woman ? Why, sir, I 
am pure, and a wife. 

"Is the day-star too fair up above you? It 
burns you not. Dare you imply 

I brushed you more close than the star docs, 
when Walter had set me as high ? 

" If a man finds a woman too fair, he means 

simply adapted too much 
To uses unlawful and fatal. The praise ! — shall 

I thank you for such ? 

" Ton fair ? — not unless you misuse us ! aixl 

surely if, once in a while, 
Yon attain to it, straightway you call us no 

longer too fair, but too vile. 

" A moment, — I pray your attention ! — I have 

a poor word in my head 
1 must utter, though womanly custom would set 

it down better unsaid. 

" You grew, sir, pale to impertinence, once when 

I showed you a ring. 
You kissed my fan when I dropped it. Ko ni.it- 

tor ! 1 'vc broken the thing. 



218 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



" You did mo the honor, perhaps, to be moved 

at my side now and then 
la t]ie senses, — a vice, I have lieard, which is 

common to beasts and some men. 

" Love 'a a viitiic for heroes ! — as vvliito as the 
snow on higli hills. 

And immortal as every great soul is that strug- 
gles, endures, and fulfils. 

" I love my Walter profoundly, — you, Maude, 

though you faltered a week. 
For tbo sake of . . . what was it '! aii eyehrow ? 

or, less still, a niolo on a cheek ? 

" And since, when all 's said, you 're too noble to 

stoop to tlie frivolous cant 
About crimes irresistible, virtues that swindle, 

betray, and sujiplant, 

"I determined to prove to yourself that, what- 
e'er you might dream or avow 

By illusion, you wanted precisely no more of me 
tlian you have now. 

" There ! Look mo full in the face ! — in the 
face. Understand, if you can. 

That tlie eyes of such women as I am ore clean 
as the palm of a man. 

" Drop his hand, you insult him. Avoid us for 
fear wo should cost you a scar, — 

You take us for harlots, I tell you, and not for 
the women wo are. 

" You wronged mo : but then I considered . . . 

there 's Walter ! And so at the end, 
I vowed that he should not be mulcted, by mc, 

in the hand of a friend. 

" Have I hurt you indeed ? We are quits then. 

Nay, friend of my Walter, be mine ! 
Come, Dora, my darling, my angel, and help mo 

to ask him to dine." 

ELIZABETH Barrett Browning. 



POSSESSION. 

"It was our wedding-day 
A month ago," dear heart, I hear you say. 
If niontlis, or years, or ages since have ]mssed, 
I know not : I have ceased to question Tir.-.e. 
1 only know that once there pealed a chime 
Of joyous bolls, and then I held you fast, 



And all stood back, and none my right denied, 
And forth we walked : the world was free and wide 
Before us. Since that day 
I count my life : the Past is washed away. 

It was no dream, that vow : 
It was the voice that woke mc from a dream; — 
A Inippy dream, I think ; but I am waking now. 
And drink the .splendor of a sun supremo 
That turns the mist of former tears to gold. 
Within these arms I hold 
The fleeting promise, chased so long in vain : 
Ah, weary bird ! thou wilt not fly again : 
Thy wings aro clipped, thou canst no more de- 
part, — 
Tliy nest is builded in my heart ! 

I was tho crescent ; thou 

The silver phantom of the perfect sphere, 

Held in its bosom : in one glory now 

Our lives united shine, and many a year — 

Not the sweet moon of bridal only — wo 

One lustre, ever at tho full, shall bo; 

One pure and rounded light, one planet whole, 

One life developed, one completed soul ! 

For I in thee, and thou jn me, 

Unite our cloven halves of destiny. 

God knew his chosen time. 
Ho bade me slowly ripen to my prime, 
And from my boughs withheld the promised fruit. 
Till storm and sun gave vigor to the root. 
Secure, Love! secure 
Thy blessing is : I have thee day and night : 
Thou art become my blood, my life, my light : 
God's mercy thou, and therefore shalt endure. 

Qayako Tavlor. 



THE DAY RETURNS. MY BOSOM BURNS. 

The day returns, my bosom burns. 

The blissful day we twa did meet ; 
Though v.'inter wild in tempest toiled. 

Ne'er sunmier sun was half sae sweet. 
Than a' the pride that loads the tide. 

And crosses o'er tlie sultry line, — 
Than kingly robes, and crowns and globes, 

Heaven gave me more ; it made thee mine. 

While day and night can bring delight. 

Or nature aught of pleasure give, — 
While joys above my mind can move,. 

For thee and thee alone I live ; 
When that grim foe of life below 

Conies ill between to make us part. 
The iron hand that breaks our band. 

It breaks my bliss, — it breaks my heart. 

ROBERT BURNS. 



HOME. 



219 



THE POETS BRIDAL-DAY SONG. 

0, MY love 's like the steadfast sun, 
Or streams that deepen as tliey run ; 
Nor hoary hairs, nor foi-ty years, 
Nor moments between sighs and tears, 
Nor nights of tliought, nor days of pain, 
Nor dreams of glory dreamed in vain. 
Nor mirth, nor sweetest song that Hows 
To sober joys and soften woes, 
Can make my heart or fancy flee, 
One moment, my sweet wife, from thee. 

Even while I muse, I see thee sit 

In maiden'bloom and matron wit ; 

Fair, gentle as when first 1 sued. 

Ye seem, but of sedater mood ; 

Yet my heart leaps as fond for thee 

As when, beneath Arbigland tree, 

We stayed and wooed, and thought the moon 

Set on the sea an hour too soon ; 

Or lingered mid the falling dew. 

When looks were fond and words were few. 

Though I see smiling at thy feet 
Five sons and ae fair daughter sweet, 
And time, and care, and birthtime woes 
Have dimmed thine eye and touched thy rose, 
To thee, and thoughts of thee, belong 
Whate'cr charms me in tale or song. 
When words descend like dews, unsought. 
With gleams of deep, enthusiast thought. 
And Fancy in her heaven flies free. 
They come, my love, they come from thee. 

0, when more thought we gave, of old, 
To silver than some give to gold, 
'T was sweet to sit and ponder o'er 
llow wo should deck our humble bower; 
'T was sweet to pull, in hope, \vith thee. 
The golden fruit of fortune's tree ; 
And sweeter still to choose and twine 
A garland for that brow of thine, — 
A song-wreath which may grace my Jean, 
While rivers flow, and woods grow green. 

At times there come, as come there ought, 
Grave moments of sedater thought, 
When Fortune frowns, nor lends our night 
One gleam of her inconstant light ; 
And Ho|)c, that decks the peasant's bower. 
Shines like a rainbow through the shower; 
0, then I see, while seated nigh, 
A mother's heart shine in thine eye, 
^nd proud resolve and purpase meek. 
Speak of thee more than -words can speak. 
I think this wedded wife of mine 
The best ■■( all that 's not divine. 

A I LAN CUNNINGHAM, 



Til£ POET'S SONG TO HIS WIFF,. 

How many summers, lovo, 

Have I been thine ! 
How many days, thou dove. 

Hast thou been mine ? 
Time, like the winged wind 

When 't bends the flowers, 
Hath left no mark behind, 

To count' the hours! 

Some weight of thouglit, though loath. 

On thee he leaves ; 
Some lines of care round both 

Perhaps he weaves ; 
Some fears, — a soft regret 

For joys scarce known ; 
Sweet looks we half forget ;- 

All else is flown I 

Ah ! — With what thankless heart 

I mourn and sing ! 
Look, where our children start. 

Like sudden spring I 
With tongues all sweet and low 

Like a pleasant rhyme. 
They till how nuich 1 owe 

To thee and time ! 

B. W. TKOCTER iSarrj' Ccrmtu,'/). 



IF THOU WERT BY MY SIDE, MY LOVE. 

LINES WRITTEN TO HIS WIFE. VVHILE ON A VI5IT TO 
UPPER INDIA. 

If thou wert by my side, my love ! 

How fast would evening fail 
In green Bengala's palmy grove, 

Listening the nightingale ! 

If thou, my love, wert by my side. 

My babies at my knee. 
How gayly would our pinnace glide 

O'er Gunga's mimic sea ! 

I miss thee at the dawning gray, 

When, on our deck reclined. 
In careless ease my limbs I lay 

And woo the cooler wind. 

I miss thee when by Gunga's stream 

My twilight steps I guide, 
But most beneath the lamp's pale beam 

I miss thee from my side. 

I spread my books, ray pencil try. 

The lingering noon to cheer. 
But miss thy kind, approving eye, 

Thy meek, attentive ear. 



220 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



Hut, wluiii III mom unci ovu tlio slur 
Uc'holils mc on my kiioo, 

1 I'lH'l, tIlOU}»ll t.liou lilt llistllllt fill', 

Tliy imiycrs asci^iui for me. 

Then on I lluii on ! wlierc iliity IciuU, 

My ooui'so bi' onwnrd still, 
O'er broiul llinilostiin's sultry niuails, 

O'cv blouk Alnioi'iili'b hill. 

Tlnit course nor Delhi's kingly gates, 

Nor iniM lliihviih ilotiiin ; 
For sweet tho bliss us both iiwuits , 

^ By yoniler western imiin. 

Thy lowers, Bombay, gleftui bright, tlioy say. 

Across the dark blue sea ; 
But never were lienrts so light and gay 

As then shall meet in thee I 

KCCINALD imoCK. 



WIFE, CHILDREN, AND FRIENDS. 

WilBN tho blnok-k'ttorod list to the gods was 
presented 
(Tho list of what Fate for eaeli mortal intends), 
.\t the long string of ills ii kind goddess relented, 
And slipped in three blessings, — wife, chil- 
dren, and friends. 

In vain surly VInto maintained he was ehoatod. 

For justice divine eonld not eonnmss its ends ; 

The sehenie of man's poimuee he sworo was do- 

fottted. 

For parth bocomps heaven with — wife, ehil- 

dreii, and friends. 

If tlio stock of our bliss is in straiigpr hands 
vested. 
The fund, ill secured, oft in kinkruptcy ends ;■ 
But the heart issues bills which are never pro- 
tested, 
When diiiwn on the firm of — wife, childi-on, 
and friends. 

Though valor still glows in his life's dying cm- 
U^rs, 
The death-wounded tar, who his colore defends, 
Divps a tear of ivgivt as he dying remembers 
How blessed was his liomewith— wife, chil- 
dren, and friends. 

The soldier, wliosc deeds live immortal in story. 
Whom duty to far distant latitudes sends, 

With tiiiiisport would Ivjirter whole ages of glory 
For one happy day with — wife, childron, and 
friends. 



Though spico-broathing gales ou.his caravan 
hover, 
Though for liim all Arabia's fragrance ascends. 
The merchant still thinks of tho woodbines that 
cover 
The bower whore ho sat with — wife, children, 
and friends. 

Tho dayspriug of youth, still unclouded by sor- 
row , 
Alolie on itself for enjoymentrrlopends ; 
But drear is the twili;;ht of ago, if it borrow 
No warmth from the smile of — wife, children, 
and friends. 

Let tho breath of renown ever freshen and 
nourish 
The laurel which o'er the dead favorite bonils ; 
O'er me wave the willow, and long may it 
flourish. 
Bedewed with the teal's of — wife, children, 
and friends. 

Lot us drink, for my song, growing graver and 

graver. 

To subjects too solemn insensibly tends ; 

Lot us drink, pledge me high, love and virtue 

shall lliivor 

The glass which I fill to — wife, children, and 

i'riends. 

William Robert Spenclr. 



LOVE LIGHTENS LABOR. 

A COOP wife rose from her bed ono mom. 

And tliought, with a nervous dread. 
Of the piles of clothes to be washed, and more 

Than a dozen mouths to Iw fed. 
" There '^ tho racols to got for the men in the 
field, 

And the children to fix away 
To school, and the milk to bo skimmed and 
churned ; 

And all to be done this day." 

It had rained in tho night, and all the wood 

Was wet as it could lx> ; 
Th^re were puddings and pics to bake, besides 

A loaf of cake for tea.. 
And the day was liot, and her acliing head 

Thi-oblied wearily as slio said, 
" If miudats but knew what good wivts know. 

They would not be in haste to wed!" 

"Jennie, what do you think I told Ben Brown ? " 

Called tho fanuor from tho well ; 
And a flush crept up to his brouzM brow. 

And his eyes half-bashfuUy fell . 



I 



HOME. 



221 



" It was this," he said, and coming ncnr 

Ho smiled, and stooping down. 
Kissed her cheek, — " 't was this, that you were 
the best 

And tho dearest wife in town ! " 

The farmer went back to tho field, and the wife, 

In a smiling, absent way, 
Sang snutclies of tender little songs 

Sho 'd not sung for many a day. 
And tlio pain in her head was gone, and tho 
clothes 

Were white as the foam of the sea ; 
Her broad was light, and her butter was sweet, 

And as golden as it could be. 

"Just think," the children all called io a breath, 

"Tom Wood has run ofT to sea I 
He would n't, I know, if he 'd only had 

As happy a Iiomo as wo." 
The night came down, and tho good wife smiled 

To herself, as she softly said : 
" 'T is so sweet to labor for those we love, — 

It's not strange that maids will wed ! " 

AJ<ONyMOU5. 



0, LAY THY HAND IN MINE, DEAR ! 

O, liAY thy hand in mine, dear ! 

We 're growing old ; 
But Time hath brought no sign, dear. 

That hearts grow cold. 
'T is long, long since our new love 

Made life divine ; 
But age enricheth true love. 

Like noble wine. 

And lay thy check to mine, dear, 

And take thy rest ; 
Mine arms around thee twine, dear. 

And make tliy nest. 
A many cares are pressing 

On this dear head ; 
Unt Sorrow's hands in blessing 

Are surely laid. 

0, lean thy life on mine, dear I 

"P will shelter thee. 
Thou wert a winsome vino, dear, 

On my young tree : 
And so, till boughs are leafless. 

And songbirds fiown, 
Wo '11 twine, then lay us, griefles.?. 

Together down. 

CCRAI.D MASStV. 



y^ 

THE WORN WEDDING-RING. 



Your wedding-ring wears thin, dear wife ; ah, 

summers not a few. 
Since I put it on your linger first, have passed 

o'er mo and you ; 
And, love, what changes we have seen, — wlut 

cares and pleasures, too, — 
Since you became my own dear wife, when this 

old ring was new I 



0, blessings on that happy day, the happiest of 

my life, 
When, thanks to God, your low, sweet " Yes " 

made you my loving wife ! 
Your heart will say tho same, I know ; that 

day 's as dear to you, — 
That day that made me yours, dear wife, when 

this old ri«g was new. 

How well do I remember now your young sweet 

face that day ! 
How fair you were, how dear you were, my 

tongue could hardly say ; 
Nor how 1 doated on you ; 0, how proud I was 

of you ! 
But did I love you more than now, when this 

old ring was new 'I 

No — no ! no fairer were you then than at this 

hour to me ; 
And, dear as life to me this day, how could you 

dearer bo ? 
As sweet your face might be that day as now it 

is, 'tis true ; 
But did I know your heart as well when this old 

ring was new 1 

partner of my gladness, wife, what care, what 

grief is there 
For me you would not bravely face, with mo you 

would not share ? 
0, what a weary want had every day, if wanting 

you, 
Wanting the love that God made mine when 

this old ring was new I 

Years bring fresh links to bind us, wife, — young 

voices that are hero ; 
Young faces round our (ire that make their 

mother's yet more dear ; 
Young loving hearts your care each day m.-ike.-. 

yet more like to you. 
More like the loving heart made mine when this 

old ring was new. 



222 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTFONS. 



And blessed be God ! all he has giveu are with 

us yet ; around 
Our tabic every precious life' lent to us still is 

found. 
Though cares we 've known, with hopeful hearts 

the worst we've struggled through ; 
Blessed be his name for all his love siuce this 

old ring was new ! 

The past is dear, its sweetness still our memo- 
ries treasure yet ; 

The griefs wc 've borne, together borne, we would 
not now forget. 

Wiiatever, wife, the future brings, heart unto 
heart still true, 

■We 11 share as we have shared all else siuce this 
old ling was new. 

And if God spare us 'niongst our sons and daugh- 

toi's to grow old, 
We know his goodness will not let your heart 

or mine grow cold. 
Tt'our aged eyes will see in mine all they've still 

shown to you, 
And mine in yours all they have seen since this 

old ring v.as new. 

And 0, wlicn death sliall come at last to bid me 

to my rest. 
May I die lookirj in those eyes, and resting on 

that breast ; 
O.may my parting gaze be blessed with the dear 

siglit of you. 
Of those fond eyes, — fond as they were when 

this old ring was new ! 

WILLIAM CO.K BCN.NETT. 



JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO. 

John Anderson, my jo, John, 

When we were first acqucnt, 
Your locks were like the raven. 

Your bonnio brow was brent ; 
But now your brow is held, John, 

Your looks are like the snaw ; 
But blessings on your frosty pow, 

John Anderson, my jo. 

John Anderson, my jo, John, 

We clamb the hill thegithcr ; 
And monie a canty day, John, 

Wc 've had wi' ane anithor. 
Now we maun totter down, John, 

But hand in hand we '11 go ; 
And sleep thegither at the foot, 

Joliu Anderson, my jo. 

Robert Burns. 



FILIAL LOVE. 

PROM "CHILDE HAROLD." 

Thebe is a dungeon in whose dim drear light 
What do I gaze on 1 Nothing : look again ! 
Two forms are slowly shadowed on my sight, — 
Two insulated phantoms of the brain : 
It is not so ; I see thera full and plain, — 
An old man and a female young and (air. 
Fresh as a nursing mother, in whoso vein 
The blood is nectar : but what doth she there, 
With her unmantled neck, and bosom white and 
bare ? 

Full swells the deep pure fountain of young life. 
Where on the heart and from the heart wo took 
Our first and sweetest nurture, when the wife, 
Blest into mother, in the innocent look. 
Or even the piping cry of lips that brook 
No pain and small suspense, a joy perceives 
Man knows not, when from out its cradled nook 
She sees her little bud put forth its leaves — 
What may the fruit be yet ? 1 know not — Cain 
was Eve's. 

But here youth offers to old age the food, 
The milk of his own gift : it is her siie 
To whom she renders back the debt of blood 
Born with her birth. No ! he shall not expire 
While in those warm and lovely veins the lire 
Of health and holy feeling can provide 
Great Nature's Nile, whose deep stream lises 

higher 
Than Egypt's river ; — from that gentle side 
Drink, drink and live, old man I Heaven's realm 

holds no such tide. 

The starry fable of the milky-way 

Has not thy story's purity ; it is 

A constellation of a sweeter ray. 

And sacred Nature triumphs more in this 

Reverse of her decree, than in the abyss 

Where sparkle distant worlds : — 0, holiest 

nurse ! 
No drop of that clear stream its way shall miss 
To tliy sire's he.\rt, replenishing its source 
With life, as our freed souls rejoin tKo universe. 



ROCK ME TO SLEEP. 

Backward, turn backward, Time, in your 

flight, 
Make me a child again just for to-night ! 
Mother, come back from the echolcss shore. 
Take me again to your heart as of yore ; 
Kiss from my foreliead the furrov;s of care. 
Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair ; 
Over my slumbers your loving wrtch keep ; — 
Rock mc to sleep, mother, — rock me to sleep I 



HOME. 



22; 



Backward, flow backward, tide of the yeais ! 
I am so weary of toil and of tears, — 
Toil without recompense, tears all in vain, — 
Take them, and give me my childhood again ! 
I have gi'own weary of dust and decay, — 
Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away ; 
Weary of sowing for others to reap ; — 
Rock mc to sleep, mother, — rock me to sleep I 

Tired of tlie hollow, tlie base, the untrue, 
Jlothcr, mother, my heart calls for you ! 
Many a summer tlie grass has grown green, 
Blossomed, and faded our faces between, 
Yet with strong yearning and passionate pain 
Long I to-night for your presence again. 
Come from the silence so long and so deep ; — ^ 
Rock me to sleep, mother, — rook mp to sleep !^ 

Over my heart, in the days that are flown. 
No love like mother-love ever has shone ; 
No other worship abides and endures, — ' 
Faithful, unsclQsh, and patient, like yours : 
None like a mother can charm away pain 
From the sicl^^soul and the world-weary brain. 
Slumber's soft calms o'er my heavy lids creep ; — 
Rock me to sleep, mother, — rock me to sleep '. 

Conic, let your brown hair, just lighted with gold, 
Fall on your shouUlers again as of old ; 
Let it drop over my forehead to-night, 
Shading my faint eyes away from the light ; 
For with its sunny-edged shadows once more 
Haply will throng the sweet visions of yore ; 
Lovingly, softly, its bright billows sweep ; — 
Rock me to sleep, mother, — rock me to sleep ! 

Mother, dear mother, the years have been long 
Since I last listened your lullaby song : 
Sing, then, and unto my soul it shall seem 
Womanhood's years have been only a dream. 
Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace, 
With your light lashes just sweeping your face. 
Never hereafter to wake or to weep ; — 
Rock me to sleep, mother, — rock me to sleep ! 
Elizabeth akers Allen {Florenie ^Pccy). 



HOMESICK. . 

OoME to nic, my Mother ! come to me. 
Thine own son slowly dying far away ! 
Through the moiijt ways of the wide ocean, blown 
By great invisible winds, come stately ships 
To this calm bay for quiet anchorage ; 
They come, they rest awhile, they go away. 
But, my Mother, never comest thou ! 
The snow is round thy dwelling, the white snow. 



That cold soft revelation pure as light, ' 
And the pine-spire is mystically fringed, 
Laced with incrusted silver. Here — ah me ' — 
The winter is decrepit, under-born, 
A leper with no power but his disease. 
Why am I from thee. Mother, far from thee? 
Far from the frost enchantment, and the woods 
.Jewelled from bough to bough > home, my 

home ! 
river in the valley of my home. 
With mazy-winding motion intricate, 
Twisting thy deathless music underneath 
The polished ice-work, — must I nevermore 
Behold thee with familiar eyes, and watch 
Thy beauty changing with the changeful day. 
Thy beauty constant to the constant change ? 

David Cray. 



TO AUGUSTA. 

His SISTER, AUGUSTA LEIGH, 

My sister ! my sweet sister ! if a name 
Dearer and purer were, it should be thine, 

Mountains and seas divide us, but I claim 
No tears, but tenderness to answer mine : 

Go where I will, to me thou art the same, — 
A loved regret which I would not resign. 

There yet are two things in my destiny, — 

A world to roam through, and a home with thee. 

The first were nothing, — had I still the last, 
It were the haven of my happiness ; 

But other claims and other ties thou hast, 
And mine is not the wish to make them loss. 

A strange doom is thy father's son's, and past 
Recalling, as it lies beyond redress ; 

Reversed for him our grandsire's fate of yore, — 

He had no rest at sea, nor I on shore. 

If my inheritance of storms hath been 
In other elements, and on the I'ocks 

Of perils, overlooked or unforeseen, 

I hn,ve sustained my share of worldly shocks, 

The fault was mine ; nor do I seek to screen 
My errors with defensive paradox ; 

I have been cunning in mine overthrow, 

The careful pilot of my proper woe. 

Mine were my faults, and mine be their reward. 
My whole life was a contest, since the day 

That gave me being gave me that which marred 
The gift, — a fate, or will, that walked astray : 

And I at times have found the struggle hard. 
And thought of shaking off my bonds of clay : 

But now I fain would for a time survive, 

If but to see what next can well arrive. 



224 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



Kingdoms and empires in my little liay 
I liavo outlived, and yet I am not old ; 

And when 1 look on this, the petty spray 

Of my own years of trouble, which have rolled 

Liko a wild bay of brcakei's, melts away : 
Sometliing — I know not what — does still 
uphold 

A spirit of slight patience ; — not in vain, 

Even for its own sake, do wo purchase pain. 

Perhaps the workings of defianeo stir 
Within rae, — or perhaps of cold despair, 

Brought on when ills habitually recur, — 
Perhaps a kinder clime, or purer air, 

(For even to t' is may change of soul refer. 
And with light armor we may learn to bear,) 

Have taught mo a strange quiet,, which was not 

The chief companion of a calmer lot. 

I feel almost at times as I have felt 

In happy childhood ; trees, and flowers, and 
brooks, 
Which do remember me of where I dwelt 

Era my young mind was sacrificed to books, 
Come as of yore upon me, and can melt 

Jly heart with recognition of their looks ; 
And even at moments I could think I see 
Some living thing to love, — but none liko thee. 

Here ai-e the Alpine landscapes which create 
A fund for contemplation ; — to admire 

Is a brief feeling of a trivial date ; 
But something wortliier do such scenes inspire. 

Here to be lonely is not desolate, 
For much I view which I could most desire. 

And, above all, a lake I can behold 

Lovelier, not dearer, than our own of old. 

that thou wert but with me ! — but I grow 
The fool of my own wishes, and forget 

The solitude which I have vaunted so 
Has lost its praise in this but one regret ; 

There may be others which I less may sliow ; 
I am not of the plaintive mood, and yet 

1 feel an ebb in my philosojihy, 

And the tide rising in my altered eye. 

I did remind thee of our own dear Lake, 

Hy the old TIall which may Iw ni'no no more. 

1. Oman's is fair? but think not 1 forsake 
The sweet remembrance of a dearer shoi-e ; 

Sad havoc Time must with my memory make. 
Ere thai or thou can fade these oyef before ; 

Though, like all things which I have loveil, they 
are 

Resigned forever, or divided far. 



The world is all before me ; I but ask 

Of Nature that with which she will comply, - 

It is but in hor summer's sun to bask. 
To mingle with the (juiet of her sky, 

To see lier gentle face without a mask. 
And never gazo on it \nth apathy. 

She was my early friend, and now shall be 

My sister, — till I look again on thee. 

I can reduce all feelings but this one ; 

And that I would not ; for at length I see 
Such scenes as those wherein my life begun. 

Tlio earliest, — even the only paths for me, — 
Had I but sooner learnt the crowd to slum, 

I had been better than I now can be ; 
The passions which have torn me would have 

slept : 
/ had not sutlered, and Uiou hadst not wept. 

With false Ambition what had I to do ? 

Little with Love, and least of all with Fame ! 
And yet they came unsought, and with nie grcw. 

And made me all wliidi they can make, — a 
name. 
Yet this was not the end I did pui'sue ; 

Suivly I once Iwheld a nobler aim. 
But all is over ; I am one the more 
To baffled millions which have gone before. 

And for the future, this world's future may 
From mo demand but little of my care ; 

I have outlived myself by many a day 
Having survived so many things that were ; 

My yeare have been no slumber, but the prey 
Of ceaseless vigils ; for I had the share 

Of life which might have filled a century. 

Before its fourth in time bad passed mo by. 

And for the remnant which may be to come, 
I am content ; and for the past I feel 

Not thankless, — for within the crowded sum 
Of struggles, happiness at times would steal. 

And for the present, I would not benumb 
My feelings farther. — Nor shall 1 conceal 

That with all this I still can look around, 

.\nd worship Nature with a thought profound. 

For thee, my own sweet sister, in thy heart 
1 know myself secure, as thou in mine : 

We were and are — I am, even as thou art — 
Beings who ne'er each other can resign ; 

It is the siime, together or apart. 
From life's commencement to its slow decline 

We are intwined, — let death come slow or fast, 

Tho tie which Iwund the fii-st endures the last ! 

BVRON. , 



HOME. 



225 



HOME. 

Cliko to thy homo ! if there the meanest shod 
Yield thee a hearth and shelter for thy head, 
And some poor plot, with vegetables stored, 
Be all that Heaven allots thee for thy board, — 
Unsavory bread, and herbs that scattered grow 
AVild on the river brink or mountain brow. 
Yet e'en this cheerless mansion shall provide 
More heart's repose than all the world beside. 

From tlic Greek of LP.ONIDAS, 
by RODUKT ULANU. 



HOME. SWEET HOME. 

FROM THE OPERA OP "CLARI, THE MAID OF MILAN." 

Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, 
Be it ever so humble there 's no place like homo ! 
A charm from the sky seems to hallow us there, 
Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with 
elsewhere. 

Home ! home ! sweet, sweet homo ! 

There 's no place like home ! 

An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain : 
0, give me my lowly thatched cottage again ! 
The birds singing gayly that came at my call ; — 
Give me them, — and the peace of mind dearer 
than all ! 
Home ! home ! sweet, sweet homo ! 
There 's no place like home ! 

John Howard tavne. 



A WISH. 

Mine be a cot beside the hill ; 
A beehive's hum shall soothe my car : 
A willowy brook that turns a mill, 
With many a fall shall linger near. 

The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch 
Shall twitter from her clay-built nest ; 
Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch, 
And share my meal, a welcome guest. 

Around my ivlod porch shall spring 
Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew , 
And Lucy, at her wheel, shall sing 
In russet gown and apron blue. 

The village-church among the trees, 
Where first our marriage-vows were given. 
With merry peals shall swell the breeze 
And point with taper spire to heaven. 

Samubl Roccks. 



ODE TO SOLITUDE. 

Happy the man, whoso wish and care 
A few paternal acres bound, 
Content to breathe his native air 
In his own ground. 

Whoso herds with milk, whoso fields with bread, 
Whoso flocks supply him with attire ; 
Whose trees in summer yield him shade, 
In winter, fire. 

Blest, who can unconccrn'dly find 
Hours, day?, and years slide soft away 
In health of body, peace of mind, 
Quiet by day, 

Sound sleep by night ; study and case 
Tdgcthor mixed ; sweet recreation, 
And innocence, which most does please 
With meditation. 

Thus let mo live, nnseen, unknown ; 

Thus unlameiited lot me die ; 

Steal from the world, and not a stone 

Tell where I lie. 

Alexander Pope. 



A SHEPHERD'S LIFE 

FROM "THIRD PART OF HENRY VI.," ACT II. SC. J. 

KiNfi Hknry. Goal methinks, it were b 

happy life. 
To be no better than a homely swain ; 
To sit upon a hill, as I do now. 
To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, 
Thereby to sec the minutes how they run : 
How many make tho hour fuUcomplete, 
How many hours bring about the day, 
How many days will finish uji the year, 
How many years a mortal man may live. 
When this is known, then to divide the times : — 
So many hours must I tend my flock ; 
So many hours must I take my rest ; 
So many hours must I contemplate ; 
So many hours must I sport myself ; 
So many days my ewes have been with young ; 
So many weeks ere tho jioor fools will yean ; 
So many years ere I shall shear tho fleece : 
So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and 

years, 
Passed over to the end they were crwted. 
Would bring white hairs unto a (luiet grave. 
All, what a life were this ! how sweet ! how 

lovely I 
Gives Hot the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade 
To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, 
Tlian (loth a rich embroidered canopy 
To kings that fear their subjects' treachery ? 

SHAKCSPEARC. 



22G 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



THE MEANS TO ATTAIN HAPPY LIFE. 

Maiitial, the things that do attain 
Thi) happy lil'o bo thoso, I lind, — 

The richoa UA't, not got with pain ; 
The fruitl'ul ground, tho iiuiet mind, 

The equal friend ; no gnidgo, no strife ; 

No ehargo of rule, nor governance ; 
Without disease, tho hcaltliful life 5 

The houseliold of continuance ; 

Tho mean diet, no delicate faro ; 

True wisdom joined with siniplencss ; 
Tho night disehargid of all care. 

Where wiuo tho \vit may not oppress ; 

Tho faithful wife, without debate ; 

Such sleeps as may beguile tho night ; 
Contented with thine own estate. 

No wish for death, ne fear his miglit. 

IIUNRY HOWARD. UARL OF SURRCV. 



THE FIRESIDE. 

Dkar Chloe, while tho busy crowd, 
The vain, the wealthy, and tho proud, 

In folly's maze advance ; 
Tliough singularity and pride 
Bo called our choice, we'll step aside, 

Nor join tlio giddy dance. 

From tho gay world wo '11 oft retito 
To our own family and fire. 

Where love our hours employs ; 
No noisy neighbor entors here, 
No intermeddling stranger near, 

To spoil our heartfelt joys. 

If solid happiness we prize. 
Within our breast this jewel lies. 

And they aro fools who roam ; 
The world hath nothing to bestow, — 
From our own selves our bliss must flow. 

And that dear hut. our home. 

Of rest was Noah's dove bereft, 
When with imimtient wing she left 

That safe retitxit, the ark ; 
Giving her vain oxeui-sion o'er. 
The disapiHiinttnl bird once more 

E.>cploiX"d the sacred bark. 

Though fools spurn Hymen's gentle powers. 
We, who improve his golden hours, 

By sweet experience know 
That raarriagx>, rightly understood. 
Gives to the tender and the good 

A paradise below. 



Our babes shall richest comforts bring ; 
1 r tutored right, they '11 prove a spring 

Whence pleasures ever rise : 
Wo '11 form their minds, with studious care. 
To all that's manly good, and fair, 

And train them for the skies. 

While they onr wisest hours engage. 
They 'H joy our youth, support our age, 

And crown our hoary hairs : 
They '11 grow in virtue every day, 
And thus our fondest loves repay, 

jVnd recompense our cares. 

No borrowed joys, they 're all our own, 
While to the world wo live unknown, 

Or by the world forgot : 
Monarchs ! we envy not your state ; 
Wo look with pity on tho great, 

And bless our humbler lot. 

Our portion is not large, indeed ; 
But then how little do we need, 

For nature's calls ore few ; 
In this the art of living lies, 
To want no more than may suffice. 

And make that little do. 

Wo 'U therefore i«lish with content 
Whate'cr kind Providence has sent. 

Nor aim beyond our power ; 
/»r, if our stock be very small, 
'T is prudence to enjoy it all, 

Nor lose the present hour. 

To be resigned when ills betide. 
Patient when favors ore denied, 

And pleased with favors given, — 
Pear Chloe, this is wisdom's part. 
This is tlint incense of the heart, 

AVhose fragrance smelb to heaven. 

We'll dsk no long-protracted treat. 
Since winter-life is seldom sweet: 

But when our feast is o'er, 
Grateful from table we '11 arise. 
Nor grudge our sous with envious eyes 

The relics of our store. 

Phus, hand in hand, through life wo '11 go ; 
Its checkered jwihs of joy and woe 

With cautious steps wo '11 tread : 
Quit its vain scenes without a tear, 
Without a trouble or a fear, 

Aud mingle with the dead : 

While Conscience, like a faithful friend 
Shall through the gloomy vale attend, 



HOME. 



227 



And cliccr our dying breath ; 
Shall, when all other comforts ccaso, 
Liku a kind angcl whisper peace, 

And smooth the hud of death. 

Natkasiel cotto:*. 



MY AIN FIRESIDE. 

I HAE .?cen great ancs and .sat in great ha's, 
'Mang lords ami fine ladies a' covered wi' braws, 
At feasts made for princes wi' princes I 've been. 
When the grand shine o' splendor lias dazzled 

my een ; 
But a (sight sac dcliglitfu' I trow I ne'er spied 
As tho bonny blithe blink o' my ain fireside. 
My ain fire3i<le, my ain fireside, 
O, cheery 'a the Uink o' my ain fireside ; 

My ain fireside, my ain fireside, 

0, there's naught to compare wi' ane's ain 
fireside. 

Ance mair, Gude be thankit, round my ain heart- 
some inglo, 
Wi' tho friends o' my youth I cordially mingle ; 
Nae fonns to compel mo to scorn wao or ghid, 
1 may laugh when I 'm merry, and sigh when 

I 'm .sad. 
Nae falsehood to dread, and nao maKco to fear, 
But truth to delight me, and friend.ship to cheer ; 
Of a' roads to hiippincss cVcr were tried, 
There 's nam; half so sure as ane's ain fireside. 
My ain fireside, my ain fireside, 
0, there 's naught to compare wi' ane's ain 
fireside. 

When I draw in my stool on my cozy hearth- 

stanc. 
My heart loups sao light I scarce ken 't for my 

ain ; 
Care's down on the wind, it Is clean out o' 

sight. 
Fast troubles they gccm but as dreams o' the 

nigbt. 
I hear but kend voices, kend faoei I sec. 
And mark saft affection glent fond frae ilk ce ; 
Nae ficechings o' flattery, nae boastings o' pride. 
Tin heart speaks to heart at ane's ain fireside. 
My ain liri'side, my ain fireside, 
0, there 's naught to compare wi' ane's ain 

fireside. 

Elizadrth Hamilton. 



BY THE FIHESIDE 

What is it fa/les and fiickers in the fire, 
Mutters and sighs, and yields reluctant breath, 

A.S if in tho red embers sornc desire. 
Some word prophetic bumed,^efying death ? 



Lonls of tho forest, stalwart oak and pine, 
LIo down for us in flames of martyrdom : 

A human, household warmth, their death-fires 
.sliino ; 
Yet fragrant with high memories they come. 

Bringing the mountain-winds that in their boughs 
Sang of the toircnt, and tho pLxshy edge 

Of storm-swept lakiss ; and echoes that arouso 
Tho eagles from a splintered eyrie ledge ; 

And breath of violets sweet about their roots ; 

And earthy odors of tho moss and fern ; 
And hum of rivulets ; smell of ripening fruits ; 

And gi'eeu leaves that to gold and crimson turn. 

What clear Septembers fade out in a spark I 
What rare Octobers drop with every coal ! 

Within these costly ashes, dumb and dark. 
Are hid spring's budding hope, and summer's 
soul. 

Pictures far lovelier smoulder in tho firo, 
Visionsof friends who walked among these trees, 

Who.so prew;nce, like the free air, could inspire 
A winged life and boundless sympathies. 

Eyes with a glow like that in the brown beech. 
When sunset through itsautumn beauty shines ; 

Or the blue gentian's look of silent speech. 
To heaven appealing as earth's light declines ; 

Voices and steps forever fled away 

From tho familiar glens, tho haunted hills, - 
Mo.st pitiful and strange it is to stay 

Without you in a world your lost love fills. 

Do you forget u.s, — under Eden trees. 
Or in full sunshine on the hills of God, — 

Who miss you from the shadow and tho breeze. 
And tints and perfumes of tho woodland sod ! 

Dear for your sake tho fireside where we sit 
Watching these sad, bright pictures como and 
go; 

That waning years are with your memory lit 
Is the one lonely comfort that we know. 

Is it all memory ? Lo, these forest-boughs 
Burst on the hearth into fresh leaf and bloom ; 

Waft a vague, far-off sweetness through the house, 
And give close walls tho hillside's breathing 



A second life, more spiritual tlian the first, 
They find, — a life won only out of death. 

sainted souls, within you still is nursed 
For us a flame not fed by mortal breath '. 



228 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



Unseen, ye bring to us, who love and wait, 
Wafts from the heavenly hills, immortal air ; 

1^0 flood can quench your hearts' warmth, or 
iibate ; 
Yo are our gladcras, here and everywhere. 

Lucy LARCOM. 



A WINTER-EVENING HYMN TO MY 
FIRE. 

THOU of home the guardian Lar, 

And, when oflr earth hath wandered far 

Into the cold, and deep snow covers 

The walks of our New England lovers, 

Their sweet secluded evening-star ! 

'T was with thy rays the English Muse 

Kipencd her mild domestic hues ; 

'T was by thy flicker that she conned 

The fireside wisdom that enrings 

With light from heaven familiar things ; 

By thee she found the homely faith 

In whose mild eyes thy comfort stay'th, 

When Death, e.vtinguishing his torch, 

Gropes for the latch-string in the porch ; 

The love that wanders not beyond 

His earliest nest, but sits and sings 

While children smooth his patient wings : 

Therefore with thee I love to read 

Our brave old poets : at thy touch how stirs 

Life in the withered words ! how swift recede 

Time's shadows ! and how glows again 

Through its dead mass the incandescent verse, 

As when upon the anvils of the brain 

It glittering lay, cyclopically wrought 

By the fast-throbbiug hammers of the poet's 

thought 1 
Thou murmurest, too, divinely stirred. 
The aspirations unattained. 
The rhythms so rathe and delicate. 
They bent and strained 
And broke, beneath the sombre weight 
Of any airiest mortal word. 

What warm protection dost thou bend 
Round curtained talk of friend with friend. 
While the gray snow-storm, held aloof, 
To softest outline rounds the roof. 
Or the rude North with baffled strain 
Shoulders the frost-starred window-pane ! 
Now the kind nj-roph to Bacchus borne 
By Morpheus' daughter, she that seema 
Gifted upon her natal morn 
By him with fire, by her with dreams, 
Nicotia, dearer to the Muse 
Than all the grapes' bewildering juice. 



We worship, unforbid of thee ; 

And, as her incense floats and curls 

In airy spires and wayward whirls, 

Or poises on its tremulous stalk 

A flower of frailest revery, 

So winds and loiters, idly free, 

The current of unguided talk, 

Now laughter-rippled, and now caught 

In smooth dark pools of deeper thought. 

Meanwhile thou mellowest every word, 

A sweetly unobtrusive third ; 

For thou hast magic beyond wine, 

To unlock natures each to each ; 

The unspoken thought thou canst divine I 

Thou fiU'st the pauses of the speech 

With whispers that to 4ream-land reach. 

And frozen fancy-springs unchain 

In Arctic outskirts of the brain ; 

Sun of all inmost confidences. 

To thy rays doth the heart unclose 

Its formal calyx of pretences, 

That close against rude day's oflences, 

And open i.s shy midnight rose ! 

James Russell Lowell 



I KNEW BY THE SMOKE THAT SO 
GRACEFULLY CURLED. 

I KNEW by the smoke that so gracefully curled 
Above the green elms, that a cottage was near. 

And I said, " If there 's peace to be Ibund in the 
world, 
A heart that is humble might hope for it hei'e ! " 

It was noon, and on flowers that languished 
around 
In silence reposed the voluptuous bee ; 
Every leaf was at rest, and I heard not a sound 
But the woodpecker tapping the hollow beech- 
tree. 

And " Here in this lone little wood," 1 ex- 
claimed, 
" With a maid who was lovely to soul and to 
eye. 
Who would blush when I praised her, and weep 
if I blamed. 
How blest could I live, and how calm could I 
die! 

" By the shade of yon sumach, whose red berry 
dips 
In the gusli of the fountain, how sweet to re- 
cline. 
And to know that I sighed upon innocent lips. 
Which had never been sighed on by any but 

mine ! " 

Thomas Moore. 




CONFESSIO AMANTIS. 

When do I lOve you most, sweet books of mine? 

In strenuous morns when o'er your leaves I pore, 

Austerely bent to win austerest love, 
Forgetting how the dewy meadows shine; 
Or afternoons when honeysuckles twine 

About the seat, and to some dreamy shore 

Of old Romance, where lovers evermore 
Keep blissful hours, I follow at your sign ? 

Yea! ye are precious then, but most to me 

Ere lamplight dawneth, when low croons the fire 
To whispering twilight in my little room. 

And eyes read not, but sitting silently 

I feel youi- great hearts throbbing deep in quire, 
And hear you breathing round me in the gloom. 



Richard Le Gallienne. 




Till-, IKUSl-. lU'.Ar IlKl'L. 



A NAKED house, a naked imior, 
A shivering pool before the door, 
A jj.irden bare of flowers and iVuit, 
And poplars at the garden foot ; 
Sueh is the place that I live in, 
Bleak uitluuit and bare within. 



Yet shall your ragged moors receive 
The incomparable pomp of eve. 
And the cold glories of the dawn 
Behind your shivering trees be drawn ; 
And when llie wind from place to ])lace 
Doth the unmoored cloud galleons chase. 
Your garden blooms and gleams again 
With leaping sun and glancing rain; 
Here shall the wizard moon ascend 
The heavens, in the crimson eiul 



Of day's declining splendor ; here. 
The army of the stars appear. 
The neighbor hollows, dry or wet. 
Spring shall with tender flowers beset ; 
And oft the morning muser see 
Larks rising from the broomy lea. 
And every fairy wheel and thread 
Of cobweb dew dediamonded. 
When daisies go, shall winter time 
Silver the simiile grass with rime; 
Autumnal frosts enchant the pool 
And make the cart ruts beautiful. 
And when snow bright the moor expands, 
How sliall your children clap their hands ! 
To make this earth our heritage, 
A cheerful and a changcftd page, 
God's intricate and bright device 
Of days and seasons doth suflficc. 



Robert Louis Stevenson. 



HOME. 



229 



HKAnT-RKST. 

pftOM " TMILtl' VAN ACTI vnLDP. 

The lic.irt of man, w.ilk it wlii'li way it will, 
Sci|iifstcrcrl or fr<'qiii'nt(,il, Kmootli or lon^^lj, 
Down \h<'. 'Ii!i'[j valley ninongHt tinkling Hooks, 
Or mr<l tliii ilanf; "f lrmn])i!ts and the nianli 
Of ("lattcring ordn.inrr', still must liavo its hall, 
ItH hour of tnirc, its inst^int of rcjinsi', 
Its inn of rest ; .incl rriivin;,' 8till must Kcok 
The food of its alfi rtioris, — still must slake 
It.'; constant tliir.st of what is fr'.sli undimii:, 
And pl('a:,aut U> behold, 

HnNRV TAVLOJL. 
• < 

TWO r-ICTURK.S. 

An old farm-house with me.adows wide, 
And sweet with clover on cadi Kidc ; 
A biifjht-eyed hoy, who looks from out 
The door with woodbine wreathed about. 
And wishes his one thou;;ht all day : 
" O, if I could but lly away 

i'Vom this dull spot, the world to see. 
How happy, happy, happy, 

How happy 1 should Ixj I " 

Amid the city's constant din, 
A man who round flee world has bccn^ 
Who, mid the tumult and the thron;j. 
Is thinkin;,', thinking all day long: 
"O, could I only treail once more 
The (ieM-path to the farm-house door, 

The old, green meadow could I .see. 
How hap[>y, hajipy, hnjiiiy, 

How happy 1 should be!" 

A.'JNn'. D GKCLN {Marian nmiElni). 



HOMK. 

PROM "TMIi TKAVP.LI.r.R." 

BlTT where to find that happiest spot Ixdow, 
Who can direct, when all prcteml to know ? 
The shuddering tenant of the frigid zone 
HoMly proclaims that ha|ipieBt 8iK)t his own ; 
Kxtols the treasures of his stormy sexs. 
And his long nights of revelry and case : 
The nakr-d negro, jianting at the line, 
Hoasts of his golden sands and jraliny wine, 
Ha-,ks in the glare, or st/mis the tcjiid w.ive. 
And thanks his gods for all the good they gave. 
•Surh is the ))atriot'.s boast, where'er we roam. 
His first, best country, ever is at home. 
And yet, perhaps, if countries we compare. 
And estimate the Ue.ssings which they share. 
Though patriots flatter, still shall wiwiom find 
An ci|ual pfjrtion dealt to all mankind ; 
As different good, by art. or nature given, 
To different nations makes their blessing even. 

OLtVLR COLDSMITIt. 



TlIK HOMES OF ENGLAND. 

TiiK stately Homes of England, 

How beautiful they stand ! 

Amidst their tall ancestral ticc3, 

O'er all the pleasant land ; 

The d(Mr across their greensward bound 

Through shade and sunny gleam. 

And the .swan glides pa,st them with the sound 

Of some rejoicing stream. 

The merry Homes of England I 

Around their hearths by night, 

What gladsome looks of household love 

Meet in the ruddy light. 

'J'hcrc woman's voice flows forth in soag, 

Or childish tale is told ; 

Or lii)s move tunefully along 

.Some glorious page of oW. 

The bles«J:d ilomes of England ! 

How softly on their Ixjwers 

Is laid the holy '|uietness 

That breathi-s from Sabbath hours ! 

Solemn, yet sweet, the church-bell's chime 

Floats thiough their woods at mom ; 

All other sounds, in that still time, 

Of breeze and leaf are bom. 

The cottage^ Homes of England ! 

I>y thou.sands on her plains, 

They are smiling o'er the silvery brooks, 

And round the hamlet-fiincs. 

Through glowing orchuids forth they peep, 

ICach from its nook of leaves ; 

And fearless there the lowly sleep. 

As the bird beneath their eaves. 

The free, fair Homes of England I 

Long, long in hut and hall. 

May hearts of native jiroof be reared 

To guard each hallowed wall ! 

And green forever be the groves, 

And bright the flowery sod, 

Where first the child's glad spirit loves 

Its country arid its God. 

FCLICM IICUANI 



A PICTURE. 

TliF, farmer sat in his easy-chair. 

Smoking his [lipe of clay. 
While his hale old wife, witli busy care. 

Was clwiring the dinner away ; 
A sweet little girl, with fine blue eyes. 
On her grandfather's knee was catching (lies. 



230 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIOMS. 



The old man l:iiJ his hand on hor head. 

Witli a tear on his wrinkled tuco ; 
He thought how often her nintlicr, dead, 

Had sat in the self-same plnee. 
As the tear stole down from his half-shut eye, 
" Don't smoke I " said the child ; " how it makes 
you cry ! " 

The house-dog lay stretched out on the floor, 
Where the shade after noon used to steal ; 

The busy old wife, liy the open door. 
Was turning the spinning-wheel ; 

And the old brass clock on the mantel-trco 

Had plodded along to almost thrco. 

Still the farmer sat in his easy-chair, 

While close to his heaving breast 
The moistened brow and tlio check so fair 

Of his sweet grandcliild were pressed ; 
His head, bent down, on her soft hair lay : 
Fast asleep were they both, that summer day ! 

CHAKLES CAMAGE EASTMAN. 



NOT ONE TO SPARE. 

" Which shall it bo ? Which shall it be ? " 
I looked at John — John looked at mo 
(Dear, patient John, who loves mo yet 
As well as though my locks were jet); 
And when I found that I must speak, 
My voice seemed strangely low and weak : 
"Toll me again what Kobert said." 
And then I, listening, bent my head. 
" This is his letter : ' I will give 
A ho\ise and land while you shall live, 
If, in return, from out your seven, 
One child to mc for aye is given.' " 
I looked at John's old garments worn, 
I thought of all that John had borne 
Of poverty and work and care. 
Which I, though willing, could not shore ; 
I thotight of seven mouths to feed, 
Of seven little children's need, 
■ And then of this. " Come, John," .said I, 
" We '11 choose among them as they lie 
Asleep ;" so, walking hand in hand, 
Dear John and I surveyed our band. 
First to the cradle lightly stepped, 
AVherc Lilian, the baby, slept, 
A glory 'gainst the pillow white. 
Softly the father stooped to lay 
His rough hand down in a gentle way. 
When dream or whisper made her stir. 
And huskily he said, " Not her, not her !" 
Wc stopped beside the truudle-bcd, 
Aud one long ray of lamplight shed 



Atliwart the boyish faces there, 

In sleep so pitiful and fair , 

I saw on Jamie's rough, red cheek 

A tear undricd. Ere John could speak, 

" He 's but a baby, too," said I, 

And kissed him as wo hurried by. 

Pale, patient Robbie's angel face 

Still in his sleep bore suffering's trace. 

" No, for a thousand crowns, not him I " 

He wliispcred, while our eyes werc^im. 

Poor Dick ! bad Dick ! our wayward son. 

Turbulent, reckless, idle one — 

Could he be sp-tred ? Nay ; He who gave. 

Bid us befriend him to his grave ; 

Only a mother's heart can be 

Patient enough for such as he ; 

"And so," said John, "I would not dare 

To send him from our bedside prayer." 

Then stole we softly tip above 

And knelt by Jlary, child of love. 

" Perhaps for her 't would better be," 

I said to John. Quite silently 

Ho lifted up a curl that lay 

Across her cheek in wilful way. 

And shook his head ; "Nay, lovo ; not thee,'-' 

The while my heart beat audibly. 

Only one more, our eldest lad. 

Trusty and tnithful, good and glad — 

So like his father. " No, John, no- 

I cannot, will not, let him go." 

And so we wrote, in courteous way, 

AVe could not drive one child away j 

And afterward toil lighter seemed. 

Thinking of that of which we dreamed, 

Happy in truth that not one face 

Was missed from its accustomed place ; 

Thankful to work for all the seven, 

Ti-usting the rest to One in heaven. 

A.M0NV.M0US. 



THE CHILDREN. 

When the lessons and tasks are all ended, 

And the school for the day is dismissed. 
And the little ones gather around mc. 

To bid mc good night aud bo kissed ; 
the little white arms that encircle 

My neck in their tender embrace ! 
the smiles that Arc halos of heaven. 

Shedding sunshine of love ou my face I 

And when they are gone, I sit dreaming 
Of my childhood, too lovely to last ; 

Of love that my heart will remember 
When it wakes to the pulse of the past,, 



HOME- 



231 



Kic the world and its wickedness made mo 

A partner of sorrow and sin, — 
When the glory of God was about me, 

And the glory of gladness withiu. 

All my heart grows weak as a woman's, 

And the fountains of feeling will flow, 
Wlien 1 think of tlie paths steep and stony, 

Where the feet of the dear ones must go ; 
Of the mountains of sin hanging o'er them. 

Of the tempest of Fate blowing wild ; 
0, there 's nothing on earth half so holy 

As the iimoceut heart of a child ! 

They arc idols of hearts and of households ; 

They arc angels of God in disguise ; 
His sunlight still sleeps in their tresses, 

His glory still gleams in their eyes ; 
0, these truants from home and from heaven, — 

They have made rao more manly and mild ; 
And I know now how Jesus could liken 

Tlie kingdom of God to a child ! 

I ask not a life for the dear ones, 

All radiant, as others liave done. 
But that life may have just enough shadow 

To temper the glare of the sun ; 
I would pray God to guard them from evil. 

But my prayer would bound back to myself ; 
All ! a seraph may pray for a sinner, 

But a sinner must pray for himself. 

The twig is so easily bended, 

I have banished the rule and the rod ; 
I have taught them the goodness of knowledge, 

They have taught me the goodness of God. 
My heart is the dungeon of darkness, 

Where I shut them for breaking a rule ; 
My frown is sufficient correction ; 

My love is the law of the school. 

I shall leave the old house in the autumn. 

To traverse its threshold no more ; 
Ah ! how shall I sigh for the dear ones 

That meet mo each mom at the door 1 
I shall miss the "good nights" and the kisses. 

And the gush of their innocent glee. 
The gioup on its green, and the (lowers 

That are brought every morning to mc. 

I shall mi.s3 them at mom and at even. 

Their song in the school and tlie street ; 
I sliall miss the low hum of their voices. 

And the tread of their delicate feet. 
When the lessons of life are all ended. 

And death says, " The school is dismissed ! " 
May the little ones gather around me. 

To bid me good night and be kissed ! 

Charles m. DiCKm59ri. 



FAITH AND HOPE. 

O, don't be sorrowful, darling 1 

Now, don't be sorrowful, pray ; 
For, taking the year together, my dear. 

There is n't more night than day. 
It 's rainy weatlier, my loved one ; 

Time's wheels they heavily run ; 
But taking the year together, niy dear, 

There is n't more cloud than suii. 

We 'ro old folks now, companion, — 

Our heads they are growing gray ; 
But taking the year all round, my dear, 

You always will lind the May. 
We 'vo had our May, my darling, 

And our roses, long ago ; 
And the time of the year is come, my dear. 

For the long dark nights, and the snow. 

But God is God, my faithful. 

Of night as well as of d.iy ; 
And we feel and know that we can go 

Wherever he leads the way. 
Ay, God of night, my darling ! 

Of the night of death so grim ; 
And the gate tliat from life leads out, good wife, 

Is the gate that leads to Him. 

RilMDRANDT TEALE. 



FRAGMENTS. 

Tub Wipe. 
To cheer thy sickness, watch thy health. 
Partake, but never waste thy wealth, 
Or stand with smile unmurmuring by, 
And lighten half thy poverty. 

DriJc of Abydoj, Cant, 1. 



BVRONi 



She gave me eyes, she gave me cars ; 

And humble cares, and delicate fears, 

A heart, the fountain of sweet tears ; 

And love, and thought, and joy. 

The Sfiarrcnu's Nest. -WORDSWORTH. 

This flour of wiHy patience. 

The Cterkes Tate, Pars v. CHAUCER. 

And mistress of herself, though china fall. 

Morat l-ssays : tipislte tl. POI'E. 

The Mahkied State. 

Wedlock, indeed, hath oft compared been 
To public feasts, where meet a public rout, 
Where they that are without would fain go in. 
And they that are within would fain go out. 

Caiilenlwn btlwixt a IVi/e,clc, SIR J. DAVICS. 



23:; 



POEMS OP THE AFFECTIONS. 



fio upon this single life ! forego it. 

D<Uh4iHlf Malfy. J. WEOSIT.R. 

1. Thnt mnn must lead a li.ippy lifo 

2. Who is (iiii'i'tcil by ft wife ; 

3. Wlio '.s fioo IVoni niiitiiiiionial chain? 

4. Is sui'o to sullor for liis )i;iins. 

B. Adam cotild find no solid peace 

6. Till he bclicld a woman's face ; 

7. When Eve wn.s given for n mate, 

8. Adiim was in a happy state. 

J-'fij^mm en Miitntiii>tiy ; Rt,tJ alttrHAtt tinfs. — l. % 9, 4i 

5. 7. 0. 8. 

Inconstancy. 

Trnst not ii man : wo aro by nature false, 
Dissenibling, subtle, cruel and inconstant ; 
When a man talks of love, with caution Lear 

liim ; 
But if ho swears, bo 'U certainly dooolvo thoo. 

ntOr/lum. T.OTWaV. 

Nay, women aro frail too ; 
Ay, ns the glasses where they view themselves ; 
■Which are as easy bi'oko as they make forms. 

Mt,uurt/ir MtMUrt, Acl II. if. 4. SHAKllSPBARE. 

In part to blame is she, 
Whidi hath without consent bin only trido r 
He comes to noore that comes to l>c dcnide, 

X W't/>. SIR T. OVKRHURV. 

Virtue she finds too painful an endeavor, 
Content to dwell in decencies forever. 

Completion. 

Man is but half without woman ; and 
Aa do idolaters their heavenly gods. 
We deify the things that wo adore. 

Fttlus. r. J. BAILEY. 

IIo is the liiilf part of a blessed man. 
Left to be fmish^d by such as she; 
And she a fair divided excellence, 
Whose fulness of perfection lies in him 



KtHC 3M". Wrf il. S{, 9. 



SIIAKGSPEAKC. 



Ho.ME Life. 



Domestic happiness, thou only bliss 
Of paradise tliat has survived the fall ! 

Tk, T,u». COWl-PR. 

Tlie fii'st sure symptom of a mind in health 
Is rest of heart, and pleasure felt at home. 

t/iflU TIUHtltU. E. YOUNC. 



And hie him home, at evening's close, 
To sweet repast and calm repose. 

OJt OH tfu Pliasurt arising /rom yicistitucU. T. CRAV. 

The social smile, the sympathetic tear. 

Educitlioii alid Cavtrnmtitt, T. CKAV. 

Oh I blessed with temper, whoso unclouded vay 
Can make to-morrow clieerful as to-day. 

Morat Lstajs; l-fitstU 11, POPE. 

AVliy left you wife and children, — 
Those precious motives, those strong knots oT love ? 

Jtfd<^M, Wf/iv,S<-. 3. SHAKESPEARB. 



MOTIIER-LOVE. 

Tlie only lovo which, on this teeming earth, 
Asks no return for passion's wayward birth. 

ThiDrtam. HON. MRS. NORTON. 

A mother's love, — how sweet the name I 

What is a mother's love ? — 
A noble, pure, and tender flame, 

F.nkindled from above. 
To bless a heart of earthly mould ; 
The warmest lovo that can grow cold ; — 

This is a mother's love. 

A Nilhrrs Lni. J. MONTCOMBRV. 

Hath ho set hounds between their love and me ? 
I am their mother ; who shall bar me from them ' 

Richar,! Ill „ Acl\l. Sc.\, SHAKESPEAK*. 

The poor wren, 
Tho most diminuHvo of biixls, will fight. 
The young ones in her uest asainst the owl. 

niacttlll.Acl^l.Sc.t. SHAKESPEARE. 



Whero yet was ever found a mother 
Who 'd give her Iwoby for another ? 

FnitUs ' TSi Motfttr. tke Xnrtf, a>iJ tht F.1I'; 



1 Cav. 



Home Ple.^sures. 
At Christmas i>lay, and make good cheer. 
For Christmas comes but once a year. 

Tlu Farmrr't Diiily Dirl. T. TUSSER 

So saying, with despatchful looks ii\ haste 
Slio turns, on hospitable thoughts intent. 

r.lf.<.liif l..yir. B.vt >■. MILTON . 

Alike all ngi'S : dames oC ancient days 

Have led their children through tlic mirthful 

maze ; 
And the gay gnmdsire. skilled in pestie lore. 
Has frisked beneath the burden of threescore. 

7-A» TrMtlHr. C0LB5M1TH. 



I 



PARTING. 



233 



PARTING. 



GOOD BY. 

" FAREWELt ! farewell ! " is often hoard 

From the lips o( those who part : 
'T is a whispered tone, — 't is u gentle word, 

Rut it springs not from the hcurt. 
It may serve for the lover's eloaing lay, 

I'o be sung 'ncath a siimmer sky ; 
But give to mo tho lips that say 

Tho honest words, " Good by ! " 

"Adieu ! adieu I " may greet tho ear, 

In tho guiiio of courtly upeech : 
But wheu wo leave tho kind and dear, 

'T is not what tho soul would teach. 
Whene'er we grasp the hands of thoso 

We would have forever nigh. 
The flame of Friendship bursts and glows 

In tho warm, frank words, "Good by." 

Tho mother, sending forth her child 

To meet with cares and strife, 
Breathes through her tcurs her doubts and fears 

For tho loved one's future life. 
No cold "adieu," no " farewell," lives 

Witliin her choking sigh. 
But the deepest sob of anguish gives, 

"God bless thee, boy I Good by 1" 

Go, watch the pale and dying one. 

When the glance has lost its beam ; 
When the brow Ls cold as the marble stone. 

And tho world a passing dream ; 
And the latest pressure of the hand, 

Tho look of tho closing eye. 
Yield what the heart 7)1 hs^ understand, 

A long, a last Good-by. 

ANONVMOUS, 



QUA CURSUM VENTU3. 

As ships, becalmed at eve, that lay 
With canvas drooping, side by side, 

Two towers of sail at dawn of day 
Are scarce long leagues apart descriod. , 

WTion fell tho night, up sprang the breeze, 
And all the darkling hours they plied, 

Nor dreamt but each the selfsame seas 
By each was cleaving, side by sido : 



E'en 80, — but why the tale rcreal 
Of thoso whom, year by year unchanged. 

Brief absence joined anew to feel, 
Astounded, soul from soul e.strangcd ? 

At dead of night their sails were filled. 
And onward each rejoicing steered ; — 

Ah I neither blame, for neither willed 
Or wist what first with dawn appeared. 

To veer, how vain I On, onward strain, 
Brave barks I In light, in darkness too. 

Through winds and tides one compass guides i 
To that and your own solves bo true. 

But O blithe breeze I and great seas I 
Though ne'or, that earliest parting pa.st, 

On your wide plain they join again, — 
Together lead them homo at last. 

One port, methought, alike they sought, — 
One ])urpose hold where'er they faro ; 

bounding breeze, O rushing soas, 
At last, at last, uuilo them there I 

ARTHUR HUGH C'LOUGII 



AE FOND KISS BEFORE WE PART. 

Ae fond kiss, and then wo sever ; 
Ae fareweel, alas, forever ! 
Deep in heart-wrung tears I '11 pledge thoo ( 
Warring c.ighs and groans I '11 wage thee. 
Who shall say that fortune grieves him, 
While the star of hope she leaves him ? 
Mo, nae checrfu' twinkle lights me ; 
Dark despair around bcuights me. 

I '11 ne'er blame my partial fancy — 
Naething could resist my Nancy : 
But to sec her was to love her, 
I>ovc but her, and love forever. 
Had we never loved sao kindly. 
Had we never loved sac blindly, 
Never mot — or never parted. 
Wo had ne'er been broken-hearted. 

Fare thee weol, thou first and fairest I 
Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest I 
Thine be ilka joy and treasure, 
Peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure I 



234 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTION'S. 



Ae fond kiss, and then we sever ; 

Ae fareweel, alas, forever ! 

Deep in lieart-wrung tears I '11 pledge thee. 

Warring sighs and groans I 'II wage thee ! 

Robert burns. 



0. MY LUVE'S LIKE A RED, RED ROSE. 

0, MY Luvo 's like a red, red rose 
That 's newly sprung in June : 

0, my Luve 's like the melodie 
That 's sweetly played in tune. 

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass. 

So deep in luve am I : 
And I will luve thee still, my dear, 

Till a' the seas gang dry : 

Till a" the seas gang dry, my dear, 
And the rocks melt wi' the sun : 

And I will luve thee still, my dear, 
While the sands o' life shall run. 

And fare thee weel, my only Luve I 

And fare thee weel awhile ! 
And I will come again, my Luve, 

Tho' it were ten thousand mile. 

ROBERT Burns. 



THE KISS, DEAR MAID. 

The kiss, dear maid ! thy lip has left 

Shall never part from mine. 
Till happier hours restore the gift 

Untainted back to thine. 

Tliy parting glance, which fondly beams, 

An equal love may see : 
The tear that from thine eyelid streams 

Can weep no change in me. 

I ask no pledge to make me blest 

In gazing when alone ; 
Nor one memorial for a breast 

Whose thoughts are all thine own. 

Nor need I write — to tell the talo 

My pen were doubly weak : 
O, what can idle words avail, 

Unless tho heart could speak ? 

By day or night, in weal or woe. 

That heart, no longer free. 
Must bear the love it cannot show. 

And silent, ache for thee. 



MAID OF ATHENS, ERE WE PART. 

ZwTj fiov ads ayairu).* 

Maid of Athens, ere we part. 
Give, 0, give me back my heart ! 
Or, since that has left my breast. 
Keep it now, and take the rest ! 
He-ar my vow before 1 go, 
ZwTj fiov ads wyaTTu. 

By those tresses unconfiued. 
Wooed by each ^Egean wind ; 
By those lids whose jetty fringe 
Kiss thy soft cheeks' blooming tinge ; 
By those wild eyes like the roe, 
Ztlii\ fiov ads ayanu. 

By that lip I long to taste ; 
By that zone-encircled waist ; 
By all the token-flowers that tell 
What words can never speak .so well ; 
By love's alternate joy and woe, 
Z<i)) juoC <rds ayuTTu. 

Maid of Athens ! I am gone. 
Think of me, sweet ! when alono. 
Though I fly to Istambol, 
Athens holds my heart and soul : 
Can I cease to love thee ? No ! 
ZtiiJ fxov ads ayanu- 



SONG 



OF THE YOUNG HIGHLANDER SUMMONED FROM THE SIDE 
OF HIS BRIDE BY THE "FIERY CROSS OF RODERICK DHU. 

FROM "THE LADY OF THE LAKE." 

The heath this night must be my bed, 
The bracken curtain for my head. 
My lullaby the warder's tread. 

Far, far from love and thee, Mary ; 
To-morrow eve, more stilly laid 
My couch may be my bloody plaid, 
My vesper song, thy wail, sweet maid ! 

It will not waken me, Mary! 

I may not, dare not, fancy now 

The grief that clouds thy lovely browi 

1 dare not think upon thy vow. 

And all it promised me, Mary. 
No fond regret must Norman know ; 
Wlien bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe. 
His heart must be like bended bow, 
" His foot like arrow free, Mary. 

• My life. I love thee. 



PARTING. 



235 



A timo will come with feeling fraught ! 
For, if I fall in battle fought, 
Thy hapless lover's dying thought 

Shall be a thought on thee, Maiy. 
And if returned from conquered foes. 
How blithely will the evening close, 
How sweet the linnet sing repose. 

To iny young bride and me, Mary ! 

Sir Walter Scott. 



TO LUCASTA. 
ON co:ng to the wars. 

Tell me not, sweet, I am unkinde. 

That from the nunnerie 
Of thy chaste breast and quiet miade, 

To waire and armes I flee. 

True, a new mistresse now I chase. — 

The first foe in the field ; 
And with a stronger faith imbrace 

A sword, a hoi'se, a shield. 

Yet this inconstancy is such 

As you, too, shall adore ; 
I could not love thee, deare, so much. 

Loved I not honor more. 

RICHARD LOVELACE. 



BLACK-EYED SUSAN. 

Ill in the Downs the fleet was moored, 
The streamers waving in the wind, 

When black-eyed Susan came aboard ; 
" 0, where shall I my true-love find ? 

Fell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true 

If my sweet William sails among the crew." 

William, who high upon the yard 
Rocked with the billow to and fro, 

Soon as her well-known voice he heard 
He sighed, and cast his eyes below : 

The cord slides swiftly through his glowing 
haiids, 

And quick as lightning on the deck he stands. 

So_ the sweet lark, high poised in air, 
Shuts close his pinions to his breast 

If chance his mate's shrill call he hear, 
And drops at once into her nest : — 

The noble.st captain in the British fleet 

Might envy William's lip those kisses sweet. 

"0 Susan, Susan, lovely dear. 

My vows shall ever true remain ; 
Let nie kiss off that falling tear ; 

Wc only part to meet again. 
Change as ye list, ye winds ; my heart shaU be 
The faithful compass that still points to thee. 



" Believe not what the landmen say 
Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind : 

They 11 tell thee, sailors, when away, 
I u every port a mistress find : 

Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so, 

For Thou art present wheresoe'er I go. 

" If to fair India's coast we sail. 
Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright, 

Thy breath is Afnc'« spicy gale. 
Thy skin is ivory so white. 

Thus every beauteous object that I view 

Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue. 

"Though battle call me from thy ai-ms, 

Let not .my pretty Susan mourn ; 
Though cannons roar, yet safe from harms 

William shall to his dear return. 
Love turns aside the balls that round me fly, 
Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's eye." 

The boatswain gave the dreadful word, 
The sails their swelling bosom spread ; 

No longer must she stay aboard : 
They kissed, slie sighed, he hung his head. 

Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land ; 

"Adieu ! " she cried ; and waved her lily hand, 

JOHN Gay. 



HERO TO LEANDER. 

0, GO not yet, my love. 

The night is dark and vast ; 
The white moon is hid in her heaven above. 

And the waves climb high and fast 
0, kiss me, kiss me, once again. 

Lest thy kiss should be the last. 
0, kiss me ere we ^art ; 
Grow closer to my heart. 
My heart is warmer surely than the bosom ot 
the main. 
joy ! bliss of blisses ! 

My heart of hearts art thou. 
Come, bathe me with thy kisses. 

My eyelids and my brow. 
Hark how the wild rain hisses, 

And the loud sea roars below. 

Thy heart beats through thy rosy limbs, 

So gladly doth it stir ; 
Thine eye in drops of gladness swims. 

T have bathed thee with the pleasant 
myrrh ; 
Thy locks are dripping balm ; 
Thou shalt not wander hence to-night, 

I 'U stay thee with my kisses. 
To-night the roaring brine 

Will rend thy golden tresses ; 



■'23G 



POEMS OP THE AFFECTIONS. 



Tlin ooeim with Uio monow light ' 
Will bo both liluo iind calm ; 
^d tho billow will fiiibiaeo thoo with a kiss as 
soft as inijiu. 

No Western odors wander 

Oil the black and moaning sea. 
And when thou art dead, Leander, 

My soul must follow thee ! 
O, go not yet, n\y love, 

Thy voice is sweet and low ; 
Tho deep salt wave breaks in above 

Those marble steps below. 
Tho turret-st«iis are wet 

That lead into the sea. 
Lennder I go not yet. 
Tho pleasant stars have set : 
O, go not, go not yet, 

Or I will follow thee. 

ALFRED TENNYSON. 



THE PARTING LOVEKS. 

She says, " The cock crows, — hark ! " 
He says, " No ! still 't is dark." 

She says, "Tho dawn grows bright," 
He says, "0 no, my Light." 

She says, " Stand up and say. 
Gets not the heaven gray?" 

He si\ys, " The moniing star 
Climbs the horizon's bar." 

She says, " Then quick depart : 
Alas ! you now must start ; 

But give tho cock a blow 
■\Vho did begin our woe ! " 

ANONYMOlts (Chinese). Translation 
of WILLIAM R. ALCBK. 



PARTING LOVERS. 

SIENNA. 

1 LOVE thee, love thee, Giulio ! 

Some call me cold, and some demure. 
And if tliou hast ever guessed that so 

I love thee . . . well ; — the proof was poor, 

And no one could be sure. 

Before thy song (with shifted rhjTues 

To suit my name) did I undo 
Tho jH-rsiaii ? If it moved sometimes. 

Thou hast not Seen a hand push through 

A flower or two. 



My mother, listening to my sleep 

Heard nothing but a sigh ut night, — 

The short sigh rippling on tho doop, — 
When hearts run out of breath aud sight 
Of men, to God's clear light. 

When others named thee, . . . thought thy brows 
Wciestiaight,thysmilewas tender, . . . "Hero 

He comes between the vineyard-rows ! " — 
I said not " Ay," — nor waited, Dear, 
To feel tUeo step too near. 

I loft such things to bolder girls, 

Olivia or Clotilda. Nay, 
When that Clotilda through her curls 

Hold both thiue eyes in hera one day, 

1 marvelled, let mo say, 

I could not try the woman's trick : 
Between us straightway fell tho blush 

Which kept mo separate, blind, and sick. 
A wind came with thee in a Hush, 
As blown tlu-ough Uorcb's bush. 

But now that Italy invokes 

Her young men to go forth and chase 
The foe or perish; — nothing chokes 

>Iy voice, or drives me from the place : 

I look thee in tho face. 

I love thee ! it is understood, 
Oonfest : I do not shrink or start : 

No blushes : all my body's blood 
Hius gone to gicaten this (wor heart, 
That, loving, we may part. 

Our Italy invokes tho youth 

To die if need be. Still there "s room, 
Though earth is strained with dead, in truth- 

Since twice the lilies were in bloom 

They had not grudged a tomb. 

And many a plighted maid and wife 
And mother, who can say since then 

" My country," cannot say through life 
"My son," "my siwuse," "my tlowerof men, 
Aud not weep dumb again. 

Heroic males the country bears, 

But daughters give up more than sons. 

Flags wave, drums beat, and unawares 
You Hash your souls out with tho guns. 
And take your heaven at once ! 

But we, — we empty heart and home 
Of life's life, love ! we bear to think 

You 're gone, ... to feel you may not come, . . . 
To hear the door-latch stir and clink 
Yet no more you, . . . nor sink. 



PARTING. 



237 



Dear God ! when Italy is one 

Aud perfected from bound to bound, . . . 
Suppose (for my share) earth 's undone 

By one grave in 't ! as one small wound 

May kill a man, 't is found 1 

What then ? If love's delight must end, 
At least wo 'U clear its truth from flaws. 

I love thee, love thee, sweetest friend ! 
Now take my sweetest without pause. 
To help the nation's cause. 

And thus of noble Italy 
We 'U both bo worthy. Let her show 

The future how we made her free, 
Not sparing life, nor Giulio, 
Nor this . . . this heart-break. Go ! 

Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 



GO WHERE GLORY WAITS THEE. 

FROM "IRISH MELODIES." 

Go where glory waits thee, 
But, while fame elates thee, 

O, still remember me I 
When the praise thou meetest 
To thine ear is s*eetest, 

0, then remember me ! 
Other arms may press thee. 
Dearer friends caress thee. 
All the joys that bless thee, 

Sweeter far may be ; 
But when friends are nearest, 
And when joys are dearest, 

0, then remember me ! 

When at eve thou rovest 
By the star thou lovest, 

0, then remember me I 
Think, when home returning. 
Bright we 've seen it burning, 

0, thus remember me ! 
Oft as summer closes, 
On its lingering roses. 

Once so loved by thee. 
Think of her who wove them. 
Her who made thee love them, 

0, then remember me ! 

When, around thee "lying, 
Autumn leaves are lyiii",', 

0, then remember me ! 
And, at niglit, when gazing 
On the gay hearth bl.izing, 

O, still remember mo ! 



Then should music, stealing 
All the soul of feeling, 
To thy heart appealing. 

Draw one tear from thee ; 
Then lot memory bring theo 
Strains I used to sing thee, — 
0, then remember mo 1 

Thomas Moorb. 
— "^ — 

LOCHABER NO MORE. 

Farewell to Lochaber! and farewell, my Jean, 
Where heartsomo with thee I hae mony day been; 
For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more. 
We '11 maybe return to Lochaber no more I 
These tears that I shed they are a' for my dear. 
And no for the dangers attending on wear, 
Though borne on rough seas to a far bloody shore. 
Maybe to return to Lochaber no more. 

Though hurricanes rise, and rise every wind. 
They '11 ne'er make a tempest like that in my 

mind ; 
Though loudest of thunder on louder waves roar. 
That's naething like leaving my love on the shore. 
To leave thee behind me my heart is sair pained ; 
By ease that 'a inglorious no fame can be gained ; 
And beauty and love 's the reward of the bravej 
And I must deserve it before I can crave. 

Then glory, my Jeany, maun plead my excuse ; 
Since honor commands me, how can I refuse ? 
Without it I ne'er can have merit for thee, 
And without thy favor I 'd better not bo. 
I gae then, my lass, to vrin honor and fame. 
And if I should luck to come gloriously hame, 
I '11 bring a heart to thee with love ninuing o'er. 
And then I '11 leave thee and Lochaber no more. 

ALLAN Ramsay. 



AS SLOW OUR SHIP. 

As slow our ship her foamy hack 

Against the wind was cleaving. 
Her trembling pennant still looked back 

To that dear isle 't was leaving. 
So loath we part from all we love. 

From all the links that bind us ; 
So turn our hearts, as on we rove, 

To those wo 'vo left behind us I 

When, round the bowl, of vanished years 

We talk with joyous seeming, — 
With smiles that iniglit as well bo tears. 

So faint, so sad their beaming ; 
While memory brings us back again 

Each early tie tlmt twined us, 
0, sweet 's the cuip that circles then 

To those we 'vc left behind us ! 



238 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



And when, in other cliinos, we meet 

Some isle or vale eiichauting, 
Where all looks flowery, wild, and sweet, 

And naught but love is wanting ; 
AVo think how great had been our bliss 

If Heaven had but assigned us 
To live and die in scenes like this, 

With some we 've left beliind us ! 

As travellers oft look back at eve 

When eastward darkly going, 
To gaze >ipon that light they leave 

Still faint behind thcni glow'ing, — 
So, when the close of pleasure's day 

To gloom hath near consigned us, 
We turn to catch one fading ray 

Of joy that 's leffbehind us. 

THOMAS MOORE. 



ADIEU, ADIEU! MY NATIVE SHORE. 

Adiei;, adieu ! my native shore 

Fades o'er the waters blue ; 
The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar, 

And shrieks the wild soa-mew. 
Yon sun that sets upon the sea 

We follow in his llight ; 
Farewell awhile to him and thee. 

My native Land — Good Night ! 

A few short hours, and he will rise 

To give the morrow birth ; 
And I shall hail the main and skies. 

But not my mother earth. 
Deserted is my own good hall. 

Its hearth is desolate ; 
Wild weeds are gathering on the wall ; 

Jly dog howls at the gate. 

BYRON. 



MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME. 

NEGRO SONG. 

THF-«nn shinesbright in our old Kentucky home ; 

'T is summer, the darkeys are gay ; 
The com top's ripe and the meadow's in the 
bloom. 

While the birds make music all the day ; 
The young folks roll on the little cabin floor, 

All merry, all happy, all bright ; 
By 'ni by hard times comes a knoekin' at the door, — 

Then, my old Kentucky home, good night ! 



Weep no more, my lady ; 0, weep no more to- 
day ! 
We "U sing one song for the old Kentucky home, 
For our old Kentucky home far away. 



They hunt no more for the possimi and the coon. 

On the meadow, the hill, and, the shore ; 
They sing no more by the glimmer of the moon. 

On the bench by the old cabin door ; 
The day goes by, like a shadow o'er the hear^' ' 

With sorrow wlierc all was delight ; 
The time has come, when the darkeys have to 
part. 

Then, my old Kentucky home, good night ! 
AVecp no more, my lady, etc. 

The head must bow, and the back will have to 
bend. 
Wherever the darkey may go ; 
A few more days, and the troubles all will end. 

In the field where the sugar-cane grow ; 
A few more days to tote the weary load. 

No matter, it will never be light ; 
A few more days till we totter on the road. 
Then, my old Kentucky home, good night ! 
Weep no more, my lady, etc. 

Stephen Collins Poster. 



FAREWELL! IF EVER FONDEST 
PRAYER. 

Farewell ! if ever fondest prayer 

For other's weal availed on high. 
Mine will not all be lost in air. 

But waft thy name beyond the sky. 
'T were vain to speak, to weep, to sigh : 

Oh ! more than tears of blood can tell, 
When wrung from guilt's expiring eye, 

Are in that word — Farewell ! — Farewell I 

These lips are mute, these eyes are dry : 

But in my breast and in my brain 
Awake the pangs that pass not by; 

The thought that ne'er shall sleep again. 
My soul nor deigns nor dares complain. 

Though grief and passion there rebel : 
I only know we loved in vain — 

I only feel — Farewell ! — Farewell ! 

araoK. 



FAREWELL TO HIS 'WIFE. 

Fare thee well ! and if forever, 

StiU forever, fare thee well ; 
Even though unforgiving, never 

'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. 

Would that breast were bared before thee 
Where thy head so oft hath lain. 

While that placid sleep came o'er thee 
Which thou ne'er canst know again : 



PARTING, 



239 



Would that breast, by theo glanced over, 
Every inmost tliought could show ! 

Then thou wouklst at last discover 
'T was not well to spurn it so. 

Though the world for this commend thee, — 
Though it smile upon tlio blow, 

Even its praises must offend thee, 
Founded on another's woe : 

Though my many faults defaced me. 

Could no other arm be found 
Than tlic one which onco embraced me. 

To inflict a cureless wound ? 

Yet, 0, yet thyself deceive not : 

Love may sink by slow decay ; 
But by sudden wrench, believe not 

Hearts can thus be torn away : 

Still thine own its life rctaincth, — 
Still must mine, though bleeding, boat ; 

And the undying thought which jiaineth 
Is — that we no more may meet. 

These are words of deeper sorrow 

Than the wail above the dead ; 
Both shall live, but every morrow 

Wake us fronj a widowed bed. 

And when thou wouldst solace gather, 
When our child's first accents (low. 

Wilt thou teach her to say " Father ! " 
Though his care she must forego ? 

When her little hands shall press thee, 
When her lip to thine is pressed, 

Think of him whoso prayer shall bless thee, 
Think of him thy love had blessed ! 

Should her lineaments resemble 
Those thou nevermore mayst see. 

Then thy heart will softly tremble 
With a pulse yet true to me. 

All my faults perchance thou knowest. 
All my madness none can know ; 

All my hopes, where'er thou goest. 
Wither, yet with tlice they go. 

Evciy feeling hath been shaken ; 

Pride, which not a world could bow, 
Bows to thee, — by thee forsaken. 

Even my soul forsakes me now ; 

But 't is done ; all words are iiUc, — 
Words from me are vainer still ; 

But the thoughts wo cannot bridle 
Force their way without the will. 



Fare thee well ! — thus disunited, 

Torn from every nearer tie. 
Seared in heart, and Jone, and blighted, 

More than this I scarce can die. 

BVRON. 



JAFnER PARTING WITH BELVIDERA. 

FROM "VENICE PRESERVED." 

Then hear me, bounteous Heaven, 
Pour down your blessings on this beauteous head. 
Where everlasting sweets are always springing, 
With a continnal giving hand : let peace. 
Honor, and safety always hover round her : 
Feed her with plenty ; let her eyes ne'er see 
A sight of sorrow, nor her lieart know mourning; 
Crown all her days with joy, her nights with rest. 
Harmless as her own thouglits ; and prop her 

virtue. 
To bear the loss «f one that too much loved ; 
And comfort he* tvith patience in our parting. 

Thomas Otwav. 



COME, LET. US KISSE AND PARTE. 

Since there 's no helpe, — come, let us kisse and 
parte, 

Nay, I have done, — you get no more of me ; 
And I am glad, — yea, glad with all my hearte. 

That thus so cleanly I myselfe can free. 
Shake hands forever ! — cancel all our vows ; 

And when we meet at any time againe, 
Be it not scene in either of our brows, 

That we one jot of former love retaine. 

Now — at the last gaspe of Love's latest breath — 
When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies ; 
When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death, 

And Innocence is closing up his eyes, 
Now ! if thou wouldst — when all have given 
him over — 
From death to life thou mightst him yet re- 
cover. 

Michael dbavton. 



FAREWELL! THOU ART TOO DEAR. 

Farewell ! thou art too dear for my possessing. 
And like enough thou know'st thy estimate 
The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing ; 
My bonds in thee are all detemiinate. 
For how do I hold thee but by thy granting ? 
And for that riches where is my deserving ? 
The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, 
And so my patent back again is swerving. 



240 



POEMS 01'' THE AFFECTIONS, 



Thyself thou gav'st, thy own wortli then not 

knowing, 
prnic, to whom tliou gav'st it, else mistaking ; 
So thy great gift, upon misprision growing, 
.Comes home again, on better jntlgment making. 
Thus have I had thee, as a ilream doth Hatter; 
In sleep a king, but, waking, no such matter. 

SHAKESPEARE. 



AN EARNEST SUIT, 

TO HIS UNKIND MISTRESS NOT TO FORSAKE HIM. 

And wilt thou leave me thus ? 

Say nay ! say nay ! for shame ! 

To save thee from the blame 
,0f all my grief and grame. 
.And wilt thou leave me thus? 
Say nay ! say nay ! 

And wilt thou leave me thus, 
That hath loved thee so long, 
In wealth and woo among ? 
And is thy heart so strong 
As for to leave me thus 1 
Say nay ! say nay ! 

And wilt thou leave me thus, 
That hath given thee my heart, 
JJever for to depart, 
Ueither for pain nor smart ? 
And wilt thou leave me thus ? 
Say nay ! say nay ! 

And wilt thou leave me thus, 
And have no more pity 
Of him that loveth thee ? 
Alas ! thy cruelty ! 
And wilt thou leave me thus ? 
Say nay ! say nay ! 

SIR THOMAS WVATT. 



"WE PARTED m SILENCE. 

We parted in silenee, we parted by night. 
On the banks of that lonely river ; 

Where the fragrant limes thfir boughs unite, 
AVc met — and we parted forever ! 

The night-bird sung, and the stars above 
Told many a toucliing story. 

Of friends long passed to the kingdon\ of love. 

Where the soul wears its mantle of glory. 

We parted in silence, — our cheeks were wet 
With tlic tears that were past controlling ; 

We vowed we would never, no, never forget, 
And those vows at the time were consoling ; 



But those lips that echoed the sounds of mine: 

Are as cold as that lonely river ; 
And that oyc, that beautiful spirit's shrine. 

Has shrouded its fires forever. 

And now on the midniglit sky I look, 

And my heart grows full of weeping ; 
Each star is to me a sealed hook. 

Some tale of that loved one keeping. 
We parted in silence, — wo parted in teal's, 

On the banks of that lonely river : 
But the odor and bloom of those bygone years 

Shall hang o'er its waters forever. 

Julia Crawford. 



FAREWELL! BUT WHENEVER. 

Farewell ! — but whenever you welcome the 

hour 
That awakens the night-song of mirth in your 

bower. 
Then think of the friend who once welcomed it 

too, 
And forgot his own griefs, to be happy with you. 
His griefs may return — not a hope may remain 
Of the few that have brightened his pathway of 

pain — 
But he ne'er can forget the short vision that 

threw 
Its ench.antment ai'ound him while liiigi'ring 

with you ! 

And still on that evening when Pleasure lills up 
To the highest top sparkle each heart and each. 

cup, 
Where'er my path lies, be it gloomy or luiglit. 
My soul, happy friends ! will be with you that 

night.; 
Shall join in your revels, your sports, and your 

wiles. 
And return to me, beaming all o'er with your 

smiles — 
Too blest if it tell me that, mid the gay cheer 
Some kind voice has munuured, " I wish i^ 

were here ! " 

Let Fate do her worst, there are relics of joy. 
Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot 

destroy ; 
'Which come, in the night-time of sorrow and care. 
And bring back the features which joy used to 

wear. 
Long, long be my heart with such memories filled ! 
Like the vase in which roses have once been 

distilled — 
You may break, you may shatter the Vase, if you 

will, 
But the scent of the rfises will hang lound it still. 

THOMAS MOOKE. 



i 



ABSENCE. 



241 



FRAGMENTS. 

FAliKWKI.LS. 

l''.irew('ll ! a word that must be, and hatli been — 
A sound wliii;li makes us linger; — j'et — fare- 
well. 

CttH.ie Harold, Cant iv. BYRON. 

Good night, good night : [larting is such sweet 

sorrow, 
Tliat I sliall say good niglit till it be morrow. 

Romto and Jtttttt. Act ii. iV. i. SflAKtsPEARE. 

Juliet. 0, think'st thou we shall ever meet 

again ? 
Romeo. I doubt it not ; and all these woes 

shall serve 
For sweet diseoui'ses in our time to eome. 

Romeo and ytditt. Act iii. Sc. 5. SMAKESPEARE. 

So .sweetly she bade me "Adieu," 
I thought that she bade me return. 



lie dill keep 
The deek, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief. 
Still waving as the fits and stirs of his mind 
C'oulii best express how slow his soul sailed on, — 
How swift Ids ship. 

Cymbetine, Act i. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE. 

All farewells should be sudden, when forever, 
Else they make an eternity of moments. 
And elog the hist sad sands of life with tears. 

Sardaitnpatiis. liVRON. 

AVlien we two ])arted 

In silence and tears. 

Half broken-hearted, 

To sever for years, 

I'alo grew thy cheek and cold. 

Colder thy ki.ss : 

Truly that hour foretold 

Sorrow to tliis ! 

IVhcu Tiv tU'O f'^irtcd. BVROV. 

And so, without more circumstance at all, 
1 hold it fit that we shake hands and part. 

liamlct. Act i. iV. 5. SHAKESPEARE. 



ABSENCE. 



TO HER ABSENT SAll.OU. 

PROM "THE TE.NT O."^ THE BEACH." 

Ilr.l: window opens to the b.ny. 
On gli.stening light or misty gray, 
And there at dawn ami set of day 

In prayer .she kneels : 
" Dear Lord ! " she saith, "to many a home 
From wind and wave the wanderers come ; 
I only see the tossing foam 

Of .stranger keels. 

" Blown out and in by summer gales. 
The stately ships, with crowded sails, 
And .sailors leaning o'er their rails, 

Before me glide ; 
They come, they go, but nevermore, 
Splcc-laden from the Indian shore, 
I see his swift-winged Isidore 

The waves divide. 

"0 Thou ! with whom the night is day 
And one the near and far away. 
Look out on yon gi'ay waste, and say 
Where lingeis he. 



Alive, perchance, on some lone beach 
Or thirsty isle beyond the reach 
Of man, he hears the mocking speech 
Of wind and sea. 

"0 dread and cruel deep, reveal 
The secret which thy waves conceal, 
And, ye wild sea-birds, liithcr wheel 

And tell your tale. 
Li't wiiuls that tossed his raven hair 
A messages from my lost one bear, — 
Some thought of me, a last fond prayer 

Or dying wail ! 

".('omo, with your dreariest truth shut out 
The fears that h.auiit me round about ; 
God ! I cannot bear this doubt 

That stilles breath. 
Tlu' wor.st is better than tlu' dri'ad ; 
Give me but leavi! to mourn my dead 
Asleep in trust and hope, instead 

Of life in death ! " 

It might have been the evening breeze 
That whispered in the garili'n trees. 
It might have been the sound of seas 
That rose and fell ; 



242 



rOEMS OF THE AFrECTIONS. 



But, with her heart, if not licr ear, 
The old loved voice she seemed to hear : 
" 1 wait to meet thee ; he of cheer, 
For all is well ! " 

John C.Kl-.r.NLiiAi-' wiirniuii. 



TO LUt'ASTA. 

Iv to be nlisent were to he 
Away IVom Ihee ; 
Or that, when I am s""<'i 
You or I were alone ; 
Then, my I.ncasta, niif;hl 1 crave 
I'ily from blusterfng wind or swallowinj; wave. 

r.nt I '11 not siijh one blast or gale 
To swell my sail, 
Or pay a tear to 'suago 
The foaming blue-god's rage ; 
For, whether lie will let me pass 
Or no, I 'm still as happy as 1 was. 

Though sens and lauds be 'twixt ns lioth, 
Our faith and troth, 
Like separated souls, 
All time and space controls : 
Above the higliest sphere we meet, 
V'nscen, unknown ; aud greet as angels greet. 

So, then, we do anticipate 
Our after-fate. 
And are alive i' th' .skies. 
If thus our lips and eyes 
Can sjicak like spirits unconfnied 
In hisiveu, — thoir earthly liodies left behind. 

COLONi:l KlCUARD LOVliLACti. 



1 I.OVK. MY ,1KAN. 

Of n' the airts* the wind can blaw, 

I dearly like tlu' west ; 
For there the bounie lassie lives, 

The lassie I lo'o best. 
There wild woods grow, mid rivers row, 

And luonie a hill "s between ; 
But day aud night my fancy's tlight 

Is ever ni' my Jean. 

I see her in the dewy llowers, 

I see her sweet and fair ; 
I hear her in the tnnefn' birds, 

1 hear her eliarm the air ; 
There's not a boniiie llower that springs 

By fountain, shaw, or green ; 
There's not a bonuic bird that sings, 

But minds me of my .lean. 

KOUllKT lU'KNS. 
• The poiia& of the coiiipaikS. 



LOVE'S MEMORY. 

FROM "ALL'S WELL THAT I'.NDS WHLL." ACT I. SC. I. 

I AM undone ; there is no living, none, 

If Bertram bo away. It were all one, 

That I should love a bright particular star. 

And think to wed it, he is so above me : 

In his bright radiance and collateral light 

Must 1 be comforted, not in his sphere. 

The ambition in my love thus plagues itsi'lf : 

The hind that would be mated by the lion 

Must die fm- love. 'Twiis pretty, though a plague, 

To see him every liour ; to sit and draw 

His arched brows, his hawking eye, his ciiils. 

In our heart's table, — heart too capable 

Of every line and trick of his sweet favor : 

Hut now he 's gone, and my idolatrous fancy 

Must sanctify his relics. 

SlIAKCSniARE. 



0, SAW VK, I'.dXMK LKSl.F.Y ? 

0, SAW ye bonnie Lesley 
As she gaed o'er the bonier ? 

She'sgane, like Alexaiulcr, 

To spread her eoiniuests farther. 

To see her is to love her, 

And love but her forever ; 
For nature made her what she is, 

And ne'er niado sic anither ! 

Thou art a queen, fair Lesley, 
Thy subjects we, before thee ; 

Thou art divine, fair Lesley, 
The hearts o' men adove thee. 

The deil he could na seaith thee, 
Or aught that wad behing thee ; 

He 'd look into thy bonnie face. 
And say, " I canna wrang thee ! " 

The Towers abooii will tciit thee ; 

Misfortune slia' na steer * thee ; 
Thou 'rt like themselves sao lovely 

That ill they '11 ne'er let near tliee. 

Eeturn again, fair Lesley, 

Heturn to Caledonie ! 
That we may brag we hae a lass 

There 's nane again .sae bonnie. 

KOUIJRT BCRNS. 



.TEANIE MOinUSOX. 

1 'vie wandered east, I 'vo wandered west, 
Through mony a weary way ; 

But never, never can forget 
The luvo o' life's young day I 



ABSENCE. 



243 



The fire that 's blawii on Hcltaiie e'en 

May weel be black gin Yule ; 
But blacker fa' awaits tliu heart 

Where first fouj luvo grows cule. 

dear, dear Jeanie Morrison, 
The thoi'hts o" bygaiie years 

Still fling tlicir shadows owcr my path, 

And blind my eon wi' tears : 
They blind my ecu wi' saut, saut tears, 

And sair and sick I [line. 
As memory idly summons up 

The blithe blinks o' langaync. 

'T was then wo Invit ilk ithcr weed, 

'T was then we twa did ]iart ; 
Sweet time — sad time ! twa bairns at scale, 

Twa bairns, and but ac heart ! 
'T was then wo sat on ao laigh bink, 

To leir ilk ithcr Icar ; 
And tones and looks and smiles were shed. 

Remembered evermair. 

1 wonder, Jcanio, afton yet. 
When silting on that bink. 

Cheek touchin' check, loof lockiid in loof. 
What our wee heads could think. 

When baith bent doun owcr ae braid page, 
Wi' ae bulk on our knee. 

Thy lips were on tliy lesson, but 
My lesson was in thee. 

0, mind ye how we hung our heads. 

How checks brent red wi' shame, 
Whene'er the .seulc-wcans, laughin', said 

We cleekeil thcgithcr hame ? 
And miml ye o' the Saturdays, 

(The scule then skail't at noon,) 
When we ran oil' to speel the braes, — 

The broomy braes o' June ? 

My head riiis round and round about, — 

My heart flows like a sea. 
As ane by ane the thochts rusli back 

0' seule-tinie, and o' thee. 
mornin' lil'e ! niornin' luvo ! 

lichtsoinc days and lang. 
When hinnicd hopes around our hearts 

Like simmer blossoms sprang ! 

0, mind ye, luvc, how aft we left 

The deavin', dinsome toun, 
To wander by the green bumside, 

And hear its waters croon ? 
The simmer leaves hung owcr our head.s, 

The flowers burst round our feet. 
And in the gloamin' o' the wood 

The throssil whusslit sweet ; 



The throssil whusslit in the wood, 

The biu'ii sang to th(! trees, — 
And we, with nature's heart in tune, 

Concerted harmonics ; 
And on tlie knowe almno the burn, 

For hours thegither sat 
In the silentne.ss o' joy, till baitli 

Wi' very gladness grat. 

Ay, ay, <lcar .Teauic Morrison, 

Tears trickled iloun your ehcek 
Like dew-beads on a rose, yet nauo 

Had ony power to speak ! 
That was a time, a blessed time. 

When hearts were IVesh and young, 
AVhen freely gushed all feelings forth, 

Unsyllablcd — unsung ! 

I marvel, Jeanie Morrison, 

(Jin I liae been to thee 
As elosi'ly twined wi' earliest thochts 

As ye hae been to me ? 
0, tell me gin their music fdls 

Thine ear as it does mine ! 
0, say gin e'er your heart grows grit 

Wi' dreamings o' langsyne ? 

I 'vc wandered east, I 'vo wandered west, 

1 'vc borne a weary lot ; 
But in my wanderings, far or near. 

Ye never were forgot. 
Tho fount that first burst frao this heart 

Still travels on its way ; 
And channels dei^per, as it rins, 

The luve o' life's young day. 

(_) dear, dear Jeanie Morrison, 

Since we were sindered young 
I 'vc never seen your face nor heard 

Tho nmsic o' your tongue; 
But I could hug all wretchedness. 

And happy could 1 dee. 
Did I but ken your heart still dreamed 

0' bygauo days and me ! 

WII-LIAM MOTUnRWIiLL. 



Till'', RUSTIC LAD'S LAMENT IN THE 
TOWN. 

0, WAn that my time were owre but, 

Wi' this wintry sleet and snaw, 
That I might see our house again, 

r the bonnie birken shaw ! 
For this is no my ain life. 

And I peak and pine away 
Wi' tho thochts o' Inune and tho young flowers, 

In the glad green month of Mi y. 



244 



POEMS OK THE AFFECTIONS. 



1 iiscil to wiuik ill tlu' nuiniing 

\Vi' tlie Imul sang o' tlu' lurk, 
Ami tlio wliistiiiig d' Uu' lilouglimaii huts, 

As they giU'd to tlioii' wiirk ; 
I uswl to wiiiir tlio liit Youug linnlis 

Fnio tlio toil iiml llm voiiriiig slrruni ; 
But tlio Wiii'M is I'liaiigoil, luul a' tiling lunv 

To 1110 swiiis liUo a ilioaiii. 

Tlioi'o aro busy I'l'owils around iiir, 

Oil ilka laiigdull short ; 
Yot, tlumgli sac iiiouy sun'ouud mo, 

1 koii ua alio 1 moot : 
And 1 tliiuk o' kind kout I'aoes, 

And o' lilillio an' olieovy days, 
Wlioii 1 waiuioivd out wi' our aiii folk, 

Out owro the sinunoi- liraos. 

Wai's mo. Tor my lieai'f is broaking I 

1 Ihink o' my britlior sma', 
And on my sislcr givotiug, 

Wlioii 1 oam tVao linnio iiwa. 
And 0, lunv my mitlior sobbit, 

As slio shook mo by tlio hand, 
Wlion I U'l't tlio door o' our auld liouso, 

To ooiuo to this straugor laud. 

TluM'o 's iiao haiiio liko our aiii liamo — 

0, I wusli that 1 wore tlioio ! 
Tlioro "s iiao liamo liko our ain liaiuo 

To bo mot wi' onywlioiv ; 
And that 1 won- Ivuk again. 

To our farm and liohls sao givon ; 
Ami hoard tlio touguos o' my ain folk, 

And wcro what I liao boon ! 

OAVtU MAOliUTll MOIK. 



TllK WIKK TO IIKI; lirsH.VNO. 

LlNiii;ii not long. 11(0110 is not homo without 
Ihoo ; 

ll.s doaivst tokoiis do but mako mo mourn. 
0, U't its moniory, liko a ohaiii aliout tlioo, 

Ooutly oompol and liaston thy ivturii ! 

T.ingornot long. 'I'hough iivwils should woo thy 
stiiyiug, 
Bothink thoo, oan tlio mirth of thy friends, 
though doar, 
CoinjH'iisato for tho grief thy long dolaying 
l\wts t!ie fond hoart that sighs to linve flu'o 
hen> 1 

Linger not long: How shall 1 watoh thy coming, 
As ovoning shallows stivtoh o'or moor and doll ; 

When tho wilil lii<' hath q^iisod lior busy Imniniiiig, 
And silonoo !|i>ngs on all things liko a spoil I 



How shall I watoh lor thoo, whon fears grow 
stronger. 

As night grows dark ami darker on tho hill ! 
How shall I weep, when 1 laii watoh no longer ! 

All ! art thou absent, art thou absent still ? 

Yet I shall grieve not, tliuiigli llie oyo that seelli 
me 
Oazeth through tears that mako its siilendor 
dull : 
For oh ! 1 somotimea fear when thou art with nio, 
My oup of happiness is all too full. 

Haste, liasto thee home unto tliy luoiiiitaiii dwell- 
ing. 
Haste, as a bird unto its peaeeful nest ! 
Haste, as a skill', tlirougli tempests wide and 
swelling, 
Flies to its haven of seeurost rest ! 

anonvmous. 



AliSlCNCE. 

Wii.\r shall 1 do with all the days ami lioure 
That must be oouiited ere 1 see thy I'aeo ? 

How shall 1 eliariii the interval that lowei-s 
Between this time and that sweet time of graee ? 

Shall 1 ill slumber steep each woaiy sense. 
Weary with longing ? — shall I llee away 

Into jiast days, and with some fond pretence 
Cheat myself to forgot the present day I 

Shall love for thee lay on my soul the sin 
Of easting fiiim me Ood's givat gilt of time ? 

Shall 1, those mists of meiuory locked within. 
Leave and foi-get life's puiposos sublime ? 

0, how or by what means may 1 eoiitrive 

To bring the hour that brings thee Iwek more 
near ? 

How may 1 teaeli my drooping hope to live 
I'ntil thai lilessed limo, and thou art lieiv ? 

1 '11 tell thee : for thy sake 1 will lay hold 
Of all good aims, and ooiisecralo to thee, 

111 worthy deeds, each moment that is told 
While thou, liolovt^d one ! art far fi\>m me. 

For thoo I will arouse my thoughts to try 
All hoaveuwanl Mights, all high and holy strains; 

For thy doar sake I will walk jvilienlly 
Thi-ough the.se long lioui-s, nor call their min- 
utes imins. 

I will this divAry blank of alisence make 
A noble task-time ; and will thei-ein strive 

To follow excellenee, and to o'ertake 

More good than 1 have won since vet I live. 



AliSKiNCK. 



245 



8i> limy tliis iliiiiini'il liiiii' hiiild ii|i in me 

A tliDiiHiiiiil gnu'cs, whiiili sliiill lliiis liii Uiiiio 

S(i limy my I"Vt' Jiiiii longing liallowcii be, 
And lliy lU-.iv tlimiglil mi inlliionoi: ilivini;. 

l-'KANCHS ANNU KHMIII.K. 



DAY, IN MKI/i'lNC rUKI'l.!'; DYIN'C. 

Day, in nulling luirjilu ilying ; 
lilos.suiiiH, nil iii'oiiiiil iik: .sigliiiig ; 
KnignmcT, IVdiii tlic lilies stniyiiig; 
Zi'pliyr, widi my riiigli'ts pliiyiiig ; 

\'(^ Imt wiikfii my ilisticss ; 

I am sick fit" loiiiiliiiess ! 

'riiiiii, ti) w'linni I liivu to lioai'knii, 
CoiiH', I'll' niglil ai'oiiiiil mu ilaiki'ii ; 
Tlioiigli lliy .siit'tiKiss lint iliicoivi' mo, 
Say tlioii 'it true, anil I '11 lieliuvo tlirc ; 
Veil, if ill, lliy koiiI'h intent, 
Let mi: tliink it innueent ! 

Siivo lliy toiling, sparo thy trciisuro ; 

All I ask in IVieiiilsliip's pleasure ; 

lii't llie sliiniii^ on! lie darkling, — 

liiiiig no gem in lustre s]iarkling ; 

(lifts and gold are iianglil to me, 
1 would only lordi on Ihi'i! ! 

Tell to tlieo llie liigli-wroiiglil leidiiig, 

Kestiwy bill in revealing ; 

Paint to thee the deep sensation, 

Haptiiru in partieipation ; 

Yet hilt toi'lnre, if eomjirost 
In a lone, unfriended breast. 

Absent still ! Ah ! i^omo and bless mo ! 

lyOt these eyes again caress thee. 

Onee in eaiition, I eoiild fly tlieo ; 

Now, I nothing eoiild deny thee. 
Ill a look if deatli there be, 
(.'oine, and 1 will gaze on thee I 

MAItIA C,iiwi'.N \Ua)ttKii iAfnria ttei Occt</filf<r). 



WHAT AILS THIS IIKAKT <)' MINK? 

WiiA I ails I Ins heart o' iiiinn? 

What ails this watery c'e ? 
What gars me a' turn pale as death 

When I take leave o' thee ? 
When I lion art far awa', 

'I'hoii 'It ilearer grow to me ; 
Ijiit eliunge o' pliiee anil eliaiige o' folk 

May gar thy I'aney joe. 

When I gae out at e'en. 

Or walk at morning air. 
Ilk rustling bush will seem to say 

I iLscd to meet Ihito there : 



Then 1 '11 sit down and cry, 

And live imeatli the tree. 
And when a leaf la's i' my hip, 

1 'II ea 'I a word fine thee. 

I 'II hie mo to the bower 

That tliim wi' roses tied. 
And where wi' moiiy a blushing hiid 

I strove myself to hide. 

I 'II doat on ilka s|iot 

Where I ha'e been wi' thee ; 
And ea' to mind some kindly word 

l>y ilka burn and tree. 

SUSANNA IlI.AMIKil. 



A I'A.STOHAI,. 

My time, O ye Mnses, was hajipily spent. 
When I'hiebe went with iiiu whiTever I went ; 
Ten llionsand sweet [ileasiires I li ll in niy 

breast : 
Sure never fond shepherd like Colin was blest I 
Hut now she is gone, and has left me behind, 
What 11 marvellous ehange on a sudden I liiid ! 
When things were as line as eoiild possibly lii', 
1 thoiigliL 't was Ihi' Spring; but alas! il was 
she. 

With siirli a eonipaniiin l.o ti'iid a few si p, 

To rise up and play, or to lie down and slee]i ; 
I was .so gooiMiiiinored, so idieerfill and gay, 
My heart was as light as a heather all day ; 

lint now I so cross and so [ vish am grown. 

So strangely uneasy, as never was known. 
My fair one is gone, and my joys are all drowned. 
And my heart I am sine it weighs more tli.iii 
a ])oniid. 

The foiinlain that wont to run sweetly along, 
And d.'iiice to soft niiirmiirs llie pebbles among; 
Thou know'st,, little I'lijiid, if I'hiebe was there, 
'T was pleasure to look at, 't was niiisie to hear ; 
But now she is absent, 1 walk by its side. 
And still, as it innrmiir.s, ilo notliiiig but eliide ; 
Must yon he so eheerful, wdiile I go in pain 1 
I'euce tliei'e with your bnbliliii;^, and hear iiie 
coniplain. 

My laiiibliiin iiroiind nie would ol'lentimes 

play. 
And I'hiehe and 1 were as joyful as they ; 
Jlow pleasant their sporting, how happy their 

time. 
When Spring, Love, and lieauty were all in 

their prime ; 
Rut now, in their fridies when by me they pass, 
I lliiig at thi'ir lleeeos a handful of grass ; 
lie still, then, I cry, for it makes nic ipiitc mad. 
To sec you so niiury while I am .so sad. 



246 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



My dog I was ever well pleased to see 
Coiiie wagging liis tail to my lair one and me ; 
And Fhiebe was pleased too, and to my dog said, 
" Come hitlier, jioor fellow ; " and jKitteil his 

head. 
But now, when he 's fawning, I with a sour look 
Cry " Sirrah ! " and give him a blow with my 

erook : 
.\iul 1 '11 give him another; for why should not 

'I'ray 
Be as dull as his master, when I'luebe 's away '! 

When walking witli Phrebc, what .siglils have 

1 seen. 
How fair was the llower, how fresh was the 

green ! 
What a lovely aiipeajance the trees and the 

shade, 
The corn fields and hedges and every tiling made ! 
But now she has left me, tlunigh all arc still 

there, 
They none of them now so delightful apjiear : 
'T was naught but the magic, 1 liiid, of her eyes, 
Made so many beautiful prospcets arise. 

Sweet niusie went with us both all the w'ood 
tlirougli, 
The lark, linnet, throstle, and nightingale too ; 
Winds over us whispered, tloc^ks by us did bleat, 
And chirp ! went the grasshopper under our 

feet. 
But now she is absent, though still they sing on. 
The woods are but lonely, the meloily 's gone : 
Her voice in the concert, as now 1 have found, 
Gave everything else its agreeable sound. 

Kose, wliat is become of thy delicate hue ? 
And where is the violet's beautiful blue ? 
Does aught of its sw'eetness the lilossom beguile ? 
That meadow, those daisies, why do they not 

smile ? 
Ah ! rivals, I see what it was that you drest. 
And made yourselves line for — a place in her 

breast ? 
You put on your colors to pleasure her eye. 
To be plucked by her hand, on Iter bosom to die. 

How slowly Time cree|is till my Pliiebe re- 
turn, 
While amidst the soft zephyr's cool breezes 1 

burn ! 
Mcthiuks, if I knewwhereabonts he would tread, 
I could breathe on his wings, and 't would melt 

down the lead. 
Fly swifter, ye minutes, bring hither my dear. 
And rest so much longer for 't when she is here. 
Ah, Colin ! old Time is full of delay. 
Nor will budge one foot%ster for all thou canst 
say. 



Will no pitying power, that hears me com- 
plain. 

Or cure my disquiet or soften my pain ? 

To be cured, thou must, Colin, thy passion re- 
move ; 

But what swain is so silly to live without love ! 

^fo, deity, bid the dear nymph to return, 

For ne'er was poor she|iherd so sadly forlorn. 

All ! what shall 1 do? I shall die with despair ; 

Take heed, all ye swains, how ye part with your 

fair. 

John bvrom. 



i"-'y. 



THE SAILOR'S WIFE.* 

And are ye sure tlie news is true ? 

And are ye sure he 's weel ? 
Is this a time to think o' wark ? 

Ye jades, lay by your wheel ; 
Is this the time to spin a thread. 

When Coliu 's at the door ? 
Reach down my cloak, 1 '11 to the 

And see him come ashore. 
For there 's nae luck about the liou,so, 

There 's nae luck at a' ; 
There 's little pleasure in the houso 

When our gudeman 's awa'. 

And gie to me my bigonct. 

My bishoji's-satin gown ; 
For I maun tell the baillie's wife 

That Colin 's in the town. 
My Turkey slippers maun gae on, 

Jly stockin's pearly blue ; 
It 's a' to pleasure our gudeman, 

For he 's baith leal and true. 

Kise, lass, and niak a clean li reside. 

Put on the niuckle pot ; 
Oie little Kate her button gown. 

And Jock his Sunday coat ; 
And mak their shoon as black as slaes, 

Their hose as white as snaw ; 
It 's a' to please my ain gudeman. 

For he 's been long awa". 

There 's twa fat hens upo' the coop 

Been fed this month and mair ; 
Mak haste and thraw their necks about, 

That Colin weel may fare ; 
And spread the table neat and clean. 

Gar ilka thing look hraw. 
For wha can tell how Colin fared 

When he was (jir awa' ? 



• Barttett, in his FamitiarQuotah'OHS, has the followiiiK : " TA*. 
Afitfi'ifr's ti'ife is now given. ' by common consent.* sayb Sarah 
Tytler. to Jean Adam. 1710-1765." 



\ 



ABSENCE. 



247 



Sae true his heart, sae smooth his sjieech, 

His breath like caller air ; 
Mis very loot has music in 't 

As he comes up the stair, — 
And will I see his face again ? 

And will 1 hear him speak ? 
1 'ni downright dizzy wi' the thought, 

In troth I 'm like to greet ! 

If Colin 's weel, and weel content, 

1 hae nae mair to crave : 
And gin 1 live to keep him sae 

I 'm blest aboon the lave ; 
And will I see his face again ? 

And will I hear him speak ? 
I 'm downright dizzy wi' the thought, 

In troth I 'm like to greet. 
For there's nae luck about the house, 

There 's nae luck at a' ; 
There 's little pleasure in the house 

When our gudeman 's awa'. 

William James Mickle. 



ABSENCE. 

When I think on the happy days 

I spent wi' you, my dearie ; 
And now what lands between us lie. 

How can 1 be but eerie ! 

How slow ye move, ye heavy hours, 

As ye were wae ami weary ! 
It was na sae yo glinted by 

When I was wi' my dearie. 

ANONYMOUS. 



ON A PICTUKE. 

When summer o'er her native hills 

A veil of beauty spread, 
Slie sat and watched her gentle flocks 

Anil twined her ilaxcn thread. 

Till' mountain daisies kissed her feet ; 

The moss spi'uug greenest there ; 
The breath of summer fanned her cheek 

And tossed her wavy hair. 

The heatlier and the yellow gorse 
liloomed over hill and wold, 

And clothed them in a royal robe 
Of purple and of gold. 

There rose the skylark's gushing song, 
There hummed the laboring bee ; 

And merrily the mountain stream 
Kan singing to the sea. 



but while she missed from those sweet sounds 

The voice she sighed to hear, 
The song of bee and bird and stream 

Was discord to her eai'. 

Nor could the bright green world around 

A joy to her impart. 
For still she missed the eyes that made 

The summer of her heart. 

Anne C. Lynch (Mrs. Botta). 



COME TO ME, DEAREST. 

Come to me, dearest, 1 'm lonely without thee. 
Daytime and night-time, 1 'm thinking about 

thee ; 
Night-time and daytime, in dreams I behold 

thee ; 
Unwelcome the waking which ceases to fold tlice. 
Come to me, darling, my sorrows to lighten, 
Come in thy beauty to lilcss and to brighten ; 
Come in thy womanhood, meekly and lowly. 
Come in thy lovingness, queenly and holy. 

Swallows will flit round the desolate ruin. 
Telling of spring and its joyous renewing ; 
And thoughts of thy love, and its manifold treas- 
ure. 
Are circling my heart with a promise of pleasure. 

Spring of my spiiit, May of my liosom. 
Shine out on my soul, till it bourgeon and blos- 
som ; 

The waste of my life has a rose-root within it. 
And thy fondness alone to the sun-shine can 
win it. 

Figure that moves like a song through the c\'en ; 
Features lit up by a refle.x of heaven ; 
Eyes like the skies of poor Erin, our mother. 
Where shadow and sunshine are chasing eneh 

other ; 
Smiles coming seldom, but childlike and simple, 
Planting in each rosy cheek a sweet dimple ; — 
0, thanks to the Saviour, that even thy seeming 
Is left to the exile to brighten his dreaming. 

You have been glad wlien you knew I was glad- 
dened ; 

Dear, are you sad now to hear I am saddemnl ? 

Our hearts ever answer in tune and in time, 
love, 

As octave to octave, and rhyme unto rhyme, 
love: 

1 cannot weep but your tears will be flowing. 
You cannot smile but my cheek will be glowing ; 
1 woidil not die without yon at my side, love, 
You will not linger when I shall have died, love. 



248- 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



Come to me, dear, ere I die ol' my sorrow, 
liise on my gloom like the sun of to-morrow ; 
Strong, swift, and fond as the words which I 

speak, love. 
With a soiig on yonr lip and a smile on your 

eheek, love. 
Come, for my heart in your absence is weary, — 
Haste, for my spirit is sickened and dreary, — 
Come to the arms which alone should caress thee. 
Come to the heart that is throbbing to press thee ! 
Joseph Brunnan. 



FRAGMENTS. 

Memory ix Absence. 
And memory, like a drop that night and day 
Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away ! 

Lalla Rookh. MoOKE. 

Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see. 
My heart untravelled fondly turns to thee ; 
Still to my biother turns, with ceaseless pain, 
And drags at each remove a lengthening chain. 

Tlie Tru-jeUir. GOLDSMITH. 

Of all affliction taught the lover yet, 
'T is sure the hardest science to foi'get. 

Btoisa 10 Abilarii. l>OPE. 

Ere such a soul regains its peaceful state. 
How often must it love, how often hate. 
How often hope, despair, resent, regret, 
Conceal, disdain, — da all things but forget. 

Eloisa to Abctard. POPE. 

Though absent, present in desires they be ; 
Our souls much further than our eyes can see. 

M. DRAYTON. 

When, musing on companions gone. 
We doubly feel ourselves alone. 

MarmioH, Cant. ii. Inlrod. SCOTT. 

To live with them is far less sweet 

Than to remember thee ! 
I sa-w Ihy form. MoORE. 



Hope Defeuued. 

Long did his wil'i 
Suckling her babe, her only one, look out 
The way he went at partin; 

Itaty, 



but he came not ! 

KuGEKS. 



Absence stkengthens Lovf 
There's not a wind but wlds])ers of thy name. 

Msrandola. B. W. PROCTER. 

Short absence hurt him more, 
And made his wound I'ar greater than before ; 
Absence not long eiiiuigh to root out i|niti' 
All love, iucreartcs love at second sight. 

Henry II. T. MAY. 

'T is distance leiuls enchantment to the view. 
And robes the mountain in its azure hue. 

Pleasures ,]/ tlofit.. Part '\. T. CAMPBELL. 

Absence makes the heart grow fonder ; 
Isle of Beauty, fare thee well ! 

Isle 0/ Beauty. T. H. BAYLY. 

Time in Absence. 

Love re(d';ons liours for months, and days for 

years ; 
And every little absence is an age. 

Ampltielrion. URY'DEN. 

What ! keep a week away ? Seven da5's and 

nights I. 
Eightscore eight hours ? And lovers' absent 

hours 
More tedious than the dial eightscore times ? 
0, weary reckoning ! 

Olhello, .'let iii. A<. 4. SHAKESPEARE. 



y 



The Unwelcome Lovmt. 
I dote on his very absence. 

Merchant of Venice, Ael i. Se. z. SHAKESPEARE. 

Pkf.sexcf, in Absence. 

Our two souls, therefore, which are one, 
Though I must go, endure not yet 
A breach, but an expansion. 
Like gold to airy thinness beat. 
If they be two, they are two so 
As stiir twin compasses are two ; 
Thy soul, tlie fixt foot, makes no show 
To move, but doth if the other do. 
And thongli it in the centre sit. 
Yet when the other far doth roam. 
It leans and hearkens after it, 
And grows erect, as that comes home. 
Such wilt thou be to me, who must. 
Like the other foot, obliquely run. 
Thy tinnness makes my circle jr.st. 
And nnikes me end where I begun. 

A t'uledielton /ori/iJUuw AUnrnlng, Dk. J. DONNE. 



DISAPrOINTMENT AXI) ESTRANGEMENT. 



249 



DISAPPOINTMENT AND ESTRANGEMENT. 



SONNET. 

With liow sad stop.s, Moon ! tlioii flimb'st tlic 

skies. 
How silently, and with how wan a face ! 
What may it be, that even in heavenly jilace 
That busy Archer his sharp arrows tries ? 
Sure, if tliat long with love acquainted eyes 
Can judge of love, tliou feel'st a lover's case ; 
I read it in thy looks, thy languished gi'ace 
Tu nie that feel the like thy state descries. 
Then, even of fellowship, Moon, tell nie, 
Is constant love deemed there but want of wit ? 
Are beauties there as proud as here tliey be ? 
Do they above love to be loved, and yet 
Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess ? 
Do they call virtue there ungratefulness ? 

SIR FHILU- SIDNEY. 



THE BANKS 0' DOON. 

Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, 
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair ? 

How can ye chant, ye little birds. 
And I sae weary, fu' o' care ? 

Thou 'It bi'eak my heart, thou warbling bird, 
That wantons through tlie tlowering thorn ; 

Thou minds me o' departed joys, 
Departed — never to return. 

Thou'lt break my heart, thou bonnie bird. 

That sings beside thy mate ; 
For sa(! I sat, an<l sae I sang. 

And wistna o' my fate. 

Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon, 

To si'c the rose and woodbine twine ; 

And ilka bird sang o' its luve, 
And, fondly, sae did I o' mine. 

Wi' lightsome heart I pou'd a rose, 

Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree ; 
And my fause luver stole my rose, 

But ah ! he left the thom wi' me. 

Robert Burns. 



AULD ROBIN GRAY. 

When the slieep are in the fauld, and the kye a' 

at hame, 
When a' the weary world to sleep are gane, 
The waes o' my heart fa' in showers fiae my e'e. 
While luy gudeman lies sound by me. 



Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and sought me for 

his bride ; 
Ikit saving a crown, he had naething else beside. 
To make the crown a pound, my Jamie gaed to 

sea ; 
And the crown and the pound, they were liaiih 

for nie ! 

He hadna been awa' a week but only twa, 
When my mither she fell sick, and the cow was 

stown awa ; 
My father brak his arm — my Jamie at the sea — 
And Auhl liobin Gray came a-courting me. 

My father couldna work, — my mither coulilna 

spin ; 
I toiled day and night, but their liread 1 coulilna 

win ; 
Auld Rob maintained them baitli, and, wi' tears 

in his e'e. 
Said, "Jennie, for their sakes, will you many 

me ? " 

My heart it said na, and 1 looked for Jamie back ; 
But hard blew the winds, and hisship was a wrack ; 
His sliip it was a wrack ! Why didna Jennie dee ? 
And wherefore was I spared to cry, Wae is me ! 

My father argued sair — my mither didna sjicidc. 
But she looked in mj' face till my heart was like 

to break ; 
They gied him my hand, but my lieart was in the 

sea ; 
And so Auld Robin Gray, he was gudeman to me. 

1 hadna been his wife, a week but only four, 
When, luournfir' as I sat on the stane at the door, 
I saw my Jamie's ghaist — I couldna think it lie. 
Till he said, " 1 'ni come hame, my love, to marry 
thee ! " 

sair, sair did we greet, and mickle did we say : 
Ae kiss we took — nae mair — I bad him gang 

away. 

1 wish that I were <lead, but I 'm no like to dee, 
■Vud wliy do 1 live to say, Wae is me ! 

1 gang like a ghaist, and I carena to spin ; 
1 dareiia think o' Jamie, for that wad be a sin. 
But I wfll do my best a gude wife aye to be. 
For Auld Robin Gray, he is kind to me. 

Ladv Anne haknakd. 



2CU 



I'OlfiMS OK TIIH AKl'Kin'lDNS. 



TIIK COUUHK OK TIUIK l.oVK, 

I'IniM " MM'M'MMI'lt NIMlT'i ItMllAM," A< I I. h( , i. 
I'llll lllipjil Hull. I'Vl'l' I I'lllllll I'I'llll, 

Oiiiilil dVdi' liciiii' liy title iir liliilniy, 

'I'llll niiiimi III' li'iln liivn iinvi'l' ilnl iiiii hiiKinlli : 

lllll, nllllMI' II. WIIH lllU'l'I'Mlll III llllKlll, 

0|' ulnii inlnHmlli'il In r™|iiii'l nl' yi'Mi'H ; 

Or ulnii II, iiliiiiil ii|iiiii Mil' rliiiii'i' III' rrliillilH ; 

Or, ir llii'iK wi'ii' II Myiii|inlliY ill I'lmli'i', 

Will', ili'iil.li, 111' nii'Kiu'nM illil liiy mIi'Ki' 111 il, 

Milking II. iiiiiiiiKiiliiry nn ii himiihI, 

NwH'l. 1111 II iilniiliiw, iiliinl iiii iiny ilii'iiiii ; 

llrlnl'iiii l.liM il^lilnliiK In Hi" inllU'il nielli'. 

riiiil, III a njiIki'Ii, nnriililH Imlli lii'iivi'ii iiinl oiiilli, 

Anil mil II mini linl.li |iii\vi'i' In niiy, llnlinlil I 

'I'lin jiiwii III iImI'Kiikhii iIii ilnviiill' Il il|i : 

Nil ijiili'L lirlglil. Iiliiiiil I'lllllll 111 I'liliriinliiii, 

MnAUIi'iI'llAIIM. 



IIYKON'H I.A'I'KS'I' VKUHKS. 

IMUaMliiiiulil, iaiiii.Mv Ml, ill<4, nil Ihli, il,u' I phlnil my 

lliUly nUiIi yi'iii I 

"r i.'i linii< llii:i lii'iii I alioiilil In' iiiiniovi'il, 

iSini'ii iilliin'ii II liini ri'iiin'il In iii>>v<' 
Viil, lliiiiiftli I I'liniiiil liii liiiliivi'il, 
Slill li'l nil' liivnl 

My iliiyii nil' In llin yi'llmv li'iil', 
'Till' lliiwi'i'i iinil linlhi 111' Idvii iirr Hmin : 

Till' Wi'ini. Ilii' rankri. nml llii' (fiii'T, 
.\ii' tiitiii' iili'iii'. 

'I'll!' Iiii' lliiil III my Iniriuni |ii'i>yii 
III liKi' III 'iiinu' viili'iinli' IhIo ; 
Nil lui.li n Kinilli'il ill lU lilii/.n, ' — 
A rniii'i'iil {lili'. 

Till' liii|ir, llii' li'iir, llii' ji'iiliimi ciii'ii, 

Till' I'xiillt'il |iiirliiiii 111' tlii< |iiilii 
.\iiil |iiiwi'i 111' liivi', I I'liniiiil hIiiu'ii, 

Unl Wr.U llli' I'lllllll. 

Iliil 'I 111 mil thus, mill 'I it mil linr, 

Siii'li lliiiiif'lilti hIiiiiiIiI ^.liiilii' my mini, luir iioir, 
Wlii'in uliiiy ili'i'lvH I 111' Iii'I'ii'm liii'i', 
Oi liliiil'i llii lii'iiw. 

Till' '.Wiiiil, llii' liiinniT. Mini till' lii'lil, 

Oliiiy iiml (IriM'i'i' iilinnl iim wm ; 
'i'liu Njiiniiiii liiii'iiii ii|iiiii Ills NJiliiliI 
W'li.'i nul niiMi' ri'im, 

Awiiki' ! mil (Ji'i'in'ii, «ln' in iiwiiku I 

AwiiKn my iipirll I lliInK lliinnKli wlinm 
Tliy lili' liliiuil (iiHliw I In llii I I'll I liiKi'i 
Ami llu'ii ttiiKi' linim' I 



Ti'rinI lliimii I'MvlvlriK |iiimnIiiiih iliiwii, 

Unwiii'l.liy iininliiiiiil I niiln llnu' 
Inilliri'i'i'iil. iilninlil llii' niiiili' m Iniwii 
or lii'Miily liii. 

11 III. in ii'f.ii'lCil lliy y.inlli, uliy livnf 

Tim liiiiil III' liiimiliililii ili'iilli 

Ik liul'ii : ii|i 111 IliK lli'lil, mill f;lvii 

Awiiy lliy liri'iilli I 

Si'i'k mil li'HN iil'li'ii Hiin|.;lil. Iliiiii I'liiiml — 

A Miililirr'n HI'iivii, I'm' I, linn llin linul ; 
Tlnn li'iik iii'iiniiil, iiml I'linnnii tliy giuninl, 
Ami liiltK lliy I'liHl I 



l,l'',KT lll';illM). 

1 1' wiiH I III' iinlniiiii 111 I III' yi'iir ; 

Tlin nli'iiHliniiy li'iivi's wi'in I'ril miil will' ; 

Oi'IiiIhii'm iiIi'h wi'I'ii I'i'iinIi mill I'liill, 

Wlii'ii, |iiim<lng nil Ilin wimly liill, 

Tim llii! I.liiil iivi'iliinkH tlin iii'ii, 

Vim liilki'il rinilliliiiKly In iiii', 

Ml' winiiii yniii' ki'i'ii, iii'IInIIi' xlglil, 

I Inn mil yi'l li'iiini'il In ii'iiil iii'i|{lil., 

iSJiii'ii I Inivi' vi'ili'il my lii'iiil. rinni ymi, 

Ami Invi'il ymi lirllri lliiin ynn kiinw. 

^'llll liilil inn 111' ymil' InilHuiim |iii'.l ; 
Till' liii'ily liiiiiiii'.s Willi III liuil, 
Till' liiitlii luii'iii', Ilii' I'limini'Min fniiiii'il, 
Tim liiii^i'il'l'iir liiinii III' ji'mmi iilliiiiicil ; 
I kimw Hull I'vi'iy vii'lmy 
Unl lil'li'il ymi iiwiiy riniii inn, 
TInU. nvi'iy mIi'|i uI' lliiil i'iii|ii'iMii 
Iliil li'l'l iim liiwlii'i' ill yniu' nynM ; 
I wiili'lii'il Mm iIImIiiiu'o iim il KI'i'W, 
Ami liivi'il ynn lii'l.lni' llimi ymi kimw. 

Villi iliil mil M'l' III" Inlli'i hiii'ii 
OI'migiiiMli Hwni'ii iii'i'iwN my I'lii'ii ; 
Villi iliil mil lii'Mi' my |ii'nml lii'iiil liniil, 
lli'iivy mill hIihv, lii'imiilli ymii' I'i'nl ; 
Villi IIiiiiikIiI 111' li'iiiiii|ili.'i lilill iiiiwiiii, 
ornliiriiiiiM iIi'i'iIm iim yi'l iimlinii' ; 
Ami 1, 111" wlilli' ymi liilkml In lim, 
I wiili'lii'il lln'f^nllM lliiMl liim'.iiiini'ly. 
Till liiiil mniil llii' liniif^ry lilim, 
Ami InVi'il ynn lu'llnr lliiin mhi kin'W. 

Villi wiilk llin Miiiiiiy siiln nl' I'liln ; 

Till' wiw wni'lil miiili's, mill milU ynn j^rniil 

Till' gnlili'li I'l'iiiliini' ill' .sui'i'i'm) 

liiii|iK 111 ynnr I'l'nl in iili'iili'immiiisN ; 

Ami ynn Inivn lilnssiiif^s iniiiiirnlil ; 

lii'iniwii nml [iinvni' iiml I'lii'inU ami f'.nlil, 



41 

I 

1' 



|i|s\lM'nlN'rMI';NT AND KSTHA N(;KM KNT 



2rA 



'I'Ih'V IiiiIM II Willi lii'lwi'i'ti IIH Iwiilii, 
Wliiili limy ii"l I"' llii'nwii iliiwii ii(?iiiii, 
AliiH I I'lir I, llii' loiiH yi'iirt llirmiKlii 
lliivii liivi'il yiiu lirlli'i lliiiii yciii Kiirw. 

Viiiir liri''n |iiiiiiil iiiiii, your iirl'.i liin'i Iriilli, 
Iliivii kii|il llid piiiiiiluc iiryiiiii' yiinlli ; 
Ami wliili' yiiii Willi llii' I'ruwii, wliii'li iimv 
llri'iikM iiilii liliiiiin ii|iiiii yiiiii' lnuw, 
My mini riii'il Klninj^ly mil In ymi 
AiM'iiis 111!' iiimhiii'h yc'iiriiiiiK lilin', 
VVlilii', iiiiri'iiii'iiilii'i'oil mill iil'iir, 
1 wiUrlic'il yiMi, IIS I wiili'ii II «ljir 
'riii'nii«li iliiiluii'NK nlni;{Kl'i'K ill'" vlinv, 
Ami luviul you lioUnr lliiiii ymi lumw. 

I iisiiil 111 iliimiii 111 nil llinHii yniirs 
III |iiilli'iil I'liilli mill !4ilniil IniU'K, 

'I'lllll l,l>VI''l* Hll'llll^ llllllll Wliulll jllll. Illlillll 

'I'liii liiiri'liii'H III' |iliii'i< mill {irlilii, 

Wiiiilil I'iMii'li lIlM {iiilliliiHH iliirklirii'i IIihiiikIi. 

Am! ilniw inn Miil'lly ii|i In yiiii ; 

Mill iliiil \» pll^l. II yiiii hIiiiiiIiI Hlmy 

IIi'hIiIi' my kiiivi', mhih' I'liliiii' iliiy, 

I'l'lrlimii'ii llin viiilnlH iM'i my 'IhhI, 

Will liiiir lii'lriiy llii'ir iHiiinl liiinl,, 

Anil Miiy, Ihi'ir Mm' i'yi'« lull "I ili'W, 

"Slni liivcil yiiii linlliT llimi ymi kimvv." 

lU.l/Alil'lll Aui'ir.t Al l.ltN iAA'rr«i#/V»-0'). 



I.INHA 'I'll IIAI'Kll. 
I'KiiM •' I 111' I'liil'. w .MirnuiH," 

" lluw nwiiiilly," Hiiiil III!' lirmliliiiK imilil, 

or lii'i' iivMi Ki'iill" viil iliiilil, 

Sii liiiiK liml llii'y ill "ili'iiri' iiliiiiil, 

I klii^' ii|iiiii Hull iiiiiiiiili>{lil M I, 

" II. nv HUiilly illirN llli' II I" Mllliln 

Til iiiyjil ii| yiiii li'iily i ill' ■ 

on In my liinry'M wiimlnriiiKH, 

I 'vi' wihIiiiiI IIiiiI III III! IhIh liml winxH, 

Anil HI', williiii il" I'liiiy liiiwi'i'M, 

With willlnl nil' In HlillH llllkmiWII, 
VVIii'i'i' mil II {iiiIhii hIiimiIiI liiml lull nillH, 

Anil wii minlil livr, liivn, ilin iilniin I 
Km' Ir II I'lii'l ami llin I'nlil, 

Wlirii' llii' liiixlil iiyi'N 111' miKi'l < imly 

Slliilllil I'liniK ill'iillllil IIH, III linllnlil 

A iiiiiiiilini' Ml |iiii'i' liml liiiH'ly I 
W'.iiiiil lliin liii wmlil i'IiiiukIi I'nr limn f" 
riiiyllll nlir lllllli'il, Hull III' Iliiilil' xim 

Till' |iiiiiHlii;{ Hiiiili< lirr I'lii'i'k |iiil nn ; 
Hill wliKii nliii inmki'il linw imuirnriilly 

IIIh nyi'H liml lii'i'H, lliiil Hiiillii wiin ){iiiii> ; 
Ami, liiiinllnx iiiln lii'mUnlt Ii'iu'h, 
" Yi-H, yi'M," "liii rriiiil, "my Imiiily I'miin, 
My ilii'iiniH, liiivii lllllli'il nil Inn rli,'lit, 
\Vi' |«iil I HT |Miil In nielli. I 



1 klli'W. I l.lli'W il mull/ mil liisl, • • 

'T Willi Iliiilil. I wii'i lii'iivniily, lull 'I JH pnHl ! 

(I, nviir lliilH, rriini I'liilillinnirii liiiiii', 

I 'vi' Miirii my riimli'Nl Imiii'M ilnriiy ; 
I iic'ViT Invnil 11 Irnii iir lliiwnl' 

Hill 'Iwiw lliii IIi'hL 111 I'lllll' iiwiiy. 
I lu'vni' iiiii'Niiil II ili'iir gn/.i'llii, 

Tn ^liiil iim Willi IIh hiiI'I. Iiliii'k ryu, 
Itlll wlll'll il I'linii' In kllnw inn Wnll, 

Ami liivn llln, Il WliH iillln In ilin I 
Nnw, I llmjiiy imiiil likn ilivinii 

(U nil I iivnr ilri'iiinl nr kimw, 
Tn Ni'ii limn, lii'iir llui', I'lill llmn iiilnn, ^ 

I) MliHi'iy ! limit 1 Infill flliil Inn y " 

I IliiMA'i Mniillli 

♦ 
|INIll';i,llin'l',li LdV'K. 

M'liM " I 1\ I I I I II Nil, II I ," Ai: I I, Ml'. 4. 

Viiil.A. Ay, lull I kiinw, 

1)111(1',. Wliiil iliml llmn kiiiiw '/ 

Viola. Tun wnll wllill liivn wiilili'll In null 
niiiy nwn ; 
III I'liilli, limy urn nil IriU' nl' lu'iiil ini wn. 
My I'lillinr liiul M iliiiif{liliii' liivi'il n iiimi, 
Ah il iiiIkIiI 111', |ii'i'liii|ii<, Wiil'n I 11 wnimui, 
I hIiiiiiIiI yiinr liirilHlii|i. 

lliiKK. Ami wliiil '11 liiT liliilniy I 

Viiii.'V. A M'lnk, my Imil. ,Slm iinvii' InM 

III! InV", 

Hilt Inl I'linnniilini'lil, Ilkn 11 Wiinii 1' llm liml, 
li'iinil nil lii'i'ilmmiHk nlinnk ; hIui |iiiinil In lliiiii;'lit , 
Anil, Willi n xi'i'iui mul ynllnw ninliiiii'linlv 
Hliii mil Ilkn I'lilJnni'i' 1111 11 niiinnmi'iil, 
.Smiling III niii'l'. Wim mil Iliiii Invn, imlnml ( 
Wn iiii'ii limy Niiy iiinri', MWmir liinrn ■, Inil, imlnnil, 
Our nIiiiwii urn iiinrn llimi will ; I'nr iilill wn prnvii 
Mni'li ill iiiir vnWN, lilil liUln in niir Invn. 

ftllAM "il'I'AliU. 

liiilIiiTIIV IN Till', llAl;l;KT. 

In llm liiw riirinrnil gnnnl, Hlniiplii){ 

('mnl'iilly nvnr llm nrniikiliK liniinlii, 
Olil Miilil linriilliy ({iiiw ii')<i'iipiiiK 

AinniiK ill ilmily mul nnliwi'liliml IiiiiiIiIn ; 
Ni'i'killK Hiinin lilinilln nl' piili'llnH, liiil 

l''m niiilnr llln iiiivnii, nr liiini'li n' iiiif,n, 
Or Hiili'linl liiiiiK nil IIh liiiil, iinilil 

Tim linirlnnimi nl' 11 liyK"nn ii^n. 

Tlii'in hi llm mniniil I'limilv I'lm^il, 

Tlii'i'n llm iinni'iilriil niiiilii mul Imlnlinl ; 
lliiinlliy, Kl^liliif^, KiiikH ilnwii In mill, 

KiirKnU'iil 111' piili'linH, mi^n, mul niIiIuI. 
(Iliimlii iiri'imnH pnnr rrnlii llm kI'"><ii 

or llm I'liiniiiny, wlinm, willi hwHIh nml mnl, 
Ami llm liiiiK-ili>iminil, iliHiimnlli'il limm, 

Sllimhi 11 Iil-rinillinlli'il iiliillllili^ wllni'l. 



252 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS 



Slie sees it back in tlie clean-swept kitchen, 

A part of lier girlliood's little world ; 
Hei- mother is there by the window, stitching ; 

Spindle buzzes, and reel is whirled 
With many a click : on her little stuol 

Slic sits, a child, by the open door, 
Watching, and lUibbling her feet in the pool 

Of sunshine spilled on the gilded Hoor 

Her sisters are sjiinning all day long ; 

To her wakening sense the first sweet warning 
Of daylight come is the cheerful song 

To the hum of the wheel in the early morning. 
Benjie, tlie gentle, red-cheeked boy, 

On his way to school, peeps in at the gate ; 
In neat white pinafore, pleased and coy. 

She readies a hand to her bashful mate ; 

And under the elms, a prattling pair, 

Together they go, through glimmer and 
gloom : — 
It all comes back to her, dreaming tliere 

In the low-raftered garret-room ; 
The hum of the wheel, and the summer weather, 

The heart's tirst trouble, and love's beginning, 
Are all in her memory linkeil togetlier ; 

And now it is she herself that is sjiinning. 

With the bloom of youth on cheek and lip, 

Turning the spokes with the Hashing ]iin. 
Twisting the thread from the spindle-tip, 

Stretching it out and winding it in. 
To and fro, with a blithesome tread, 

Singing she goes, and her heart is full. 
And many a long-drawn golden thread 

Of fancy is spun with the shining wool. 

Her father sits in his favorite place, 

I'ulting his pipe by the chimney-side ; 
Through curling clouds his kindly face 

Glows upon her with love and ]>ride. 
Lulled by the wheel, in the old arm-chair 

H(M' mother is musing, cat in lap, 
Witli beautiful diooping head, and hair 

Wliitening under her snow-white cap. 

One by one, to the grave, to the bridal. 

They liave followed her sisters from the door ; 
Now they are ohl, and she is their idol ; — 

It all conies back on her heart once more. 
In the autumn dusk the hearth gleams brightly, 

The wheel is set by the shadowy wall, — 
A hand at the latch, — 't is lifted lightly. 

And in walks Benjie, manly aud tall. 

His chair is placed ; the old man tips 
The pitcher, and brings his choicest fruit ; 

Benjie basks in the blaze, and sips, 

And tells his story, and joints his llute : 



0, sweet the tunes, the talk, the laughter ! 

They fill the hour with a glowing tide ; 
But sweeter the still, deej) moments after. 

When she is alone by Beiijie's side. 

But once with angry words they part : 

O, then the weary, weary ilays ! 
Ever with restless, wretelu'd heart. 

Plying her task, she turns to gaze 
Far up tlie road ; and early and late 

She harks for a Ibotstej) at the door. 
And starts at the gust tliat swings the gate. 

And prays for Benjie, who comes no more. 

Her fault '! Benjie, and could you steel 

Your thoughts toward one who lo\'ed you so ? - 
Solace she seeks in the whirling wheel, 

In duty and love that lighten woe ; 
Striving with labor, not in vain. 

To drive away the dull day's dreariness, — 
Blessing the toil that blunts the pain 

Of a deeper grief in the body's weariness. 

Proud and petted and spoiled was she : 
" A word, and all her life is changed ! 
His wavering love too easily 

111 the great, gay city grows estranged : 
One year ; she sits in the old church pew ; 

A rustle, a murmur, — Dorothy ! hide 
Your fac'c and shut from your soul the view 

'T is Benjie leading a white-veiled bride ! 

Now father and mother have long been dead. 

And the bride sleej)s under a churchyard stone, 
And a bent old man with grizzle<l head 

Walks up the long dim aisle alone. 
Years blur to a mist ; and Dorothy 

Sits doubting betwi.xt the ghost she seem. 
And the phantom of youth, more real than .slie. 

That meets her there in that haunt of dreams. 

Bright young Dorothy, idolized daughter. 

Sought by many a youthful adorer, 
Lil'e, like a new-risen dawn on the water, 

Shilling an endlesjs vista belbre her ! 
Old Jlaid Dorothy, wrinkled and gray. 

Groping under the farm-house eaves, — 
And life was a brief Novi'iubcr day 

Tliat sets on a world of withered leaves ! 

Yet faithfulness in the humblest part 

Is better at last than proud success. 
And patience and love in a chastened heart 

Ave pearls more precious than happiness ; 
And ill that morning when she shall wake 

To the sjn'ing-time freshness of youth again. 
All trouble will seem but a fiying Hake, 

And lifelong sorrow a breath on the pane. 

John Townsend trowuwidck 



^ 






DISAPPOINTMENT AND ESTRANGEMENT. 



253 



THE DIRTY OLD MAN. 

A LAY OF LEADENHALL. 

. [A MnnuLlr man. named NatlLinicI Bcntlcy, for many years kept 
a laryc hartlware-stiop in Lcadcnliall Street. London. He was 
best known .as Dirty Dick (Uick, for alliteration's sake, probably). 
and his place of business as llie Dirty Warehouse. He died about 
the year 1809. These verses accord with the accounts respecting 
hiniNcIf and his house.] 

In a dirty old liouse lived a Dirty Old Man ; 
Siiti]), towels, or brushes were not in his plan. 
For forty long years, as tlie neiglibors declared. 
His house never once had been cleaned or re- 
paired. 

'T was a scandal antl shame to the business-like 

street, 
One terrible blot in a ledger so neat : 
Tlie sliop full of hardware, but Iilack as a hearse. 
And the rest of the mansion a thousand times 

worse. 

Outside, the old plaster, all spatter and stain, 
LooUiil spotty in sunshine and streaky in raiu ; 
Tlie H iiulow-sills sprouted witli mildewy grass, 
And the panes from being broken were known to 
be glass. 

On the rickety sign-hoard no learning could spell 
The merchant wlio soUl, or the goods he 'd to 

sell ; 
But for house and for man a new title took 

growth. 
Like a fungus, — the Dirt gave its name to them 

both. 

Within, there were carpets and cushions of dust. 
The wood was half rot, and the metal half rust, 
Old curtains, half cobwebs, hung grimly aloof ; 
'T was a Spiders' Elysium from cellar to roof. 

There, king of the spiders, the Dirty Old Man 
Lives busy and dirty as ever he can ; 
With dirt on his lingers and dirt on his face, 
I'Vir the Dirty Old Man thinks the dirt no dis- 
grace. 

From his wig to his shoes, from his coat to his 

sliirt. 
His clothes are a proverb, a marvel of dirt ; 
The dirt is pervading, unfading, exceeding, — 
Vet the Dirty Old Man has both learning and 

breeding. 

Kine danu'S from their carriages, noble and fair, 
Have entered hissliop, less to buy tlian to stare ; 
And liave alterwarils said, though the dirt was 

so frightful, 
The Dirty Man's manners were truly delightful. 



Upstairs niiglit they venture, in dirt and iu 

gloom. 
To peep at the door of the wonderful room 
Such stories are tolil about, none of them true ! — 
The keyhole itself has no mortal seen through. 

That room, — forty years since, folk settled and 

decked it. 
The luncheon 's prepared, and the guests are 

e.xpected. 
The handsome young host he is gallant and gay, 
For his love and her friends will be with him 

to-day. 

With solid and dainty the table is drest. 

The wine beams its brightest, the flowers bloom 

their best ; 
Yet the host need not smile, and no guests will 

appear, 
For his sweetheart is dead, as he shortly shall 

hear. 

Full forty years since turned the key in that 

door. 
'T is a room deaf and dumb mid the city's uproar. 
The guests, for whose joyance that table was 

spread. 
May now enter as ghosts, for they 're every one 

dead. 

Through a chink in the shutter dim lights come 

and go; 
The seats are in order, the dishes a-row : 
But the luncheon was wealth to the rat and the 

mouse 
Whose descendants have long left the Dirty Old 

House. 

Cup and platter are masked in thick layers of 

dust ; 
The flowers fallen to powder, the wine swatlieil 

in crust ; 
A nosegay was laid before one special chair. 
And the faded blue ribbon that bound it lies 

there. 

The old man has played out his part in the scene. 

Wherever he now is, I hope he 's more clean. 

Yet giv(_' we a thouglit free of scoffing or ban 

To that Dirty Old House and that Dirty Old 

Man. 

William Allingham. 



AN EXPEIHENCE AND A MORAL. 

I LENT my love a book one ilay ; 

She brought it back ; 1 laid it by : 
'T was little cither had to say, — 
She was so strange, ami I so shy. 



254 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



But yet we loved indifferent things, — 
The sprouting buds, the birds in tune, — 

And Time stood still and wreatlied Iiis wings 
With rosy links from June to June. 

For her, what task to dare or do ? 

What peril tcrapt ? what hardship bear ? 
But with her — ah ! she never knew 

My heart, and what was hidden there ' 

And she, with me, so cold and ooy, 
Seemed a little maid bereft of sense ; 

But in the crowd, all life and joy, 
And full of blushful impudence. 

She married, — well, — a woman needs 
A mate, her life and love to share, — 

And little cares sprang up like weeds 
And played around her elbow-chair. 

And years rolled by, — but I, content. 

Trimmed my own lamp, and kept it bright. 

Till age's touch my hair besjirent 
With rays and gleams of silver light. 

And then it chanced I took the book 
Which she perused in days gone by ; 

And as I read, such passion shook 
My soul, — I needs must curse or cry. 

Foi', here and there, her love was writ, 

In old, half-faded pencil-signs, 
As if .she yielded — bit by bit — 

Her heart in dots and underlines. 

Ah, silvered fool, too late you look ! 

I know it ; let me here record 
This maxim : Lend no girl a book 

Unless you read it afterward ! 

FREDERICK SWARTVVOUT COZZENS. 



LOCKSLEY HALL. 

CoMRABEs, leave me here a little, while as yet 

't is early morn, — 
Leave me here, and when you want me, sound 

upon the bugle horn. 

"T is the place, and all around it, as of old, the 

curlews call. 
Dreary gleams about the moorland, flying over 

Locksley Hall : 

Locksley Hall, that in the distance overlooks the 
sandy tracts. 

And the hollow ocean^ridges roaring into cata- 
racts. 



Many a night from yonder ivied casenu'Ut, ere I 

went to rest, 
Did I look on great Orion sloping slowly to the 

west. 

Many a night 1 saw the Pleiads, rising through 

the mellow shade, 
Glitter like a swarm of tire-flies tangled in a silver 

braid. 

Here about the beach I wandered, nourishing a 

youth sublime 
With the fairy tales of science, and the long 

result of time ; 

When the centuries behind me like a fruitful 

land reposed ; 
When I clung to all the present for the promise 

that it closed ; 

When I dipt intc the future far :is human eye 

could see, — 
Saw the vision of the world, and all the wonder 

that would be. 

In the spring a fuller crimson comes ujion the 

robin's breast ; 
In the spring the wanton lapwing gets himself 

another crest ; 

In the spring a livelier iris changes on the 

burnished dove ; 
In the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns 

to thoughts of love. 

Then her cheek was pale and thinner than should 

be for one so young. 
And her eyes on all my motions with a nuite 

observance hung. 

And I said, "My cousin Amy, speak, and speak 

the truth to me ; 
Trust me, cousin, all the current of my being 

sets to thee." 

On her pallid cheek and forehead came a color 

and a light. 
As I have seen the rosy red Hushing in the 

northern night. 

And she turned, — her bosom shaken with a 

sudden storm of sighs ; 
.\11 the spirit deeply dawning in the dark of 

hazel eyes, — 

Saying, "I have hid my feelings, fearing they 

should do me wrong : " 
Saying, " Dost thou love me, cousin ? " weeping, 

"I have loved thee long." 



I 



DISAPPOINTMENT AND ESTRANGEMENT. 



255 



Love took up tln^ gliiss of time, and turned it in 

liis glowing h;inds ; 
Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in 

golden sands. 

I,ove took np the harp of life, and smote on all 

the chords with might ; 
Smote the chord of self, that, trembling, passed 

in music out of sight. 



copses ring. 
And her whisjier thronged my pulses witli the 
fulness of the spring. 

Alany an evening by the waters did we watch the 
stately ship.-). 



He will answer to the purpose, easy things to 

understand, — 
Better thou wert dead before me, though I slew 

thee with my hand. 

Better thou and I were lying, hi<lden from tlio 

heart's disgrace. 
Rolled in one another's arms, and silent in ,i last 

embrace. 



Many a morning on the moorland did wc hear the Cursed bo the social wants that sin .against the 



strength of youth ! 
Cursed be the social lies that warp us IVum the 
living truth ! 

Cursed bo the sickly forms that err from honest 
nature's rule I 



And our spirits rushed together at the touching Cursed be the gold that gilds the straitened fore- 



of the lips. 

my cousin, shallow-hearted ! my Amy, 
mine no more ! 



head of the fool ! 

Well — 't is well that I should bluster ! — Hadst 
thou less unworthy proved. 



the dreary, dreary moorland ! the barren, ! Would to God — for I had loved thee more than 



barren si: 



en snore 



ever wife was loved. 



Falser than all fancy fathoms, falser than all songs ' Am I mad, that 1 should chcri.sh that which 



rave sung, — 



bears but bitter fruit ? 



Pupjiet to a father's threat, anil servile to a , I will pluck it from my bosom, though my heart 



shrewish tongue ! 

Is it well to wish thee happy ? — having known 
me ; to decline 



be at the root. 

Never ! though my mortal summers to such length 
of years should come 



On a range of lower feelings and a narrower heart i As the many-wintered crow that leads the clang- 



tha 



Yet it shall be : thou slialt lower to his level day 
by day. 



ing rookery home. 

Where is com fort ? in division of the records of 
the min<l ? 



What is fine within thee growing coarse to sym- ' Can I part her from herself, and love her, as I 



pathize with clay. 



knew her, kind ? 



As the husband is, the wife is ; thou art mated I remember one that perished ; sweetly did she 



with a clown. 



speak and move ; 



And the grossness of his nature will have weight , Such a oue do I remember, whom to look at was 



to drag thee down. 



to love. 



lie will hold thee, when his passion shall have ' Can I think of her as dead, and love her for the 



spent its novel force. 



love she bore ? 



Something better than his dog, a little dearer No, — she never loved me truly ; love is love 



than his horse. 



I'orevermore. 



I 



What is this ? his eyes are heavy, — think not ' Comfort ? comfort scorned of devils ! this is truth 



they are glazed with wine. 



the poet sings, 



Go to lam ; it is thy duty, — kiss him ; take his Tliat a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering 



hand in thine. 



happier things. 



It may be my lord is weary, that his brain is ' Drug thy memories, lest thou learn it, lest thy 



overwrought, 



heart be put to proof, 



Soothe him with thy finer fancies, touch him ! In the dead, unhappy night, and when the rain 
with thy lighter thought. I is on the roof. 



2r.G 



POKMS OK THE AFFECTIONS. 



LiUe a ilof;, lu> liiints in dreiims ; and tluiu art 

slivriiij; at tlui wall, 
WliiMi' the dying niglit-lamp llii'kois, and tlic 

shadows rise and tail. 

TluMi a lianil shall pass lirl'urn tlioc, [Kiinting to 

his ilrnnlien sUh-'|i, 
To thy widowi'd iininiage-iiillows, to tin' tears 

that tluiu wilt wcup. 

Tlion shalt hear the " Nnvor, novel'," whispered 

hy the plnuitoni years, 
And a song troni out the distanee in the rini,'ing 

of thine ears ; 

And an eye shall vex thee, looking aneient kiml- 

ness on thy pain. 
Tinn thee, tnrn thee on tliy pillow ; get thee to 

thy rest again. 

Nay, hnt nature brings thee solace ; for a tender 

voiee will cry ; 
'T is a purer life than thine, a li)! to draiii thy 

tronhle dry. 

Baby lips will l.iu,i;h lue d(i\\'n ; my latest, rival 

brings thee rest, — 
Baby lingers, waxen touclie.s, press ine IVoni the 

nnilliei's breast. 

O, the ehild too elothes tlie lather with a dear- 

ness not his due. 
llair is thine and half is his ; it will be worthy 

ol' till' two. 

0, I see thee old an.l tornial, lilted to thy petty 

part. 
With a little hoard of maxims preaehing down a 

daughter's heart. 

" They were dangerous guides, the feelings — she 

herself was not exempt — 
Truly, she herself h;ul sull'ered " — Peri.sh in thy 

self-contempt ! 

Overlive it — lower yet — be happy ! wherefore 

.shdidd I eare ' 
1 myself must mix with aelion, lest I williiT by 

despair. 

Wh.d. is that whieh 1 should turn to, lighliiig 

upon days like the.se I 
f'.v . ry door is barred with gold, and opens but to 

golden keys. 

Kvery gate is thronged with suitors, all the 

markets overllow. 
1 have l)Ul an angry fancy : what is that whieh 

1 should do ! ' j 



I had been content to perish, falling on the' foe- 
man's ground. 

When the ranks are rolled in vapor, and tho 
winds are laid with sound. 

But the jingling of the guinea heliis the hurt 

that honor feels, 
And tlie nations do but nnirmur, snarling at each 

other's heols. 

Can I but relive in sadness? 1 will turn that 
earlier page. 

Hide me from my deep emotion, thou won- 
drous mother-age ! 

Make mo feel the wild pulsation that 1 felt be- 
fore the strife, 

When I heard my days before me, and the tn- 
nudt of my life ; 

Yearning for the large exeitenuuit that the com- 
ing years would yield. 

Eager-hearted as a lioy when first Iw leaves Ids 
father's field, 

And at night along the dusky highway near and 

nearer drawn. 
Sees in heaven the light of London ll.'uing like 

a dreary dawn ; 

And his spirit leaps within him to lie gone be- 
fore him then, 

ruderueath the light he looks at, in among the 
throngs of men ; 

Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever rea]i- 

ing sonietliiug new : 
That whieh they have done but earnest of llu^ 

things that they .shall do : 

For I dijit into the future, far as human eye 

conld .see, 
Saw the \"ision of the world, and all the wonder 

that would be ; 

Saw the heavens till with commerce, argosies of 

magic sails, 
I'ilots of the iHirple twiliglit, drojipingdowu with 

costly bales ; 

Heard tin- heavens fill with shouting, and there 

rained a ghastly ilew 
From the nations' airy navies grappling in tho 

central blue ; 

Far along the world-wide whisper of the south- 
wind rushing warm. 

With the standards of the peoples plunging 
through the thunder-storm ; 



I 



DIS.VIM'OINTMENT AM) KSTRANGE.MENT. 



Till tho wnr-ilrum throbbed no longer, anil tlio 

liattli'-ljiigs were t'lirli'd 
111 llif iiiirliaiiicnt of nmn, the fcdoriilinn of Uin 

world. 

'I'liero tile eonniion sense of most slinll bold a 
IVetliil realm in awe, 

And tbe kindly earlli sliall sliiinlier, lapt in uni- 
versal law. 

.So 1 Iriunqilii'd ere my passion swee]iliij,' llin)U;.;li 

nie lelt me dry, 
Lett me with a palsied heart, and Irl't me with 
tlio jamidieed eye ; 

Eye, to whieh all arder festers, all things here 

arc out of joint. 
.Seieneo moves, but slowly, slowly, creeping on 

from point to point : 

Slowly eomes a hungry people, as a lion, ereep- 

ing niglier, 
(dares at one tliat nods and wiiiUs heliiml a 

slowly dying liri'. 

Vet 1 doubt not througli the ages one inereasing 

purpose runs, 
And the thoughts of men aro widened with the 

process of the suns. 

Wliat is that to him that reaps not harvest of 

his youthful joys. 
Though the deep heart of existence lieat forever 

like a boy's I 

Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers; and I 

linger on the shore, 
.\iid the individual withers, and the world is 

more and more. 

Kiiowledgo comes, but wisdom lingers, and be 
bears a laden breast, 

Kiill cif sail experience moving toward the still- 
ness of his rest. 

Hark ! my merry comrades call me, sounding on 

the bugle born, — 
They to whom my foolish passion were a target 

for their scorn ; 

Shall it not be scorn to me to harp on such a 

mouldered string ? 
1 am shamed through all my nature to have loved 

so slight a thing. 

Weakness to be wroth with weakness ! woman's 

pleasure, woman's pain — 
Nature made them bhnder motions bounded in 

a sIiallo\\er brain : 



Wonian is tho lesser man, and all thy passions, 

mati'hed with mine, 
Aro as moonlight unto sunlight, and as water 

unto wine — 

Here at least, wdiero nature sickens, nothing. 

Ab for some retreat 
Deep in yonder shining Orient, where my life 

began to beat ! 

Where in wild Maliialla-bal lie fell my father, 

evil-starred ; 
1 was left a trampled oriihuii, and a selfish 

uncle's ward. 

Or to bur.st all links of liubil, — there to wander 

far away. 
Oil from island unto island at the gateways of 

the day, — 

Larger constellations burning, mellow moons and 

happy skies, 
Breadths of tropic shade and palms in clubter, 

knots of I'aradise. 

Never comes the trader, never lloalsan Kuropean 

ilag, - 
Slides tbe bird o'er lustrous woodland, swings 

the trailer from the crag, — 

Drooiis tho heavy-blossomed bower, hangs the 

heavy-fruited trou, — 
Summer isles of Eilon lying in dark-purple 

spheres of sea. 

There, nietbinks, would be enjoyment more tlian 

in this niareh of mind — 
In the .steanLshiji, in the railway, in the thoughts 

that shake nninkind. 

There tho passions, cramped no longer, shall 
have scope and breathing-s]iaee ; 

I ttdll take some savage woman, she shall rear 
my dusky race. 

Iron-joiuted, supide-sinewed, they shall dive, 

and tliey shall run. 
Catch the wild goat by the hair, and hurl their 

lances in the sun, 

Whistle back tho jiarrot's call, and lea|i tbe 

rainbows of the brooks, 
Not with blinded eyesight poring over miaerable 

book s — 

Kool, again the dream, the fancy ! but I know 

my words are wild, 
I'liit I count the gray liarbariaii lower than tho 

Christian child. 



17 



258 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



1, to herd »-ith narrow foreheads, vacant of our 

glorious gains. 
Like a beast with lower pleasures, like a beast 

with lower pains ! ' 

Mated with a squalid savage, — what to me were 
sun or cliine ? , 

I, the heir of all the ages, in the foremost files 
of time, — I 

I, that rather held it better men should perish j 
one hv one, , 

Than tliat e;u-th shovild stand at gaze like Joshua's 
moon ill Ajalon ! 

Kot in vain the distance beacons. Forward, 

forward let us range ; 
Let the great world spin forever down the ring- 



Throngh tlie shadow of the globe we sweep into 

the younger day : 
Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of 

Cathay. 

Mother-age, (for mine I knew not,) help me as 

when life begun, — 
Eift the hills, and roll the waters, flash the i 

lightnings, weigh the sun, — I 

I 

O, I see the crescent promise of my spirit hath 

not set ; 
Ancient founts of inspiration well through all my 

fancy yet. 

Howsoever these things be, a long f;irewell to 1 
Looksley Hall T | 

Kow for me the woods may wither, now for me I 
the roof-tree fall. 

Comes a vapor from the margin, blackening over ; 

heath and holt. 
Cramming ;ill the blast befoi« it, in its breast a 

thunderbolt. 

Let it fall on Locksley Hall, with rain or hiiil, or 

fii-e or snow ; 
For the mighty wind arises, roaring seaward, and 

I go. 



For his, too, somewhat. Let him stand unblamed ; 
Xoue say, he gave me less than honor claimed. 
Except — one trifle scarcely worth being named — 

The A^art. That's gone. The corrupt dead might 

be 
As easily raised up, bi-eatliing, — fair to see. 
As he could bring his whole heart back to me. 

1 never sought him in coquettish sport. 
Or courted him as silly maidens court. 
And wonder when the longed-for piize falls short. 

I only loved him, — any woman would : 
But shut my love up till he came and sued. 
Then poured it o'er his dry life like a flood. 

1 was so happy I could make him blest '. — 

So happy that I was his first and best. 

As he mine, — when he took me to his breast. 

Ah me ! if only then he had been true I 

If for one little year, a month or two. 

He had given me love for love, as was my due ! 

Or had he told me, ere the deed was done. 

He only raised me to his heart's dear throne — 

Poor substitute — because the queen was gone ! 

0, had he whispered, when his sweetest kiss 
■Was warm upon my mouth in fimeievl bliss. 
He had kissed another woman even as this, — 

It were less bitter ! Sometimes I could weep 
To be thus cheated, like a child asleep : — 
Were not my anguish far too dry and deep. 

So I built my house upon another's ground ; 
Mocked with a heart just caught at the re bound, — 
A cankered thing that looked so firm and sound. 



Alfred Te-nn^-son. 



OXLY A WOMAX. 

** she lores with lore that cannot tire : 

AikI if, ah. «roe : she loves alone. 
Throti^ {Mssioaate duty love ftunes h^her. 

As grass grows taller round a stoae.~ 

COVbXTRV PATMORE. 

So, the truth 's out. I '11 grasp it like a snake, — 
It will not slay me. Mj heart shall not break 
Awhile, if only for the children's sake. 



And when that heart grew colder, — colder still, 
I, ignorant, tried all duties to fulfil. 
Blaming my foolish pain, exacting will. 

All, — anything but him. It was to be 
The fuU draught othei-s drink up carelessly 
Was made this bitter Tantalus-cup for me. 

I say ag^iin, — he gives me all I claimed. 
I and my children never shall be shameil : 
He is a just man, — he will live unblamed. 

Only — God, Goii to cry for bread. 
And get a stone ! D;uly to lay my head 
Upon a bosom where tlie old love 's dead ! 

Dead ? — Fool ! It never Uved. It only stirred 
Galvanic, like an hour-cold corpse. None heard : 
So let me bur> it without a word. 



DISAVrOINTMEXT AXD ESTRANGEMENT. 



25S 



I 



H'' 11 keep tli;it other woman from my siglit. 
1 know not il' lior face bo foul or bright ; 
1 only know that it was his deliglit — 

As his was mine ; I only know he stands 
Pale, at the toueh of tlieir long-severed hands, 
Then to a flickering smile his lips commands, 

Lest 1 should grieve, or jealous anger show. 
He need not. When theship 's gone down, 1 trow, 
We little reck whatever wind may blow. 

And so my silent moan begins and ends, 

No world's laugh or world's taunt, no pity of 

friends 
Or sneer of foes, with this my torment blends. 

None knows, — none heeds. I have a little pride; 
Enough to stand up, wifelike, by his side. 
With the same smile as when 1 was his bride. 

.\ud I shall take his children to my arms ; 
They will not miss these fading, wortliless charms ; 
Their kiss — ah ! unlike his — all pain disarms. 

And haply as the solemn yeai-s go by. 

He will think sometimes, with regretful sigh. 

The other woman was less true than I. 

Di.NAH Maria mclock Craik. 



DEATH OF THE WHITE FAWN. 

The wanton troopers, riding by, 
Have shot my fawn, and it will die. 
Tngentle men ! they cannot thrive 
Who killed thee. Thou ne'er didst, alive. 
Them any liarni ; alas ! nor could 
Thy death yet do them any good. 
1 'm sure I never wished them ill, ^ 
Nor do 1 for all this, nor will ; 
lint if my simple prayers may yet 
Prevail with Heaven to forget 
Thy murder, I will join my tears. 
Rather than fail. But, my fears ! 
It cannot die so. Heaven's king 
Keeps regi.ster of everything ; 
And nothing may we use in vain ; 
Even Ix'asts nuist be with justice slain, — 
Else men are made their deodands. 
Though they should wasli their guilty hands 
In this warm life-blood, which doth part 
From thine and wound me to the heart. 
Yet could they not be clean, — their stain 
Is dyed in such a purple grain ; 
Theiv is not such another in 
The world to olVer for their sin. 
Inconstant Sylvio, when yet 
I had not found him counterfeit. 



One morning (1 remember well) 
Tied in this silver chain and bell, 
tiave it to me ; nay, and 1 know 
What he said then, — I 'm sure I do : 
Said he, " Look how yoiir huntsman here 
Hath taught a fawn to hunt his dear ! " 
I'lUt Sylvio soon liad me beguiled : 
This waxed tame, while he grew wild ; 
.\nd, quite regardless of my smart. 
Left me his fawn, but took his heart. 

Thenceforth I set myself to play 
My solitary time away 
With this ; and, very well content, 
Could so mine idle life have spent. 
For it was full of sport, and light 
Of foot and heart, and did invite 
Jle to its game. It seemed to bless 
Itself in me ; how could I less 
Than love it ? 0, I cannot be 
Unkind to a beast that lovetli me ! 

Had it lived long, I do not know 
Whether it, too, might have done so 
As Sylvio did, — his gifts might be 
Perhaps as false, or more, than he. 
For I ani'sure, for aught that I 
Could in so short a time espy, 
Thy love was far more better tlian 
The love of false and cruel man. 

With sweetest milk and sugar, first 
I it at mine own fingers nursed ; 
And as it grew, so every day 
It waxed more white and sweet than they. 
It had so sweet a breath ! and oft 
I blushed to sec its foot more soft 
And white — shall I say than my hand ? 
Nay, any lady's of the land. 

It is a wouilrous thing how fleet 
'T was on those little silver feet. 
AVith what a pietty, skipjiing grace 
It oft would challenge nie the race ; 
And when 't had left me far away, 
'T would stay, and rnn again, and stay ; 
For it was nimbler much than hinds, 
And trod as if on the four winds. 

I have a garden of my own, — 
R\rt so with roses overgrown, 
.■\nd lilies, that you would it guess 
To be a little wilderness ; 
And all the springtime of the year 
It only loved to be there. 
Among the beds of lilies I 
Have sought it oft, where it should lie ; 
Yet couhl not, till itself would rise. 
Find it, although before mine eyes ; 
For in the flaxen lilies' shade 
It like a bank of lilies laid. 
Upon the roses it would feed. 
Until its lips even seemed to bleed ; 



2G0 



I'OKMS or TllF. AITK.CTION.S. 



Ami tlinn th mo "t would lioUlly tvii', 
And |ii'int tliosi' rosfs on my lip. 
Mut iill its duel' delight was still 
On roses thus itsell'to Iill ; 
And its {ini'e virjjin limbs to I'uld 
In wliitest sheets of lilies eold. 
Had it lived lonj;, it would liave been 
Lilies without, loses within. 

0, help ! 0, help ! I see it I'aint, 
.And die ns ealmly as a saint 1 
.See how it weeps ! the tears do ooine, 
Sad, slowly, dropping like a sliiin. 
So weeps the wounded balsam ; so 
The lioly rraiikiueense doth How ; 
The brotlieiless lleliades 
Melt in sueli amber tears as these. 

1 in a golden phial will 
Keep these two orystal tears, and Iill 
It, till it do o'orllow, with mine ; 
Tlien phiee it in Diana's sliiino. 

Now my sweet I'awii is vanished to 
Whither the swans and turtles go. 
In lair Elysium to enduiv. 
With milk-whito lambs, and ermines pure. 
t"l, do not run too last ! for I 
Will but bespeak thy grave — and die. 

First, my unhappy statue shall 
Be out in niaiblo ; and withal. 
Let it bo weeping too. lint there 
The engraver siiiv his art may sjwre ; 
For 1 so truly lliee bemoan 
That I shall weep, though I lie stone, 
I'litil my tears, still dropping, wear 
Jly breast, themselves engraving theiv. 
There at my feet shalt thou be laid. 
Of purest nlahister made : 
For 1 would liave thine image be 
White as I ean, tlioivgli not us thee. 

vVNDKEW MAK\'ELI.. 



THK MAID'S LAMENT. 

I i,ovKi> him not ; and yet, now he is gone, 

I feel 1 am alone. 
1 eheeked him while he spoke ; yet eould he speak, 

Alas ! I would not elieek. 
For reasons not to love him onoe 1 sought. 

And wearied all my thought 
To vex myself and him : I now would give 

My love, eould he but live 
Who lately lived for me, aiul when he found 

'T was vain, in holy ground 
He hid his faee amid the shades of death ! 

I waste for him my bix'atli 
Who wasted his for me ; but mine returns. 

And this lone Iwsom burns 
With stilling heat, heaving it up in sleep, 

And waking me to weep 



Teal's that had melted his soft heart : for years 

Wept he as bitter teai-s ! 
" Mereiful tJod !" sneh was his latest prayer, 

"These may she never share ! " 
Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold 

Than daisies in the mould. 
Where ehildron spell athwart the ehurehyardgate 

His name and life's brief date. 
Fray for him. gentle souls, whoe'er ye be. 

And 0, pray, too, for ino ! 

waltkr savage Landor. 



IN A YEAl!. 

Nevkk any more 

While I live. 
Need I liope to see his face 

As before. 
Once his love grown ehill, 

Mine may strive, — 
Bitterly we iv-embraee. 

Single still. 

Was it something said. 

Something done. 
Vexed him ? was it touch of hand 

Turn of head ! 
Strange ! that very way 

Love begun. 
I as little understand 

Love's decay. 

AVheii I sewed or drew, 

1 recall 
How he looked as if I saug 

— Sweetly too. 
If I spoke a wonl, 

Fii'st of all 
Up his cheek the color spning, 

Then he lieani. 

Sitting by my side, 

.U my feet. 
So he bivatlk'd the air I bivathed, 

Satisfied ! 
I, too, at love's brim 

Touched the sweet : 
I would die if death bequeathed 

Sweet to hiiu. 

" Speak, — I love thee best ! " 

He exchiinuHi. 
" Let thy love my own foi'etell,"- 

I confessed : 
"Clasp my heart on thine 

Now unblained. 
Since upon thy soul lus well 

Hangeth mine I" 



1 
1 



niS.Vl'rOINl'MKNT AND ESTHANGEMENT. 



261 



I 



Was it wi-ciiir; to own, 

Hi'iiif; tnitli ? 
Why sluiulcl all the giving piovo 

His alonp ? 
I hull wcnlth anil imisp, 

llcanty, yontli, — 
Sinii' my loviT gave mv hivo, 

1 gave tliese. 

That was all I nniant, 

— To 111' just, 

Am\ the passion 1 had raised 

To I'ontenl. 
Since ho chose to iliangc 

Gold I'oi' dust, 
If I gave him what lie inaised, 

Was it stinngc I 

Would he loved nie yet, 

(hi and on. 
While 1 found some way undreamed, 

— I'aid my debt ! 
Gave more life and more. 

Till, ail gone. 
He should smile, "She never seemed 
Mine before. 

"What — she felt the while, 

Must I think ( 
Love 's so dill'erent with us men," 

He should smile. 
" Dying for my sake — 

White and pink ! 
Can't we touch these bubbles then 

lint they break ? " 

Dear, the pang is brief. 

Do thy part, 
Hnvo thy pleasure. How perplext 

Grows lielief ! 
Well, this cold clay clod 

Was nnm's heart. 
Cninible it, — and what comes next ? 

Is it God ( 

KollF.ur BROWNING. 



U LIGHTED LOVE. 

Fr.nwF.ns are fresh, and bushes gieen, 

Cheerily the linnets sing ; 
Winds are soft, and skies serene ; 

Time, however, soon shall throw 
Winter's .snow 
O'er the bnxom breast of Spring ! 

Hope, that buds in lover's heart. 

Lives not through the scorn of years ; 

Time makes love itself depart ; 

Time and scorn congeal the mind, — 
Looks unkind 

Freeze alfection's warmest tears. 



Time shall make the bn.shes green ; 

Time dissolve the winter snow ; 
Winds be soft, and skies serene ; 

Linnets sing their wonted strain: 
Hut again 
Blighted love shall never blow ! 

IriiniUK- Cortiik'Hese of LUIS ne CAMnl-:NS. 
'rnuisintioil of LORD SIRANGI'OKU. 



niSAl'l'OlNTMENT. 

FROM "ZOPIlIliL. OR THE DRIUU OP SRVRN." 

TliK bard has sung, God never formed a soul 
Witliout its own iieculiar mate, to meet 

Its wandering half, when rijie to crown the whole 
Bright jilan of bliss most heavenly, most com- 
plete. 

Pint tlinusand evil things there arc that hate 
To look on liappiuess : these hurt, imperte. 
And leagued with time, space, circumstance, and 
fate. 
Keep kindred heart from heart, to pine, and 
pant, anil bleed. 

And as the dove to far I'almyra (lying 

From where her native founts of Antiocli beam, 

AVeary, exhausted, longing, panting, sighing, 
Lights sadly at the dcscrt'.s bitter stream ; 

So many a .soul, o'er life's drear desert faring. 
Love's pure congenial s]iring nnfound, un- 
iiualfed, 
Sull'crs— recoils — then thirsty and despairing 
Of what it would, deseemls and sijis the near- 
est draught ! 

Makia (iowi-lN li\iOOKSiA/>if tiitff/ Ofaiffnfe^ 



SHIPS AT SEA. 

I itAVF, ships that went to .sea 

More than lil'ty years ago ; 
None have yet come home to me, 

I'lUt are .sailing to and fro. 
I have seen them in my sleep, 
I'liinging through the shoreless deep, 
Witli tattered .sails and battered hulls, 
While around them .screamed the gulls. 
Flying low. Hying low. 

I have wondered why they strayed 

From me, sailing round the world : 
And I've said, "1 'm half alraid 

That their sails will ne'er be furled." 
Great the treasures that they hold. 
Silks, and iilnmcs, and liars of gold ; 
While the spices that they bear 
Fill with fragrance all the air, 
.\s tlicv sail, as I bey sail. 



262 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



Ah ! each sailor in the jiort 

Knows tliat I have ships at sea, 

Of tlie waves ami winds the sport, 
And the sailors pity me. 

Oft they come and with me walk, 

Cheerin,n me with hoiieful talk, 

Till I put my fears aside. 

And, eontonted, watch the tide 
Kise and fall, rise and fall. 

I have waited on the piers, 

Gazin;; fur them down the liny, 

Days and nif^hts for many years, 
Till I turned heart-sick away. 

But the pilots, when they land, 

Stop and take me liy the hand, 

Sayiu},', " You will live to see 

Your provul vessels eome from sea. 
One and all, one and all." 

So I never ipiite despair, 

Nor let liope oi' courage fail ; 
And some day, when skies are fair. 

Up the hay my ships will sail. 
I shall huy then all 1 need, — 
Prints to look at, books to read, 
Horses, wines, and works of art. 
Everything — except a heart 
That is lost, that is lost. 

Once, when I was pure and young, 

Hieher, too, than I am now, 
Ere a cloud was o'er me Hung, 

Or a wrinkle creased my brow. 
There was one whose heart was mine ; 
But she's something now divine 
And though con\e my shijis from sea. 
They can bring no heart to me 
Evermore, evermore. 

ROUKKV STEVENSON COFFIN. 



LOVE'S YOUNtl UKKAM. 

1--KOM ■■ n<isii MiUA)i)ir.s." 
Tllf. days are gone when beauty bright 

My heart's chain wove ! 
When my dream of life, from morn till night. 
Was love, still love ! 
New hope may bloom. 
And days may come, 
or milder, calmer beam. 
But there 's imthing half so sweet in life 

As love's young dream ! 
0, there's nothing half so sweet in life 
As love's young dream ! 

Though the bard to pui-er fame may soar, 

When wild youth's past ; 
Though he win the wise, who frowned before, 

To smile at last ; 



He '11 never meet 

.\ joy so sweet 
In all his noon of fame | 

As when first he sung to woman's ear 

His sonl-1'elt llame, 
And at every close she blushed to hear 

The one loved name ! 

O, that lialloH-ed form is ne'er forgot, 

Wluch tirst love traced ; 
Still it lingering haunts the greenest spot 

On memory's waste ! 
'T was odor fled 
As soon as shed ; 

'T was nmrning's winged dream ; 
"r was a light that ne'er can shine again 

On life's dull stream ! 
0, 't was a light that ne'er can shine again 

On life's dull stream ! 

THOMAS MOORE. 



WHEN THE LAMP IS SHATTERED. 

WiiKN the lamp is shattered 
Tlic light in the dust lies dead ; 
\Vlien the cloud is scattered, 
The rainbow's glory is .shed. 
When the lute is broken, 
Sweet tones are remembered not ; 
When the lips have spoken, 
Loved aci'ents are soon forgot. 

As nmsic and splendor 

Survive not the lamp and the lute, 

The heart's echoes render 

No song when the spirit is mute, — 

No song but sad dirges, 

Like the wind through a ruined cell, 

Or the mournful surges 

That ring the dead seaman's knell. 

When hearts have onco mingled. 

Love fu'st leaves the well-bvult nest ; 

The weak one is singled 

To endure what it once possessed. 

O Love ! who bcwailest 

The IVailty of all things here. 

Why ehootjc you the Irailest 

For your cradle, youi home, and your bier? 

Its passions will rock thee 

As the storms roek the ravens on high ; 

Bright reason will mock thee 

Like the sun from a wintry sky. 

From thy nest every rafter 

Will rot, and thine eagle home 

Leave thee naked to laughter. 

When leaves fall and cold winds come. 

PEKCV BVSSIIE SHELLEV 



WHI'I ril'lK 

As some tall ])ine that from a moimtain side 

O'erlooks a hundred verdant vales below, 

And drinks their balm, and hears their waters flow, 
While, o'er the lofty summits cloud-allied, 
lie marks the storm-king in his chariot ride, 

And sees athwart the heaven's lurid glow 

The thunderbolt in zig-zag splendor go. 
How towers his crest, uplift in rugged juide ! 
Rut when the waning tempest dies apace. 

What reed of Pan, however fine it blew, 
Might sweetlier breathe out nature's inmost grace? 

So standest thou within our mortal view. 
What star serene is now thy dwelling place, 

(Ireat soul, high heart, () nobler than we knew? 

LOUISK A. McC.AKKKV 



I'roiit Bi-l/ord's Miii^azlHt\ Clticaf^o 





wiiirrii-.Rs \\o\u-: .vr amkshuky. 

"Aiul swcci homos ncsile in these dales, 
Ami perch aloiijr these wootieii swells^ 
Ami, blest l>eyoml Arcadian vales, 
Thev hear the S(^uni of Sabbath bells," 



DlSAl'l'UlNTMENT AM) KSTKANCilOMENT. 



203 



TAKK, O, TAKE THOSE 1-1 1'S AWAY.* 

Takk, (), take tliomi lips awny, 
Tliiit so Hwcetly wiTo IVii'HWcii'ii ; 

And llioHo I'ys, lil<»^ brc^nk nl'iliiy, 
liighls that ilo misli'ail lli'' iiicini ; 

But my kisses briii(,' hK"'"> 

Seals of lovo, but sealuil in viiiii. 

]liclr, (), bido those bills of snow 
Wbii'b lliy IVozen bosom bears, 

On wbose tops tlie pinks that ^I'ow 
Are yet of tbose thai A]iril wears ! 

liut tirst set my poor heart Tree, 

Bound in those iey chains liy thee. 

SnAKIlSPP.AKU ami JOHN FLUTCnilK. 



WHY so PALE AND WAN? 

Why so palo and wan, fond lover? 

I'r'y tbee, why so pale? 
Will, when looking well ean'l move ber, 

I.noking ill |iiovail ? 

I'r'y thee, why so pabi ? 

Why so dnll and mute, young sinner? 



■ I'r'y thee, why so mnli' ' 



Will, when speaking well can't win bor. 
Saying nothing do 't ? 
Try tbee, why so niuto? 

Quit, c|nit, for shame ! this will not move. 

This cannot lake ber ; 
If of herself she will not love. 

Nothing can make her : 

The devil take her ! 

SIR John sifCKMNc. 



OUTGROWN. 

Nay, you wrong her, my friend, she 's not Ik kic ; 

her love she has simjily outgrown : 
One can read th(! whole mattisr, translating ber 

heart by the light ol one's own. 

< 'an you beai' njc lo talk with you frankly ! There 
is niueb that my btart woulil say ; 

.And you know we were children together, have 
quarrelled and "made up" in play. 

And so, for the sake of old friendship, I venture 

to tell you the truth, - - 
As plainly, ia'rha|)s, and as bluntly, as I might 

in our earlier youth. 

• Tlic firsl ^liin/^ of this »on|{ apjicBrt in Sli.iicespcnrc''. 
Mf>iiurt for M/niiirt. Act iv. Sc. i. j tiic »aiiif. wirli Hie srronfi 
st.iiir.! aclfled, i% round in Ilcauinont and 1-lcti.iicr s ltioo:iv 
Hrpthtr, Act V. Sc. a. 



Kive siiminei's ago, when yoii wooed hei', you 

stood on the self-same piano, 
Kiice lo face, heart to heart, nevi'i' dn'iiniing V">ir 

.souIh could b>^ parted agaiii. 

Sill' liivcil yon at 1 bat time (intii'cly, in llii' bloom 

of her life's eai'ly May ; 
And il is not her I'aiill, I repi'ul il, that she docs 

not love you to-day. 

Natiii-e never stands still, nor souls cillier: Ibey 

evei' go tip 01" go down ; 
Anil bei'S has been steadily soaring, but how 

has it been with yoiir own '. 

She has ati'Uggled and yearned and aspil'ed, — 
gl'own pui'ei' and wisci" each ycai' : 

The stai-.s ai'e not farther above yoii in yon liimi- 
noiis atmosphei'e I 

Eor she whom yon crowned with I'i'esb roses, 
dowii yonilci', live Hiiiriiners ago, 

lias learneil that the liist of our duties to Clod 
and oui'selvcs is to gi'ow. 

Her eyes they ai'e sweeter and calmer ; lail tlicir 

visioii is ciciii'ci' MS well : 
llcr voice has a tciidcii'i' caili'iicc, but is puic as 

a silvci' bell. 

Ili'i' fi 1ms the look wiiiii by those who with 

(iod and his aiigels have tidkcd : 

The white I'obes she wears ai'e less white thaii 
I be spiiils with whom she has walked. 

And yon? Have yoii aimed at the highest? Have 
you, too, as|iii'i'd aiiil piayeil ? 

Have yon looked iipon evil Uiisullicil ? Have you 
I'linipici'cd it liiidisiiiayed ? 

Have you, too, gi'own pui'cr anil wisei', as the 
iiioiiths aiid the ycais have i'ollcd on ? 

Did yon iiieel ber this morning icjoicing iii tlio 
liiiniipb 111' vicloiy won ? 

Nay, liear ine I Tlin truth cannot liarm you. 

Wheii to-day iii ber pi'esence yon stood. 
Was the haiid that you gave her as white and 

clean as that of liei' wonianhond ? 

rio nieasurc yoiirself by ber standai'd. I-nok 
back on the yeai's that have lied ; 

Then ask, if you need, why she tells yoii that 
till' love of hel' gillboiiil is dead ! 

She cannot look down to ber lover : ber love, 

like ber soiil, aspii'cs ; 
He miist staiid by ber side, or above her, who 

would kiiidle its holy llies. 



264 



POEMS OF TlIK AFKMCTlON.s. 



Now fiivtnvell ! For the snko of old frioiulship 
I Imvi" ventured to tell ycni tlie trutli, 

As plainly, iierlia|is, and as bhmtly, as 1 might 
in our earlier youth. 



Jl^LIA C. R. DORK. 



ALAS ! 



HOW LU^.HT A 
MOVE. 



CAUSE MAY 



FROM "THR LlC.llT OF TUB HARUM." 

Ai..\s ! how light n cause may move 

Dissension between hearts that love ! 

Hearts that the woi-Ul in vain has tried, 

And sorrow but nuire closely tied ; 

That stood the storm when waves were rough, 

Yet in n svinny hour fall olf, 

Like ships that have gone down at sea, 

Wlun heaven was all traiupullity ! 

A something light as air, — a look, 

A word unkind or wrongly taken, — 
0, love that tempests never shook, 

A breath, a touch like this has shaken ! 
And ruder wonls will soon rush in 
To spread the breach that words begin ; 
And eyes forget the gentle ray 
They wore in eourtshiji's smiling liay ; 
And voices lose the tone that shed 
A tenderness round all they said ; 
Till fa.st declining, one by one, 
Tlu' sweetnesses of love are gone, 
And liearts. so lately mingled, seem 
Like broken clouds, — or like the stream, 
That smiling left the mountain's brow. 

As though its waters ne'er could sever, 
Yet, eiw it reach the plain below. 

Breaks into floods that part forever. 

you, that have the charge of Love, 

Keep him in rosy bondage bound, 
As in the Fields of Bliss above 

He sits, with tlowcrets fettered \ound ; — 
Loose not n tie that round him clings. 
Nor over let him use his wings ; 
For even an hour, a minute's (light 
Will rob the plumes of half their light. 
Like that ccle<tial bird, — whose nest 

Ls found beui'ath far Eastern skies, — 
Whose wings, though radiant wlu'U at rest. 

Lose nil their glory when he Hies 1 

THOMAS MOORH. 



AUX ITAl.lF.NS. 

At Paris it wa.s, at the opera tlu're ; 

And she looked like a ipu'cn in a book that 
night, 
■With the wiwith of pearl in her raven hair. 

And the brooch on her breast so bright. 



Of all the operas that Verdi wrote. 

The best, to my taste, is the Trovatore ; 
And Mario can soothe, with a tenor note. 
The souls in [lurgatory. 

The nuion on the tower slept soft as snow ; 

And who was not thrilled in the strangest way. 
As we heanl him sing, while the gas burned low, 

" XoH ti scordiir ili inc " ? 

The emperor there, in his box of state. 
Looked gi'ave, as if he had just then seen 

Tlu' red Hag wave from the city gate. 
Where his eagles in bronze had been. 

The empress, too, lind a tear in her eye : 

You 'd have said that her fancy had gone back 
again, 

For one moment, under the old blue sky. 
To the old glad life in .Spain. 

Well I there in our front-row box we sat 
Together, my bride betrothed and 1 ; 

My gaze was lixed on my opera hat, 
And hers on the stage hard by. 

And both were silent, and both were sad ; — 
Like a ipieen she leaned on her full white arm. 

With that regal, indolent air she had ; 
So conrulent of her charm ! 

I have not a dotibt .she was thinking then 
(.tf her foiiuer lord, good sold that he was. 

Who died the richest and roundest of men, 
The Marquis of t'arabns. 

I hope that, to get to the kingilom of heaven. 
Through a needle's eye he had not to pass ; 

I wish him well for the jointure given 
To my lady of Carabas. 

Meanwhile, I was thinking of my first love 
As 1 had not been thinking of aught for years; 

Till over my eyes there began to move 
Something that felt like teal's. 

I thought of the dress that she wore last time, 
When we stood 'neath the cypress-trees together. 

In that lo.st land, in that soft clime, 
In the crimson evening weather; 

Of that muslin divss (for the eve was hot) ; 

And her warm white neck in its golden chain ; 
And her full soft hair, just tied in a knot. 

And falling loose again ; 

And the jasmine llower in her fair young bicast ; 

(0 the faint, sweet smell of that jasmine tlower !) 
And the one bird singing alone to his nest ; 

And the one star over the tower. 



DISAPPOINTMENT AM) ES'l'l!AN(llO.\l K.N T. 



265 



1 thought of ouv little (luani'ls and strilV, 

And the k'tter that bnniglit nie liai'k my ring ; 

And it all si'cini'd then, iu the waste of life, 
Such a very little thing ! 

Kiir I thought of her grave Mow the hill, 
Wliiih the sentinel eypress-tree stands over : 

And I lliought, " Were she only living still, 
How I could forgive her and love her ! " 

And I swear,as I tlionghtof herthus, in that hour. 
And of how, after all, olil things are best, 

That I smelt the smell of that jasmine llower 
Which slie used to wear in her breast. 

It smelt so faint, and it smelt so sweet, 
It nnule me creep, and it nia<le me cold ! 

Like the scent that steals from the cnimbling sheet 
Where a nuiinniy is half unrolled. 

And 1 turned nnd Innked : .she was sitting tlwre. 
In a dim liox over tlie stage ; and drcst 

In that muslin dress, with that full soft hair. 
And that jasmine in her breast ! 

I was here, and slie was there ; 

And tile glitteringhorseshoe curved betW(^en 1 — 
Krom my bride betrothed, with her raven hair 

And her sunijituous scornful mien. 

To my early love with her eyes downcast, 
And over her primrose face the shade, 

(In short, from the future back to the past,) 
There was but a step to be made. 

To my early love from my future bride 

One moment I looked. Then 1 stole tothedoor, 

I traversed the passage ; and down at lier side 
1 was sitting, a moment more. 

My thinking of her, or the music's strain, 
Or soinetliing wliicli never will be exprest. 

Had brought her back from the grave again, 
With tlie jasmine in her breast. 

She is not dead, and she is not wed ! 

Hilt she loves me now, and she loved niethen ! 
And the very first word that her sweet lips said, 

.My heart grew youthful again. 

The marchioness there, of Carabas, 

She is wealtliy, and young, and handsome still ; 
.\nd but for her — well, we '11 let tliat pass ; 

.She may marry whomever she will. 

Hut I will marry my own first love. 

With lier primrose face, for old things arc best ; 
And the llower in her bosom, I prize it above 

'I'he brooch in niv ladv's breast. 



The world is filled with folly and sin. 
And love must cling where it can, I say : 

Vor beauty is easy enough to win ; 
Hut one is n't loved every day. 

And 1 think, in the lives of most women and men, 
There 's a nionieiit when all would go smootli 
and even. 

If only the dead coiilil lind out when 
To come back and be forgiven. 

Hut O, the smell of that jasmine Mower ! 

And O, tliat mnsie ! and 0, the way 
That voice rang out from the donjon towor, 

iVo?^ li scordar cli me, 
Non li scordar di mc ! 

ROltURT BULWIiR.LVTTON [Owfn Meredilh). 



THE POllTUAIT. 

MiDNliMlT jiast ! Not a sound of aught 
Through the silent house, but the wind at his 
prayers. 

I sat by the dying fire, and thouglit 
Of the dear dead woman up stairs. 

A night of tears ! for the gusty rain 

Had ceased, but the eaves were ilripping yet ; 
And the moon looked forth, as though in pain, 

With her face all white and wet ; 

Nolwdy with me, my watcli to keep, 

Hut the friend of my bosom, the man I love : 

And grief had sent him fast to sleep 
In the chamber lip above. 

Nobody else, in the country place 

All round, that knew of my loss beside, 

But the good young I'rii'st with tlii! Hapliael-face, 
Who confessed her when she died. 

That good young Piiest is of giMitle nerve. 

Ami my grief had moved him beyond control; 

For his lip grew white, as I could observe, 
Wlii'ii he speeded her parting soul. 

I sat by the dreary hearth alone : 
1 thought of the iileasant days of yore : 

I said, " The atalf of my life is gone : 
The woman I loved is no more. 

"On her cold dead bosom my portrait lies, 
Wliicli next to her heart she used to wear — 

Haunting it o'er with her tender eyes 
When my own face was not there. 

" It is set all round willi rubies red. 

And pearls which a I'eri might have kept. 

For each ruby there my heart hath bled : 
For each pearl my eyes have wept." 



266 



I'OEiMS Ul'' THE AFFECTIONS. 



And I said — " The thiiif; is precious to me : 
Tliey will bury her suou in the eliurehyard 
clay ; 

It lies on her lieiirt, iind losl must lie 
ir 1 do not take it awiiy. " 

I lifjlited my lamp at the dyinf; flame. 

And erept up the stairs that ereaUed I'or flight, 

Till into tlie chaniher ot death I eanie, 
Where she lay all in white. 

The moon shone over hor winding-sheet, 
Tlieri^ stark she lay ou her e.arven bed : 

Seven burning tapers about lier IVet, 
And seven about her head. 

As 1 stretched my hand, 1 held my breath ; 

1 turned as 1 drew the eurUiins a|iart . 
I dareil not look ou the lace of death : 

I knew where to find her heart. 

I thouglit at lirst, as my touch tell there, 

It hail warmed that heart to lite, with love ; 

For the thing 1 louelieil was warm. I .swear, 
And I eouUI I'eel it move. 

'T was the hand of a mini, that was moving 
slow 
O'er the heart of the dead, — IVoni the other 
side : 
And at once the sweat broke over my brow : 
" Who is robbing the corpse ! " 1 cried. 

Opposite me by the tapers' light, 

The friend of my bosom, the man 1 loved. 

Stood over the corpse, and all as white, 
And neither of us moved. 

"What do you lii're, my friend /". . . The man 
Looked tirst at me, and then at the dead. 

"There is a portrait here," he began ; 
"There is. It is mine," I said. 

Said the friend of my bosom, "Yours, no doubt, 
The pm-trait was, till a month ago, 

When this snlfering angel took that out. 
And placed mine there, I know." 

" This woman, she loved me well," said 1. 

" A month ago," said my friend to me : 
" And in your throat," I groaned, " you lie ! " _ 

He answered, ..." Let us see." 

" Enough !" 1 returned, " let the dead decide : 
And whosesoever the portrait prove, 

His shall it be, when tlje cause is tried. 
Where Death is arrjiigned by Love." 



We found the portrait there, in its place : 
We opened it by the tapers' shiuo : 

The gems were all unchanged : the face 
Was — neither his uur mine. 



1 



" I hie nail drives cnit anntlier, at least ! 

The face ol the portrait there," 1 cried, 
" Is our friend's, the Hapluo'l-faced young Priest, 

Who confessed her wlicn she ilicd." 

The setting is all of rubies red. 

And pearls which a I'eri might have kept. 
For each ruby there my heart hatli bled ; 

For each pearl my eyes have wept. 

KOBERT BULWEK-LVTTON {Owfit Afcrt,/ifJii> 



THE KO.MAUNT OF THE HOSE. 

FROM "VIGNEmiS IM RHVME." 

Poor Rose ! I lift you from the street — 

Far better 1 should own you 
Than you should lie for random feet 

Where careless hands have thrown you. 

Poor piidcy petals, crushed and torn ! 

Did heartless .Mayfair use ycai, 
Then cast you forth to lie forlorn. 

For I'hariot-wheels to bruise you .' 

I saw you last in Edith's luiir. 

Kose, you would scarce di.seover 
That 1 she passed upon the stair 

Was Edith's favorcil lover, 

A month — "a little month" — ago — 

theme for moral writer ! — 
"I'wi.xt you and me, my Hose, you know. 

She might have been politer ; 

But let that |iass. She gave you then — 

Behind the oleander — 
To one, perhaps, of all the men. 

Who best couhl iiudcrstaud her. 

Cyril, that, duly llattered, took, 

As only Cyril 's able. 
With just the same .\rcailian look 

He used, last night, for Mabel ; 

Then, having waltzed till every star 

Had paled away in morning. 
Lit up his cynical cigar. 

And tossed you downward, scorning. 

Kismt'l, my Hose ! Hevenge is sweet, — 

She made my heart-strings quiver ; 
And yet — you sha'n't lie in the street, 

1 'U drop you in the River. 

.\t'STlN DORSON 



lilSAI'l'OINTMENT AM) ESl'UANGEMENT. 



1^(1' 



TRANSIENT BEAUTY. 

PROM "Tim GIAOUR." 

As, rising on its purplo wing, 
Tlie insi'i't-iiucfn of Eiistcin spring, 
O'er I'nirniUl nii'iulows of Kiislnncer, 
Invites llic VDUii}; pursuer wi-m; 
Ami li'iiils liini on IVoni llciwer to lldwer, 
A wi'arv eliiiso iiiiil vviistcil limir. 
Then leaves liini, us it soiiis on liigli, 
Witli panting' lieait iniil leiiilul eye ; 
So lieauty lures the I'ull-jirowii ehiUl, 
With hue lis lii-ifjlit, iinil vvinil iis wild ; 
A <"!nise of iiile hopes ami Tears, 
lii'guu in tolly, eloseil in tears, 
ir won, to eipial ills betrayed. 
Woe waits the inseet an<l the niiiiil : 
A lile of pain, the lo.ss of peaee. 
From infant's play ami man's caprice ; 
Till' lovely toy, so lierccly soufjht, 
llatli lost its charm by being caught ; 
Kor every toiu:h that wooed its stay 
Ilath brushed its brightest hues away. 
Till, eharni and hue and beauty goiu', 
"Y is left to lly or fall alone. 
With woundoil wing or bleeding breast, 
Ah ! where shall either victim rest ? 
Can this with faded iiinion soar 
From rose to tulip as before ? 
Or lieauty, blighted in an hour, 
Fiiul joy within her broken bower ? 
No ; gayer in.sects lluttering by 
Ne'er droo]i the wing o'er those that die. 
And lovelier things have mercy shown 
To every failing but their own, 
And every woe a tear can cluini. 
Except an erring sister's shame. 



W( I.MAN'S INCONSTANCY. 

I i.nvKi) tliee once, I '11 love no more, 
Thine bo the grief a-s is the Idame ; 
Thou art not what thou wast before. 
What rea.son 1 should be the sanu- .' 
lie that can love unloved again, 
Ilath better store of love than brain : 
God sends me love my debts to pay. 
While uutlirifts fool their love away. 

Nothing could have my love o'crthrown. 

If thou hadst still continued mine ; 
Yea, if thou hadst reuuiined thy own, 
1 might perchance have yet been thine, 
liiit thou thy freedom didst recall. 
That if thou might elsewhere inthrall ; 
And then how could I but disdain 
A captive's captive to renniiu I 



Wlien new desires had coni|uered thee, 
And changed the object of thy will, 
It had been lethargy in me, 

Not constancy, to love thee still. 

Yea, it had been a sin to go 

And' ]iroslitute iill'ection so. 

Since we are taught no prayers to say 

To such as nuist to otiieis pray. 

Yet do thou glory in thy choice. 

Thy choice of his good foi'tune boast ; 
I '11 neither grieve nor yet rejoice. 
To sec him gain what I have lost ; 
The height of my disdain shall be. 
To hiugh at him, to lilush for thee ; 
To love thee still, but go no more 
A begging to a beggar's door. 

SIR ROUIiRT AVION. 



LADY CI.AKA VKKK DK VERE. 

Lady Clara Vcre de Yere, 

Of me you shall not win renown ; 
You thought to break a country heart 

For pastime, ere you went to town. 
At me you sudled, but unlieguilcd 

I saw the snare, and I retired : 
The daughter of a hundred Kails, 

You are not one to be desired. 

Lady ( 'lara Vcre de Vere, 

1 know you jiroud to bear your name ; 
Your pride is yet no male for mine. 

Too jiroiid to care from whence 1 came. 
Nor would I break for your sweet sake 

A liimt that dotes on truer charms. 
A simple maiden in her Mower 

Is worth a hundred coats-of-arms. 

Lady Clara Vere de Vere, 

Some meeker pupil you must tind. 
For were you ipieen of all that is, 

I could not stoop to .such a mind. 
You sought to prove how 1 could love. 

And my disdain is my reply. 
The lion on your old stone gates 

Is not more cold to you than I. 

Lady Clara Vcre de Vere, 

You put strange memories in my head. 
Not thrice your bramhing limes have blown 

Since I beheld young Laurence dead. 
your sweet eyes, your low replies ; 

A great enchantress you may be ; 
But there was that across his throat 

Which yon had hardly cared to see. 



208 



rOE.MS OF TllK AKFECriOXS. 



l.!\(ly Cliwii Veil' ill' Vi<n', 

Wlii'ii 1 1ms lio mot his motlu'i's view, 
Slio liiul tlu> imssiims nl' lioi' kiiui, 

Slu' siHiUo sniiu' I'l'i'tiiiu Imllis i>r you. 
liiiliu'il 1 lu'iiul 0111' liiltiT wonl 

'I'IkiI si'iiivi" is lit I'oi' you lo lioiiv ; 
lli'i maiiuors luul not tliut ivposo 

Wlliill slilUips llh' I'Msti- ol' Vt'lv ili> VoiV. 

l.aily I'luni Vcvo >lo Vciv, 

'riu'iv stjiuils a spiH'tiv in yoiir tiull : 
'l"li<> si'ill I'l lilooil is lit youi' ilom- : 

You oliuMjti'il n wluilosoiui' ln-iirl to jjj\ll. 
You lu'Ul youi' ooui-si' willuiut iviuorsi'. 

To m:iko liini trust liis inoilost wovtli, 
Anil, liist, you IInoiI a viuant stiiii', 

.\nil slew liiui with your nohU' hiith. 

'I'nisl nil', I'lini Voiv ih' Vi'iv. 

Vwm yon hluo lu'iivi'n^ ahovo ns Ivnl 
'I'lii' j;nu\il olil gaiili'Ui'r ami his w ifo 

Sniilo at the ilaiins of long lU'Si'onl. 
llovvc'i'v il ho, it si'onis to ino. 

"P is only nolilo to lie goml. 
Kinil hi'arts aiv moiv than cimmots, 

.Vuil siuipli' I'ailh Ihau Noruiau hlooil. 

1 know you. t'lani Voiv ilo Voiv : 

You pino anions; your halls ami towel's : 
'I'ho lansuiil light of your (UMUil oyos 

Is woarii'il ot the rolling lioni-s. 
Ill glowii'g hoaltli, with houmlloss woaltli, 

lint sii'ki'iiing of a vagno ilisoaso, 
Yon know so ill to iloal with tiino, 

You lu'oils must play such pranks as thoso. 

Clam, I'lai-;! Voiv ilo Voiv, 

If Timo bo lioavy on your hands, 
Aiv thoiv no hoggju-s at your gato, 

Nor any poor ahout your lamls f 
Oh ! toaoh tlio orphan-lKiy to ivad, 

tlr toaoh tlio orphan-gill to sow, 
Tniy lloavon lor a human hoart, 

Ami lot Iho foolish yiMinan go. 

Al.VRHD TBNN\*S0N. 



l.IKKS ON lSAr.i:i.l..\ MA1!KIIAM, 

WiiKNiT. oonios my lovo > O houit. ilisoloso ; 
It was fiMin oliiH'ks that shamoil tlio i\>se, 
Ki\)m li|>s that spoil tho ruhy"s pi-iiiso, 
bVnn oyos that inook tho iliainoinVs blaic : 
Wlioiioo oomos my ww • as fivoly own ; 
.\h mo ! 't was t'liuii n hoart like stoiio. 

Tho hlushing oluvk apx-.-iks modest iniml, 
Tho lips Wlitling wiwls most kind, 



Tho oyo does toinpl to love's dosiiv, 
Ami seems to say 't is Cupid's lire ; 
Y'ot nil so fair hut speak my moan. 
Sitli nouglit doth say tho heart of stone. 

Why thus, my lovo, so kind Ik'sponk 

Sweet oyo, sweet lip, sweet hlushing oheok — 

Vet not « heart to save my pain ; 

I'* Venus, take thy gifts again ! | 

Make not so fair to oauso our moan. 

Or make a heart that 's like our own. 

John IIAKRINOTON. 



Till'. VOW. 

In holy night wo made tho vow ; 

.\nd the same lamp whieh long hol'oiv 
Had seen our early passion givw 

Was witness to the faith we sworo. 

Pill I not swear to love her ever ; 

.Villi have I over daivd to ixivo I 
Pill she not own a rival never 

Should shako her faith, or steal her love? 

Y'ot now she says those woi\ls woiv air. 
Those vows weiv written all in water. 

And l\v the lamp that .saw her swear 
Has yielded to the lirst that sought her. 

l^ini (he crock of Mltt.KAGI'K. 
TrAII^Ulioi) of JOM.\ HtiKMAN MUKIVALB. 



WAl.V. WAIA'. Bl'T l.OVK HE BONNY. 

l^, w.vi.Y. waly up the hmk. 
And waly, waly down the brae. 

And waly, waly yon burn side, 
Wlieiv 1 and my love wont to gne. 

1 loaned my Iviok unto an aik, 
1 thought it was a trusty tree : 

But tii'st it bowed, ami syne it brak — 
Sao my true love did lightly me ! 

l\ waly, waly, but lovo Ih> Kinny, 

A little time while it is now ; 
Bnt when 'tis auld it waxeth eanld. 

And fades aw-ay like tJie morning dew. 

0, wheivfoiv should 1 bnsk my head ? 

l1r wheivfoiv should I kanie my li.^ir » 
Kor my true lovo has me foreook, 

And .s;»ys he '11 never lovo me nniir. 

Now .\rthu»--Seat shall Ih> iny bwl : 
The shwts shall ne'er Ik- fyled by ine ; 

Siiint .\iiton"s well shall Ih> my drink, 
Sinoo niv true love has foi-s;ikeii me. 







MI'.MORY. 

Olll nl 111)' (l(iiii\.ml lll.l|)lc 
^ A (gilded l.allct Irll, 
^Tvvinklinj^ down on :i siml)c;im, 
I.iki' music from ,i Ih'II. 

Nor hand npr toot disturhod it, 
/\ndi (rolii'soinr jjiists o( air, 
ling the Wjiy.sidc- alums, 
.ncgd^onAaiMfclcfbi^ there. 

Wa)^ it-_)vasted \ 

(iVifw- a^fihii^rcm;iini-d — 
(tcjil liba^,,•a^ shadow, 
U \^\M\lJ>V/\\i.\\ it lanu-d. 

°V ^^ ■'■'■'> 

n the stained (oot-xvay, 
Etchr<l where ihe j^old diad' lam, 
A dfhcate shape -a spi'rit' - , I U'jiW.^.-A*, ,^^ 
Tarried in wind and '^'hv(( [ H ' A^^ 




^^ ^ 




rARllNC.. 



li ihoii (lost bill tlu' iVu'iul laii'wrll. 

Hut fur one niijht though ih.il laivucll ni:i}- be, 

Press thou liis hand in thine. 

How eansi ihou tell hou I'ar tVoin tliee 

I'ate or eapriee may lead his steps ere that to-morrow comes? 

Men have lieen known to lightlv turn the corner of a street. 

And davs lia\e grown to nionlhs. and months lo lagging years, 

Kre they have looked in loving eyes again. 

I'arting, at best, is underlaid 

\\ ith tears and pain. 

'rheret'ore, lest suilden death should come between, 

Or time, or distance, clasp with pressme lirm 

'I'he hand of him who goeth t'orih ; 

I'nseen, l'"ate goelli too. 

Yes, tind thou always time to say some earnest word 

IJetween the idle talk. 

Lest with thee hencelbrth. 

Night and day, regret should walk 



II 



Covin ^R^ I'.vrMORt.. 



DISAl'l'dlNTMKNT AND KSTltANCiKMK.NT. 



2('>'.) 



MnrtitiniiiH wind, when wilt tliou liluw, 
Anil slmkf tin' (jiwn Iriivt's nil' tlm tri'e ? 

gi'ntlu ilcatli, wlirn wilt tlion conic I 
For of my lilu 1 'ni wenry. 

'Tis not the frost llmt freezes fell, 
Nor Mnwiijg simw's inelenieney ; 

'T is not sic eiuilil Ihat nmkcs nie cry, 
Uut my love's lieiirt grown caiilil to mo. 

When wo cnmo in by (!lnsj,'ow town. 
We were ji comely siglit to see ; 

My love WHS clml in tlie liliiek velvet, 
And I inysell in crniniisie. 

Hot liiid I wist, before I kissed, 
Tliiit love had been sae ill to win, 

1 'd locked my heart in a case of gold. 

And jiinned it with a silver pin. 

Oh, oh, if my yonng lialie were horn, 
And set \ipon the nnr.se's knee, 

And 1 niyscU were dead and gane. 
And the green grass growiji' over mo I 

ANONY.MOU3. 



I.ADY ANN nir|'||\\'Kl,I,',s LAMENT. 

A scmrisH soNi;, 

Bai.ow, my babe, ly stil and sleipo I 
It grieves mo sair to see thee weipu ; 
If thonst ho silent, Ise be glad. 
Thy maining ninks my heart fnl sail, 
lialow, my boy, thy niitlier's joy ! 
Thy father breides ine great annoy. 

Jiit/nir, my bahi\ /?/ stil mill shApc I 
ll grieves me siiir In see lliee wcipc. 

When he began to conrt my Inve, 
And with his sngred words lo ninve, 
liis faynings I'aU jind llallcring ciieirc 
To me that time ilid not appeire : 
Hnl now 1 see, most crnell hee, 
Cares neither for my babe nor nice. 
llii/uii; etc. 

Ly stil, my ilarlinge, sleijii^ awhih'. 
Ami when thon wakest swi'itly smile : 
Hut smile not, as thy father did, 
To cozen maiils ; nay, (!od forbid I 
lint yette I feiie, thon wilt gai- neire, 
Thy fatlieri.s hart and face to beiro. 
Iliitoic, etc, 

I cnnnao elinse, but ever will 
He Inving to thy father stil : 
WImiroir bo gae, whaireir ho ry<Ie, 
My hive with him nuuiti stil abyde : 



In Weil or wae, whaireir he gae. 
Mine halt can ncii' tlepart him frac, 
J>iifini\ etc. 

Hut doe nol, dui' not, jirettie mine, 
To faynings hds thine hart incline ; 
He loyal to thy Invcr trcw. 
Anil ncvir change hir lor a new ; 
If gnde or hiirc, of hir have care, 
Kor wonicns luinning's wondenms sair. 
liiilmi\ etc. 

Hairnc, sin Ihy cruel i'ather is gane, 
Thy winsonui smiles maun cise uiy piiine ; 
iMy babe and I 'II together live, 
He'll cond'ort nn' when cares doo grieve ; 
My biibe and I right saft will ly, 
And ipiilc I'orgcit man's crnelty. 
JIii/dio, I'te. 

Karcweil, farcwcil, Ihou falsest youth 
That ever kist a woman's mouth I 
I wish all nndds be warned by moo, 
Nevir to trust man's curtesy ; 
Kor if wo doe but chance to how, 
They '11 use us then they caro not how. 

Jh(/iiii; 1111/ hiihe, ly dil iiuil xle've ! 

II ijrieites iiie siiir In .ice thee U'e.ipe. 

ANONYMOUS. 



MY HEin IS MKE TO IfEND, WILMK. 

My heid is like lo rend, Willie, 

My heart is like to break ; 
I 'ni wearin' alf my I'eci, Willie, 

I 'm dyin' for your sake ! 
0, lay your check to niiiu', Willie, 

Your hand on my hriest-bana, — 
0, say ye 'II think on me, Willie, 

When I am ilcid and gane ! 

It's vain lo cond'ort me, Willie, 

.Sair grief maun ha'e its will ; 
Hut let me rest upon your brii'st 

To sab and greet my lill. 
Let me sit on your knee, Willie, 

Let me shed by your hair, 
And look into the lace, Willie, 

I never .sail see niair ! 

I'm sittin' on your knee, Willie, 

Kor the hist time in my life, — 
A jaiir heart-broken thing, Willie, 

A inither, yet nac wile. 
Ay, jiress your hand ujion my heart, 

And press it niair and mair. 
Or it will burst the silken twine, 

Sae Strang is its despair. 



70 



l-OKMS dl' TIIK .\1'I''K<T10NS. 



0, Wttp's iiu> for llu> lumr, Willii', 

Wlii'ii wo tlii'jjitlu'i' mot, - 
0, \vni>'s 1110 I'lir till' tiiiu>, Willie, 

Thiit mil' lii'st tryst was sot, ! 
0, who's 1110 I'm' tlio loaiiin' }{ivou 

Wlioit" wo woro wKiil 111 fjiui, - - 
Ami who's mo leu llio ilosiinio 

'I'llill Kllll 1110 lllvi' Uiri' silo ! 

0, iliiiim luiiiil my uonls, Willio, 

1 ilinviiii sook III liliiiiio ; 
Hut <\ it 's liiiiM to livo. Willio. 

Ami ilivo a waiM's sliaiiio ! 
llol toais ai'«> liailiu' owor yoiu' ohook. 

Ami liailin' owoi- your oliiii : 
Why woop yo sao for woilliloasuoss, 

Kor sorrow, ami lor sin I 

1 "m woary o'lliis warlil. Willio, 

.Ami siok wi' a' 1 soo, 
1 liiiiiia livo as 1 lia'o livoil, 

Or Ix' as 1 slioiilil lio. 
lint lauM iiiilo your lioart, Willio, 

'I'lio lioiivt thai still is lliiuo. 
Ami kiss aiioo iiiair tho wliito, whito ohook 

Yo saiil was roil laujfsyuo. 

A stouii' )pios thi'ouf'li my hoiil, Willio, 

A sair stmiu' thi-ouj?h my lioart ; 
O, liauil uio u|i ami lot mo kiss 

Thy UiMw oiv wo twa jiairt. 
Auitlior, ami aiiitlior yot ! - 

How fast my lil'ost rings bivnk ! — 
Kait'wool ' t'aivttool ! lliiiunjli you kirk-jiiixl 

Stop liolilly lor my sako ! 

Tho lav'i-ook in tlio lill, Willio, 

That lilts tar owor our lioiil. 
Will sing tho morn as morrilio 

Almuo tho olay-oaulil iloiil ; 
Ami this givoii tiiif wo iv sittin' on, 

Wi' ilowilrn|>s shimiuorin' shoon, 
Will hap tho lioart that liivit tlico 

.\s warhl has soUloiu soon, 

lUit O, ri'uiomhor mo, Willio, 

On lanil whoiv'or yo In" : 
Ami O, think on tlio loal, Iwil hrtirt. 

That iio'or luvil auo Iml tlioo ' 
Ami 0, tliiuk ou tho oiiuhl, oaulil niools 

That tlio my yoUow hair. 
That kiss tho ohook, ami kiss tho ohin 

Yo i.ovor sail kiss luair ! 

WlLl.lAM MorHBK\vm.u 



"1 lovoil, ■ ami, hliiiil with imssiounto lovo, I 

loll. 
liOVO hiMiight mo ilowii In iloalli, ami iloalli to 

Uoll : 
l''or luiil is jusl, ami iloalli I'nr sin is woll. 

" 1 ilo not rago against his high ilooroo, 
Nov lor mysoU'ilo ask that graoo shall ho ; 
Uul lor my lovo on oailli who niouriis for mo. 

"llivat Spirit ! l,ol mo .si'o my lovo again 
Ami oomrorl him oiio lioiir, ami I woro fain 
To pay a thoiisMiiil yoars of liio ami pain," 

Thou saiil tho pitying aiigol, " Nay, ropont 
That Willi vow ! Look, tho ilial liiigor 's lioiit 
Uowii to llio last hour of thy |iiiiiislinioiit ! " 

Uut still slio wailoil, " 1 pray tlioo, lot mo go I 
I oaiinol riso to poaoo ami loavo liiin so. 
O, lot mo siiollio him in his hit tor woo I " 

Tho hra.'ou gatos giouml snllonly ajar, 
.'Vml upwaiil, joyous, liko a rising star, 
Sho ixiso ami vanishoil in llio ollior far. 

Hut soon ailown (ho living siinsol sailing. 
Anil liko a woiimloil hiul lior pinions trailing, 
Sho llultoivil luik, with hrokon-lioartoil wailing. 

Sho snhhoil, " 1 foiiuil him hy I ho sumiuor son 
lioolinoii, his hoail upon a maiilon's kiioo, — ■ 
Sho ourloii liis hair ami kissoil liini. Woo is mo I " 

Sho wojil, " Now lot my puiiishniont lH>gin I 
I havo boon foml ami loolish. l,ot nio ill 
To oxpiato my soriinv ami my sin." 

Tho aiigi'l answoroil, " Nay, sad soul, gvi higher ! 
To ho iloooivoil ill your triio lioart 's ilosiiv 
Was biHoivr than a tliousaml yoars of lii-c !" - 

John Hay. 



A WOMAN'S l.OVK, 

A SKN'TIKKI. augi'l, sitting high in .glory, 
lloiml this shrill wail rinjf out fi\im rni-gatvuy 
" Haw moivy, mighty aiigx'l, luH\r my story ! 



4 



PKAI'll AM' I'llK VOri'll 

" Nor yot, tho tlowoi-s aiv in my l>iith, 

Tho sun is in tho sky ; 
Not yot, my lioart is full of hopo, 

1 oaiinot hoar lo ilio, 

" Not yot. 1 iiovor know till now 
Mow pivoious lifo oouhi Ix' ; 

My hoart is full of lovo, O Ooath ! 
1 CAiiiiot oomo with thoo ! " 

Uul l.ovo ami Hopo, onoliantoil twniii, 
Tassoil in thoir falsohnoil hy ; 

Tloath oamo again, aiul tlioii ho s;iiil, 
" 1 'ill ivaily now to dip I " 

I.WTIVIA Ul.lIAnHrit I.AN-nON 



I'UACMKNTS. 



•271 



FUAdMKNTS, 

KiiAiiiii I V 111' lidvr.. 

Tlii'ii' lives wiUiiii llii' vfiv lliiriie iiC liiV" 
A kliiil III' wirk III' Miiill' tliul will iilmln il. 

lUmlil. ,UI Iv. if. I. ;>llAKlrilliAluu 

Till' hi'iirt ! \m, 1 wmii it 

As si^'ii anil iis liikrii 
Of u liivn lliiit iinrii Kiivo it, 

A viiw (lull wiiH H|i(ikiMi ; 
Itlll 11 liivi', iinil II VIIW, ami a lii'iti't, 

('an lio lii'iiki'ii. 

Ih.titt. A A. I'KiiCII'.U. 

A liivi' llial tiMik nil rally runt. 
Anil luiil III! I'liily iliiiini. 



I. K. Ill l<\i'\' 



I''ai,.sk lliii'H. 

Jl(i|H' li'lls a llattiirinf{ tain, 
Di'Iiisivr, vain, anil linllnw, 

All, li'l nut llii|iii piiiviiil, 
1,1'Ht ilisa|i|iiiiiitiii>'iil I'lilliiw. 



MisH WKinllr.il. 



Incdnhtasoy ok Man. 
.Si^li nil niiiir, lailii'H, alf^h iiii iiiulu, 

.Mrii wiTr ilria'iviiiM cvi'i' ; 
Oni' flint in si'ii mill iiiin iin slioro ; 

To mil' tiling riiiiHtiiiit iiiivur. 

UtifM ^itit tihoHl .VatHlHg, Wr/ll.if. > SIIAKKSrilAill'. 

Tlirt'i' is no iniiHir in u voirii 

'I'liat is lint mil', iiinl still tlin Niiinii ; 
IliroiiNtaiiry is hut a iiiiinn 

To frij^lii poor lovuis Inini ii Imllnr i;liiiiii'. 

Stufhrrtf I llaitiiay. j. nil I I I'll, 

Tlin fianil of iiuin was iivit ko 
■Siiit'i- Hiiinini'r Hist was li'iify. 

Mutk Ado .ibiMil Nalhini:, ^<l{\, St \ SIIAKKSI-r.AKI'.. 

O lionvoii ! WITH iiian 
lint I'onstant, In- wcih iierfiict ; that nni) nior 
Kills liiiii witli faults. 

Iwa (.tnUtmtti 9/ t'trana, Att V. Ar, 4. SlIAKDHI'IIAHl'.. 



iNidNMTANt.'V Of Woman. 
Tlii'ii' all' lliii'ii tliiii){s a wisii man will not Inint : 
Till' winil, till' Hiiiisliinii of an Ajiiil iliiy. 
Ami wiiman'N |ili^litii<l faith. 



Willi ti'iistN liiiiiHiilf til woniaii or tn wavan 
Should lU'Vi'i' liazai'd what hu fuai'u to lost). 
Uovtrnitr nf Cy/ruj, oi.nMlxoN. 

Away, away — you 'in all 1 lin Hanin, 
A llultni'iiiK, NiiillinK, .jilliiiK lliroiiK I 
O, liy my soul, 1 laiin willi sliainn. 
To think 1 'vn lii'i'ii yiiiir ulava so liuiK ' 

1. Moiaiii. 



TllK DlHAIMMllN'I'l'.ll lll'.AIlT. 
'I'llii nilil thii rlialif^ril |ii'l'i'lmiiiMi llic iliiiil 

ainiw, 
Tlir nionrmiil, tha lovml, tin* limt too many 1 - 
yat how low I 

Chilil> ll.inU, CM l». IIVUON 

III! Hot ill'n|l ill Iiii all all I'l'-losH. 

Ah.ilo not, wlii'ii my liaa It hath hi'iijiimI til is sorrow, 
Comii ill tllii ii'iii'Waiil of a i;iiiii|iiiiliiil won ; 
divi' not a wimly iiif^hl a rainy monow. 
To linear out a |iui'|iosi-il oviil'thrinv. 

Smiltl ,Vi:. .'illAKhlil'llAII II. 

I havii not lovail t)io woilil, imi' llm wmlil ma. 

CIllMr ll.irM. Cfint. III. UVUUN. 

At lliiaiiHi'orii wiiitai's' anil 1 iliail, 

A I'hi'i'i'lass Ill-ill^, sola ami Hiiil ; 
Till' iiii|itiiil kiiiit I ni'Vi'i' lii'il, 

Anil wish my fatliar iiavi'r liiiil. 

/■null t/ir i.rfefi I OWI'I'-ll'tt TfiilMf. 

Alii'i ' till' lii'i'iist that inly lili'i'ils 
lliilli iiaiif^hl to ili'i'iiil fi'oiii oiihvanl hlow : 
Who IiiIIh fioiii all lin knows of lilisM 
('airs lilllii into what ahyss. 

/A/ l.'luOMr. DVUON. 



V 



rOKMS OK 'I'lII''. Al'l'KCriONS. 



V 



BEREAVEMENT AND DEATH. 



UESIGNATION. 

Thkre is no Hock, however watclioil mul ti'iidocl, 

Hut Olio dead liiiub is tliom ! 
Tlii'i'o is no tii'i'sidc, liowsoo'cr ddViidi'd, 

lUit 1ms oiu' viu'ant I'linir ! 

The nil' is full of riircwoUs to tlm dying, 

And niomiuMjjs for the di'iid ; 
Tlu' lu'iirt of HiK'licl, for hor idiildron crying, 

Will not bo ooml'orti'd ! 

Let us lu' piitii'nt ! 'I'lu'so scvoro alllictions 

Not from tlio ground iiriso. 
But oftoiitinn's cflostiid beui'dictions 

Assume this dark disguise. 

Wo SCO but dimly through tho mists nnd vnpors ; 

Amid those oiirthly diiunis 
What sooni to us but sad, fuuoroal taiiors 

May bo hoavon's distant lamps. 

Thoro is no Pi-atli ! What sooms so is transition : 

'I'his life of mortal breath 
Is but a suburb of tho life olysian. 

Whoso portal wo call Peatli. 

She is not dead, — the child of our alVoction, — 

lUit gone unto that school 
Where she uo longer needs our poor protection, 

And fhrisl himself doth rule. 

In that givat cloister's stillnes.s ami secln^ion, 

Ky gnaitlian angels led. 
Safe from temptation, safe fiinn sin's pollution. 

She lives wluun we call dead. 

Pay after day we think what she is doing 

In those bright realms of air ; 
Year after year, her tender steps pursuing, 

HehoUl her grown more fair. 

Thus do we walk with her, and l;eep unbroken 

The bond which nature gives. 
Thinking that our remembrance, though un- 
spoken, 

Hay ivttch her whoit> slio lives. 

Not as a child shall we again behold her ; 

For when with raptuix's wild 
In our en\braces we again enfold her, 

She will not be a child : 



lint a fair nnuden, in her Father's mansion, 

t'lotliod with celestial grace ; 
Anil beautiful witli all the soul's expansion 

Shall wi' beliold her face. 

And though, at times, im]ietnons with emotion 

And anguish long suiipressed. 
The .swelling heart heaves moaning like the ocean, 

That cannot he at rest, — 

We will bf patient, and assuage the feeling 

We uniy not wluilly stay ; 
Hy silence sanctifying, not concealing. 

The grief that must have way. 

iii-:\KV waoswokth Longfellow. 



HUiaKO TO-PAY. 

lil'UlEli to-day. 

When the soft green hmls are bursting out. 
And up on the south-wind comes a shout 

or village boys and girls at play 

In the mild spring evening gray. 

Taken away. 

Sturdy of heart and stont of limb. 
From eves that ilicw lialf their light fivm 
him, 

.\nd put low, low luiderneatli the clay. 

In his spring, — on this spring day. 

Passes away. 

All the pride of boy life begun, 

All the hope of life yet to run ; 
Who dares to ipiestion when One saith "Nay." 
Murmur not, — only pray. 

Entoi's to-day 

Another body in idinivhyaul sod, 
Another soul on the life in Ood. 

His Christ was luiried ^and lives alway : 

Trust Uim, and go your way. 

raXAll MAKIA MOLOCK CKAIK. 



I 



c.VAiy voK Tilt; mcAii. 

iiEAKTs that never oonsc to yearn ! 

O brimming tears that ne'er aiv dried • 
The dead, though they depart, ivturn 

As though thev had not died ! 



BKKEAVKMKNT AND DK.VTll. 



273 



I 



t 



Tlie liviiij; nro tlip only ileiid ; 

Till' ili'iul livi", — iievt'inioro to dii' ; 
Aiut uftt'ii, wlivii wc iiiuiini tticiii lli'il, 

They never wore so nigli ! 

Anil tlioUKli they lie licneiitli the wiivi's, 
Or sleep witliin the cliiiicliynril dim, 

(Ah I through how nmiiy diU'eient griivus 
tiod'a ehildreii go to liiiii I) - 

Yet every grave gives uji its dead 
Krc it is overgrown with grass ; 

Then why should hopeless tears bu shed, 
Or need we cry, " Alas " ( 

Or why should Menu)ry, veiled with gloom. 
And like a sorrowing mourner eraped, 

Sit weeping o'er an empty tomli, 
Whose euptives have eseapod ! 

'Tis but a mound, and will be mossed 
Whene'er the summer grass appears ; 

The loved, though wept, are never lost ; 
We only lose — our tears ! 

Nay, Hope nniy whisper with the dead 
liy liending forward where they are ; 

Unt Memory, with a backward tread, 
Connnunes with them alar. 

The joys wo lose ari! but foreeast, 

And we shall lind them all onee more ; 

We look behind us for the I'ast, 
Hut lu ! 't is all Ix'fore ! 

ANONYMOUS. 



LINKS 

TO TMR MBUORV OP " ANNMl." WUO DMU) AT Mn.AN. 
JUNIi 6. if)6o. 

" jFtui ftnllh unto her. Woman, why wcc|)c\t thniiT whom ncrk* 
•♦I thou ? She. ft aipotlnp him tu be the ,{)irilfiirr, Miith unto llhn. 
Sir, if thou have l>ornc him licnce. tell nic where thou hii?it itiUl 
hhn.' —John xx. 15 

Is the fair gardens of eclestial jieaee 
Walketh a gardener in meekness elad ; 

Fair are the llowers that wreathe his dewy lucks. 
And his mysterious eyes are sweet and sad. 

Fair are the silent foldings of his robes. 
Falling with haintly ealniness to his feet ; 

And when ho walks, each lloweret to his will 
With living pulse of sweet accord doth bi^at. 

Every green leaf thrills to its tender heart. 
In the mild sununer railiance of his eye ; 

No fear of storm, or cold, or hitler frost. 
Shadows the floweret-s when their sun is nigh. 



And all our pleasant haunts of earthly lovo 
Are nurseries to tliosi^ gardens of the air ; 

And his far-darting eye, with starry beam. 
Watching Iho growing of his treasures there. 

We call them ours, o'erwept with sellish tears, 
O'erwatelied with restless hnigings night anil 
day ; 

Forgetful of the high, mysterious right 
He holds to bear our cherished plants away. 

liut when some sunny sjiot in those bright lieliis 
Needs the fair preseiu'e of an adiled liower, 

Down sweeps a sljirry angel in tlu^ night : 
.At nH)rn the rose has vanished from lair bower. 

Where stooil our tree, our (lower, there is a grave ! 

lilank, silent, vacant ; but in worlds above, 
Like a new star oulblossomeil in the skies. 

The angels hail an addi'd llowci- of love. 

Dear friend, no more upon that lonely mound, 
.Strewed with the reil anil yellow antiimii leaf. 

Drop thou the tear, but raise the fainting eye 
Iteyond the autumn mists of earthly grii^f. 

Thy garden rosebud bori' within its breast 
Those mysteries of color, warm and bright, 

That the bleak climati: of this lower sphc^iu 
t'onlil never waken iiilo form and liglil. 

Ves, the sweet (birdener hath borne her hence. 
Nor must thoil ask to takt^ her thence away ; 

Thou shall liehold \\ttv, in some eitming hour. 
Full blossomed in his liidils of I'haidless day. 

IIAUKU 1 Hlll.LllliK STowa. 



KOOT.STICrS OF AMiKLS. 

WilKN the hours of day are nnnibereil. 

And the voices of the night 
Wake the better soul that sliiinberi«l 

Toil holy, riillM (blight,— 

Ere the evening lamps nvr lighted, 
Ami, like |ihantoms grim and tall. 

Shadows from the lill'nl lireliglit 
Dainu! upon thi^ ]>ii]'loi' wall ; 

'riion the forms of the departed 

Kilter at the open door, - 
The beloveil ones, the tniedicarteil, 

Ctane to visit me once moic ; 

lie, the ycaing ami strong, who cherished 
Noble longings for the strife, 

Hy the roailside fell and perished. 
Weary with lln> inarch of lifi' ! 



IS 



274 



I'OKMS OK 'I'lllO AFFECTIONS. 



Tliey, tlio holy ones iind weakly, 
Wlio the cross iil' sutl'iTiiig liiiro, 

FoWcil their i«ih< hiinils so meekly, 
SjMike willi us OIL eiulli UK iiiciii' ! 

And with them the lieing beauteous 
Who unto my youtli was },'iveii, 

More than all thhijfi else to love me, 
Anil is now a saint in heaven. 

With a slow ami noiseless footstep, 
Comes that nu'ssen^er divine. 

Takes the vaeant ehair beside me, 
Lays her gentle hand in mine ; 

And she sits and gazes at nie 

With tliose deep ami tender eyes. 

Like the star.s, so still and saint-like, 
Looking downward IVom thi' skies. 

Uttered not, yet <'oinprehended. 
Is the s|)irit's voiceless juayer. 

Soft rebukc^s, in blessings ended, 
Hreathing from her lips of air. 

O, though oft ilepressed and lonely. 

All my fears are laid aside 
If 1 hut remember only 

Such as these have lived nnd died ! 

HENRY WAUSWORTll LONGFELLOW. 



THE OLD FAMU.IAU K.Vl'KS. 

I HAVE had ]ilaymate,s, 1 have had companions. 
In my days of childhood, in my joyfnl school- 

day.s ; 
.Ml, all are gone, the cdd familiar faces. 

1 liave been laughing, 1 have been carousing, 
Drinking late, sitting lute, witli my bo.soni cro- 
nies ; 
iVU, all are gone, the old familiar faces. 

1 loved a Love once, fairest among women : 

I losed are her doors on me, 1 must not see her, — 

.\ll, all are gone, the old familiar faces. 

1 have a friend, a kindir friend has no nam . 
Like an ingrate, 1 left my friend abruptly ; 
Left him, to nui.se on the old familiar faces. 

<1 Host-like I paced round the haunts of my child- 
hood, 
Karth seemed a desert I wfcs bound to tnivei'se, 
Seeking to find the old familiar faees. 



Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother. 
Why wert not thou born in my father's dwelling? 
So might we talk of the old familiar faces. 

How some they luivi' ilied, and sona' they have 

left me, 
And some are taken from nie ; all are dejiartod ; 
.\11, all are gone, the old familial' face.s. - 

CUAKLEs Lamb. 



THKY ARK ALL (iONE. 

TllEY are all gone into the world of light. 

And I alone sit lingering here ! 
Their very memory is fair and bright, 
And my sad thoughts doth dear ; 

It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast. 
Like stars upon sonte gloomy gi'ove, — 
Or those faint beams in which this hill is drost 
-After till' sun's remove. 

I see lliein walking in an air of glory, 

Wluwe light doth trami>le on my days, — 
My days which are at best but dull and ho«ry. 
Mere glininuring and decays. 

O holy hope ! and high humility, — 

High as the heavens above ! 
These are your walks, and you Im'vo showed them 
nic 
To kiiiiUe my cold love. 

Dear, beauteous death, — the jewel of the just, — 

Shining nowhere but in the dark ! 

What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust. 

Could man outlook that mark ! 



Hedged bird's nest may 



He that hath haiiid sonn 
know. 

At hrst sight, if the bird be tlowu ; 
lint what fair dell or grove he .sings in now. 
That is to him unknown. 

And yet, as angels in some brighter dreams 

CiUl to the soul when man doth sleep, 
So some strange thoughts transeeiul our wonted 
themes. 
And into glory peep. 

If a star were conlined into a tomb, 

Iler captive tiaincs must needs burn there, 
But when the hanil that locked her up gives room, 
She 'U shine through all the sphere. 

Father of eternal life, and all 

Created glories under thee ! 
Uesunie thy spirit from this world of thrall 
lute true libertv. 



liEKEAVEMENT AND DEATH. 



275 



Eillii'i' disperse these mists, which blot ami fill 

My perspective still ivs they pass ; 

Or else remove me heme unto that hill 

Where I shall need no glass. 

llLNRV VAUCHAN. 



\ 



THE FUTURE LIFE. 

Hew shall 1 know thee in the sphere which 
The disembodied spirits of the dead, 

■When all of thee tliat time could wither sleeps 
And perishes among the dust we tread ? 

For I shall feel the sting of ceaseless pain 
If there I meet thy gentle presence not ; 

Xor hear the voice I love, nor read aj^aiii 
In thy sei-enest eyes the tender thought. 

Will not thy own meek heart demand me there ? 

That heart whose fondest throbs to me were 
given ; 
My name on earth was ever in thy jirayer, 

And wilt thou never utter it in heaven ? 

In meadows fanned by heaven's life-breathitig 
wind, 

III the resplendence of that glorious sphere, 
.\nd larger movements of the unfettered mind. 

Wilt thou forget the love that joined us here ? 

The love that lived through all the stormy past, 
Anil meekly with my harsher nature bore, 

And deeper grew, and tenderer to the last. 
Shall it expire with life, and be mo more ? 

A happier lot than mine, and largiT liglit. 
Await thee there ; for thou hast bowed thy will 

In cheerful homage to the rule of right. 
And lovest all, and remlerest good for ill. 

For me, the sordid cares in which 1 dwell. 
Shrink and consume my heart, as heat the 
scroll ; 

And wrath has left its scar — that fire of hell 
Has left its frightful scar upon my soul. 

Yet though thou wear'st the glory of the sky, 
Wilt thou not keep the same beloved name. 

The same fair thouglitful brow, and gentle eye, 
Lovelier in heaven's sweet climate, yet the 
same 1 

Shalt thou not teach me, in that cahuer home, 
The wisdom that 1 learned so ill in this — 

The wisdom which is love — till I become 
Thy fit companion in that land of bliss ? 

William cullen Bryant. 



THE ANUEE OF PATIENCE. 

a FRGB PAKAPHKASP. op THII GERMAN. 

To weary hearts, to mourning homes, 
God's meeke.st Angel gently comes: 
No power has he to banish pain, 
Or give us back our lost again ; 
And yet in tenderest love our dear 
And heavenly Father sends him here. 

There 's quiet in that Angel's glance, 

There 's rest in his still countenance ! 

He mocks no grief with idle cheer. 

Nor wounds with words the mourner's ear ; 

Hut ills and woes he may not cure 

He kindly trains us to endure. 

Angel of Patience ! sent to calm 
Our feverish brows with cooling palm ; 
To lay the storms of hope and fear, 
And reconcile life's smile and tear ; 
The throbs of wounded jiride to still. 
And make our own our Father's will ! 

O thou who mournest on tliy way. 
With longings for the close of day ; 
He walks with thee, that Angel kind, 
And gently whispers, " Be resigned : 
Hear up, bear on, the end shall tell 
The dear Lord ordereth all things well I" 

JOUN GREENLEAF WHITTIBR 



THE FIRST SNOW-FALL. 

The snow had begun in the gloaming, 

And busily all the night 
Had been heaping held aiid highway 

With a silence deep and white. 

Every jiine and fir and hemlock 
Wore ermine too dear for an earl. 

And the poorest twig on the elm-tree 
Was ridged inch deep with pearl. 

From shells new-roofed with Carrara 
Came Chanticleer's uiullled crow. 

The stiir rails were softened to swan's-down, 
Aiul still Huttered down the snow. 

I stood and watched by the window 

The noiseless woik of the sky. 
And the sudden Hurries of snow-birds, 

Like Jir't)wu leaves whirling by. 

I thought of a mound in sweet Auburn 
Where a little headstone stood ; 

How the Hakes were folding it gently. 
As difl robins the babes in the wood. 



1H)1':MS ok 'I'llK Al'KECTlONS. 



Up spoke our own littly Miilipl, 

Snyii'g. " KatluT, who umkcs it snow?" 

Aml'l toUl of tlio Kood All-liitluv 
Wlui I'lU'i's lor ns lu-if below. 

Again 1 Uioki'il iit the snow-l'iill, 

And thonglit of the h'liden sUy 
Tliut nrolieil o'or onr lii'st greiit son-ow, 

Wlien that mound was heaped so higli. 

1 renienilieied the i;radnal patience 
That fell IVoni tliat ehiml like snow, 

Fluke Uy Make, healini; and hidiui; 
The sear of oni' di'ep-pUuiged woe. 

And again to the ehild 1 whispered, 

'• The snow that hnsheth all, 
Diirling, the inereil'nl Father 

Alone eiin make it fall ! " 

Then, with eyes that saw not, I kissed her; 

And .she, kissing baek, eonld not know 
That hi;/ kiss was given to her sister, 

Fotdevl elose nnder deepening snow. 

JAMLS KUSSULI. LOWHLL. 



THE KEAFEK AND riU', Fl.t)\VEKS. 

Thkui-: is a Keiiper whose name is Death, 

.\nd, witli his siekle keen, 
He leaps the lieunled grain at a breath, 

.\nd the tlowers that grow between. 

"Shall 1 have naught that is fair?" saith he ; 

" Have naught but the beanled grain ? 
Though tlie breath of these tlowers is sweet to me, 

1 will give them all baek again." 

He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, 

He kissed their drooping leaves ; 
It was for the l,oi\i of Faradiso 

He bound them in his sheaves. 

" Jly Lord has need of these flowerets gay,' 

The Keaper said, and .smiled ; 
" Dear tokens of the earth are they. 

Where he was oneo a child. 

"They shall all bloom in lieUls of light, 

Transplanted by my eare. 
And saints, n|ion their _g!\rn\ents white. 

These sacred blossoms wear." 

And the mother gave, in teal's and pain. 

The llowei-s she most did love ; 
She knew .she should lind them all again 

In the fields of light above. 



O, not in cruelty, not in wrath, 

The Keaper came that chiy ; 
T was an angel visiteil the green earth. 

And took the flowers away. 

lllLSKY wadsworth Lo.vcfellow. 



OVER THE KIVEK. 

OvKU the river they I'eckon to lue. 

Loved ones who 've crossed to the farther side, 
The gleam of their snowy robes 1 see, 

Hut their voices are lost in the dashing tide. 
There 's one with ringlets of sunny gold. 

Ami eyes the rellection of heaven's own blue ; 
He crossed in the twilight gray and cold, 

And the pale mist hid him from mortal view. 
We saw not the angels who met him there, 

The gates of the city we could not sec : 
Over the river, over the river, 

Jly brotlicr stands waiting to welcome me. 

Over the river the boatman pale 

Carried another, the household jiet ; 
Her brown eurls waved in the gentle gale, 

Darling Minnie ! I sec her yet. 
She crossed on her bosom her lUmpled hands, 

And fearlessly entered the i>haiitoni bark ; 
We felt it glide from the silver sands, 

.■\nd all our sunshine grew strangely dark ; 
We know she is safe on the farther side. 

Where all the ransomed and angels be : 
Over the river, the mystic river, 

Jly childhood's idol is waiting for me. 

For none return from those ipiiet shores. 

Who cross with the boatman c. Id and pale ; 
We hear the dip of the golden ours. 

And catch a gleam of the snowy sail ; 
And lo ! they have jiassed from our yearning 
hearts. 

They cross the stream and are gone for aye. 
We may not sumler the veil apart 

That hides from our vision the gtites of day ; 
We only know that their barks no more 

Jlay sail with us o'er life's stormy sea ; 
Yet somewhere, I know, on the unseen shore. 

They watch, and Iwekoii, and wait for nie. 

And I sit and think, when the sunset's gold 

Is Hushing river and hill and shore, 
I shall one day stand by the water cold, 

.And list for the sound of the boatman's oar ; 
I shall watch for a gleam of the flapping SJ>il, 

1 shall hear the boat as it g-ains the sti-ainl, 
I shall imss fn>m sight with the boatman l>;ile, 

To the better .shore of the spirit l.ind. 



IlKltKAVEMKNT AM) DKATIl. 



;*/ 



I slmll know the loved wlio Imvc gone lipforo, 
And jnylillly swi^i't will till! nu'ctinn lir, 

When over the river, tho peiieul'nl river, 
The angel of deiitli shnll ciury mo. 

NANCY WOODUt'RY PRIUST. 



k 



Tlir. T\V(1 WAITINGS. 



l)i;\K he.irts, you were waiting a year ago 

Kor the glory to K' revealed ; 
Yon wore wondering deeply, with hated breath, 

What treasure the days eonofaleil. 

«>, wouhl it be this, or would it lie tliat ? 

Would it be girl or boy I 
Would it look like lather or mother mo.st ? 

.\nd what should you do for joy ? 

And then, one day, when the Ihne was lull, 

And the spring was eoming last. 
The trembling veil ol' thu body was rent, 

.\iid you saw your baby at last. 

Was it or not what you had dreamed I 

It was, and yet it was not ; 
Itut O, it was better a thousand times 

Than ever you wi.shed or thought. 

II. 

And now, dear hearts, yon are waiting again, 
Wliilc tlie spring is coming fast ; 

Kor the baby that was a future dream 
Is now a dream of the past : 

A ilix'am of sunshine, and all that 's sweet ; 

Of all that is pure and bright ; 
Of eyes that were blue as the sky by day, 

And as soft as the stai-s by night. 

Vou are waiting again for the fulness of time, 

.\nd the glory to be revealed ; 
Vou are wondering deeply with arhing hiarls 

What treasure is now concealed. 

< •, will .she be this, or will she be that ( 
And what will there be in her face 

'J'liat will tell you sure that she is your own, 
When you meet in the heavenly place ? 

.\s it was before, it will be again, 

Kiushion your dream as you will ; 
When the veil is rent, and the glory is seen, 

It will more than your hope fulfil. 

JiiMN WHIIP CHAUWirK. 



FOR CIIAKI.IK'.S .SAKK. 

Tirr, night is late, thi! lumse i.s still ; 

The angids of tlie hour fullll 

Their leniler ministries, and move 

Kroin coiu'h to couch in cares of lore. 

They drop into thy ilnvims, sweot wife, 

The happiest smile of Charlie's life, 

.And lay on baby's lips a kiss, 

Krcsh from his angel-hrothor's bliss ; 

And, as they pas.s, they seem to make 

A strange, dim hymn, " l''or Charlie's .sake." 

My listening heart takes up the strain. 
And gives it to the night again. 
Kitted with words of lowly praise, 
And patience learned of nuiurnl'ul days, 
And memories of the dead child's ways. 
His will be done. His will be done ! 
Who gave and took away my son, 
111 "th(^ far land" to shini^ and sing 
lielore the lieautil'ul, tho King, 
Who every day doth Christinas make. 
All starred and belled for Charlie's sake. 

For Charlie's sake I will arise ; 

1 will anoint me where he lies, 

And cliange my raiment, and go in 

To the Loril's house, and leave my sin 

Without, and .seat me at his board, 

F.at, and be glad, and praise the Lord. 

For wherefore should I last and weep. 

Ami sullen moods of mourning keep I 

I cannot bring him bai'k, nor lu'. 

For any calling, come to inc. 

The bond the angel Death did sign, 

Ciod sealed — for Charlie's .sake, and mine. 

I 'm very poor — this slender .stom^ 

Marks all the narrow field 1 own ; 

Vet, patient husbandman, 1 till 

With faith and prayers, that precious hill, 

.Sow it with penitential iiaiiis. 

And, hopi'l'iil, wail the latter rains ; 

Ciiutent if, after all, the spot 

^'icld barely one forget-me-not — 

Whether or ligs or thistles nnike 

My eroi), <ontent for Charlie's sake. 

1 have no houses, builded well — 

Only that little loni'snim! ci'll. 

Where never I'omjiing playmates come, 

Nor bashful swei'lhearts, euuning-dunib — 

An April burst of girls and boys. 

Their rainbowed cloud of glooms and joys 

Horn with their songs, gone with their toys ; 

Nor ever is its stillness stirred 

liy purr of eat, or chirp of bird. 



278 



rOEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



Or mother's twiliglit legend, told 
Of Horner's pie, or Tiddler's gold, 
Or fairy hobbling to the door. 
Red-cloaked and weird, banned and poor. 
To bless the good ehild's gracious eyes, 
The good child's wistful cliarities, 
And cripiiled chaugcling's hunch to make 
Dance on his crutch, for good chiUl's sake. 

How is it with the chihl 'f "f is well ; 

Nor would I any inirarU? 

Might stir my sleeper's tranc|uil trance. 

Or plague his painless eounteuauce : 

1 would not any seer miglit place 

His stair on my immortal's face. 

Or lii) to lip, and eye to eye, 

Charm back Ids pale mortality. 

No, Shunamite ! 1 would not break 

God's stillness. Let them weep who wake. 

For Charlie's sake my lot is blest : 
No comfort like his umtlicr's breast. 
No praise like lu'rs ; no charm expressed 
In fairest forms hath half her zest. 
For Charlie's sake this bird 's caressed 
That death left lonely in the nest ; 
For Charlie's sake my heart is <lressed. 
As for its birthday, in its best ; 
For Charlie's sake we leave the rest 
To Him who gave, ami who did take. 
And saved us twice, for Charlie's sake. 

John Williamson Palmer, 



"ONLY A YEAR." 

Onb year ago, — a ringing voice, 

A clear blue eye, 
And clustering curls of sunny hair. 

Too fair to die. 

Only a year, — no voice, no smile. 

No glance of eye. 
No clustering eurls of golden hair. 

Fair but to die ! 

One year ago, — what loves, what schemes 

, Far into life ! 
What joyous hopes, what high resolves, 
What generous strife ! 

The silent picture on the wall, 

The bnriid-stdue 
Of all that beauty, life, and joy. 

Remain alone ! 

One year, — one year, — one little year, 

And so much gone ! 
And yet the even llmv of life 

Moves calndv on. 



The grave grows green, the flowers bloom fair. 

Above that head ; 
No sorrowing tint of leaf or spray 

Says he is dead. 

No pause or hush of merry birds 

That siiig above 
Tells us how coldly sleeps below 

The form we love. 

Where hast thou been this year, beloved ? 

What hast thou seen, — 
What visions fair, what glorious life, 

Where thou hast been ' 

The veil ! the veil ! so thin, so strong ! 

'Twixt us and thee ; 
The mystic veil ! when shall it fall, 

That we may see ? 

Not dead, not sleeping, not even gone, 

But present still. 
And waiting for the coming hour 

Of God's sweet will. 

Lord of the living and the dead. 

Our Saviour dear ! 
We lay in silence at thy feet 

This sad, sad year. 

Harriet Beecher stowh. 



MY CHILD. 

I C.4.NN0T nuike him dead ! 

His lair sunshiny head 
Is ever bounding round my study chair ; 

Yet when my eyes, now dim 

With tears, I turn to him. 
The vision vanishes, — he is not there ! 

I walk my parlor floor. 

And, through the open door, 
I hear a footfall ou the chamber stair ; 

I 'ni stepping toward the hall 

To give the boy a call ; 
And then bethink nic that — he is not there ! 

I thread the crowded street ; 

A satchelled lad 1 meet. 
With the same beaming eyes and colored hair ; 

And, as he 's running by, 

Follow him with my eye. 
Scarcely believing that — he is not there ! 

I know his face is hid 
Under the eollin lid ; 
Closed are his eyes ; cold is his forehead fair ; 



BEREAVEMENT AND DIOAI'll. 



279 



My linnd that marble felt ; 
O'er it in prayer 1 knelt ; 
Yet my heart whispers that — he is not there ! 

I cannot make him dead ! 

When passing liy the bed, 
So long watched over with parental care, 

My spirit and my eye 

Seek him in(|uiringly, 
Before the thought comes, that — he is not there ! 

When, at the cool gray break 

Of day, from sleep I wake, 
With my first breathing of the morning air 

My soul gnes up, with joy. 

To Him who gave my boy ; 
Then comes the sad thought that — he is not 
there ! 

When at the day's calm close, 

Helure we seek repose, 
1 'm with his mother, oll'ering u]) our prayer ; 

Whate'er I may be saying, 

I am in spirit praying 
For our boy's spirit, tliough — he is not there ! 

Not there ! — Where, then, is he ? 

The form I used to see 
Was but the raiment that lie used to wear. 

The grave, that now doth press 

Ujion that cast-otf dress, 
la but his wanlrobc loiked ; — he is not there ! 

He lives ! — In all the past 

He lives ; nor, to the last, 
Of seeing him again will 1 despair ; 

In dreams I see him now ; 

And, on his angel brow, 
I see it written, "Thou shalt see me there .'" 

Yes, we all live to t;od ! 

Father, thy cliastening rod 
So help us, thine alllicted ones, to bear. 

That, in the spirit land. 

Meeting at thy right hand, 
'T will be our heaven to find that — he is there ! 

JOHN PlERPONT. 



CASA WAITY. 

THE CHILD'S PET NAMK, CHOSKN BY HIMSELF. 

And hast thou sought thy heavenly home, 

Our fond, dear bov, — 
The realms where sorrow dare not come, 

Where life is joy ? 
Pure at thy death as at thy birth. 
Thy spirit caught no taint from earth ; 
Even by its bliss wc nietc our dearth, 
L'asa Wappy I 



Despair was in o>ir last farewell, 

As closed thine eye ; 
Tears of our anguish may not tell 

When thou didst die ; 
Words may not jiaint our grief for thee ; 
Sighs arc liut lmlil)les on the sea 
Of our unl'athomed agony; 
t'asa Wappy ! 

Thou wert a vision of delight, 

To bless us given ; 
Beauty embodied to our sight, 

A type of heaven I 
So dear to us thou wert, thou ait 
Even less thine own self, than a i)art 
Of mine, and of thy nmther's heart, 
t'asa Wappy ! 

Thy bright, brief day knew no decline, 

'T was (doudless joy ; 
Sunrise and night alone were thine. 

Beloved boy ! 
This moon belield thee blithe and gay ; 
That found thee prostrate in decay ; 
And ere a third shone, clay was clay, 
Casa Wa[)py ! 

Gem of our hearth, our household pride, 

Earth's undclileil. 
Could love have saved, thou hadst not died. 

Our dear, sweet child ! 
Humbly we bow to Fate's decre<' ; 
Yet had we hojied that Time should see 
Thee mourn for us, not us for thee, 
Casa Wapjty ! 

Do what I may, go where 1 will, 

Tliou meet'st my sight ; 
There dost thou glide belbre me still, — 

A form of light ! 
I feel thy breath upon my cheek — 
I see thee smile, 1 hear thee speak — 
Till O, my heart is like to break, 
Casa Wappy ! 

Methinks thou smil'st before me now, 

With glance of stealth ; 
The hair thrown back from thy fidl brow- 
In buoyant health : 
1 see thine eyes' dee]) vioh't light, 
Thy dim|>le(l cheek carnationed bright, 
Thy clasping arms so round and white, 
C'iisa Wappy ! 

The nnrsei-y shows thy pictured wall, 

Thy bat, thy bow. 
Thy cloak and bonnet, club and ball ; 

But where art thou ? 



280 



I'OEMS OF THE AKKECTIONS. 



A comer liolils tliino empty cliaii-, 
Tliy iilaythings idly scattered there, 
But sjieak to lis of our despair, 
Casa \Vappy 1 

Even to tlie last thy every word — 

To glad, to grieve — 
Was sweet as sweetest song of bird 

On siinmier's eve ; 
In outward beauty undecayed, 
Death o'er thy spirit cast no shade, 
And like the rainbow tliou didst fade, 
Casa Wappy ! 

AVe iniiurn for thcc when blind, lilank night 

The chamber fills ; 
We pine for thee when morn's lirst light 

Keddciis the hills : 
The sun, tlie moon, the stars, the sea, 
All — to the walltlower and wild pea — 
Are changed ; we saw the world through thee, 
Casa Wappy ! 

And though, perchance, a smile may gleam 

Of casual mirth, 
It doth not own, whate'er may seem, 

All inward liirtli ; 
We miss tliy small step on the stair ; 
We miss thee at thine evening prayer ; 
All day we miss thee, — everywhere, — 
Casa \\'apiiy ! 

Snows muflli'd eartli when thou didst go, 

In life's spring-lilooni, 
Down to the appointed house below, — 

The silent tomb. 
But now the green leaves of the tree, 
The cuckoo, and "the busy bee," 
Keturn, — but with them bring not thee, 
(."asa Wappy ! 

'T is so ; but can it be — while Howers 

Revive again — 
Man's doom, in death that we and ours 

For aye remain ? 
O, can it be, that o'er the grave 
The grass renewed should yearly wave, 
Yet God forget our child to save ? — 
Casa Wappy ! 

It cannot be ; for were it so 

Thus man could die, 
Life were a mockery, thought were woe, 

And truth a lie ; 
Heaven were a coinage of the brain ; 
IJeligion frenzy, virtue vain. 
And all our hopes to meet again, 
Casa Wappy ! 



Then be to us, dear, lost child ! 

With beam of love, 
A star, death's uncongenial wild 

Smiling above ! 
Soon, soon thy little feet have trod 
The skyward j)ath, the seraph's road, 
That led thee back from man to God, 
Casa Wapp3' 1 

Yet 't is sweet balm to our despair, 

Fond, fairest boy, 
Tliat heaven is God's, anil thou art there. 

With him in joy ; 
There past are death and all its woes ; 
There beauty's stream forever Hows ; 
And ]>leasure's day no sunset knows, 
Casa Wa]ipy ! 

Farewell, then — for a while, farewell, — 

Tride of my heart ! 
It cannot be that hnig we dwell, 

Thus torn apart. 
Time's shadows like tlie shuttle llee , 
And dark liowe'er life's night may be. 
Beyond the grave I '11 meet with thee, 
Casa Wappy ! 

David Macbeth moir. 



THE MEKKY LAKK. 

The merry, merry lark was up and singing, 

And the hare was out and feeding cm the lea, 
And the merry, merry bells below were ringing. 

When my child's laugh rang through me. 
Now the hare is snared and deail beside the 
snowyard. 

And the lark beside the dreary winter sea, 
And my baby in his cradle in the churcliyard 

Waiteth there until the bells bring me. 

CllAKLKS KlNGSLEV. 



THE MORNING-GLORY. 

We wreathed about our darling's head 

The morning-glory bright ; 
Her little face looketl out beneath 

So full of life and light. 
So lit as with a sunrise. 

That \vc could only say, 
" She is the morning-glory time, 

And her poor types are they." 

So always from that happy time 
We called her by their name. 

And very fitting did it seem, — 
Fnr sure as mnrning t-aiue. 



BEKEAVEMENT AND DKATll. 



281 



Heliiiui her cradle bars she smiled 

To catch the tirst faint ray, 
As from tlie trellis smiles the llower 

And opens to the day. 

But not so beautil'iil they rear 

Their airy cups of blue, 
Aa turned her sweet eyes to tlio light, 

Brimmed with sleep's tender dew ; 
And not so close their tendrils fine 

Round their supports aie tlirown. 
As those dear arms whose outstretched plea 

Clasped all hearts to her own. 

We used to tliink liow she had como, 

Even as conies the llowei'. 
The last and perfect added gift 

To crown Love's morning hour ; 
And how in her was imaged forth 

The love we coulil not say, 
As on the little dewdrops round 

Shines back tlie heart of day. 

AVe never could have thought, God, 

That she must wither up, 
Almost before a day was Mown, 

I. ike the morning-glory's cup ; 
We never thought to see her droop 

Iler fair and noble head, 
Till she lay stretched before our eyes, 

Wilted, and cold, and dead ! 

The morning-glory's blossoming 

Will .soon be coming round, — 
We see their rows of heart-.shaped leaves 

Ups|>ringing from the ground ; 
The tender things the winter killed 

Kenew again their birth, 
But the glory of our morning 

Has passed away from eartli. 

Earth ! in vain our aching eyes 

Stretch over thy green plain ! 
Too harsh thy dews, too gross thine air, 

Her spirit to sustain ; 
I'ut up ill groves of Paradise 

Full surely we shall see 
Our niorniug-glory beautiful 

Twine round our dear Lord's knee. 

Makia wiuTii Lowell. 



ARE THE CHILDREN AT HOME? 

Each day, when the glow of sunset 

Fades in the western sky. 
And the wee ones, tired of playing. 

Go tripping lightly by. 



I steal away from my husband. 

Asleep in his easy-chair. 
And watch from the open doorway 

Their faces fresh and fair. 

Alone in the dear old homestead 

That once was full of life. 
Ringing with girlish laughter, 

Echoing boyish strife. 
We two are waiting together ; 

Ami oft, as the shadows come, 
With tremulous voice he calls me, 

" It is night I are the children home ?" 

" Yes, love ! " I answer him gently, 

"They 're all home long ago ; " — 
And I sing, in my (luivering treble, 

A song so soft and low. 
Till the old man drops to slumber, 

With his head upon his hand. 
And 1 tell to myself the iiuiuber 

At humc ill the better laud. 

At home, wliere never a .sorrow 

Shall dim tlieir eyes with tears ! 
Where tlie smile of God is on them 

Through all the summer years ! 
I know, — yet my arms are empty, 

That fondly folded seven. 
And the niotlier heart within mo 

Is almost starved for heaven. 

Sometimes, in the dusk of evening, 

I only shut my eyes. 
And the children are all about me, 

A vision from the skies : 
The babes whose dimpled fingers 

Lost the way to my breast, 
And the beautiful ones, the angels, 

Passed to the world of the blest. 

With never a cloud upon them, 

I see their nulla ut brows ; 
My boys that I gave to freedom, — 

Tlie red sword sealed their vows ! 
In a tangled Southern forest, 

Twin brothers bold and brave, 
They fell ; and the Hag tliey died for. 

Thank God ! floats over their grave. 

A breath, and the vision is lifted 

Away on wings of light. 
And again wo two are together, 

All alone in the night. 
They tell me his mind is failing, 

But I smile at idle fears ; 
He is only back with the eliildren, 

III the d':iv and |«'.ieel'iil years. 



282 



I'OEMS OK TIIK AKKKCTIONS. 



Ami -.lill, 111 llh' suiiiiiii'i' Miiisi'l 

Kiuli's uwii)' in till' wi'sl, 
Ami lliii WW ours, tildil <>( liliiyiiij;', 

till Irooiiiiij; luMim In ii'xt, 
My luislmiiil i'iiUh IViiiii Ills I'lii'iit'i', 

" May, love, Imvo llio I'liililri'ii roiiio / " 
Anil I imswi'i', Willi oyo« n|ilill('il, 

•' Yi's, dwir ! Ilii'y iiiv all ill linnm." 

MAKliAKlvl 1-.. M. SANUSVUK. 



H.VUY ShKKI'S. 

••She h not Uw«l, iiiil nWclioth."— I.nKH vUt. v- 

'I'llK Imliy wi'iit ; 

'I'lio imvllirr tmik it IVnni llio n\irsii's iiiiiis, 

Ami Imslioil its loins, uiul sunlhi'il its viiiii iilaniis. 

Ami Uiliy sli'pl. 

AKiiiii it wiM'|is, 
Ami iJoil ilolli tuki' it I'nnii tlio imitlu'i's nnns, 
Kiviii pivaiMit jjiiol's, iiiul till 1110 unknown Imnns, 

Aiul Iwliy sloops. 

SAMl'Ill lllNlvS. 



(!(> TO 'I'llV IJKST. 

Oo to lliy lost, I'liir oliiUl ! 
Uo to tliy ili'oninloss lioil, 
AVliilo vol so gi'iitlo, iimloliloil, 
Willi lilossiiii;s on thy lioiul, 

b^vsh i"osos ill thy liuiul, 
liiiils on thy pillow liiiil, 
Jlusto IVom this iliuk iiml I'oiiii'iil himl, 
Wlioiv llowoi's so ipiiokly I'lulo. 

K.iv sin hiis somvil tho Inviist, 
(^r sorivw wukoil llio toiiv, 
IJiso to thy tlnvno of oliiuijp'Uvss n-st. 
In yon oelostiiil spluMv ! 

liooimso thy sniilo wns fnir, 
Tliy lip mill oyo so luiglit, 
IWiinso thy loviiifj onnllo-oiuv 
Wns snoh ii iloar ilolijjht, 

Slmll h>vt>, with woiik onilniiot*, 
Tliy npwHixl winj; dotiiiii 1 
No I S'"ntlo iiiij^'l, sook thy phioo 
Aniiil tlio ohoriih liniii. 

I \1'H IIONIIHV SIO.OORNBV. 



IMIK WIPOW S MITK, 

A wunnv — sho hml only one! 
A pnny iiinl iloonpit son ; 

liiil, iliiy iiml uijjhl, 
'riioii);h I'lvtI'nl oft, luul wtwk aiul snnill, 
.\ lovinj; oliiUl, lio wws hoi- all 

Tho \Vi>lows Mito, 



Tlio Willow's Milo ay, so snstuiiioil, 
Slio hiiltloil onwinil, nor ooiiipliiiiiotl, 

Tlioiij;li IViomls woro lowor : 
Anil wliilo sho loiloil IVif daily laro, 
A liltlo orntoh upon tho staii' 

Whs iiiusii' to hoi'. 

I saw hov tlion, - ami now 1 soo 

That, llionj;li iosij;iioil ami ohoorl'iil, she 

I Ills .sovnnvoil iiuioh : 
Sho has, llo gavo it tomloily, 
Miii'h I'liilli ; anil oiirot'nlly Iniii by, 

Tho liltlo onitoh. 

t''RHnnKIOK LOCKllR. 



4 

4 



••TllKV AKK. OKAK KlSll TO MK." 

Tiiic I'arnioi's wil'o .sat at tho iloov, 

.\ ploasant sijjlit to soo ; 
Ami hlitlio.sonio woro tho woo, woo Imiinii 

Thill playoil uvoiuol hor kiioo. 

Wlion, hoiiiliiifi 'noutli hor hoavy oix>oI, 

A poor lishwilo oaiiio hy. 
Anil, liiriiinjj I'roiii tho toilsonio roiiii. 

Unto tho iloor ilrow nii;h. 

Sho laid hor Imnlou on tho giwii, 

.\iul sproad its soaly stoiv ; 
Willi troiiihliiij; hands and ploiuliiii; wonls 

Sho told tlioiii ii'or and o'or. 

r>iil lightly laiixhod tho yoniij; j^niilwifo, 
" Wo 'iv no sao soiuvo o' ohoor ; 

Tiik' lip your oiiol, ami siuij; your ways, — 
1 '11 buy imo lisli sao doar." 

lioniliiij; lionoath hor load a^iiii, 

.\ wotiry sij;lit to sih> ; 
Uiuhl soit'ly sijjhoil tho poor tish-wife, 

" 'I'hoy aro iloar lish to nio ! 

" Our boat was oot no t"oarl\r night, 
And whoii tho storm Wow o'or. 

My hushiiul, anil my tliivo hnivo sous, 
Ijiy oorpsos on tho shoiv. 

" 1 "vo \ioon a wifo for thirty yonrs^ 

.\ ohiUlh'ss widow tluvo ; 
I niann hnv thoni now to soil njpiin, — 

Thoy luv dwir lish to luo I " 

Tho liirmw's wifo turiuxl to tho iloor, — 

What was't iiiwn hor ohoek > 
What was thoiv lisiiij; in hor breast. 

That thon sho soai>o oouhl siwak ' 



IIKUK.VVKMKM' A.M) DKATll. 



iib;j 



Sill' tli<>ii;,'lil ii|>iiii ltd' iiiii ^'tiiilliinii, 

lli'i' II^IiImiiiik' liiililii'H tlirmi ; 
Tilt' WDiniMiN wuiils hittl |)i(M'i-(>il 111']' IiciM'l, 

"Tlirv iim ili'iil' lisli Id iiic ! " 

"('dim' liiii'k," hIii' I'lii'il, willi i|iiiv('i'iiin Vdic'i', 

Ami |iily'i* fjiillii'iiiin ti'ur ; 
"("omc ill, I'liiiir in, my 1"""' "i>iiiiiii, 

Yi''rr kiinlly Hi'li-nnu' licin. 

" I kc'iiliiii <i' yiMir iii'liiiiK lioiii't, 

Your «'wiry lot to drini ; 
" 1 'II iHi'iT I'liixi'l your will, Slid words : 

'Thi'y nil' di'iir li»li lo iiu' ! ' " 

Ay, li't till' liii|>|iy lii'iirli'd Iciiiii 

To |)iiiiHii I'rr lliry iliiny 
Tli« iiii'i'd of lioiii'st toil, iiml lliiiik 

How iimili lliiir f^'olil iiiiiy Imy, — 

I low iiiiii'li ol' iimnliooil's wiuitiid utrungtli, 

Wliiil woiimirH luisi'iy, — 
Wlmt lii'i'iikiii^' lu'iirts iiiiKlit swi'll the cry : 

"Tliry all! di'iir lisli to iiin ! " 

ANiiNVHOllS 



I 



* 



CORONACH. 

PHOM " mil I-AOy op THU lAKIl," CANTO 111. 

IIk 18 ^011(1 on till' niniinliiin, 

lit! IN lost to tilt' toI't'St, 

l.ikii II sniunit'r-ilrii'tl rouiitain 
Wlit'ii our nt't'il was llio sorcBt. 

Tilt' font, rt'ii|i|ii'iirin;{, 

Kroin lilt' niin-ilro|is sliiill borrow, 

lint to lis i-oint's no t'liccring, 
To liiiiii'iin no morrow '. 

Till' liiiii'l of till' ri'ii]n'r 

Tiiki's till' I'liis tliiil aril lioary ; 
Hut lliti voiii' of tliii wmijior 

Wails iniinlioiiil in glory. 
Till' antiimn winds rnsliing 

Wiift tliti litavus tliiit urn si'iiriiht. 
Hut our llourr was in llusliing 

Winn lillgliting was uuarust. 

I'Mimt foot on tilt' I'orrt'i, 

.Siigii t'ounstd in >'iiiul>i'r, 
Kt'd liantl ill till' foray, 

linw sound is tliy sluinliiir ! 
I.iki' tlif ticw on tlif nitiuntain, 

I.iki' lilt' fiuiin on till' rivi'i', 
l.iki' lilt' hiililili' on till! Iiiiintain, 

Till Ml art goiiu, and forovur I 

siH WAI.1I1K scon. 



MOTIIKU AND I'OKT. 

■lUHIN. - Al'IKH NHWS I'ltoM t.AMIA, iHl.i. 

TIiIm wilt I.niirii Siivlo of Turin, n piiDlritii iii»l |«ilili>t, hIiowo 
hiiiu wuio hlllcil 111 Am iiti.i iiiiil liiiiitii. 

1>I,AI1 ! mil' 111' llli'lll slliit liy llii' Mi'il ill lilt' tliist, 
.\iiil oiiii of llii'iii sliiit 111 lliti wi'st liy Mill sua. 
Diiiid ! Uolli my Imys! Wlit'ii you sit al tin- 
fnist. 
And ail' wiiiitiiig a git'iit. soii^ lur lliily lii't', 
l.i'l iiiiiiK liiiik 111 mil ! 

Yi'l I was a ponttiss only last yi'iir, 

Ami good at my art, for it wuniiiii, iiikii sjiid. 
lint this woniiin, lliis, wlio is iigoni/nil Ihti', 

Tilt' mist sua and wi'st stia rliymi' on in lirr lii-inl 
Kiiii'Vi'r iiisliiiul. 

Wliiit artt'iin a woman Im gooil tit I O, vain ! 

What art is slin good at, liiit hurting lit'i* lii't'iist 
Willi till' milk li'i'lli of IniliiiH, und ii smili' ,il llm 

1 ■' 

.\li, liiiys, how you hurl ! you with mIiiiii;.; iih 
you jirtisst'd, 
,\iiil I |iiouil liy thiit lii'il. 

Wliiil nil's fur ji wiiiiiiiii ! To hold mi lii-i Kiun's 
Itiilli iliirliiigM' tiil'i'iil all tlii'ir iiriiis riiiind lii"r 
tlii'iiiil 

I 'ling, slruggli' a liltlu ! to saw liy th'gi s 

And 'liroidi'r tlia long-i'lolhi'H ami iit'iil lillli' 
coat ! 
To dri'iini and lo dolii. 

To tl'lli'h I Ill'Ill . . . It slings tllnro, I lllmlr lllrlll 
ill.lrnl 

.Spnik {iliiiii till' wmd "I'ouiitry," I tiiiif;lil 
Ihi'iii, no tloulil. 
Thill II I'oiinlry 's a thing iiii'ii shmilil dif lor at 

llivd'. 

1 |ii;ilril III lihi'i'ty, riglils, and ahoiit 
Tliii lyi'iiiil liu'tii'il nut. 

And whim tlinir tiyi'S IIiiKhi'd . . . O my lu'iiiiliriil 
oyos ! . . . 
I t'xiilli'd ! miy. Id llitnii go rortli al tlif wlu'i'ls 
Of thii giiiiH, and ih'iiii'd not.- Hut tlinn tint 
siirprisn, 
Wlii'ii omi hits ipiili' iiliiiiii ! Tlit'ii out! wtit'ps, 
tlit'ii mil' kni't'ls ! 
(iod ! how lilt' hoiisii fi'tils I 

At lirst happy iii'ws t'linii', in gay Inttnrs nioili'd 
With my kissi's, nf niiiip-ljfi', and glmy, und 
liow 
Tlii'V liolh loi'i'il nil', iiiid sDiiii, nulling limiif In 

I piiili'd. 

In ri'lurn would fun oMi'Vi'iy liy luini my Imiw 
With llii'ii' gri'i'ii laiiri'l'lioiigh. 



•2M 



I'llKMS HI' ■VWK Al'I'KCl'IIINS. 



I 



Tlii'M wiw ll'iuMipli 111 'ruriii. " AlUMum wms Irri' I" 

Ami Hiiniii uiH' iiiiui' mil nf llii> clu'i'is in lUi' 

hIiu'I 

Willi II I'lii'ii piili'iLt sliviii', 111 siiy Nuliii'lliiiif^ 111 Mil'. 

My (iiililii wiisili'iiil ! I li'll iluwii 111 Ills IVi'l, 

W lull' llii'V I'liri'iv.l ill llii' sliwl. 

I Ihui' il ; iVii'iul'i Mii>lliril luii : my j^rii'l' lonKiul 

MlMllIU' 

As ll»i riuiNiim nl' lluly. Cm' Imy ivimiiui'il 
Til lio li'util im iiml wulKi'il willi, nii'iilliii;,' llio 
t iiiio 
Wlii'ii llii' liisl ^I'l'w immiMliil, wliilo Imlli nl 

lis sll'llilU'll 

To llio lii-ij;!!! ho liiiil fi'iiiiuHl. 



lldtli liiiys iloiitl ! bill Hint 'h out ol' nntiirc. W'l' nil 
lliivii I'l'i'ii jiiiliiols, yii| I'lU'li liiiiisi'miisl iiUviiVH 
konii Olio. 
"!' won' imlii'i-ili' lirwiiif; out voiiiU In ii wiill. 
Ami wlioii lliilv 's iimilr, lor wliiit oiul is il 
iloim 
If \M' liiivo not II sun .' 

All, nil, nil ! wlii'ii Hiuitii "s Inki'ii, wliiil llu'ii ! 
W'licii llio liiir wii'kcil iiiU'i'ii sits im iiioio nt 
lii'i' s|ioii 
or till' till' liiiUs of ili'iilli I'lnsliiiii; souls uut oi 

IIH'll !' 

Wlirii youi' i^iiiis III Cnvnlli willi lliKil ii'lorl 
llnvo i-ul Illo j{nmo slioil, 

Wlii-ii Vi'iiii'ii iiml Komo Uoi'ii llii'ir iiinv jiUiiliT, 
Wlii'ii yoiir lliij; liiKcs nil lii-iivoii I'oi' its wliilc, 
^ii'oii, mill I'l'il. 
WliiMi you liiivi' your I'ouiiliy iVnm iiiounlniii lo 

Sl'il, 

Wlicii Kiiin Vii'lor lins llnl\'s ,i,i\vii on liis 
lirn.l. 
^Aiiil I liiivi' my iliMil,) 

Wlinl llu'ii f Po iiol luoi-U nil'. Ah, villi; yoiii' 
Ih'lls low. 
Ami Iniiii your lij;lils Iniiilly! My loiiuliy 
is tlii'iv, 
Aliovo llui stni' inii'koil liy Ilio Insl |u'nk of snow. 
My Itnly 's lliciv, willi my linivo livi.- iwir. 
To (lislVniu'hiso ilospnii'. 

Koifjivi' luo. Soiiio woiuoii tu'iir I'liihlivii in 

SllX'llglll, 

Ami Mtt> Uiok tlio I'vy of tli.ir i>niii in si-lf- 
IVll his motli.M'." All, nil, " his." •• thoii '■ molh ,,^,, |,,^, i,V,!,i,;,„„^^ ,.,■ ,„„i>,„s will wiiiiM us nl 



shoiii'V, siiilih'i', moll' 
I wns not lo 



Ami h'lli'is slill I'lim 
»lniiif{. 
Writ now lull in ono hnml. 
fniiil. 
Ulio lovinl nil' lor lv\o . . . woiihl \v Willi iiio on'- 
hiiiK ; 
Ami ' Vivii Itnliii ' ho ilioil lor, our snini. 
Who forhiils our i'oiii|iliiiiil," 

My Nniiiii wouM n»hl " ho was sul'o, niiil nwnro 
*'f a [iiosoiioo tliiil limioil oil' llio Imlls , . . wns 
im|ii'osl 
It wns (Iiiiilo hliiisolf, who know whni 1 ooiilil 
hour, 
Ami liow 'I wiis iiii|H>ssil>l<\ nuito ilisiiossossoil. 
Til livo on lor llio ivsi." 

(til wliioh without imuso up iho loh'j;rn)ili lino 
S\vo|it siuoothly llio iio\l iiows fituii ihiotH; — 
"Sliol. 



♦I 



ov: not " iniiii'," 
I^ii voioo wiVM "iiiv uiolhor" ngniii lo mo. 
Whut'l 
You think tiuiilo forfeit t 

Aiv souls sHni);lit so Imppy Hint, lU.-.'v with 
hiiivou. 



lou^lli 

Into siioli wiiil i\s this ! nml wo sit ou forlorn 
Wlioii tho nmnoliilil is honi. 

IVmi ! Olio of tlioiu shot hy tlio son in tho wost. 
Ami Olio of tlioiii shot in tlio onsi Tiy tlio son ! 
lioth ! ImIIi my Ivvs ! If in koo|iiii}; tlio toast 



Thoy >li"i>li onvlh's ntl'ootious, oomoivo not of I You wniit n i;ivat soiij; lor your Italy IV'O, 



woo t 

1 think not, Thoinsolvos woii' too Intoly for- 
Kivou 
'l'lii\>U);li tlirti lo\o nml soriMW wliioli ivoouoilot! 
.so 
Tho uliovo nml Ivlow. 

l^ t'lirisi of tho sovou wouiuls, who lookMst 
tlii>>ui;ti tho ilnrk 
To tlio taop of thy luotlior! oonsiilor, I ('ray. 



Lot iu>no look at iiio ! 

ItlllAHKrU IIARRBIV IIROWNIXO- 



KYKl.YN UOrK. 

UKAt'TIFt'l. Kvolyu Uopo is iloavl ! 

Sit nml watoli t>y lior siilo au hour. 
That is lior K>okshotf, tins lior l'o>l ; 

Slio pluokwl llmt piooo of S''™""""-'''*"*"'' 



llow wo oouimoii luothors staiul ilosolnto, ninrk, Itoj'innin)' to >lio too. in tho >;h\ss, 
W'luvso sous, not Wiiiij rliri.sts, dio with ovos i l.ittlo 1ms vol Won oliniij;;xHl, 1 tliiuk ; 



tunioil away, 
Aiiil no hist woi\l to snv ! 



I Tho sliuttors aiv shut, no li>;lit luny jxiss 

I Savo two loll}" niys tliivuj;li llio liin.i;\''s . liink. 



IIKIIKAVUMIONT AMI lUiATII. 



285 



fiixim'ii yi'iii" "111 wlinti »lin iliml ! 

ri'iliiiJiH nlii' Imil Ni'itiri'ly lii'iml my iiiuiii', 
It wiw nut lu'i' limn III liivi' ; ImnuIi', 

I lor till' liMil iiiiiiiY » li<i|io iiiiit iiiiii, 
lliilli'H i'iii>ii){li mill Hull' I'lii'i's ; 

Anil iHnv wiw i|iili'l, iiiiw iiHlir, — 
Till (iiiirH liMiiil lii'i'kiiiii'il iiiMiwai'cm, 

Ami till' iwi'i'l wliili' lii'iiw ii III! ul' licr. 

I» it too liiti', tlii'ii, Kvniyii llupn I 
Wlmt I yiinr Muiil wiim piin^ mid trmi | 

'I'll!' )(llllll hlms llll't ill ynlll' Illil'ilKI'lipr, 

MiiiIk yiiii III' njiitil, llr», mill ilmv ; 

AIkI JllHt IlI'l'llllNK I WllH llll'il'll IIH llill, 

Anil iiiir piilliH ill lliii wiiilil ilivi'i>,'iiil kii wlilo, 
Kiii'li wiiH nmi^lil III I'lii'li, iiiiiHt I Ihi liilil / 
\V(i Weill I't'lliiW'iiiiii'liils, iiiiiikIiI lii'Hiiln " 

No, iiiiliM'il ! Till' (iiiil iiliiiM' 

Ih gii'iil III ^niiil IIH iiii){lily III iiiiiki', 
Anil I'li'iili'K till' liivc til I'l'wuril lliii luvn ; 

I I'liiini yim Hiill, I'nr niy iiwii Iovh'h mikn I 
Drliiyi'il, ii niiiy In', Inr iniiro livi'H ynl, 

Tllliiliull WiilliU I nllllll IniVl'I'Mii, niil, n fnw ; 
Miii'li i« III li'iirn iiinl iiiiii'li In Inrf^rt 

Kri' llm liiiii' 111- riiniii I'lir tiikiii({ you. 

Iliil lliii liniiMvill I'onii' III Inst it will 

Wlirii, Kvrlyii llojii', wliiit niniiiil, I sliiill Hity, 
III lliii liiuTi' I'Milli, — in till' yi'iiiM loiif{Htill, 

Tliiil lioily mill Hoiit hii |iiiri< mul ^tiy / 
Why your Imir wiih iiniiu'r I nliiill iliviiu', 
Ami yniir nimitli nl' ymii' nwii ^I'l'miiiiin'ii 
mil, — 
Ami wliiil yitii wiiiilil ilo willi inn, in liiii', 
III llii' iii'W lilii riiiiii. in llii' iilil iiiiii'n nli'iiil. 

1 liiivi' livi'il, 1 nliiill .Hiiy, Hii iiaii'li niniui then, 

(iivrii ii|i niyni'ir mi inmiy lininii, 
Oiiininl nil' I III' niiUiH of vmioim inon, 

llmillllrl«'ll lllll llgllH, Hpoill'll lllll I'litUI'H ; 

Ynl mil' thing --iiiin -- in my hoiiI'h lull m:o|in, 
Killii'i' I iniNHi'il or ItHi'ir iiiiNHi'il nil'. 

Ami I wiint mill llml ymi, ICvrlyn Hope I 
Whiit la tliu Ikhiiu ? hit UN Hui.> I 

I luvi'il yon, Kvclyn, nil tlm wlillii ; 

.My hi'iirt niml full iih It iiiulil hold, — 

ThiTii wan plai'i! mid toHpiim for tlm I'liinUyouiiK 

Hlllilll, 

And tlm rod youiiK inuiilji, iiinl Ihit liiiir'H 
yoiiiiK gold. 
So, IiukIi I I will i^vi' yiiii Ihii leal' In kiinp ; 

Hi'u, I aliiit It iimldii tlm nwi'i'l, rnlil limiil. 
Tiii^ri', that in iiiir ni'i'int I K" 'o nlnnp ; 

Villi will w.iki', mill ii'nii'inlii'r, and iiiidniiitiind. 

I'xill'lil llli'iWNINI. 



1IK,S'I'K1I. 

WllKN iiiiiiili'im Hiirli IIH lli'iilrr din, 
'I'lii'ir pliii'ii yn iiiiiy not well Hiipply, 
'I'IhiiikIi yi' milling a llioiiHand tiy. 
W'll li \ uiii I'liili'iiviir. 

A iiiitiilli or iiioi'i' litilh hhii hi'oii iluail, 
Vi'l I'liiiiiiil I liy I'liivK III' li'd 
'I'll lliiiik iipiiii till' wiiiiiiy lii'il 
Anil liiT lii^'i'lhi'r. 

A MIirill;.^y niiit hUl in Iiit j;iiiI , 
A lining' »li'p, lllll iiiilinili' 
or pi'iilii ami Jiiy mi rniiimnn liitn, 
TIihI lliinhi'd linr hpiril ; 

I kiinu lint liy whiil nmiiii IikhIiIii 
1 hIiiiII it I'lill : il"t WIIH mil priilii. 
It wiiH a jny In lliiil iillii'il, 
.Siii.'ili.l tiiiii'iii. 

Hit piii'i'iitH linlil tliK l.liniki'r nili<, 

Wllirll ilnlll llll' hllnimi ri'l<lill){ I'nnI ; 

llilt nliK WIIH liiiini'il in iiiiIu|'i''h nelionl, 
Niiliii'i' liiiil lili'Hhi'i! llll'. 

A waking I'yi', n piyiiiK mni'l. 
A lii'iirt lliiil Hiii'H, in limii In liiiid ; 
A hiiwk'H ki'i'ii niKlit yi' rmimil lilind, — 
Viii'iiiilil mil lli"'li'i. 

My MpriKlilly iii'i;<lilinr, (<niii' linrnrii 
'I'll Unit iiiiknnwii ami Nilniil hIiiiiii I 
Hliiill wo mil iiiiinl IIH lii'ri'lnl'ori' 
iSniiin Hiiiiiiiii'r imiriilii^, 

WIii'ii riiiiii tli\' rlii'i-i llll ryi'ii a I'liy 
lliilli hIi'iii'I\ n lilrii ii|inii tlm diiy, ^ 
A IiUnh tliiU wiMiM mil HO iiwiiy, -■ 

A HWI'I'l rnli'WIlI'llill)^ ( 

I IIAKI It'i I.AMII, 



ANNAMKI, I.K.E. 

I r wiiN niiiiiy iiiid iiiiiiiy a yniir a^o, 

111 It kingdniii liy I he nnll, 
'riiitl II niaiili'ii llvi'd, wliiini ynii iimy kimw 

liy till' lllinili of Alimilii'l Lnn ; 
And thin imiiilnii lllll' livml willi im nllii'i lliiiii;.'jit 

Thmi to Invn, liml l>r Invi'll liy 111.'. 

I WIIH II I'liilil iiml hIh' win a rliilil, 

III thin kill^Mlniii liy Ihn iinii ; 
lint wn lovi'il with It lovii tliiit WIIH imiii' Ihiiii 
lovn, 

I and my Aniialii'l l.i'n, 
Willi It liivii lliiil llll' wliiKi'd Hi'inpliH or hi'iivmi 

• 'iiviilnd hnr iiml In ' 



28G 



I'OKMS OP THE AFKKCTIONS. 



Aihl lliis was Mm icnsnii llml lotii; iij^ii, 

111 this kiii;^<liiiii liy tlii' si'ii, 
A wiiiil lilmv imt ol' a cloiul, I'liilliii;; 

My liKiiiitil'iil Aiiiiiilii'l lii'o ; 
So tlinl lii'i' lii^lflioni kiiiHiiKMi iuiik', 

Anil liiirii lni|- iiwiiy IVoni inn, 
To sliiil lirr up ill a .si']iiili'lil'ii, 

III Iliis kiiigiliiiii liY till' Htm. 

'I'lit' iiii|^ols, no!, so luippy in lii'iivni, 

Wi'iil I'livyiiij; lior ami iiii'. 
Yi'S I tlial. wii.s till' I'nisoii (as nil iiii'ii know) 

111 tliiH klii^iloiii by ilic soil, 
Tliiit till' wiinl ciiiin' out ol'tlii' I'Kiii.l \<y iiif,'lil, 

Clillliii}; luul killing; my Aiiiiulirl Lrc. 

Itiil 0111' lovo it was sli'oiij^nr by I'ar limn tin' lovo 

Ol" tlioso who wt'i'ti oKlm" than \\v, 

or many I'ar wisi'i' than we ; 
Ami m'ithi'i' the aiij;i'ls in hnivoii abovi', 

Nov Iho iliMiioiis down iimli'i' I he sra, 
Can I'voi'ilissi'vcr my soul IVoin tlio soul 

(If lllO iH'llllliilll AlUlilbll 1.00. 

V'or till' imtoii lU'M'r boaiiis williiuil biinj^iiij^ mi' 
(lii'aiiis 

IM' Iho lioiiiitil'nl Aiiiiubrl l.i'o, 
Ami till' stars iii'Vi'i'iisi' bill 1 I'oi'l llm biii;lil oycs 

CI tlio bi'iiutiriil Annalu'l Liv. 
And so, all tin' nif^lil-tido 1 lio down b\ llir side 
or iiiv dailiiif;, my darliiij;, iiiv lil'i', and iiiv 
' brid.', 

Ill lior so|iiiU'hi'o tlioio by tlio soa, 

In lior tomb by tlio soumliiiy sotv. 

lUU.AK Al-I.AN IVli. 

Illilll-TIDK ON TllK roAsr OK I.IN- 

COI.NSIUKK. [TiMK, i;,71.1 
'I'liK old iimyor oliinbcd tho bolIVy towor, 

'I'lio ringors ranj; by two, by tlii'oo ; 
" I'lil! ! il'yo iii'vor imllod bol'oro ; 

(!ood riii^'is, |inll your bi'sl," niiotli ho. 
" riay iippo, play iippo, O lioston bolls' 
riy all your olmn}»os, all your swolls I 
riay iippo The Jiriili-.i of Kiiiliihii ! " 

Moil siiy it was ft "stolon tydo," 
Tho I.oi-d that sont it, ho knows all, 

Uiit in myiio oars doth still nbido 
Tho mi'.ssaj;o that tho bolls h't I'lill ; 

Ami IhiM'o was naught of siniiigo, bosido 

Tho llights of mows and poowits piod, 
r>y niiUious orouohod on tho old soa-wall. 

I sat ftiid spun within tho dooiv ; 

My throad biako otr, 1 ii\isod niyno oyos ; 
Tin' lovol sun, tiko ruddy \ftK\ 

l.ny sinking in Iho bjirioii skios ; 



And dark iigaiiist day's gold. 'ii doaih 
Sill' iiiovod whoro Hindis wamloivlli, — 
My sonno's I'liiro wilo, Klizabolli. 

"Cuahal Cuslm I (-'uslm I " oalliiig, 
l''.i'o tho oarly di'ws woro falling, 
Kani' away 1 hoard lior song. 
" I'usha ! I'lisha I " all along ; 
Whoro tho roody l.imlis llowolh, 

I'lowilh, llowoth, 
I'rniii ilio iiioads whoro molii'k growolh, 
I'aiiillv c'linii' lior milkiiig-song. 

"Ciisha! I'uslia ! Cuslial" railing, 
" Kor tho dows will soimo bo falling ; 
l.oavo your meadow grassos mollow, 

Mollow, mollow ' 
Quit yonr oowslips, oowslips yollow I 
t'onio nppo, Wliilofoot ! oomo uppo, l.ightfooti 
IJuit till' stalks ofparsloy hollow. 

Hollow, Indhnv! 
t-'onio n|)po, .U'tly ! riso and follow ; 
From tlio olovors lilt yonr lioiid ! 
Como nppo, Whitofoot I oomo upjio, l.iglitfoot 1 
Como uppo, .lotty ! riso and follow, 
.lotty, to Iho inilking-shod." 

U' il bo long ay, long ago — 

Wlioii 1 boginno to think howo long, 

.\gaiiio 1 hoar tho l.imlis How, 
.■^wifl as an arrowo, .sharpo and strong ; 

.\ml all tho airo, il soomoth moo. 

Hill full of tloating bolls (snylli shoo). 

That ring tho tnno \)i Emkrhij. 

.\lh' fiosli tho lovol imsturo hiy. 
And not a shadowo iiiulo bo soono, 

Savo whoro, lull fyvo good iiiilos away, 
'Hio stooplo toworod I'ldin out tho graene. 

And hi ! tho gival boll I'an'o and wido 

Was hoard in all tho oonntry sido 

That Saturday at ovoiilido. 

Tlio swannords. whoro tlioir sodgos nm, 
Movod oil ill .sunsot's goldoii Uroath ; 

Tlio shophoitlo lads 1 hoani iifarn>. 
And my soiino's wilo, Kli/aboth ; 

Till, tloating o'or tho grassy .soa, 

Cftino downo that kyiidly mossago free. 

The lirUte^ of Mn i>i,« KniUrhij. 

Thon sonio lookod n|ipo into tlio .sky, 

.■\nd all along wluro l.imlis Hows 
To wliow tho goodly vo.ssols lio, 

And whoro tho lonlly stooplo shows. 
Thoy saydo, "And why .should this thing lie. 
What daii,gt>r lowow by Imid or soa ' 
Thoy ring tho tnno of Kiuiertit/. 



i 



llKIIK\VK\lK\r AM) DKATII. 



287 



" Kor evil iii'ws fiuiM Mnl>U'llii>iiH', 

Of |ivmtr giiUi'ys, uiiipiiij^ <liiwn, - 
Fnr s]ii|)])cs iisliorn lii-yntul tlii' HC<trp(', 

Tlu'V liiivc 111)1 spiiri'il 111 wiikr tlii^ towiio ; 
Hut wliilr till' wi'st liiii icil ti) SCO, 
Ami Mtiinns Im iionr, anil |iyriil('.s Ikio, 
Wliy ring The llridcx of ICndcrbii f 

I luokotl williiMil, tuiil ill I my smiiio 

Came lilting ilnwnt' witli iniglii iimi main ; 
llii raisiiii 11 slnml iu\ liu ilirw on, 

Till nil tli« wi'Ikin rang again : 
" Klizaln'th ! KlizalM'tli ! " 
(A Hvvi'cti'r wonnin ne'er drew lireatli 
Than my Sonne's wile, Klizabetli.) 

" Tile olili' sea-wall (he eryeil) is downe ! 

The rising tiile eomes on apaee ; 
Anil boats adrift in yonder lownu 

(!o sailing uppe the nnuket-plaen ! " 
lie shook as one that looks on death : 
"(!oil savo yon, mother ! " slniight he sayth ; 
" Where is my wife, K.li/abelli ( " 

"(iiiod Sonne, where liindis winds away 
With her two bairns 1 marked her long ; 

And ere yon bells lieganne to iday. 
Afar I heard her milkiiig-song." 

lie looked aeross the grassy sea, 

'i'o right, to left, //u, liiidcrbij ! 

They rang Tlu ISrulea of Endcrby. 

With that ho cried and beat Ills breast ; 

Kor lo ! along the rivor'a bed 
A mighty eygre reared his erest. 

And nppe the l.indis raging s]>e(l. 

I I swe]it with thnnderons noises loud, — 
Shapiil like a lUrling snow-white eluud, 
Or like a di'ruon in a shroud. 

And rearing l.indis, baekward pressed. 

Shook all her trembling bajikes anniine ; 
Then madly at the eygre's breast 

Flung uppe her widtering walls again. 
Then bankes raine downe with ruin and rout, • 
Then beali'ii foam (lew round about, — 
Then all the mighty ilouds wuru out. 

So farrc, no fast, the cygro drave, 
The heart had hardly lime to beat 

Itefore a shallow seirthing wave 
.Sobbed in thegrasseH at ouro feet: 

The feet had hardly time to llee 

lielore it brake against the knee, — 

And all the woild was in the sea. 

U|>on the roofo we Hate that night ; 

The noise of bells went sweeping by ; 
I nnirkfil the lofty beaeon light 

Stream from the i hunbtower, red and high, 



A lurid nuirk, and dri'ad to see ; 
And awsome bells they were to moo, 
That in the dark rang ICmlirbji. 

They riui^' the sailnr IihIm In ^iiide, 

From rool'r to roofe who I'narlnss rowed ; 

And I, my Sonne was at my side. 
And yet the ruddy beaeon glowed ; 

And yet he moaned beneath his breath, 

"(), eonni in life, or eome in death I 

() lost I my love, Klizabetli !" 

And didst thou visit him no more ' 
Thou didst, thou didst, my daughter denro ! 

The waters laid thee at his doore 
Kre yet the eiiily dawn was cdear : 

Thy pretty bairns in fast embraee. 

The lifted sun shone on thy faee, 

Downe drifted to thy dwellingplaco. 

Tliiil lliiw sli'eweil Hii'i'ks aliiiMt llii'gra«H, 
That ebbi' swept out tile lloeks to sea, — ■ 

A hital eblie and How, alas ! 

To manye more than myno and mee ; 

Hut eaidi will miMHiie bis own (she sayth) 

And sweeter woman ne'er diew brouth 

Than my Sonne's wife, Klizabetli. 

I shall never hear' her more 
liy the reedy l.iiidis shore, 
"Cusha! Cusha! Cualia I " calling, 
Kre the early dews be falling ; 
1 shall never hoar her song, 
"Cusha! Cusha !" all along, 
Whore the sunny Kindis llowetli, 

(ioeth, lloweth, 
Fiiim I be meads where meliek growcth, 
Where the water, winding down, 
• Inward lloweth lo the town. 

I shall never see her more. 

Where the roods and rushes ipiiver, 

Shiver, (|uiver, 
Stand beside the sobbing river, — 
Sobbing, throbbing, in its falling. 
To the sandy, lonesome shore ; 
I shall never hear her calling, 
" Leave your meadow grasses mellow. 

Mellow, nudlow 1 
tiuit your cowslips, eowsli)is yellow ! 
Conio uppe, Whilefoot ! i^onie uppe, Lightfoot I 
Quit your pipes of parsley hollow. 

Hollow, hollow ! 
Come U|>pe, Mgbtfoot ! rise iiiid follow ; 

Lightfoot I Whitefoot ! 

From your clovers lift the head ; 

Come uppe, .letly I follow, follow. 

Jetty, to I he milking-slied I" 

JiiAN iNi r'.r.ow. 



288 



rOKMS OV TUK AKKKCTIONS. 



Til MAKV IN IIKAVKN. 

JConipnuort by Hilnia. In Sppteinher, lylfr). on the nnnlvcrtnry of 
llio (l<iv »n wlikli lio lictirtl i>r ilio ik-dtli of IiIh early love, Mary 
C.imiilull.l 

Tiiou liugi'i'inn still', willi lussiMiiiij; my, 

Tlml lov'sl to jjivi't tlu' I'lii'ly iinMii, 
Aj^iiii tliou uslii'v'st ill tlic ilay 

My Miiry IVoiii my soul was torn. 
Miiry ! ilour ili'i«iiti«l sliiuli' I 

Wlii'i'o is tliy pliii'o of blissful I'ost / 
Sno'st. tliou tliy lovrr lowly l:iiil ! 

lliiiu''st tliou till' i;roiiiis tlist iiMiil liis luviist '( 

That. snciTil liour cnu 1 l'oi}fi>t., — 

Can 1 I'oi'gi't till' liallowi'il j;i'ovi', 
■Wlii'i'o liy till' wiiuliuj,' .\yr wi' iiu't 

To livo one ilay of iiaitiiij; lovr .' 
l'',ti'niity will not I'llan' 

Tlio.ii' lofonls iliiai' of triinsiioits past ; 
Tliy iiiiaj;o at ouv last onilirai'i' ; 

All ' Hull' tliouf^lit wi' 't was our last ! 

Ayr, j,'ui);liii(;, kissi'il liis |n'lihli'il slioic, 

O'l'iliuiifi "illi Willi "ooils, tliii'ki'uiii}{ gi'ivu ; 
Tilt' IVajjiaiil biirli, ami liawtlioni lioav, 

Twiui'il aiuoious loiiuil tlu' mptiiivil si'iMir ; 
Tliii llowi'is sprang waulou to l)o pivst, 

Tlu' liii'ils sauj; lovo ou ovi'vy spray, — 
Till soon, too soon, till' glowiui; wost 

I'nu'laimml tlio spowl of wiiifjoil ilay. 

Still o'i'r tlii'si' si'i'iii's my mi'imny waki's, 

Ami I'omlly brooils with misi'r raiv I 
Timii hut till' iiiiprt'.ssioii strou>;i'r uiako.s. 

As stivnnis thoir I'lianni'ls ilwpi'r woar. 
My Mary ! ili'ur ili'iwirti'il shailo ! 

Whi'iv is thy plai'c of blissful ivst I 
Sci>'st thou thy lovi'r lowly laiii ! 

lloar'st thou tho gmaus that ii'iul his bivnst f 

KonbKl Hl'RNS. 



O, SNATrllKD AWAY IN I'.l'.Al TVS 
HI.OOM ! 

0, .sN.virill'.ii away in beauty's bloom, 
1^11 tliw shall jivi'ss no pomli'iwis tomb ; 
Hut ou thy turf shall imsos ivar 
Thoir hiivi's, Ihn carliost of Iho yoar, 
.\iul till' wihl i-ypiv.ss wavi' iu li'iulor gloom : 

Ami ot't by you blui- j;usliinx stivam 
Shall Sori\nv K<au hor iliwpiuj; hrad. 
Ami foi'ii ilt'op thous-lit witli many a iliviim, 
.\inl lius^'riui; paus« ami liijlitly tivail ; 
Koiul wivtih ! as if hor stop ilistuibiil tin- ih'ail 



Away ! wi' know Unit tears are vain, 
'I'liiil ileatli nor lieeils nor hears ilistross ; 
Will this unteaeh us to eomphiin I 
Or make one mourner weep the loss? 
Anil thou, who tell'st me to forget. 
Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet. 

l.iiKlt IIVUON. 



TIIV r.KAKS WF.KK I'.ONNY. 

TilY braes were boiiny, Viurow stream ! 

When lirst on them 1 met my lover; 
Thy braes how ilreary. Yarrow stream I 

W'hou now thy waves his body eovor. 

Forever now, Yarrow Stream ! 

Thou art to me a stream of .sorrow ; 
For never on thy Iwnks shall I 

lielioM my lovo, the Ihnver of Yiirnnv. 

lie pi'omisetl me a milk-white steeil. 

To bear me to his father's bowers ; 
lie |iroini.seil me a little page. 

To '.siiuiit' me to his father's towers ; 
lie promiseil me a weililiug-ring, — 

The weililing-ilay was li.'^eil to-morrow ; 
Now he is weilileil to his grave, 

Alas, his watery giiive, in Yarrow ! 

Sweet weiv his woriis when last we met ; 

My passion 1 as freely toKl him ! 
(Taspeil in his arms, 1 little thought 

That 1 .sliouhl nevermore beholil him I 
Searee was he gone, I saw his ghost ; 

It vauisheil with u shriek of sorrow ; 
Thiiee iliil the water-wraith aseeml, 

.\nil gave a iloleful groan through Yurrow. 

His mother from the wiinlow lookeil 

With all the longing of a mother ; 
liis little sister weeping walkinl 

The greeiiwooil path to meet her brother. 
They sought him east, they sought him west. 

They sought him all the foivst thorough ; 
They only saw the elouil of night, 

They only heuul the roar of Yivnxiw ! 

No long<'r from thy wimlow look. 

Thou hast no son, thou tender mother ! 
No longer walk, thou lovely maid ; 

Alas, thou hast no nioiv a brother ! 
No longer seek him east or west, 

And seareh no umiv the foivst thoivugh ; 
For, wandering in the night so dark, 

lie fell a lifeless eoi-se in Yarnnv. 



HICKEAVKMKNT AND UKAl'll. 



liS'J 



Tlio tpnr shall iii'vcr Iwivu my chuok, 
No ollii'i- yimlli "Iwll 'w my miiiitnv ; 

1 '11 sci'k thy ImhIv in the striuin, 
Anil Ihi-n with thri' 1 '11 sleep in YaiTow. 
)uiiN Logan. 



DOUGLAS, DOUGLAS, TENUKll AND 
TKUK. 

I .ii'i.ii ye come hiiek to me, nougliiH, Douglas, 

III the old likeness tliat 1 knew, 
I would l>u so ruitliful, so loving, Douglas, 

Douglas, Douglas, temlei- ami line. 

Never a si'ornrnl woril slionUi giieve yo, 
I 'il smile on ye sweet as the angels Jo ; — 

Sweet as your smile lUi me slione ever, 
Douglas, Douglas, leniler anil true. 

(I, to rail twuk the days lliiil are not ! 

My eyes were lilimled, your words weii' lew ; 
Do you know the truth now u]) in heaven, 

Douglits, Dougliis, tender and Irnu ( 

I never was worthy »( yon, Douglas ; 

Not Imir worthy the like of yon ; 
N'ow all men beside seem to me liki! slnulows- ■ 

I love i/dii, Douglas, tender and true. 

Streleli out your hand to me, Douglas, Douglas, 
Drop forgiveness from heaven like ilew ; 

As I lay my heiilt on your dead heart, Douglas, 
Douglns, Douglas, tender and true. 

DiNAu Maria mulock Ckaik. 



FIKST sriiINC l'"I,()\VKHS. 

1 AM watching for the early buds to wake 

Under the snow : 
I'rom litth' beds the soft white covering take, 

And, nestling, hi ! 

They lie, with [link lips parted, all aglow ! 

' ) (Inrlings ! open w ide your tender eyes ; 

See ! 1 am here — 
Have been here, waiting umlir winter skies 

'I'ill you appear — 

Von, just come u|) from where he lies so near. 

Till me, ilear tlowers, is he gently laid, 

Wiapped round from lold ; 
llus spring al)0ut him fair green garments made, 

Kohl over fold ; 

.\iv sweet things growing with him in the 
inoulil f 



Mas ho found ipiiet resting-phicu at last. 

After the light / 
What message did he send me, as you passed 

llim in the night, 

Kagerly pushing upward toward tlm lijjlit ! 

I will nul pliuk yon, lest A/.v linnd sluiuld lie 

Close I'laspiiig you ; 
Tho.so slender libres which so ding to mo 

Do grasp hi III too - - 

What gave these delicate veins their blood- 
red hue ! 

One kiss 1 press, dear little luid, hull shut, 

On your sweet eyes ; 
Kor when the April rain falls at your foot. 
And April sun yearns downward to your root 

Kroin .soft spring skies, 

/', loo, may reach him, where ho sleeping lies. 

MAKV WooLSUV IIOWLANU. 



MIN.STIIKI.S SONO. 

(), .siNii unto my roundelay ! 

(>, drop the briny tear with mo I 
Dance no nuue at holiday ; 
Like a running river be. 
^/i/ lovt: is lUaU, 
I lone tu his ilmlh-bal, 
All under the willow-tree. 

Black his hair as the winter niglit. 
White his neck as the summer snow, 

Ituildy his face as thu morning light ; 
< 'old he lies in tho grave below. 
Mij love is iliiiil, etc. 

Sweet his tongue as the throstle's note ; 

Quick in dunce as thought can be ; 
Dcit his tabor, cudgel stout ; 

O, he lies by the vvillow-tree I 
Ml/ Invi: is ilritil, etc. 

Hark ! the raven Ihips his wing 

In the briered dell below ; 
Hark ! the death-owl lond doth sing 

'I'd the nightmares as they go. 
Mtf lore is dfitil, eti;. 

.Sve ! the while 11 1 shines on high ; 

Whiter is my true-love's shroud, 
Whiter than the inorning sky. 

Whiter than the cvcaiing cloud. 
jl/V Airi; is tlfitil, etc. 

Here, upon my true-love's gravo 
Shall the barren llowers be laid. 

Nor one holy saint to save 
All the cohliiess of a maid. 
Mir liirf 11 ili'ifit, etc. 



290 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



With my luinds 1 '11 bind the biieis 

Round his holy corse to gre ; 
Ouphant fairy, light your fires ; 

Here my body still shall be. 
My love is dead, etc. 

Come, with acorn-cup and thorn, 
Drain my heart's blood away ; 

Life and all its good I scorn. 
Dance by night, or feast by day. 
My love is dead, etc. 

Water-witches, crowned with reytes. 

Bear me to your lethal tide. 
I die ! I come ! my true-love waits. 

Thus the damsel spake, and died. 

THOMAS CHATTERTON. 



SELECTIONS FROM "IN MEMORIAM. 

[ARTHUR HENRV HALLAM, OB. 1833.] 

GRIEF UNSPEAKABLE. 

I SOMETIMES hold it half a sin 
To put in words the grief 1 feel : 
For words, like Nature, half reveal 

And half conceal the Soul within. 

But, for the unquiet heart and brain, 
A use in measured language lies ; 
The sad mechanic exercise, 

Like dull narcotics, numbing pain. 

In words, like weeds, I '11 wrap me o'er. 
Like coarsest clothes against the cold : 
But tliat large grief which these enfold 

Is given in outline and no more. 



DEAD, IN A FOREIGN LAND. 

FAin ship, that from the Italian shore 
Sailest the placid ocean-plains 
With my lost Arthur's loved remains, 

Spread thy full wings, and waft him o'er. 

So draw him home to those that mourn 
In vain ; a favorable speed 
Ruffle thy mirrored mast, and lead 

Through prosperous floods his holy uiii. 

All night no ruder air perplex 

Thy sliding keel, till Phosphor, bright 
As our pure love, through early liglit 

Shall glimmer on the dewy decks. 

Sphere all your lights around, above ; 

Sleep, gentle heavens, before the prow ; 

Sleep, gentle winds, as he sleejjs now, 
My friend, the brother of my love ; 



Jly Arthur, whom I shall not see 
Till all my widowed race be run ; 
Dear as the mother to the son. 

More than -my brothers are to me. 

THE PEACE OF .SORltOW. 

Calm is the morn without a sound, 
Calm as to suit a calmer giief, 
And only through the faded leaf 

The chestnut pattering to the grour.d : 

Calm and deep peace on this high wold 
And on these dews that drench tlie furze. 
And all the silvery gossamers 

That twinkle into green and gold : 

Calm and still light on yon great plain 
That sweeps with all its autumn bowers. 
And crowded farms and lessening towers,' 

To mingle with the bounding main : 

Calm and deep peace in this wide air. 
These leaves that redden to the fall ; 
And in my heart, if calm at all, 

If any calm, a calm despair : 

Calm on the seas, and silver sleep. 

And waves that sw-ay themselves in rest. 
And dead calm in that noble breast 

Which heaves but with the heaving deep. 

TIME AND ETERNITY. 

If Sleep and Death be truly one. 
And every spirit's folded bloom 
Through all its intervital gloom 

In some long trance should slumber on ; 

Unconscious of the sliding hour. 
Bare of the body, might it last. 
And silent traces of the past 

Be all the color of the tiower : 

So then were nothing lost to man ; 

So that still garden of the souls 

In many a figured leaf enrolls 
The total w'orld since life began ; 

And love will last as pure and whole 
As when he loved nie here in Time, 
And at the spiritual jirime 

Rewakeu with the dawning soul. 

PERSONAL RESURRECTION. 

That each, who seems a separate whole. 
Should move his rounds, and fusing all 
The skirts of self again, should fall 

Renicrgiug in the general Soul, 



BEREAVEJIENT AND DEATH. 



291 



Is faith as vague as all iiiiswect : 
Eternal form shall still divide 
Tlie eternul soul froui all beside ; 

Aud 1 shall know him when we meet : 

And we shall sit at endless feast, 
Enjoying each tlu' other's good : 
What vaster dream can hit the mood 

Of Eove on earth ! He seeks at least 

Upon the last and sharpest height, 
Before the spirits fade away. 
Some landing-place to clasp and say, 

" Farewell ! We lose ourselves iii light.' 



si'iurruAL coMr.\N'lONsiiiP. 

How pure at heart and sound in head. 

With what divine affections bold. 

Should be the man whose thought would hold 
An hour's communion with the dead. 

In vain shall thou, or any, call 
The s]>irits from their golden day. 
Except, like them, thou too canst say, 

My spirit is at peace with all. 

They haunt the silence of the breast, 

Imaginations calm and fair, 

The memory like a cloudless air, 
The conscience as a sea at rest : 

But when the heart is full of din. 
And doubt beside tlie portal waits. 
They can but listen at the gates. 

And hear the household jar within. 

Do we indeed desire the dead 

Should still be near us at our .side ? 
Is there no baseness we would hide? 

Xo inner vileness that we dread ? 

Shall he for wliose applause I strove, 
I had such reverence for his blame. 
Sec w'ith clear eye some hidden shame. 

And I be lessened in his love ? 

I wrong the grave with fears untrue : 
Shall love be blamed for want of faith ? 
There must be wisdom with great Death : 

The dead shall look me tlirough and through. 

Be near us when we climb or fall : 
Ye watch, like Cod, the rolling hours 
With larger other eyes than ours. 

To make allowance for us all. 



DEATH IN LIFE S Pltl.ME. 

So many worlds, so much to do. 
So little done, such things to be. 
How know I what had need of thee ? 

For thou wert strong as thou wert true. 

The fame is quenched that I foresaw, 
The head hath missed an earthly wreath : 
I curse not nature, no, nor death ; 

For nothing is tliat errs from law. 

We pass ; the path that each man trod 
Is dim, or will be dim, with weeds : 
What fame is left for human deeds 

In endless age ? It rests with God. 

hollow wraith of dying fame, 

Fade wholly, while the soul exults, 
Aud self-enfolds the large results 

Of force that would have forged a name. 



THE POET .S TRIBUTE. 

What hope is here for modern rliyme 
To him who turns a musing eye 
On songs, and deeds, and lives, that lie 

Foreshortened in the tract of time ? 

These mortal UiUaljies of pain 

May bind a book, may line a box, 
May serve to curl a maiden's locks : 

Or when a thousand moons shall wane 

A man upon a stall may find. 

And, passing, turn the page that tells 
A grief, then changed to something else, 
Sung by a long-forgotten mind. 

But what of that ? My darkened ways 
Shall ring with music all the same ; 
To breathe my loss is more than fame. 

To utter love more sweet than praise. 

Alfred Tennyson. 



THE PASSAGE. 

Many a year is in its grave 
Since I crossed this restless wave : 
And the evening, fair as ever. 
Shines on ruin, rock, and river. 

Then in this same boat beside. 
Sat two comrades old and tried, — 
One with all a father's truth. 
Cue with all the fire of youth. 



292 



I'llKMS OF TlIK AKKKCTlliNS. 



J 



Olio (in oniili in .silonco wroiixlit, 
Anil liis j^nivti in silimro ,simf,'lil ; 
Hut llii' jDiingov, lii'inliU'i- lorni 
I'liasod ill lint 111' ami in .storm. , 

So, wluMui'or I turn rnino oyo 

Hiu'k ii]ion t 111' iliiy.i ^ouo by, 

Sii(Mi'nin>' tlioii;,'lil.s of IViiMiils comn o'lT ini', 

Krionds llml dosi'il tlioir coiiiso lit'l'inc inc. 

Km I wlmt bimls us, IVioinl to IViiMul, 
I'lut tlmt aoul with soul niii lilciid ? 
SoulliUi' wt'io tlio.sii hoiu'.s of yoiv ; 
\mI ua walk in soul oiico nioiv. 

Tnko, O lioalnmn, tliiirc tliy IV'O, 

Tako, 1 jjivi' it willingly ; 

Kor, invisiblo to tlioo. 

Spirits twain liavo i-nissoil with mo. 

I'roiu tlic r.erm.m oi l.l'TUVU; I'm. AND. 
li.msl.ut.'n or .s.\RAil AUSTItN. 



lldMK TllKY riKiM'Cll'r lIKi; W.VKKinU 

PK.vn. 

IKOM ■■ IIU I'KINCBSS." 

HoMit tlu'y biouj;lit lior warrior iloiid : 
Slio nor swooiioil, iior nttoioil cry ; 

All lior maiilons, watoliiujj, saiil, 
"Slio mu.'it woop or slio will ilio." 

Then thoy jiraisoil liim, .soft aiiil Uuv, 
Oalloil hiiu worthy to bo lovoil, 

Truo.st fiioiul ami noblost I'oo ; 
Yot slio lu'itlior s]ioko nor niovoil. 

Stolo a luaiili'U IVoiu hor I'laoo, 

liiglitly to tho warrior slopt. 
Took tho I'aoo-i'loth I'roiii tin' I'aoo ; 

Yot .sho noitlior niovoil uur wopt. 

Koao a nurso ol'iiiuoty yoars, 
Sot his oliilil upon hor kiioo, — 

l.iko sunimor tompost oaiiio hor teal's, 
"Swoot luy oliilil, 1 live lor thoo." 

AI.I.-K1U1 TUNNYSON. 



LAMKNT OV TllK lUlSIl F.MUiKANT. 

I'm sittin' on tho stilo, Mary. 

Whoiv wo sat siilo by siilo 
On « bright May luornin' long agv>, 

Wlion lii'st yon woiv my biiilo ; 
Tho oorn was springin' frosh ami given, 

.•\nil tho lark sang loml ami high ; 
Ami the roil was on your lip, Maiy, 

.\iul tlio lovo-light in your eye. 



Tho jilaco is little ehaiigoil, Mary ; 

Tho Uay i.s bright as llion ; 
The lark's louil song is in my oar, 

Ami tho oorn is green again ; 
But I miss the .soil olasp of your liami, 

And your lurath, warm on my olioek ; 
Ami I still keep llst'niu' lor the words 

Von lu'Vormoie will spoak. 

"r is but a step down yonder lane. 

And the little ohuivh stands near, — 
The oluiroh wlioro wo were wed, Jlary ; 

I see the spiie IVoin lioit*. 
l!ul tho graveyard lies between, Mary, 

And luy step might break your rest, — 
For 1 '\o laid you, darling, down to sleoji, 

With your baby on your breast. 

I 'in voiy lonely now, Mary, 

For the poor make no now tViends ; 
But, 0, they love tho bettor still 

Tho low our Kathor sends ! 
And you wore all 1 had, Mary, — 

My blessin' and my pride ; 
Then' 's nothing loft to oaii' for now. 

Since my poor Jliiry died. 

Yours was the good, bravo heart, Jlaiy, 

That still kept hoping on. 
When the trust in tiod had loft my soul. 

And my arm's young strength was gone 
There was oomfort over on your lip. 

And the kind look on your brow, — 
1 bloss you, Mary, for that same. 

Though you oaniiot hear me now. 

1 thank you for the patient siiiilo 

When your heart was lit to break, — 
Wlioii the hunger-pain was gnawin' there. 

And you hid it for my sake ; 
I blo.ss you for the pleasant word. 

When your heart was sad and sore. — 
0, 1 'm thankful you are gone, Mary, 

Whore grief can't reach you more ! 

I 'm biddin' you a long farewell. 

My Mary — kind and true ! 
liiit 1 'II not forgot you, darling. 

In the land 1 'm goin' to ; 
Thev say there 's bread and work for all. 

And the sun shines always there, — 
l?ut 1 'II not forgot old Irehiml, 

Woiv it tifty times as fair ! 

And often in those grand old woods 

1 '11 sit, and shut my eyes. 
And my heart will travel back agsiiii 

To tho place wlieiv Mary lies ; 



HKUEAVEMKNT AND DKATII. 



293 



Aiul I '11 think I wp the littlo Htilo 

Wlii'iv Wf sill siili' liy siilc, 
Anil tlie spiinj'in'aii'ii, iiiul llio Iniglit May iiioni, 

When first you wcio my briile. 

II1:L.UN Sl'.l.tNA SIII'.KIDAN, I.ADY DUI-'l'UKIN. 



TiiK Kixc (ir 1)i:nmai;ks ijidk. 

Wonn was brought to the Danish kiiij< 

(Hurry!) 
'I'liiit tlict h)V(' of his hi'iirt liiy suH'cniif,', 
Ami pini'd I'ortlici I'onilurl his vnirc wnuM hriug; 

((-', ridii fts thouj;h yuu weru llyiii;^ !) 
Hi'tli 1 hi^ lovi's I'lich gohlcii curl 
On till' hrow of thiit Si'iiiuliiiiiviiin j,'irl 
Tliiiii his rich crown jewels of ruliy iiikI iioiirl : 
Aiul Ilia rose of the isles is ilyiiig ! 

Thirty nohlos saihllcil with s|ieeil ; 

(Hurry I) 
Each oni^ niiuinting a gallant stcid 
Which he kept for biilth^ unit ihiys of neoil ; 

(t), riile US thungli you were llyinf^ !) 
Spurs were struck in the foaming llanU ; 
Worn-out ehaixers slaggereil anil sank ; 
Briilles were shickeiwil, unit giiths were Imrst ; 
But riile as they wouM, the king roile first, 
For his rose of the isles lay ilying ! 

His nohles are beaten, one by one ; 

(Hurry!) 
They have fainli-il, and falteicd, and liiinieward 

gone ; 
His little fair Jiage now follows alone, 

For strength and for courage trying ! 
The king looked back at that faithful child ; 
Wan was the face that answering smiled ; 
They passed the drawbridge witli clattering din, 
Tlieii ho drop|ied ; and only the king lode in 
Where his rose of tlio isluH lay dying ! 

The king blew a blimt on his bugle horn ; 

(.Silence !) 
No answer ciinio ; but faint and forlorn 
An echo returned on the cold gray morn, 

Like the breath of a spirit sighing. 
The castle portal stnod grimly wide ; 
None welcomed the king licim that weary riJo ; 
For dead, in the light of the dawning day, 
The iialc sweet form ol the wehomer lay. 
Who had yearned for his voice while dying ! 

The panting steed, with u drooping crest. 

Stood weary. 
The king returned from her chaml«'r of rest. 
The thick sobs choking in his breast ; , 



And, that dumb companion eying. 
The tears giislied forth which lii^ strove to check 
He bowed his head on his charger's neck : 
" O steed, that every nerve didst strain. 
Dear steed, our ride hath been in vain 
To the halls where my love lay dying I " 

t:Aiu)i.iNH I'.i.lZAlieni sakaii Nokthn. 



TIIK. I'.AliON'S 1,AST lUNQUKT. 

(>'i;it a low coindi the selling sun 

Had thrown its latesl ray, 
Where in his last sin iig agony 

A dying warrior lay, — 
The stern old liaroii h'lidlger. 

Whose frame had ne'er been bent 
liy wasting pain, till time and toil 

Its iron strcnglli had spent. 

" They come around nie lure, and say 

My days of life are o'l-r. 
That I shall moiiiil my noble steed 

And lead my baml no more ; 
They Inline, and to my heard they dure 

To tell me now, that I, 
Their own liege lord and master born, — 

That I ha ! ha ! iiiiisl. die. 

" And what is Death '/ 1 'vc dared him oft 

Before the I'aynim spear, — 
Think ye he 'a entered at my gate. 

Has come to seek me here / 
I 've met him, faced him, scorned him, 

WhcMi the light was raging hot, — 
I '11 try his might — I 'II brave his power j 

Defy, and fear him nol. 

"llo ! sound the tocsin rroiii my lower, — 

And lire thc^ ciilverin. 
Hid each retainer arm with speed, — 

Call every vassal in ; 
Up with my banner on the wall, — 

The baiiipiel-board prepare, — 
Throw wide the iiorlal of my hall. 

And bring my armor then^ !" 

A liundnd hands were busy then, — 

The liiinipiet forth was spread, — 
And rung the heavy oaken lloor 

With many a martial tread, 
While from the rich, dark tracery 

Along the vaulted wall. 
Lights gleamed on harness, |ilume, and spear, 

O'er the proud old (lolhic hall. 

Fiust hurrying through the outer gate. 

The mailed retainers poiirivl. 
On through the portal's frowning arch. 

And thronged aronnil the board. 



294 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



While at its lieiul, within liis iliuk, 

Curved oaken dmir of state, 
Anneil eap-a-jiie, slein Riu'iger, 

Witli girtleil I'liU'liion, sate. 

" Fill every In'aker up, my men, 

I'our fortli the elieering wine ; 
There ',s life and .strength in every drop, — 

Thanksgiving to the vine ! 
Are ye all there, luy vassals true ? — 

Mine eyes are waxing dim ; — 
Fill round, my tried and fearless ones, 

Eaeh goblet to the brim. 

" Ye 're there, but yet I see ye not. 

Draw forth each trusty swoitl, — 
And let uie hear your faithful steel 

flash onee around my board : 
I liear it faintly : — Louder yet ! — 

What elogs my heavy breath f 
Up, all, — and .shout for Hudiger, 

' Defianee unto Death !'" 

liowl rang to bowl, — steel elanged to steel. 

And ro.se a deafening ery 
That made the torehes Hare around, 

.And shook the Mags on high : — 
" Ho ! eravens, do ye fear him ? — 

Slaves, traitors ! have ye Mown ? 
Ho ! cowards, have ye left me 

To meet him here alone ? 

" lint / defy him ; — let him come ! " 

l>o\vn rang the massy enp, 
While from its slieath the ready blade 

Canui Hashing half-way up ; 
And, with the blaek and heavy plumes 

Scarce trembling on his hiuul, 
There, in his dark, carved, oaken ihair, 

Old Kudiger sat, tlaiil. 

ALBERT G. ORKENE, 



FAFvF.WEI.I. TO THKE, ARABVS 
n.M'dllTKl!. 

FROM " THE FIRE-WORSHIPPBRS." 

F.^liKWr.i.i., — farewell to tliee, Araby's daughter ! 

(Thus warbled a Peri beneath the dark sea ;) 
No pearl ever lay undi'r Oman's given water 

.More pure in its shell than thy spirit in thee. 

0, fur as the sea-flower daso to thee gixiwing. 
How light was thy heart till love's witchery 
came. 
Like the wind of the south o'er a summer lute 
blowing, . 

And hushed all its music and withered itsframe! 



Unt Idiij;, upon .\raby's green sunny highlands. 
Shall maids and their lovers remember the 
doom 
Of her wlio lies sleeping among the Pearl Islands, 
With naught but the sea-star to light up her 
tomb. 

And still, when the nn^rry date-season is burning. 
And calls to the palm-groves the young and 
the old, 

The happiest there, from their pastime returning 
At sunset, will weep when thy story is told. 

The young village maid, when with flowers she 
dresses 

Her dark-Mowing hair for .some festival day, 
Will think of thy fate till, neglecting her tresses, 

She mournfully turns from the nurror away. 

Nor shall Iran, beloved of her hero, forget thee, — 

Though tyrants watch over her tears as they 

start, 

Close, close by the side of that hero she '11 set thee. 

Embalmed in the innermost shrine of her 

heart. 

Farewell ! — be it ours to embellish thy pillow 
With everything beauteous that grows in the 
deep ; 

Each Mower of the rock ami each gem of the billow 
Shall sweeten thy bed and illumine thy sleep. 

Around thee shall glisten the loveliest amlwr 
That ever the sorrowing sea-bird has wept ; 

With many a shell, in whose hollow-wreathed 
chamber, 
We, Peris of ocean, by moonlight have slept. 

We'll dive where the ganlens of coral lie dark- 
ling. 
And jilant all the rosiest stems at thy head ; 
We '11 seek where the sands of the Caspian are 
sparkling. 
And gather their gold to strew over thy bed. 

Farewell ! — farewell ! — until pity's sweet foun- 
tain 
Is lost in the hearts of the fair and the brave. 
They 'II weep for the Chieftain who ilied on that 
mountain. 
They '11 weep for tlie JIaiden who sleeps in the 

wave. 

TiioM.\s Moore. 



GRIEF. 

FROM "HAMLET. PRINCE OF DE.VMARK." ACT I. SC. 2. 

QUEBN. Good Hamlet, cast thy uighted color 
oil", 
.\ud let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark. 
I'o not, forever, with tliv veiled lids 



HEKEAVEMENT AND DEATH. 



295 



Seek for tliy noble father in the ilust : 

TlioH know'st 't is common, — nil timt livr iiiust 

die, 
I'iiHsing tlirough nature to eternity. 

llAMl.i'.r. .\y, nmilnni, it is coiiinion. 

IJUF.KN. II it lii\ 

Why seems it so particular with tlice ' 

Ham. Seems, madam ! nay, it is ; I know not 
seems. 
T is not alone my inky cloak, gooil mother. 
Nor customary suits of solemn black, 
Ni)r windy suspiration of forced breath. 
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye. 
Nor the dejected liavior of the visage. 
Together with all forms, modes, shows of giicf. 
That can denote me truly ; these, indeed, seem, 
For tliey are actions that a man niisht play : 
Hut I have that witiiin, which passeth show ; 
These, but the trapiiinr;s and the suits of woe. 

SHAKESPEARK. 



TO DEATH. 

MivnnNKS it were no pain to die 
On such an eve, when such a sky 

D'cr-canopies the west ; 
To gaze my fill on yon calm deep, 
And, like an infant, fall asleep 

On Earth, my mother's breast. 

There 's peace and welcome in yon sea 
Of endless blue traiii|uillity : 

These clouds arc living things : 
1 trace their veins of lii|uid gold, 
I see them solemnly unfold 

Their soft and fleecy wings. 

Tlicse be the angels that convey 
Us weary children of a day — 

liife's tedious nothing o'er — 
Where neither passions come, nor woes, 
To vex the genius of repose 

On Death's majestic shore. 

No darkness there divides the sway 
With startling ilawn and dazzling day ; 

Hilt gloriously .serene 
Arc the interminable plains : 
One fixed, eternal sunset reigns 

O'er the wide silent scene. 

I cnnnot doflT all human fear ; 
I know thy greeting is severe 

To this poor shell of clay : 
Yet come, Death ! thy freezing kiss 
Kniancipates ! thy rest is bliss I 

I would I were away I 

From the (fcntian or GLUCK. 



NOW AND AFTEUWARDS. 

" Two hands upon the breast, and labor is past." 

RUSSIAN PROVERB. 

"Two hands upon the brca.st, 

And labor 's done ; 
Two pale feet cros.sod in rest, — 

The race is won ; 
Two eyes with coin-weights shut. 

And all tears cease ; 
Two lips where grief is mute, 

Anger at peace :" 
So pi ay we oftentimes, mourning our lot ; 
God in his kiiulncss answereth not. 

"Two hands to work addrest 

Aye for his praise ; 
Two feet that never rest 

Walking his ways ; 
Two eyes that look above 

Through all their tears ; 
Two lips still breathing love. 

Not wrath, nor fears : " 
So pray we afterwards, low on o>ir knees ; 
Pardon those erring prayers ! Father, hear these ! 

UINAII MARIA MULOCK CRAIK. 



REST. 



I LAY me down to sleep , 

With little care 
Whether my waking find 

Me here, or there. 

A bowing, burdened head 

That only a.sks to rest, 
Uni[uestioning, upon 

A loving breast. 

My good right-hand forgets 

Its cunning now ; 
To march the weary march 

1 know not how. 

I am not eager, bold, 

Nor strong, — all that is past ; 
I am ready not to do. 

At last, at last. 

My half-day's work is done. 

And this is all my part, — 
I give a patient (Jod 

My p.iticnt heart ; 

And grasp his banner still. 
Though all tl'ie blue be dim ; 

These stripes as well as stars 
Lead after him. ■ 

MAUV WOOLSEV IIOWI.AND. 



296 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



BEYOND THK SMIUNC, 
WEKriNO. 



AND THE 



Beyond tlic smiling ami tlu> weeping 

1 slmll Iw soon ; 
Beyond the waking ami the sleeping, 
Beyond the sowing and the reaping, 
I shall be soon. 
Love, rest, and home ! 
Sweet hope ! 
Lord, tarry not, but come. 

Beyond the hlooniing and the fading 

1 shall be soon ; 
Beyond the sluningand the shading. 
Beyond the hoiiing and the dieading, 

1 shall be soon. 
Love, rest, and home ! etc. 

Beyond the rising and the setting 

I sliall be soon ; 
Beyond the ealniing and the fretting. 
Beyond remembering and forgetting, 
1 shall be soon. 
Loie, rest, and home ! etc. 

Beyond the gathering and the strowing 

I shall be soon ; 
Beyond the ebbing and the flowing. 
Beyond the coming and the going, 

1 shall be soon. 
Love, rest, and home ! etc. 

Beyond the parting and the meeting 

1 shall be soon ; 
Beyond the farewell ami the greeting, 
Beyond this pnlse's fever boating, 

1 shall Iw soon. 
Love, rest, and home ! etc. 

Beyond the frost chain and the lever 

I shall Ix' soon ; 
Beyond the rock waste and the river. 
Beyond the ever and the never, 
1 sliall be soon. 
Love, rest, and home ! 
Sweet hope ! 
Lord, larrii not, Inil eome. 

IIORATR'S BONAR. 



THE LAND O' THE LEAL. 

1 'm wearing nwn', Jean, 

Like snaw when it 's thaw, .Tean ; 

I 'm wearing awa' 

To the land o' the leal. 
Tlierc "s nac sorrow there, Jean, 
There 's neither eauld nor care, Jean, 
The day is aye fair 

In the land o' the leal. 



Ye were aye leal and true, Jean ; 
Yonr task 's ended noo, Jean, 
And I '11 welcome you 

To the land o' the leal. 
Our bonnie bairn 's there, Jean, 
She was baith guid and fair, Jean : 
0, we grudged her riglit sair 

To the huul o' the leal I 

Then dry that tearfu' e'e, Jean, 
My soul langs to be free, Jean, 
And angels wait on nie 

To the land o' the leal ! 
Now fare ye weel, my ain Jean, 
This warld's care is vain, Jean ; 
We '11 meet and aye be fain 
In the land o' the leal. 

Carolina, baroness Nairnb, 



SOFTLY AVOO AAV.VY Hl'.i; BKEATH. 

Softly woo away her breath, 

Gentle death ! 
Let her leave thee with no strife. 

Tender, mournful, murmuring life ! 
She hath seen her happy day, — 

She hath had her bud and blossom ; 
Now she jiales and shrinks away. 

Earth, into thy gentle bosom ! 

She luith done her bidding here. 

Angels dear ! 
Bear her perfect soul above. 

Seraph of the skies, — sweet love ! 
Good she was, and fair in youth ; 

And her mind was seen to soar, 
And lier heart was wed to truth : 
Take her, tlien, forevermoi-e, — 
Forever — evermore, — 

BRYAN Waller Procter iS^trry Cfr«a\i//), 



ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 

■ lam ilyinff. E^-pt. dying." — SHAKESPEARE'S A»taity and 
Clfcfatra, Act iv. Sc. 13. 

I .\M dying, Egyjit, dying, 

Ebbs the crimson life-tide fast, 
And the dark Plutonian shadows 

Gather on the evening blast ; 
Let thine arms, Queen, enfold me, 

Hush thy sobs and bow thine ear ; 
Listen to the gi-eat heart-secit'ts. 

Thou, and thou alone, must hear. 



BEKEAVEMENT AND DEATH. 



•2'J7 



Though my scarred niul veteran legions 

Iie;ir tln'ir eagU's liigh no more, 
And my wreiked iiiid scattered galleys 

Strew dark Aetiuni's fatal shore, 
Tlwnigh no glittering guards surround me, 

rronipt to do their master's will, 
I must perish like a Homan, 

Die the great Triumvir still. 

Let not Caesar's servile minions 

Mock tile lion thus laid low ; 
'T was no I'oeman's arm that felled him, 

'Twas his own that struck the blow : 
His who, pillowed on thy bosom, 

Turned aside from glory's ray, 
His who, drunk with thy caresses, 

Madly threw a world away. 

Sliould the base jjlebeian rabble 

Dare assail my name at Home, 
AVhere my noble spouse, Octavia, 

Weeps within her widowed liome. 
Seek her ; say the gods bear w'itness — 

Altars, augurs, circling wings — 
That her blood, with mine commingled, 

Yet shall mount the throne of kings. 

As for thee, star-eyed Egyptian ! 

Glorious sorceress of the Xile ! 
Light the path to .Stygian horrors 

With the splendors of thy smile. 
Give the ( 'lesar crowns and arches, 

Let his brow the laurel twine ; 
I can scorn the Senate's triumphs. 

Triumphing in love like thine. 

I am dying, Egypt, dying ; 

Hark ! the insulting foenian's cry. 
They are coming — quick, my falcliion ! 

Let me front them ere I die. 
Ah ! no more amid the battle 

Shall my heart exulting swell ; 
Isis and Osiris guard thee ! 

Cleopatra — Rome — farewell ! 

William Haines Lytle. 



SOLILOQUY ON DEATH. 

PROM 'HAMLET. PRINCE OP DENMARK." ACT 111. SC. I. 

Hamlet. To be, or not to Ije, — that is the 
question ; — 
Whether 'tis nobler in tlie mind to .suffer 
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. 
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles. 
And, by opposing, end them ? — To die, to 
sleep ; — 



No more ; and, by a sleep, to say we end 
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks 
That llesh is lieir to, — 't is a consummation 
Devoutly to be wished. To die, — to sleej) ; — 
To sleep I perchance to dream : — ay, there 's the 

rub ; 
For in that sleep of death what dieams may come, 
When we have shutHed olf this mortal coil. 
Must give us i)ause : there 's the respect 
That makes calamity of so long life ; 
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time. 
The ojipressor's wrong, the proud man's con- 
tumely, 
The pains of despised love, the law's delay. 
The insolence of ofhce, and the spurns 
That patient merit of the unworthy takes. 
When he himself might his ijuietus make 
With a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear. 
To gnmt and sweat under a weary life, 
But that the dread of something after death, — 
The undiscovered country, from whose bourn 
No traveller returns, — puzzles the will. 
And makes us rather bear those ills we have. 
Than tly to others that we know not of ? 
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all ; 
And thus the native hue of resolution 
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought ; 
And enterprises of great pith and moment. 
With this regard, their currents turn awry. 

And lose the name of action. 

Shakespeare. 



THE TWO MYSTERIES. 

f" In the middle of the room, in its white coffin, lay the dead 
child, the nephew of the poet. Near it. in a trreat chair, sat Walt 
Whitman, surrounded by little ones, and holding a beautiful little 
girl on his lap. She looked wonderinely at the spectacle of death, 
and then inquiringly into the old man's face, ' You don't know 
what it is, do you, i"y dear?' said lie, and added, 'We don't, 
either.' "1 

We know not shat it is, dear, this sleep so deep 

and still ; 
The folded hands, the awful calm, the cheek so 

pale and chill ; 
The lids that will not lift again, though we may 

call and call ; 
The strange white solitude of peace that settles 

over all. 



We know not what it means, dear, this desolate 

heart-pain ; 
This dread to take our daily way, and walk in 

it again ; 
We know not to what other sphere the loved 

who leave us go. 
Nor why we 're left to wonder still, nor why we 

do not know. 



298 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



But this we know ; Our loved and dead, if they 

should eonie this day — 
Should come and ask us, " What is Hie ? '" not 

one of us could say. 
Life is a mystery, as deep as ever death can be ; 
Yet, 0, how dear it is to us, this life we live 

and see ! 

Then might they say — these vanished ones — 

and blessed is the thought, 
" So death is sweet to us, beloved I thougli we 

may show you naught ; 
We may not to the ijuick reveal the mystery of 

death — 
Ye cannot tell us, if ye would, the mystery of 

breath." 

The child who enters life comes not with knowl- 
edge or intent. 

So those who enter death must go as little chil- 
dren sent. 

Nothing is known. But I believe that God is 
overhead ; 

And as life is to the living, so death is to the 
dead. 

Mary Mapes Dodge. 



THE SECRET OF DEATH. 

" She is dead ! " they said to him ; " come awa}' ; 
Kiss her and leave her, — thy love is clay ! " 

They smoothed her tresses of dark brown hair ; 
On her forehead of stone they laid it fair ; 

Over her eyes that gazed too much 
They drew the lids with a gentle touch ; 

With a tender touch they closed up well 
The sweet thin lips that had secrets to tell ; 

About her brows and beautiful face 
They tied her veil and her marriage-lace, 

And drew on her white feet her wliite silk shoes — 
Which were the whitest no eye could choose ! 

And over her bosom they crossed her hands. 
" Come away I " they said ; " God undei-stands ! " 

And there was silence, and nothing there 
But silence, and scents of eglantere, 

And jasmine, and roses, and rosemary : 

And they said, "As a lady should lie, lies she." 

And they held tlieir breath till they left the room'. 
With a shudder, to glance at its stillness and 
gloom. 



But he who loved her too well to dread 
The sweet, the stately, the beautiful dead, 

He lit his lamp and took the key 

And turned it. Alone again — he and she ! 

He and she : but she woulil not speak. 
Though he ki.s.sed, in the old place, the quiet 
cheek. 

He and she ; yet she would not smile, 
Though he called her the name she loved ere- 
while. 

He and she ; still she did not move 
To any one passionate whisper of love. 

Then he said: "Cold lips, and breasts without 
breath. 



" Dumb to the ear and .still to the sen.se, I 

But to heart and to soul distinct, intense ? Tl 

"See now ; I will listen with soul, not ear; 
What was the secret of dying, dear ! 

" Was it the infinite wonder of all 
That you ever could let life's flower fiiU ? 

" Or was it a greater marvel to feel 
The perfect calm o'er the agony steal ? 

" Was the miracle greater to find how deep 
Beyond all dreams sank downward that sleep ? 

" Did life roll back its records, dear. 

And show, as they say it does, past things clear f 

And was it the innermost heart of the bliss 
To find out so, what a wisdom love is ? 

" perfect dead ! dead most dear, 
I hold the breath of my soul to hear '. 

"I listen as deep as to horrible hell. 

As high as to heaven, and you do not tell. 

" There must be pleasure in dying, sweet, 
To make you so placid from head to feet ! 

" I would tell you, darling, if I were dead, 
And 't were your hot teai-s upon my brow shed,^ 

"I would say, though the angel of death had laid 
His sword on my lips to keep it unsaid. 

" You should not ask vainly, with streaming eyes. 
Which of all death's was the chiefest surprise, 

" The very strangest and suddenest thing 
Of all the surjuises that dying must bring." 



i 



BEREAVEMENT AND DEATH 



299 



Ah, foolish woilil ! O, most kiinl dead ! 
Tbougli he told me, who will believe it was said ? 

Who will believe that ha heard her say, 
With a sweet, soft voice, in the dear old way : 

" The utmost wonder is this, — 1 hear. 

And see you, and love you, and kiss you, dear ; 

"And am your angel, who was your bride, 
And know that, though dead, I have never died." 

EDWIN ARNOLD. 



OXLY THE CLOTHES SHE WORE. 

There is the hat 
With the blue veil thrown 'round it, just as they 

found it, 
.Spotted and soiled, stained and all spoiled — 

Do you recognize that ? 

The gloves, too, lie there. 
And in tliein still liiigei's the shape of her fingers, 
Tliat some one has [iressed, perhaps, and caressed, 

.So slender and fair. 

There arc the shoes, 
With their long silken laces, still bearing traces, 
To the toe's dainty tip, of the nuul of the slip, 

The slime and the ooze. 

There is the dress, 
Like the blue veil, all dabbled, discolored, and 

drabbled — 
This you should know witliout doubt, and, if so. 

All else you may guess. 

There is the .shawl, 
With the stripeil border, hung ne.\t in order. 
Soiled hardly less than the white muslin dress. 

And — that is all. 

Ah, hero is a ring 
We were forgetting, witli a pearl setting ; 
There was only this one — name or date ! — none? 

A fniil, pretty thing ; 

A keepsake, maybe, 
The gift of another, perhaps a brother. 
Or lover, who knows ! him her heart chose, 

Or was she heart-free ! 

Does the hat there. 
With the bine veil around it, the same as they 

found it, 
■Summon up a fair face with just a trace 

Of gold in th(- hair? 



Or does the shawl, 
Mutely appealing to some hidden feeling, 
A form, young and slight, to your mind's sight 

L'learly recall ? 

A month now has passed, 
And her sad history renuiins yet a mystery. 
But these we keep still, and shall keep them until 

Hope dies at last. 

Was she a prey 
Of some deep .sorrow clouding the morrow, 
Hiding from view the sky's happy blue ? 

Or was there foul play ? 

Alas ! who may tell ? 
Some one or other, perhaps a fond mother. 
May recognize these when her child's clothes she 
sees ; 
hen — will it be well ? 

N. G. SHEPHERD. 



FOR ANNIE. 

TiiANK Heaven! the crisis, — 

The danger is past. 
And the lingering illness 

Is over at last, — 
And the fever called " Living" 

Is conquered at last. 

Sadly, 1 know, 

I am sliorn of my strength. 
And no muscle 1 move 

As 1 lie at full length, — 
But no matter ! — I feel 

I am better at length. 

And I rest so composedly 

Now, in my bed. 
That any beholder 

Might fancy mo dead, — 
Might start at beholding me, 

Thinking me dead. 

The moaning and groaning. 
The sighing and sobljing. 

Are (|uieted now, 

With that horrible throbbing 

At heart, ~ ah, tliat horrible, 
Horrible throbbing! 

The sii'kness, the nausea, 

The pitiless ]iain. 
Have ceased, with the fever 

That maddened my brain, — 
With the fever called " Living" 

That burned in my brain. 



300 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



And 0, of all tortures 

That torture the worst 
Has abated, — the terrible 

Torture of thirst 
For the naphthaline river 

Of Passion accurst ! 
I have drunk of a water 

That quenches all thirst, 

Of a water that flows, 

With a lullaby sound, 
From a spring but a very few 

Feet under ground, — 
From a cavern not very far 

Down under ground. 

And ah ! let it never 

Be foolishly said 
That my room it is gloomy 

And narrow my bed ; 
For man never slept 

In a difterent bed, — 
And, to sleep, you must slumber 

In just such a bed. 

My tantalized spirit 

Here blandly reposes, 
Forgetting, or never 

Regretting, its roses, — 
Its old agitations 

Of myitles and roses : 

For now, while so quietly 

Lying, it fancies 
A holier odor 

About it, of pansies, — 
A rosemary odor. 

Commingled with pansies, 
With rue and the beautiful 

Puritan pansies. 

And so it lies happily. 

Bathing in many 
A dream of the truth 

And the beauty of Annie, — 
Drowned in a bath 

Of the tresses of Annie. 

She tenderly kissed me. 

She fondly caressed. 
And then 1 fell gently 

To sleep on her breast, — 
Deeply to sleep 

From the heaven of her breast. 

When the light was extinguished. 

She covered me w-arm. 
And she prayed to the angels 

To keep me from harm, — 
To the queen of tlie angels 

To shield me from harm- 



And I lie so composedly 

Now in my bed, 
(Knowing her love,) 

That you fancy me dead ; — 
And 1 rest so contentedly 

Now in my bed, 
(Witli her love at my breast,) 

That you fancy me dead, — 
That you shudder to look at me, 

Thinking me dead : 

But my heart it is brighter 

Than all of the many 
Stars in the sky ; 

For it sparkles with Annie, — 
It glows with the light 

Of the love of mj' Annie, 
With the thought of the light 

Of the ej'es of my Annie. 

EDGAR ALLAN POE. 



THE FAIREST 



THING 
EYES. 



IN MORTAL 



Addressed to his deceased wife, who died in childbed at the age 
of twenty-two. 

To make my lady's obsequies 

My love a minster wrought. 
And, in the chantry, service there 

Was sung by doleful thought ; 
The tapers were of burning sighs, 

That light and odor gave : 
And sorrows, painted o'er with tears, 

Enlumined her grave ; 
And round about, in quaintest guise, 
AV^as carved : "Within this tomb there lies 
The fairest thing in mortal eyes. " 

Above her lieth spread a tomb 

Of gold and sapphiies blue : 
The gold doth show her blessedness. 

The sapphires mark her true ; 
For blessedness and truth in her 

Were livelily portrayed. 
When gracious God with both his hands 

Her goodly substance m.ade. 
He framed her in such wondrous wise. 
She was, to speak without disguise. 
The fairest thing in mortal eyes. 

No more, no more ! my heart doth faint 

When I the life recall 
Of her who lived so free from taint. 

So virtuous deemed by all, — 

That in herself was so complete 

I think that she was ta'en 
By God to deck his paradise, 

Aiul with his saints to leign ■, 



I 



I 




A horse-shoe nailed, for luck, upon a mast; 

That mast, wave-bleached, upon the shore was cast! 

I saw, and thence no fetich I revered, 

But safe, through tempest, to my haven steered. 



II. 




The place with rose and myrtle was o'ergrown, 
Yet Fear and Sorrow held it for their own. 
A garden then I sowed without one fear, — 
Sowed fennel, yet lived griefless all the year. 



III. 




Brave lines, long life, did my friend's hand display. 
Not so mine own; yet mine is quick to-day. 
Once more in his I read Fate's idle jest, 
Then fold it ilown forever on his breast. 

EniTH M. Thomas. 




IF I SHOULD DIE TO-NUIHT. 

If I should die to-night, 
My friends would look upon my quiet face 
Before they laid it in its resting-place. 
And deem that death had left it almost fair ; 
And. laying snow-white flowers against my hair, 
Would smooth it down uith tearful tenderness. 
And fold mv hands with lingering caress — 
Poor hantls, so empty and so cold to-night 1 

If I should die to-night. 
My friends would call to mind, with loving thought, 
Some kindly deed the icy hands had wrought ; 
Some gentle word the frozen lips had said ; 
Errands on which the willing feet had sped; 
The memory of my selfishness and pride. 
My iiasty words, would all be put aside. 
And so I should be loved and mourned to-night. 

If I should die to-night. 
Even hearts estranged would turn once more to me, 
Recalling other days remorsefully ; 
Tlie eyes tliat chill me with averted glance 
Would look upon me as of yore, perchance. 
And soften, in the old familiar way ; 
For who could war with dumb, unconscious clay i* 
So I might rest, forgiven of all, to-night. 

Oh, friends, I pray to-night. 
Keep not your kisses for my dead, cold brow — 
The way is lonely; let me feel them now. 
Think gently of me ; I am travel-worn ; 
My taltering feet are pierced with many a thorn. 
Forgive, oh, hearts estranged, forgive, I plead! 
When dreamless rest is mine I shall not need 
The tenderness for which I Ion? to-niarht. 



Belle E. Smith. 



BEREAVEMENT AND DEATH. 



301 



Whom while on earth each one did prize 
The fairest thing in mortal eyes. 

But nnuglit our tears avail, or cries ; 

All soon or late in death shall sleep ; 

Nor living wight long time may keep 
The fairest thing in mortal eyes. 

From the French of CHARLES DUKE OF ORLEANS. 
Translation or HENRV FRANCIS GARY. 



SONNET. 

The funeral sermon w.is on the text. " The Master is come, anil 
calleth for thee" (John xi. sS). 

Rise, said the Master, come unto the feast ; — 
She heard the call, anil rose with willing feet ; 
Rut thinking it not otherwise than meet 
For such a bidding to put on her best, 
She is gone from ns for a few short hours 
Into her bridal closet, there to wait 
For the unfolding of the palace-gate, 
That gives her entrance to the blissful bowers. 
We have not seen her yet, though we have been 
Full often to her chamber-door, and oft 
Have listened underneath the postern green. 
And laid fresh llowers, and whispered short and 

soft ; 
But she hath made no answer, and the day 
From the clear west is Aiding fast away. 

IIENRV ALFORD. 



FEAR NO MORE THE HEAT 0' THE 
SUN. 

»R0M ■•CVMBELINE." ACT I\'. SC. a. 

Fr.AK no more the heat o' the .sun, 
Nor the furious winter's rages ; 

Thou thy worldly task hast done. 

Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages : 

Golden lails and girls all must. 

As chimney-sweepers, conic to dust. 

Fear no more the frown o" the great. 
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke ; 

Care no more to clothe, aiul eat ; 
To thee the reed is as the oak : 

The sceptre, learning, physic, nuist 

All follow this and come to dust. 

Fear no more the lightning flash 
Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone ; 

Fear not slander, censure rash ; 
Thou hast finished joy and moan : 

All lovers young, all lovers must 

Consign to thee, and come to dust. 

SHAKESPEARE. 



DE.VrH THE LEVELLER. 

These verses are said to have " chilled the heart " of Oliver 
Cromwell. 

The glories of our Hood and state 

Are shadows, not substantial things ; 
There is no armor against fate ; 
Death lays his icy hand on kings : 
Sceptre and crown 
Must tumble down. 
And in the dust be equal made 
With the poor crooked scythe and spade. 

Some men with swords may reap the field. 
And plant fresh laurels where they kill ; 
But their strong nerves at last must yield ; 
They tame but one another still ; 
Early or late, 
They stoop to fate. 
And must give up their murmuring breath. 
When they, pale captives, creep to deatli. 

The garlands wither on your brow, 

Then boast no more your mighty deeds ; 
Upon death's purple altar now 
See where the victor-victim bleeds : 
Your heads must come 
To the cold tomb ; 
Only the actions of the just 
Smell sweet, and blossom in their dust. 

James Shirley, 



SIC VITA.* 

LiKF. to the falling of a star. 
Or as the flights of eagles are. 
Or like tlie fresh spring's gaudy hue, 
Or silver drops of morning dew, 
Or like a wiiul tliat chafes the flootl. 
Or bubbles which on water stood, — 
E'en such is man, whose borrowed light 
Is straight called in, and paid to-niglit. 
The wind blows out, the bubble dies, 
The spring entombed in autumn lies. 
The dew ilries up, the star is shot. 
The fliglit is past, — and man forgot ! 

HENRY KING. 



VIRTUE IMMORTAL. 

Sweet Day, so cool, so calm, so bright, 
The bridall of the earth and skie ; 
The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; 
For thou must die. 



• Fields and Whipple, in their admirable Family Librtir^ of 
British Potts, add the following note : " This poem, of which 
there are nitie imitations, is claimed for Francis Beaumont by some 
authorities. 



?.02 



POEMS OK THE AFFECTIONS. 



Sweet Rose, whose hue angiic and brave 
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, 
Thy root is ever in its grave. 

And thou must die. 

Sweet S|iring, full of sweet dayes and roses, 
A box where sweets compacted lie. 
Thy musick shows ye have your closes, 
And all must die. 

Onely a sweet ami vertuous soul. 
Like seasoned timber, never gives ; 
But, though the wliole world turn to coal. 
Then chiefly lives. 

GEORGE Herbert. 



0, 



WHY SHOULD THE SPIRIT OF 
MORTAL BE PROUD ? 



Tlie following poem was a particular favorite with Abraham 
Lincoln, It was first sliown to him when a young man by a friend, 
and afterwards he cut it fron, a newspaper and learned it by heart. 
He said to a friend. •' I would give a great deal to know who %vTote 
it. but have never been .able to ascertain." He did afterwards 
learn the name of the author. 

0, WHY should the spirit of mortal be proud ? 
Like a swift-fleeting meteor, a fast-flying cloud, 
A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave, 
He passeth from life to his rest in the grave. 

The leaves of the onk and the willow shall fade. 
Be .scattered around, and together be laid ; 
As the young and tlie old, the low and the high, 
Shall crumble to dust and together shall lie. 

The infant a mother attended and loved, 
The mother that infant's afl'eotion who proved, 
The father that mother and infant who blest, — 
Each, all, are away to that dwelling of rest. 

The maid on whose brow, on whose cheek, in 

whose eye, 
Slioiic beauty and pleasure, — hertriumphsareby ; 
Anil alike from the minils of the living erased 
Are the memories of mortals who loved her 

and praised. 

Tlie head of the king, that the sceptre hath 

borne ; 
Tlie brow of the priest, that the mitre hath 

worn ; 
The eye of the sage, and the heart of the brave, — 
Are hidden and lost in the depths of the grave. 

The peasant, whose lot was to sow and to reap ; 
The herdsman, who climbed with his goats up j 

the steep ; 
The beggar, who wandered in search of his 

bread, — 
Have faded awav like the grass that we tread. 



So the multitude goes, like the flower or weed. 
That withers away to let othere succeed ; 
So the multitude comes, even those we behold, 
To repeat every tale that has often been told. 

For we are the same our fathers have been ; 
We see the same sights our fathers have seen ; 
We drink the same stream, we see the same sun. 
And run the same course our fathers have run. 

The thoughts we are thinking our fathers did 

think ; 
From the death we are shrinking our fathers did 

shrink ; 
To the life we are clinging our fathers did cling, 
But it speeds from us all like the bird on the wing. 

They loved, — but the stoi-y we caunot unfold ; 
They scorned, — but the heart of the haughty is 

cold ; 
They grieved, — but no wail from their slumbers 

will come ; 
They joyed, — but the tongue of their glatlness 

is dumb. 

They died, — ah ! they died ; — we, things that 

are now. 
That walk on the turf that lies over their brow, 
And make in their dwelling a transient abode. 
Meet the things that they met on their pilgrim- 
age road. 

Yea, hope and despondency, pleasui'e and pain. 
Are mingled together in sunshine and rain : 
And the smile and the tear, and the song and 

the dirge. 
Still follow each other like surge upon surge. 

'T is the wink of an eye ; 't is the draught of a 

breath 
From the blossom of health to the paleness of 

death. 
From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud ; 
0, why should the spirit of mortal be proud ? 

William Knox 



MAN'S MORTALITY. 

Like as the damask rose you see, 
Or like the blossom on the tree. 
Or like the dainty flower in May, 
Or like the morning of the day. 
Or like the sun, or like the shade. 
Or like the gourd which .loiias had, — 
E'en such is man ; whose thread is spun. 
Drawn out, and cut, and so is done. — 



BEREAVEMENT AND DEATH. 



30J 



The lose witlici-s, the blossom hlastetb, 
TliL- llowiT lades, the iiioniiiig liasteth, 
The sun sets, the shadow Hies, 
The gourd consumes, — and man he dies ! 

Like to tile grass that 's newly sjirung, 
Or like a tale that 's new begun. 
Or like the bird that's here to-day, 
Or like the pearled dew of May, 
Or like an hour, or like a span. 
Or like the singing of a swan, — 
K'en such is man ; who lives by breath, 
Is here, now there, in life and death. — 
The gi-ass withers, t\u'. tale is ended. 
The bird is tlown, the dew 's ascended. 
The hour is short, the span is long. 
The swan 's near death, — man's life is done ! 
SIMON Wastell. 



IF THOr WILT KASK THINE HEART. 



If thou wilt ease thine heart 
Of love, and all its smart, — 
Then sleep, dear, sleep ! 
And not a sorrow 

Hang any tear on your eyelashes ; 

Lie still and deep. 
Sad soul, until the sea-wave washes 
The rim o' the sun to-morrow, 
In eastern sky. 

But wilt tliou cure thine heart 
Of love, and all its smart, — 

Tlieii die, dear, die ! 
'T is deeper, sweeter. 

Than on a rose bank to lie dreaming 

With folded eye; 
.And then alone, amid the beaming 
Of love's stai-s, thou 'It meet her 
In eastern sky. 

THOMAS LOVBLL 0EDDOE5. 



A PlrTl'KE OF DEATH. 

FROM "THE GIAOUR." 

He who hath bent him o'er the dead 
Ere the lirst day of death is lied. 
The first dark day of nothingness. 
The last of danger and disti-ess, 
(Befor<' Decay's elfaciiig lingers 
Have swept the lines where beauty lingers,) 
And marked the mild angelic air, 
Till' rapture of rejiose, that 's there, 



The fixed yet tender traits that streak 
The languor of the placid cheek, 
And — but for that sad shrouded eye, 
That fires not, wins not, weeps not now. 
And but for that chill, changeless brow. 
Where cold Obstruction's apathy 
Appalls the gazing mourner's heart. 
As if to him it could impart 
The doom he dreads, yet dwells upon ; 
Yes, but for these and these alone, 
Some moments, ay, one treacherous hour, 
He still might doubt the tyrant's power ; 
So fair, so calm, so softly sealed. 
The first, last look by death revealed ! 
Such is the aspect of this shore ; 
'T is Greece, but living Greece no more ! 
So coldly sweet, so deadly fair, 
We start, for soul is wanting there. 
Hers is the loveliness in death. 
That parts not quite with parting breath ; 
But beauty with that fearful bloom. 
That hue which haunts it to the tomb. 
Expression's last receding ray, 
A gilded halo hovering round decay. 
The farewell lieani of Feeling past away ; 
Spark of that llame, perchance of heavenly birth, 
Which gleams, but warms no more its cherished 
earth ! 

BYRON. 



LIFE. 



" Animula, vagula. blandula." 

Life ! I know not what thou art. 
But know that thou and I must part ; 
And when, or how, or where we met 
I own to me 's a secret yet. 
But this I know, when thou art fled, 
Where'er they lay these limbs, this head, 
No clod so valueless shall be, 
As all that then remains of me. 
0, whither, whither dost thou lly, 
Where bend unseen thy trackless course. 

And in this strange divorce. 
Ah, tell where I must seek this compound I ? 

To the vast ocean of empyreal flame, 
From whence thy essence came. 
Dost thou thy Might pursue, when freed 
From matter's base encumbering weed ? 
Or dost thou, hid from siglit, 
Wait, like some spell-bouml knight. 
Through blank, oblivions years the appointed 

hour 

To break thy trance and reassume thy power ? 
Yet canst thou, without thought or feeling be ? 
0, say what art thou, when no more thou 'rt thee ? 



304 



I'OKMS ()!■' THE AFFECTIONS. 



4\ 



l.il'i' ! \vi''vi' lu'iMi liiiiH tum'llicr 
Tliniiigli iili'iisnut Mini llirougli cloiuly weather; 
"r is liiiril to |i:u't wlien IVieiuls lire ileur, — 
rerlinjis 't will eost iv siyli, a teai' : 
Then steal away, };ive Utile wariiiiij;, 
I'hoose tliiiio invii time ; 
Say not liood Night, — Imt in smno brighter 
eliine 
Bill me Hood Moniinj!. 

ANNA LRTITIA HARUArhO. 



THE IIUSBANU AN1> WIFE'S liKAVE. 

HusBANi) anil wife ! no eonvoi'se now yo hold, 

As oneo ye iliil in your yoiini; days of love, 

On its alarms, its anxious lioui-s, delays. 

Its silent nieditiitions and glad hopes. 

Its fears, ini|>atieiiee, ipiiet symiiathies ; 

Nor do ye speak of joy assured, and bliss 

Full, eertain, ami possessed, llomestie eares ' 

t'iill you not now together, luirnest talk 

On what your ehihliim may he moves you not. 

Ye lie in silenee, and an awful silence ; 

Not like to that in wliieh ye rested oue.o 

Most happy, — silenee eloiiuent, when heart 

Witli heart held speeeli, and your mysterious 

fnimes, 
llarmonious, sensitive, at every K'at 
Toiu'lied the soft notes of love. 

.\ stillneds deep. 
Insensible, unhooding, folds yon round. 
And darkness, as a stone, lias sealed you in ; i 
Away I'lvm all the living, heix> ye ivst, I 

111 all the nearness of the iian-ow tomb, | 

Yet feel ye not eaeh other's pivseiiee now ; — i 
Ulvad fellowship ! — together, yet alone. 

Is this thy pri.soii-liouse, thy grave, then, l.ove '. 
And ilotli death eaiieel the great bond that holds 
I'oiiuningliiig spirits > Are thoughts lliat know 

no bounds. 
But, self-iiispiivd, rise upward, searching out 
The Eternal Mind, the Father of all tliought, — 
Aiv they beeome lueiv tenants of a tomb ? — 
Pwellei's in darknes.s, who the illuniinate ivnlins ! 
Of uneivated light have visited, and lived ! — 
liived in the divadfnl splendor of that thiiuie i 
W'liieh One, with gentle hand the veil of llesh 
I.iftin.g that hung 'Iwi.xt man and it, ivvealed 
In glory? — throne hefoiv wliieh even now 
Our souls, moved by prviphetie power, bow down 
Itejoieing, yet at their own natiuvs awed '! — 
Souls that tlieo know by a mysterious sense. 
Thou awful, unseen Tivsenee, — aixi they 

iiuenehed ! 
Or burn they on, hid from our mortal eyes 
By that bright day wliieh ends not ; as the sun 



His robe of light lliiigs round the glittering staia f 

And do our loves all perish with our frames ? 
I>o tlio.se that took their root and [int forth buds. 
And then soft leaves unfolded in the warmth 
Of mutual hearts, grow up and live in beauty. 
Then fade and fall, like fair, uneonseious llowers? 
Are thouglits and passions that to the tongue 

give sjieeeli, 
And make it send fortli wiuniiig harmonies. 
That to the elieek do give its living glow, 
And vision in the eye the soul intense 
With that for whieh there is no utteranee, — 
Are these the body's aeeidents, no more ! 
To live in it, and when that dies go out 
Like the burnt taper's llanie ? 

O listen, man '. 
A voiee within us speaks the startling word, 
" Man, thou shall never die I " t'elestial voices 
Hymn it around our .souls ; aeeoixling harps, 
Hy angel lingers touehed when the mild .stars 
Of morning .sang together, .sound forth still 
'file .song of our great immortality ; 
'riiiek-ehistering orlw, and this our fair domain, 
'I'lie tall, dark mountains and the deep-toned seas, 
■loin in this solemn, universal song. 

O listen, ye, our spirits I ilrinl' it in 
From all the air ! "i" is in the gentle moonlight ; 
Is lloating in day's setting glories ; Night, 
Wnipped in her sable ivbe, with silent step 
Oonies to our bed and breathes it in our em's : — 
Night and the dawn, bright day and thoughtful 

eve. 
All time, all Iiound.s, the limitless expanse. 
As one vast niystie instrument, aiv touehed 
By an unseen, living Hand, and eonseious eliords 
Quiver with joy in this givat jubilee. 
The dying hear it ; and, as sounds of earth 
Oiivw dull and distant, wake their passing souls 
To mingle in this heavenly harmony. 

Why is it that I linger ivund this tomb ? 
What holds it 1 Ihist that eunibered those 1 

mourn. 
They shook it oil', and laid aside earth's robes. 
And put on those of light. They 're gone to dwell 
In love, — their tiod's and angels'! Mutual love. 
That bound them here, no longer needs a .-ipeeih 
For full eommunion ; nor .sensjitions stiwig, 
Within the bivast, their prison, strive in vain 
To be set fii>e, and meet their kind in joy. 
Changed to celestials, thoughts that rise in eneli 
By natmi's new impart themselves, though silent. 
Eneli iiuiekening sense, eaeh thixib of holy love, 
AlVeetions sanetilied, and the full glow 
(1f iH'ing. which ex)>iiiul and gladden one, 
liy union all mysterious thrill and live 
In both immortal fi-anies ; — sensation al\. 



UEKEAVEMKiNT AN'I) DIOATll. 



305 



And thuiight, pc'i'viulin^, mingling senso luul 

Yi" ]>aiicil, yt't one ! wnipt in ii consciinisni'.ss 
Twofulil, yi't single, — tliis is love, this lilV ! 
Why I'iill wc, thun, tlic square-built nionunieiit, 
The upriglit euluMiii, ninl the low-hiid sliili 
Tokens otileiith, nieuioiiiils of decay ! 
Stand in this solemn, still assembly, man, 
And leani thy luoper nature ; lor thuu seest 
In these shaped stones and lettered tables ligurcs 
or life. Then he they to thy soul as those 
Whieh he who tjUked on Sinai's mount with (lod 
Hrouglit to the old Judeans, — types are these 
Of thine eternity. 

I thank tliee, Father, 
That at this simple grave on whieh the <la\vn 
Is breaking, enibleni of that day which hath 
No close, thou kindly unto my dark mind 
Hast sent n sacred light, and that away 
From this green hillock, whither I had come 
In sorrow, thou art leading nie in joy. 

KICUAKn HENRY DANA. 



(iRKENWOOI) CEMETERY. 

II "\v calm they .sleep biMicath the shade 

Who once were weary of the strife, 
And bent, like us, beneath the load 
Of humau Hie ! 

The willow hangs with shelteiing grace 

And benediction o'er their sod. 
Ami Nature, hushed, assures the soul 
They rest in God. 

weary hearts, wlint rest is liere. 

From all that curses yonder town I 
So deep the peace, I almost long 
To lay me down. 

For, oh, it will be ble.st to sleep. 

Nor dream, nor move, that silent night, 
Till wakened in immortal strength 
And heavenly light ! 

CKA^tMONO Kl!NNnuV. 



GUD'S-ACItE. 

I I. IKK that ancient Saxon phrn.ie which calls 
The burial-ground (lod's-Acre I It is just ; 

It eon.seerates each grave within its walLs, 
Aud breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust. 

Ood'.s-Acre ! Yes, that blessed name imparts 
Comfort to those who in the grave Iiave sown 

The seed that tliey liad garnered in their hearts, 
Their bread of life, alas ! im more their own. 



Into its furrows shall we all be cast, 

111 the sure hiith that we shall rise again 

.\t the great harvest, when the archangel's blast 
Shall winnow, like a fan, the cbalf and grain. 

Then .shall the good stand in inunortal blooni, 
III the fair gardens of tlnit second birth ; 

And each liriglit blossom mingle its |icrfunio 
With that of llowers which never bloomed on 
earth. 

With thy rude plouglishare. Death, turn ii|i the 
sod. 

And s|iieail the furrow for the seed we sow ; 
This is the lield and Acre of our liod, 

This is tlie place where human harvests grow ! 

IIHNKV WaDsWoRTH LONGl-LLLOW, 



ELEGY WRITTEN IX A COIINTRY 
CIIUKCIIVAl;!). 

TllK curfew tolls the knrll of parting day. 
The lowing henl wind slowly o'er the lea, 

The ploughman homeward jilods his weary way, 
.\iiil leaves the world to darkiii'ss and to me. 

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the 
.sight. 

And all the air a solemn stillness holds. 
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, 

And diow.sy tinklings lull the distant folds: 

Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower. 
The moping owl docs to the moon complain 

Of such as, wandering near her sci:ret bower, 
Molest her ancient solitary reign. 

[Hark ! how the holy calm tliat breathes around 
Bids every lierce tumultuous passion cease ; 

III still small accents whispering from the ground 
The grateful earnest of eternal ]a'ace.]* 

Beneath those rugged elms, th.-it yew-tree's shade, 
Where heaves the tnif in many a nioiiMcring 
heap, 

Kacli in his narrow cell foreviM- laid, 
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 

The breezy call of inccnse-brcatliiiii,' nmrii, 

The swallow twittering from the stiaw-biiilt 
shed. 

The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, 
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. 

For them no more the blazing hearth shiill lnuii, 
Or busy housewife ply her evening care ; 

No children run to lis[i their sire's return. 
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. 

* Kcmoved by the .-luthor Troiii the ori^lnjii ]><><.-iii 



306 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



I 



Oft did the liarvest to their sickle yield, 

Tlieir I'lin'ow olt the stubborn glebe has broke ; 

Huw jocund did they drive their team afield ! 
How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy 
stroke ! 

Let not ambition mock their useful toil. 
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; 

!Xor rrrandeur hear with a disdainful smile 
The short and simple annals ol the poor. 

Tlie boast of heraldry, the pomp of power. 
And all that beauty, all tlnit wealth e'er gave. 

Awaits alike the inevitable hour. 

The paths of glory lead but to the grave. 

!Nor you, ye )iroud, impute to these the fault. 
If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, 

AVhere, through the long-drawu aisle and fretted 
vault, 
Tlie pealing anthem swells the note of jiraise. 

Can storied urn or animated bust 

Back to its nninsion call the Meeting breath ? 
<^an honor's voice provoke the silent dust, 

Or flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of death ? 

Pi'i-haps in this neglccied spot is laid 
.Some heart once pi-egnant with celestial fire ; 

Hands, that the rod of empire might have swayed. 
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre : 

I'-.it knowledge to their eyes her ample page. 
Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll ; 

Chill penury repressed their noble rage. 
And froze the genial current of the soul. 

Full many a gem of purest ray serene 

Tlie dark, imfathomed caves of ocean hear ; 

Full many a flower is born to blush unseen. 
And waste its sweetness on the desert air. 

Some village Hampden, that, with dauntless 
breast. 

The little tryant of his fields withstood. 
Some mute, inglorious Jlilton here may rest. 

Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood. 

Th' applause of listening senates to eommand. 
The threats of pain and ruin to despise. 

To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, 
And read their history in a nation's eyes, 

Their lot forbade : nor circumscribed alone 
Their growing virtues, but their crimes con- 
fined ; 

Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne. 
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind. 



The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, 
To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame. 

Or heap the shrine of luxui-y and jiride 
With incense kindled at the muse's Hame. 

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, 
Tlieir sober wishes never learned to stray ; 

Along the cool sequestered vale of life 

They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. 

Yet even these bones from insult to protect, 
Some frail memorial still erected nigh, 

With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture 
decked. 
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. 

Their name, their years, spelt by th' unlettered 
muse. 

The place of fame and elegy supply ; 
And many a holy text around she strews, 

That teach the ru.stic moralist to die. 

For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey. 
This pleasing anxious being e'er resigned. 

Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, 
Nor cast one longing lingering look behinc" ? 

On some fond breast the parting soul relies, 
Some pious drops the closing eye requires ; 

E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, 
E'en in our aslies live their wonted fires. 

For thee, who, nundful of th' unhonored dead. 
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate. 

If chance, by lonely contemplation led, 
Some kindred spirit shall ini|uire thy fate, 

Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, 
"Oft liave we seen him at the peep of dawn 

Brushing with hasty steps the dews away. 
To meet the sun upon tlu' upland lawn. 

"There at the foot of yonder nodding beech. 
That wreathes its old, fantastic roots so high. 

His li.stle.ss length at noontiile would he stretch, 
And pore upon the brook that babbles by. 

" Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn. 
Muttering hiswaywaiil fancies he would love ; 

Now drooping, woeful-wan, like one forlorn. 
Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless 
love. 

"One morn I missed him on the customed hill. 
Along the heath, and near his favorite tree ; 

Another came ; nor yet beside the rill. 

Nor 11 |i the lawn, nor at the wood was he ; 



UEKKAVK.MKNT AND DHATII. 



307 



"Tl>c lu'xt, Willi (lirfii's diiu in sail array. 
Slow through the church-way path we saw Iiiin 
borne. 

Approach and rcail (lor tliou canst read) the lay 
Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn." 

THE EPIT.^PH. 
Here rests his head upon the lap of Ivirth 

A youth to P'ortniic and to Fnine unknown ; 
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth, 

And Melancholy marked him for her own. 

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, 
Heaven did a recompense as largely scud ; 

He gave to Misery all he had, a tear, 

He gained from Heaven ('t was all lie wished) 
a friend. 

No farther seek his merits to disclose, 
' Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, 

, (There tliey alike in trembling hope re)io,se) 
The bosom of his Father and his God. 

Thomas Gray. 



INSCRIPTION ON MELKOSE ABBEY. 

The earth goes on the earth glittering in gold, 
The earth goes to the earth sooner than it woUl ; 
The earth builds on the earth castles and towers, 
The earth says to the earth — All this is ours. 



I 



THANATOPSIS. 

Til him who, in tlie love of Nature, holds 
Cotnmunion with her visible forms, slie speaks 
A various language : for his gayer houi-s 
She has a voice of gladness, and a smile 
And eloquence of beauty ; and she glides 
Into his darker musings with a mild 
Anil healing sympathy, that steals away 
'riieir sharpness, ere he is aware. When thoughts 
I >t the bust bitter hour come like a blight 
I iver thy spirit, and sad images 
' If the stem agony, and shroud, and pall, 
.\nd breathless darkness, and the nanow house, 
Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart, 
I ill forth under the open sky, and list 
I'll Nature's teachings, while from all around — 
l!arth and her waters, and the depths of air — 
' limes a still voice : — Yet a few days, and thee 
The all-beholding sun shall see no more 
In all his course ; nor yet in the cold ground, 
Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears, 
Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist 
Thy image. Eai1h, that nourished thee, shall 
claim 



Thy growth, to lie resolved to earth again ; 
jVnil, lost each human trace, surrendering up 
Thine individual being, shalt thou go 
To mix forever with the elements ; 
To be a brother to the insensible rock. 
And to tlie sluggish clod, which the rude swain 
Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak 
Shall .send his roots aliroad, and pierce thy mould. 

Yet not to thine eternal resting-place 
Shalt thou retire alone, — nor conld.st thou wish 
Conch more magnihcent. Thou shall lie down 
With patriarchs of the infant world, — with 

kings, 
The iiowcrfiil of the earth, — the wise, the good, 
Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past. 
All in one mighty sepulchre. The hills, 
Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun ; the vales 
Stretching in pensive quietness between ; 
The venerable woods ; rivers that move 
In majesty, and the complaining brooks. 
That make the meadows green ; and, poured 

round all, 
Old ocean's giay and melancholy waste, — 
Are but the solemn decorations all 
Of the great tomb of man ! The golden sun, 
The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, 
Are shining on the .sad abodes of death, 
Through the still lajisc of ages. All that tread 
The globe are but a handful to the tribes 
That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings 
Of moi-ning, pierce the Barcan wilderness, 
Or lose thyself in the continuous woods 
Where rolls the Ori'gon, and hears no sound 
Save his own dashings, — yet the dead are tliere ! 
And millions in those solitudes, since first 
The Might of years began, have laid them down 
In their last sleep, — the dead reign there alone ! 
So shalt thou rest ; and what if thou withdraw 
In silence from the living, and no friend 
Take note of thy departure ? All that breathe 
Will share thy destiny. The gay w'ill laugh 
When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care 
Plod on, and each one, as before, will chase 
His favorite phantom ; yet all these shall leave 
Their mirth and their employments, and shall 

come 
And make their bed with thee. As the long train 
Of ages glide away, the sons of men — 
The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes 
In the full strength of years, matron and maid. 
And the sweet babe, and the gray-headed man — 
.Sluill, one tiy one, be gatliered to thy side 
By those who in their turn shall follow them. 
i 

So live, that when thy summons comes to join 
The innumerable caravan that moves 
To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take 
His chamber in the silent halls of death. 



508 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



i 



Thou go not, like the quany-slave at night, 
Scourged to liis dungeon, but, sustained and 

soothed 
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave 
Like one who wraps the drapery of liis couch 
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams. 
William Culll.n brva.nt. 



THE COMMON LOT. 

Once, in the flight of ages past. 

There lived a Man ; — anil who was he ? 
— Mortal ! howe'er thy lot be east. 

That JIan resembleil thee. 

Unknown the region of his birth. 
The land in which ho died unknown : 

His name has perished from the earth. 
This truth survives alone : — 

That joy and grief, and hope and fear, 
Alternate trimnplied in liis breast : 

His bliss and woe — a smile, a tear ! 
— Oblivion liides the rest. 

The bounding pulse, the languid limb, 
The changing spirit's rise and fall, — 

We know that these were felt by him. 
For these are felt by all. 

He suffered, — but his pangs are o'er ; 

Enjoyed, — but his delights are fled ; 
Had friends, — liis liieiids are now no more ; 

And foes, — his foes are dead. 

He loved, but whom he loved, the grave 
Hath lost in its uneonseions womb : 

0, she was fair, — but naught could save 
Her beauty from the tomb. 

He saw whatever thou hast seen ; 

Encountered all tliat troubles thee ; 
He was — whatever thou hast been ; 

He is — what thou shalt be. 

The rolling seasons, day and night. 

Sun, moon, and stars, the eartli and main, 

Erewhile his portion, life and light. 
To him e.\ist in vain. 

The clouds and snnlieams, o'er his eye 
That once their shades and glory threw. 

Have left in yonder silent sky 
No vestige where they flew. 

The annals of the human race, 

Their niins, since the world began. 

Of him afford no otiier trace 

Than this, — Tiierk lived a m'.w. 

JA.MRS MONTCOMFRV. 



FRAGMENTS. 

TiiE Lot of M.\n*. 
Death calls ye to the crowd of common men. 

CupiLi and Death T. SHIRLEY. 

A worm is in the bud of youth. 
And at the root of age. 

Slauzas sut'joiitcdta a BiU o/ Mortality. COWPER. 

The tall, the wise, the reverend head 
Must lie as low as ours. 

A Funeral Thought, Book ii. Hymn 63. Watts. 

Comes at the Ia,st, and witli a little pin 
Bores through his castle wall, and — farewell 
king ! 

Richard II.. yUl iii. Sc. a. SHAKESPEARE, 

And though mine arm should comjuer twenty 

worlds. 
There 's a lean fellow beats all conquerors. 

Old Fortiinatns. T. DEKKER. 

Each matin bell, the Baron saith. 
Knells us back to a world of death. 

C/instaM. Part \i. S. T. COLERIDGE. 

Sure, 't is a serious thing to die 1 . . . 
Nature runs back and shudders at the sight. 
Anil every life-string bleeds at thought of iiarling; 
For part they must ; body and soul must part ; 
Fond couple! linked mure close than wedded pair. 

The Grave. R. BLAIK. 

While man is growing, life is in decrease ; 
And cradles rock us nearer to the tomb. 
Our birth is nothing but our death begun. 

mi'ht Thoughts, Night v. DR. E. YOUNG. 

Our days begin with trouble here. 

Our life is but a span. 
And cruel death is always near. 

So frail a thing is man. 

Ke^u Ent;land Printer. 

Leaves liave tlicir time to fall. 
And flowers to wither at the North-wind's lireatli, 

And .stars to set ; — but all, 
Thouhast all seasons for thine own, Death ! 

The Hour 0/ Death. MKS. HFMANS. 

The race of yore 
Who danced our infancy upon their knee, 
And told our marvelling boyhood legends store. 
Of strange adventures liapped by laud or sea, 
How are they blotted from the things that be ! 

Lady ^ llie Lait. SCOTT 



FKAGMENTS. 



309 



Some lie beneath tlie oliuicliyiiiJ stone, 
Anil some liefoie the speaker. 

Seht>ci <tmi Sfttoel^ttlmvl. W, M. Prap.I). 

One, thnt was a woman, sir ; but, rest her soul, 
slie 's (lead. 

Iliimttt. Act V. iV. I. SHAKUSPGAKE. 

How fast has brother followed brother, 
From sunshine to the sunless land ! 

t-xtemfart Hff'iitoit ufcn tht Death o/yamts Hose, 

Wordsworth 

The slender debt to nature 's quickly paid, 
Discharged, perchance, with gi'cater ease than 
made. 

fimbtems, Book ii. 13. F. QL'AKLES. 

With mortal crisis doth portend 
My days to npproi)inciue an end. 

Htiiiit'rat, Part i. Cant Hi. BUTLER. 

This fell sergeant, death. 
Is strict in his arrest. 

Hamttt. Atlv. A. »- SHAKESPEARE. 

We cannot hold mortality's strong hand. 

JCiti£ Jo/tn. Atfiv.Sc.3. SHAKeSPBARO. 



Early Death. 

Happy they! 
Thrice fortunate ! who of tliat IVnuili- mould, 
The precious porcelain of human clay, 
Break with the first fall. 

DoH yuan. Cant. iv. BVRON. 

Hark ! to the hurried question of despair : 
"Where is my child?" an echo answers,— 
" Where ? " 

Hrtdt 0/ Abydot, Cant ii. nvRON. 

Oh \ when a Mother meets on high 

The Babe she lost in infancy, 
ll.Ttli she nut then, for pains and fears. 

The day of woe, the watchful night. 

For all her sorrow, all licr tears, 

An over-payment of delight ? 

Ciirtc 0/ Ktl\ania,Cant,x R. SOUTHRV. 

What, all my pretty chickens, and tlnir \.m\, 

tAt one fell swoop ? 
Macbtth, Act Iv. S(, \, SHAKESPEARE. 

Loveliest of lovely things are they. 
On earth that soonest pass away. 
'I'lie rose that lives its little- hour 
Is jirized beyond the scnlptureil (lower. 

■ A SetMionthi Banki e/the Hnitton, W. C. BRYANT. 

Tliy leaf has perished in the green. 

In .\fetnortatn, U«lv. TRN.NVSON. 

An untimely grave. 

On thr Pnte 0/ Bnektngham. T. CARP.W. 



DkATIi's C'lKlICK. 

Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow. 

Nig/it Tltonnhts, Sight \, DR. E. VOUNC 

Death aims with fouler sjiitu 
At fairer marks. 

Divine Poems, K. QUARLES. 

The good die first, 
And they who.se hearts are dry as summer <hist 
Buin to the socket. 

The Excursion, Boob i. WORDSWORTH. 



The ripest fruit first falls. 

Richard II „ Act ii. 5c 1. 



SHAKESPEARE. 



Death-Beds. 

The chamber where the good man meets his fate 

Is privileged beyond the conmion walk 

Of virtuous life, ([uite in the verge of heaven. 

SiHht Thoughts, Kightii, DR. E. VoUNG. 

Of no distempei-, of no blast he died, 
But fell like autumn fruit that mellowed lung ; 
Even wondei'ed at, because he dropt no sooner. 
Fate seemed to wind him u]) for fourscore years; 
Yet freshly ran he on ten winters more : 
Till, like a clock worn out with eating time, 
The wheels of weary life at last stood still. 

(Edipus, Act iv. Sc, 1. DKVUEN. 

Nothing in his life 
Became him like the leaving it ; he died. 
As one that had been studied in his death. 
To throw away the dearest thing ho owed, 
As 't were a caii'Iess trifle. 

Macbeth, Acti,Si,4, SHAKESPEARE. 

To die is landing on some silent shore. 
Where billows never break, nor tempests roar; 
Ere well we feel the friendly stroke, 't is o'er. 

The Dispensary, Cant iii. S GARTH. 

.\hiI, like a pas.sing thought, she fled 
In light away. 

The Vision, BUR.4S 

He was exhaled ; his gieiit Creator iliew 
His spirit, as the sun the morning dew. 

On tht Death of a very Young Gentleman, DRVDEN. 

Why .should we faint ainl fear to live alone, 
Sini-e all alone, so Heaven has willcil, we die, 

Nor even the tcndcrest heart, and next our own. 
Knows half the reasons why we smile and sigh. 

The Christian Year: .VXlt'. Sunday .t/fer Trinity, KHOLB. 



510 



I'OICMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



Cut otVovoii in the blossoms of my sin, 
rnhousoloil, ilis:nnHiiiiti-Hl, unanelwl ; 
No reckoning made, but sent to my account 
With all my imperfections on my head. 

HanUtr, .-i./i. 5.-. 1. SIlAKU>fE.\Kn. 

.\ death-bed 's a detector of the heart : 
Here tin'd dissimulation divps her mask, 
Tlirougli life's grimace that mistress of the scene ; 
Here real and apparent ai-e the same. 

AV*/ 7'Ai>i<fA/j. .\ii-A.' ii. Dk. E. Yof.vG. 

The tongues of dying men 
Enforce attention, like ileep harmony ; 
When words are scarce, they're seldom spent in 

vain ; 
For they breathe truth that breathe their words 

in pain. 

RicJUmI //., A<t li. Sc. I. SHAKESPBARB. 



De.mii .vnd Sleep. 

Death, so called, is a thing that nuikes men weep. 
And yet a thini of life is passed in sleep. 

iV« yuatt^ Canh' xiv. BVRON. 

Let no man fear to die : we love to sleep all. 
And deatli is but the sounder sleep. 

Humarmts LimffuitHt. F. Beaumont. 

Sleep is a death ; make me try 
By sleeping what it is to die. 
And as gently lay my head 
On my grave as now my bed. 

/ieii£t,> Mniut. Part ii. iV,-. i j. SIR T. BROWNE. 

Let giiilt, or feitr, 
Disturb man's rest, Cato knows neither of them ; 
Inditi'erent in his choice, to sleep or die. 

Cal9. .\DD1S0.N. 



Fe.\k ok Death. 

I fear to die . . . 

For oh ! it goes agjiinst tlie mind of man 
To be turncil out fixim its warm wonted home, 
Ere yet one rent admits the winter's chill. 
RayHtr. Joanna Baillie. 

The sense of death is most in apprehension ; 
And the poor beetle, that we ti-ead upon. 
In corporal sullerance linds a jwug as givat 
As when a giant dies. 

.l/rtijMnr/^r MciMSMrt, Act iii. Sc. I. SHAKESPEARE. 

Cowards die many time^ before their deaths ; 
The valiant never taste of deatli but once, 
yutiHs c^tsar, Aetii, Sc* s Shakespeare. 



or all the wonders that 1 yet have heard, 

It seems to nic most strange that men should 

fear : 
Seeing that death, a necessiiry end, 
Will come when it will come. 

yntiHS Cttsar. Act ii. Sc. a. SHAKESPEARE. 

DE.\rn — Conventional and Natiiial. 
Hark ! from the tombs a doleful sound. 

A FuHcrat Thi^ught, BtV.i ii. Hymit oj. W'ATTS. 

'\\niatever crazy sorrow sjiith. 

No life that breathes with human breath 

Has ever tiuly longed for deatli. 

rat> **cnvj. TeNN\'SON, 

1 tied, and cried out Death I 
Hell trembled at the hiiicous name, and sighed 
From all her cave.s, and back resounded DEArH. 

Paradise Lttst, B^ci ii. MlLTON. 

Before mine eyes in opposition sits 
Grim Death, my son and foe. 

ParaJisc Liut, BcwJt ii. MILTON. 

Imagination's fool, and error's wretch, 
Man makes a death which nature never made ; 
Then on the point of his own fiiucy falls ; 
And feels a thousand deaths, in fearing one. 

.Vt^hl 7"*,'«<f*«. DR. E. YOCNG. 

So mayst thou live, till like ripe fruit thou drop 
Into thy mother's lap. 

Paradise tost, BooJb xi. Ml LTON. 



The Grave. 
Let 's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs. 

. . . nothing can we call our own but death. 
And that small model of the barren earth 
Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. 
For heaven's sake, let us sit upon the ground. 
And tell sad stories of the death of kings. 

Rtc!t,trd IF., .4ct ii. Sc. 3, SHAKESPEARE. 

The Grave, dread thing ! 
Men shiver when tliou 'rt named : Nature, ap- 

p>lled. 
Shakes oil' her wontetl firmness. 

T^Gratv. R. BLAIR. 

Cruel as death, and htingiy as the grave. 

TAe Scas,-'us : ll'inter. THOMSON. 

Brave Percy, fare thee well I 
Ill-weaneil ambition, how much art thou shrunk : 
When that this boily did contain a spirit, 
A kingiiom for it was too small a bound ; 
But now, two jMces of the vilest eaith 
Is i-ooni enough. 

/icNry !'/„ Fart I. .-tctv.Sci. SHAKESPEARE, 



1'i;a(;.mio\t,s. 



311 



lliiw lovcil, how lioiioiod onee, avails tliee not, 

To whom ivlateil, or by wlioiii begot ; 

A heap of liiist alone rentains of llit'c ; 

T is all thovi art, and all the iiroiul shall be ! 

7"* tk* Mtmory c/an Vitfifrtuttatt Lttety. I'OPE. 

The bail man's death is liorror ; but the just 
Keeps something of his glory in the dust. 

C.iJ/.ir.). W. llAltlNGTON. 

And from his ashes may be made 
'I'lie violet of his native land. 

/n Mimifnam, xviiL TE.NNVSON. 

Lay her i' the earth ; 
.\iid fii>ni lier fair and unpolluted llesh 
May violets spring ! 

HamUr Act v. Se. I. SHAKUSPEARE. 

Sweets to the sweet ; farewell. 

I hoped Ibou shouldst have been luy Hamlet's 

wife : 
I thought thy bride-bed to have decked, sweet 

maid. 
Ami not t' have strewed thy grave. 

Hamitt, .let V. S(. I. Shakespeare. 

May no rude hand defaee it, 
And its forlorn liif jacel .' 

ttun truiti. Wordsworth. 

TnK Peace ok Di atii. 
Rest, rest, perturlwd spirit ! 

HamUr. Art i. S<. 5. 



LO.NGI.NG FOl; DUATII. 

Triend to the wretch whom every friend forsahi"*, 
1 woo thee. Death ! 

Dtalii. B. roRTEUS. 

Death ! to the ha|ipy thou ait terrible, 
Hut liow the wretched love to think of thee, 
thou true comforter, the friend of all 
Who have no friend beside. 

Joan 0/ Art. R. SoUTHrV. 

O, that this too, too solid (IcnIi would melt. 
Thaw, and resolve itself into tt di'W ; 
Or that the Everlasting had not H.xeil 
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter. 

Hamlet, Acl\. Sc, 3. SHAKESPEARE. 

I hear a voice you cannot hear. 
Which says I must not stay, 

I sec a hand you cannot see. 
Which beckons me away. 



SHAKESPEARE. 



Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells. 
Here grow no danine<l grudges; here are no 

stonns. 
No noise, but silence and eternal sleep. 

TifHj AndroHicut. Act i. iV. 3. SHAKESPEARE. 

He gave his honors to the world again, 

His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace. 

Henry ytll.. Act. iv.Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE. 

Better be with the dead. 
Whom we to gain our peace have sent to peace. 
Than on the torture of the mind to lie 
In restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave ; 
.After life's fitful fever, he sle«ps well ; 
Tn-ason has done his worst ; nor steel, nor poison. 
Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, 
I an touch him further ! 

Matbtth, Act iii. Sc. a. SHAKESPI- AKP. 



Colin anct Lucy. 



T. TICKELL. 



Thank God for Death ! briglit thing with dreary 
name. 

Betudicam Domino, SUSAN COOLIDOE. 

But an old age serene and bright, 
And lovi'ly as a La]iland night, 

Shall lead thee to thy grave 
To a Yoitn£ I ady. Wordsworth. 



After Death. 

Tlie wisest men are glad to die ; no fear 
Of death can touch a true philosopher. 
Death sets the soul at liberty to lly. 

Continuation 0/ Lucan, T. MAY. 

Alas ! for love, if thou art all. 
And naught beyond, Earth ! 

The Graivi o/a JtouieJiotd. MRS. HEMANS. 

'T is not the whole of life to live ; 
Nor all of death to die. 

The Issues 0/ Li/e and Deatft. J, MONTCOMPRV. 

Since heaven's eternal year is thine. 

Hteey on Mrs. Kittegre^M. DRYDEN. 



MOURNINO. 

'T is better to have loved and lost. 
Than never to have loved at all. 

In Memoriam, xxvii. 



Here may the stomie-bett vessell safely ryde ; Those that he loved so long and sees no more, 

This is the port of rest from troublous toyle. Loved and still loves, — not dead, but gone be- 
The worlde's sweet inn from paine and wearisome fore, — 

turmoyle. He gathers round him. 



Fcury Queene, 



I Human l.i/e. 



312 



POEMS OF THE Al'I'ECTIOxXS. 



I caimot but reuioiubur such things were, 
That were most precious to nie. 

MjcMJi. ^t-tiv. Sc. J. SHAKILSPEARE. 

Give sorrow words ; the grief that iloes not speak 
Wliispers the o'er-fraugUt heart, and bids it break. 

MacMh, Act iv. Sc. 3. SMAKHSFEAKE. 

Praising what is lost 
Makes tlie remembrance dear. 

ylirs U'eU t/iiit £n,is H'fU, Acrv.Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE. 

We bear it calmly, though a ponderous woe, 
And still adore the hand that gives the blow. 

yerses to his Frtetitt under AJfiictian, J. POMFRET, 

He first deceased ; she for a little tried 

To live without him, liked it not, and died. 

L'foH tlu Death o/Sir Albert Morton's ti't/e. 

Sir H. Wotton. 

Speak me fair in death. 

Merchant ^^/ t'enue, Activ. Sc, i. 

Patch grief with proverbs. 

Much Ada About Ai'thi'tt^, jtctv, Se. i. 



Poor Jack, farewell ! 
I could have better spared a better man. 

Henry /K, Part /. Act v. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE. 

So may he rest : his faults lie gently on him ! 



Henry VHl. , Activ. Sc. =. 



SHAKESPEARE. 



SHAKESPEARE. 



SHAKFSPFARE. 



The very cypress droops to death — 
Dark tree, still sad when othei's' grief is fled. 
The only constant mourner o'er the dead. 

T/ie ti:.ti>ur. BYRON. 

They truly mourn, that mourn without a wit- 
ness. 

Mirza. R. BARON. 

What though no friends in sable weeds appear, 
Grieve for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a year, 
Ami bear about the mockery of woe 
To midnight dances and the public show ! 

To the Memory o/an Unfortunate Lady. POPE. 

He mourns the dead who lives as they desire. 

Ki^ht Thoughts, Night ii. DR. E. YOUNG. 




POEMS OF SORROW AND ADVERSITY. 




j 



^\ 



■^ 



f . 






^ 



^ ^ t^ ^ ^ ^ t 






r 




A 












^ 



■^ 



^ 






^ 






^ 



^^ 




POEMS OF SORROW AND ADVERSITY. 



HETROSPECTION. 



FROM "TllF. PRINCESS"' 



Tf.aus, iiile tears, 1 know not wliat tlioy moan, 
Teal's IVoni tlie di'iith of sonic ilivino desjiair 
Rise in the heart, and gatlier to the eyes. 
In looking on the happy antninu lields, 
And tliinking of tlie days that are no more. 

Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail. 
That brings our friends up from thi^ under world ; 
iSad aa the bust wliieh reddens over one 
That sinks with all we love below the verge, — 
So sad, so flesh, the days that are no more. 

Ah, sad and strange as in ilark summer dawns 
The earliest pipe of lialf-awakeiied birds 
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes 
The cn.seiiieiit slowly grows a glimmering square ; 
So .sad, so strange, the days that are no more. 

Dear as remembered kisses after death, 
Ami sweet a-s those by hopeless faney feigned 
On lips that are for others ; deep as love, 
Deep as tiist love, and wild with all regret, — 
<) Death in Life, the days tliat are no more. 

ALFRED TENNVSON. 



BREAK, BREAK, BREAK. 

BitEAK, break, break, 

On thy cold gray stones, sea ! 
And 1 would that my tongue could utter 

The thoughts that anse in me. 

well for the fisheraian's boy 

That lie shouts with his sister at play ! 
O well for the sailor lad 

That he sings in his bout on the bay I 

Ami the stately ships go on. 
To the haven under the hill ; 

But for the touch of a vanished hand. 
And the sound of a voice that is still ! 



Break, brrak, break, 

At the foot of thy crags, sea ! 
But the tender grace of a day that is dead 

Will never come back to me. 

ALl-KIiD tfn.nvson. 



MOAN, MOAN, YE DYING (iAEES, 

Moan, moan, ye dying gales ! 
The saddest of your tales 

Is not so .sad as life ; 
Nor have you e'er began 
A theme so wild as man, 

Or with such sonow rife. 

Fall, fall, thou withered leaf ! 
Autumn .sears not like grief. 

Nor kills such lovely flowers ; 
More terrible the storm. 
More mournful the deform, 

When dark misfortune lowers. 

Hush ! hush ! thou trembling lyre, 
.Silence, ye vocal choir. 

And thou, mcllilhious lute. 
For man soon breathes his last, 
And all his liope is past. 

And all his mu.sic mute. 

Then, when the gale is sighing, 
And when the leaves are dying. 

And when the song is o'er, 
O, let us think of tho.se 
Whose lives are lost in woes. 

Whose cup of grief runs o'er. 

Henry Neele, 



HENCE, ALL YE VAIN DELIGHTS. 

FROM "THE NfCE VALOUR.' ACT III, SC. 3. 

Hence, all ye vain delights. 
As short as are the nights 

Wherein you sjiend your folly ! 
There's naught in this life sweet, 
If man were wise to see 't 
But only melancholy, 
0, sweetest melancholy I 



aui 



rui:.\is OF souuow and adversity. 



Wc'leonu', folded niiiis, niul iixcd oycs, 
A sigh tlmt iiioreiiig iiKirtiru's, 
A loolc tliiit 's liistciuHl t(i llu' grmiiiil, 
A tongiu' chaiiii il iiii willioul a smuul ! 

Fomitjuii-lioiuU Hiul prtthloss groves, 

I'liioos wliicli imlo piissiiiii loves ! 

Mcionlight WiUks, wlu'ii nil the fowls 

Are wiinidy lumsod save liats and owls ! 

A midnight bell, ii parting groan ! 

These nre the sounds we feed upon ; 

Then stretch our boues in a still gloomy valley : 

Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy. 

JOHN FLliTCUP.K. 



1?I,0\V, BLOW, THOU WINTER WIND. 

IKUM "AS VOU LlKli IT," ACT U. SC. 7. 

Blow, blow, thou winter wind, 
Thou art not so unkind 

As num's ingratitude ; 
Thy tooth is not so keen, 
Hecause thou art not seen, 

Altliongli thy breath be rude. 
Hoigll-ho ! sing hcigh-ho ! unto the green holly ; 
Most frieiulship is feigning, most loving mere 
folly : 
Then, heigh-ho, the holly ! 
Tins life is most jolly ! 

Freeze, freeze, tlioii bitter sky. 
Thou dost not bite so idgh 

As benefits forgot : 
Though tho\i the waters warp. 
Thy sting is not so sharp 

As friend remembered not. 
Hoigh-lio ! sing heigh-lu> I unto the green holly : 
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere 
folly : 
Tlieu, heigh-ho, the holly ! 
This life is most jolly ! 

SHAKESPEARr. 



SAD IS OUR YO^TH, FOR IT IS EVER 
GOING. 

Sap is our youth, for it is ever going, 
t^rnmbling awny beneath our very feet ; 
Sad is our life, for onward it is flowing 
In current unperociveil, beeanse so fleet ; 
Sad are our hopes, for they were sweet in sow- 
ing. ^ 
lUit tares, self-sown, have overtopped the whe.-it •, 
Sad are o>ir joys, for they were sweet in blow- 
ing, — 
And still, 0, still tlieir dying breath is sweet ; 



And sweet is youth, although it hath bereft us 
Of that which nnule our childhood sweeter still ; 
And sweet is miildle life, for it hath left us 
A nearer good to cure an older ill ; 
Ami sweet are all things, when we learn to prize 

them. 
Not for their sake, but His who grants them or 

denies them ! 

AUBREVDE VERB. 



ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE. 

Written ill the spring of 1819. wlicii sulTcriiitj from physical de- 
prcsiion, the precursor of his dcJith, wliicli happcncil soon after. 

My heart aches, ami a di'owsy numbness pains 
Jly sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk. 
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains 

One minute past, ami I.ethe-waids had sunk : 
*'T is not through envy of thy hajipy lot. 
But being too happy in thy liappines.<, — 
That thon, liglit-w'inged Dryad of the trees. 
In some melodious plot 
Of beechen green, autl shadows nundjci'less, 
Siugest of Summer in full-throated ease. 



for a draught of vintage, that hatli been 

Oooleii a long age in the deep delved earth, 
Tasting of Flora and the country-green. 

Dance, and l'roveui;al song, and snnbuint 
mirth ! 
O for !i beaker full of the warm South, 
Fidl of the true, the blushful Hippocreiu-, 
With beaded bubbles winking at the biim. 
And purplc-staincil month, — 
That I might drink, and leave the world un- 
seen, 
.\ml with thee fade away into the forest dim : 

Faile far away, dissolve, ami ipiite forget 

What thou among the lea\'es hast ne\'er known. 
The weaiiiu'ss, the level', and the fret 

Here, where men sit ami hear each other groan ; 
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs, 
Where youth grows pale, and six'ctre-thiii, tind 
dies ; 
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow 
Ami leailen-eyed despairs, 
Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes. 
Or new Love pine at them beyond to-moi row. 

Away ! away ! for I will lly to thee. 

Not charioted liy Bacch.us and his panls. 

But on the viewless wings of Poesy, 
Though the dull brain perplc.ves and retards : 



I'OliMS Ul'' SIJKKOW AM) AUVKllSITV. 



317 



Alrwulv willi tliiMi ! triuli'i' is tlw iiinlit, 

AikI Imply till' Qui'cn-Moori is on lii'i- tlironi', 
t'liHliTc'il aniuiiil by all licr stuny Kayi ; 
But licic llii'ii' is no linlit. 
Save what IVoiii lu'avcn is willi dm lirei-zon 
blown 
Throuj!h viTilin'oiio glcKinis ami wlnilliij,' 
ninssy ways. 

i cannot «i'i' what Mowers ani al, my I'di't, 

Nor what soft inrcnsc hangs upon llii' boughs, 

Hut in cnibahni'il ilarkni^ss, guess eaeli sw I 

Wheiowilh the seasonable, month eudows 
The grass, the thiiket, ami the rniil-tici) wilil ; 
White hawthorn, anil tlio pastoral eglaulliie ; 
Kast-lailing violets I'overeil up in leaves ; 
Ami miil-Miiy's eldest ehilil, 
Tlio eoiuing musk rose, lull ol dewy wine. 
Till' murnmruus haunt ol Hies on suimuer 
eves. 

Parkling 1 listen ; and for ninny n tinin 

I have been half in love with I'asel'nl Deiilh. 
Called liim soli nanii's in many a mused rhyme, 

To taki' into the air my (pnet breath ; 
Now, more than ever, seems it rieh to die, 
Tu I'ease upon the midnight, with no pain, 
While tlnmart pouring forth thy soul alproMil, 
In such an ecstasy ! — 
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have eais in 
vnin — 
To thy high leipiicm bcconu^ a scjd. 

Thou want not born for death, immortal liird ! 

No hungry geneiiitions tread Ihi'i^ down ; 
The voice I hear this pasaing night was luNird 

In ancient days by empiMur and clown : 
IN-rhaps the self-sann' song that fouuil a path 
Through the »ail heart of liuth, when, sick for 
home, 
Klie stood in tears amid thi' alien corn ; 
The same that oft-times hath 
riiarined ningio casements opening on tlii' foam 
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn. 

Forlorn ! the very wmil is like a bidl. 

To tidl me Ixick from the<^ to my sole self! 
Adieu I the Fancy cannot cheat ho well 
As shir is famed to do, <h'<-eiviug elf. 
Allien : allien ! thy plaintive anthem fades 
I'ust the near meadows, over the still stream. 
Up the hillside ; and now 'tis buried dcij) 
In the next vftlley-glades : 
Woji it n vision or ii waking dream ? 

Fled i« that niiiitiu : — do I wake nr Hleep ? 
John Kraih. 



TIIK SUN IS WARM, TIIK SIvV IS CI.KAI!. 

SIANZAS VVUnTHN IN OI'.JI'.i: I ION Nl'.AK NACI.I s. 

Till', sun is warm, the sky is clear. 
The waves are dancing fast and bright, 
lilue isles and snowy mountains wear 
The purple noon's traiisparcnl light : 
The bleat h of the moist air is light 
Around its unc.vpaiuled buds; 
Like many a voice of one delight, — 
The winds', the birds', the ocean-Hoods', — 
The City's voice itself is soft like Solitude's. 



I see the Deep's unlrampled lloor 
With green and purple .sea-weeds strown ; 
I Ncit the waves upon the shore 
I. ike light dissolved in slar-shuwcis llinnvii : 
1 sll upon the sands alone ; 
The lightning of the noontide ocean 
Is llasliiiig round liie, and a tone 
Arises from its measiinsl motion, — 
How sweet, did any lieail now share in my 
emotion ! 

Alas ! 1 have nor hope nui lieiillh. 
Nor peace within nor calm arounil. 
Nor that ('ouleiit surpassing wealth 
The sage in meditation found, 
And walked with inward glory crowned, — 
Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure. 
Others I see whom these surround ; 
.Smiling lliey livi', and call life pleasure ; 
To me that cu[i has been deiilt in another ineii8UI'0 

Vet now iles|mir itself is mild 
\ivvn as the winds and waters aro ; 
I could lie down like a tirisl cliilil. 
And weep away tlii^ life of care 
Which 1 have borne, and yet must bear, 
Till death like sleep might steal on me, 
And I might feel in tli(^ warm air 
My cheek grow cold, and hear the sen 
lircatlu^ o'er my dying brain its last monotony. 
n HI V iivssiii'. SUULI.I1V. 



UOSALIK. 

0, I'dini ujion my snul again 
That sad, unearthly strain 

That seems from other worlds to 'plain ! 

Thus I'lilliiig, I'alliiig from afar, 

As if some mi'lancholy star 

Had minified willi her light her sighs. 
And dropped them from the skies. 



318 



I'ni'.Ms 111' s(ii!i;o\v AMI \i)\ I'.ijsrrv, 



No, never ctune from aiiglit below 

Tliis iiu'linly of wot', 
Tlmt miiki's my lii'iui to ovi'vllow, 
As IVoiii a tlioiisiiml gusliiiij; sinin^s 
t'liUiKiwii iH'foii' ; lliat Willi it luings 
Tliis imnu'U'ss lijjlit - - if lij;lit it bo — 

'l'l\ul. vi'ils tlu^ woi'lil 1 si'L'. 

Kor nil 1 M'l' iiruuiiil iii<' wi'iu's 

Tlio luio iifotlici- sjilu'ivs ; 
Ami sonu'lliiiij; bloiit of siiiili's iiml toiii's 
CoiiH's IVom (lii^ very iiir 1 bivftthc. 
O, iiolliiiif;, smv, the stars beiieiitli, 
ran nunilil ii sailiu'ss like to this, — 

So like aiij^i'lii' Miss ! 

So, lit Ihiil ilri'iiiiiy liovu ol ihiy. 
When the hi-st linneriiis; my 

Stops on the highest eloiul to play, — 

So thoU};lit t)ie gentle liosulie 

As on lior iiiiiiileii revory 

First fell the stmin of him who stole 
In nuisie to her sonl. 

Washington Allsi-on 



A nouivriNi; iikakt. 

WlIEUE are the swallows lleil ( 

Frozen luul ileail 
rerohnnco upon some bleak ami stormy shore. 
doubt iiig heart 1 
Far over purple seas 
Tl'.ey wait, in sunny ease, 
The balmy soiitliern biveze 
To bring tlieni to their northern homes ouee iiioiv 

Why must the tlowers die ? 

rrisoned they lie 
In tlie eold tomb, heedless of tears or rain. 
t> doubting heart ! 
Tlu'V only sleep ludow 
The soft white ermine snow 
While winter winds shall blow. 
To lueathe and smile upon yon soon agi\in. 

The sun has hid its rays 

These many days ; 
Will dreary hoiii-s never leave the earth? 
doubting heart ! 
The stormy elonds on high 
Veil the same sunny sky 
That soon, lor spring is nigh. 
Shall wake the summer into golden mirth. 

Fair hope is dead, and lisjht 

Is ipieuehed in night ; 



AVhat sound can break the silouco of despair? 
doubting heart ! 

The sky is overeast. 

Yet slurs shall rise at last, 

lirighter for ilarkiiess past. 
And angels' silver voiees stir the nir. 

AlJ15LAlUr, ANNi; I'KOCTliR. 



OFT IN TllK STII.I.V NH5HT. 

(1i''r ill the stilly night, 

Kre slumber's ehain has bound me, 
Fond Memory brings the light 
t>f other days around me : 
The smiles, the teal's, 
Of boyhood's years. 
The words of love then spoken ; 
The eyes that shone. 
Now dimmed and gone. 
The eheerfnl hearts now broken. 
Thus in the stilly night, 

Kre slumber's ehain has bound me. 
Sad Memory brings the light 
l>f other days arouml me. 



When 1 remember all 

The iViemls so linked together 
1 've seen around me fall, 

liike leaves in wintry weather, 
1 feel like one 
Who treads alone 
Some bauciuet-hall ileserted, 
Whose lights air lied. 
Whose gjirlaiids dead. 
And all but he departed. 
Thus ill the stilly night, 

Kre slumber's ehain has bound me. 
Sad Memory brings the light 
01 other days aiiaiiul me. 

VHO.MAS MOORli. 



MY siur. 

Down to the wharve.s, as tlie sun goes down, 
And the daylight's tumult and dust and diu 

Are dying away in the busy town, 
I go to see if my shi^ eomes in, 

I gaze far over the quiet sea, 

lio.sy with sunset, like mellow wine, 

Where sliiiw, like lilies, lie tramiuiUy, 
Slaiiy and fair, — but 1 see not mine. 

1 question the sailoi-s every night 

Who over the bulwarks idly lean, 
Noting the -sails as they eome in sight, — 

•■ Have you seen my beautiful ship eome in >' 



PUKMS Ol'' SUKltUW AM) ADVIOKSIIV. 



319 



" Wliciico <loo8 alio coiiip 7" tliny iisk of nic ; 

" Wlio is lu^r iim.sU-r, ami wliiit her imiiii' ! " 
And tlicy smile upon iiic |iityiii({ly 

When my iinswer in ever anil uvor the same. 

0, mine who n vessel of strength mikI trnlh, 
ller sails weiv white us n yoiiiif; lamli's tieeee, 

She sailed long sinee from the |)ort of Youth, — 
Her master was Love, anil her name wius Peace. 

Ami like all Wloveil and lii'anteous things, 
She tailed in distuni-e and douht away, — 

With only a tremhle of snowy wings 
She lloiited, swandike, adown the bay, 

Carrying with lier a i)reei(nis freight, — 
All 1 hud gathered hy years of ])ain ; 

A tempting prize to the pirate, Kate, — 
.\nd still 1 \vat( h for lier buck again ; — 

Wutrh from the earliest morning light 
Till tlie pale stars grieve o'er the <lying day. 

To eateh the gleum of liei' canvas white 
Among the islands which gem th(> buy. 

I'nt she comes not yet, — she will never come 
To gladden my eyes nnd my spirit more ; 

And my heart grows hoiielessand faint and ilund), 
As I unit and wait on the lonesome shoie. 

Knowing that tempest and time and storm 

1 lave wrec'ked and shattered my beuntiTinsburk ; 

Rank sea-weeds cover her wasting form. 

And her sails arc tattered and stained und dark. 

Ihit the tide cornea up. um! the tide goes down, 
And till' <layliglit follows tlie night's eclipse, — 

And still with the sailors, tunneil und brown, 
I wait <?n the wharves und watch the ships. 

An<l still with a patience that is not hope, 
For vnin and empty it long hath been, 

I sit on the rougli shore's rocky slope. 
Ami wntcli to see if my ship conies in. 

LLIZADHTII AKRRS AI.LliN [FUrfHCe Prrfy). 



AFAU IN TIIK DKSERT. 

Akaii in the desert 1 love to ride, 
With the silent l!usli-boy jilom' hy my side ; 
When till' sorrows of life the soul o'eniist. 
And, sick of the present, I cling to the past ; 
When the eye is sninised with regretful tears, 
From I III' foml recolh^i'tions of former years ; 
Anil shadows of things that have long since lied 
Klit over the bmin, like the ghosts of the dead, - 



Uright visions of glory that vanished too .soon , 

Day-dreams, that depurted ere munhood's noon ; 

Attachments by late or falsehood reft ; 

('ompunions of early days lost or left ; 

And my native land, whose magicul name 

Thrills to the heurl like electric Hume ; 

The home of my childhood ; the haunts of iny 

prime ; 
All the pa.s8ion8 nnd scenes of that rapturous 

time 
When the feelings wore young, und the world 

wius new, 
liike the fresh bowers of Kilcn unfolding to view ; 
All, all now forsuken, forgotten, foregone ! 
AjhI I, a lone c.vilc reniembered of none, 
My high aims ubamloned, my good acts undone. 
Aweary of ull that is under the sun, — 
With thut sudne.ss of licurt which no strunger 

iiaiy scan, 
I lly to the de.scit ul'ur Ihdii niun. 

Afar in the desert I love lo ride. 
With the silent Hush-boy nionc by my aide ! 
When the wild turmoil of this weurisoine life. 
With its scenes of oppression, coniiptiou, und 

ati'ife. 
The proud man's frinvu, and the buse man's fear, 
Tlie scorner's luugh, und the suH'crer's tear. 
And malice, and meanness, and falsehood, and 

folly, 
nis|iosc me to musing and dark melancholy ; 
Wlien my bosom is fidl, and my thoughts aro 

high. 
And my soul isaick with the bondman's sigh, — 
O, then there is freedom, and joy, und pride, 
Afur in the desert alone to ride ! 
There is ra|)ture to vault on the champing steed. 
And to bound away with the eagle's s|iecd. 
With the death-fraught lijelock in my liiiml, — 
The only law of the Desert Lund ! 

Afar in the dewrt I love to ride. 

With the silent Hush. boy alone by my side. 

Away, away from the dwellings of men, 

Hy the wild ileer's haunt, by the bulhdo's glen ; 

Hy valleys remote where the oribi plays, 

Where the gnu, the gazelle, und the hurlebecst 

graze. 
And the kudu nnd eland unhunted re< line 
Hy the skirts of gray forest o'eihung with wild 

vine ; 
Where the elephnnt browses ul pcuce in his wood, 
And the river-horse gambols unscared in the 

(lood. 
And the mighty rhinoceros wallows nt will 
In the fen where the wild uss is ilriid<ing hi» lill. 
Afur in the desert 1 love to ride. 
With the silent Hush-boy alone hy my side. 



520 



I'OKMS OV SOKKDW AM' AOVKKSITV. 



D'cr the brown karroo, where the bleatins cry 
or the springbok's fiuvu sonmls [ilaiirtively ; 
And the timorous nuagga's shrill whistling neigh 
Is heanl by the fountain at twilight gniy ; 
Where the zebra wantonly tosses his mane, 
■With wild hoof scouring the desolate I'lain ; 
And the fleet-footed ostrieh over the waste 
."Speeds like a horseman w ho travels in ! aste. 
Hieing away to the home of her rest, 
Where she and hor mate have scoop ;d their 

nest. 
Far liid from the pitiless plunderer's view- 
In the pathless depths of the parched kari-oo. 

Afar in the desert I love to vide. 

With the silent 15ush-boy alone by my side. 

Away, away, in the wilderness vast 

Where the white man's foot hath never passed, 

And the quivered Coranna or Bechuan 

Hath rarely crossed with his roving elan, — 

A i-egion of emptiness, howling and drear, 

AVhioU man hath abandoned from famine and 

fear ; 
AVhich the snake and the lizard inhabit alone. 
With the twilight bat from the yawning stone ; 
AVhere grass, nor herb, nor shrub takes i-oot, 
i-ave poisonous thorns that pierce the foot ; 
And the bitter-melon, for food and drink. 
Is the pilgrim's fare by the salt lake's brink ; 
A region of drought, where no river glides, 
Nor lippling brook with osiered sides ; 
A\'here sedgy pool, nor bubbling fount, 
Nor tive, nor cloud, nor misty nuntnt. 
Appeal's, to refresh the aching eye ; 
lUit the barivn earth and the burning sky, 
And the blank horizon, round and round, 
i^pivad. — void of living sight or sound. 
And here, while the night-winds round me sigh, 
And the stars burn bright in the midnight sky. 
As I sit apart by the desert stone. 
Like Elijah at Horeb's cave, alone, 
•" A still small voice " conu'S through the wild 
(Like a father consoling his fivtfu! chiUO, 
Which Kuiishes bitterness, wrath, and fear, 
Saying, — Man is distant, but God is near ! 

THOMAS TRINGLE. 



THE WOKLD. 

TiiK World 's a bubble, and the Life of Man 

Less than a si>an : 
In his conception wix-tched, fi\im the womb. 

So to the tomb ; 
Curst from his cradle, and brought up to years 

With caivs and fears. 
Who then to frail mortality shall trust. 
But limns on water, or but writes in dust. 



Yet whilst with sorrow here we live opprest, 

What life is best < 
Courts are but only superficial schools 

To dandle fools : 
The rural parts are turned into a den 

Of savagi! men : 
.•\iul where 's a city from foul vice so five, 
lint may be terin'd the worst of all the three ? 

Domestic caivs alllict the husband's bed, 

Or pains his head : 
Those that live single, take it for a curse, 

Or do things woi-se : 
Some would have children : those that have 
them, moan 

Or wish them gone : 
What is it, then, to have or have no wife, 
But single thmldom, or a double strife I 

Our own ali'ection still at home to please 

Is a disease : 
To cross the seas to any foreign soil. 

Peril and toil : 
Wars with their noise affright ns ; when they 
cease. 

We are worse in peace ; — 
What then remains, but that we still should cry 
For being born, or, being born, to die ? 

i=RANCis. Lord Bacon. 



LOVE NOT. 

LovK not, love not, ye hapless sons of clay ! 
Hope's gayest wi-eaths aiv made of earthly flow- 
el's, — 
Things that an> made to fade and fall aw.iy 
Ere tliey have blossomed for a few- short hours. 
Love not ! 

Love not I the thing ye love may change ; 
The ro.sy lip may cease to smile on you. 
The kindly-beaming eye grow cold and strange, 
The heart still warmly beat, yet not be true. 
Love not ! 

Love not ! the thing you love may die, — 
May perish from the gi\y and gladsome earth ; 
The silent stai-s, the blue and smiling sky, 
Beam o'er its grave, as once upon its birth. 
Love not ! 

Love not ! warning ^•ainly said 
In pivsent hours as in yeai-s gone by ! 
Love flings a halo round the dear ones' head. 
Faultless, immortal, till they change or die. 
Love not ! 

CAROLINK nu2ABETH SHERIDAN. 
(HON. MRS. NORTON.) 



I'OKMS 01'' SOlUiOW AND ADVICHSITY. 



321 



SAMSON ON HIS HLINDNESS. 

FROM "SAMSON AGONlslBS," 

O LOSS of sijjlit, of tlit'O I most complniii ! 
liliiul iiiiioiig ciioiiiii'S, O, worso lliaii I'haiiis, 
Duiij;"oii, or lit'jjginy, or (li'cicpit iifjo ! 
Linlit, tlio priini' work of Ooil, to mo is i-xtinct, 
Ami nil lu'r various olyci'ts of dilight 
Aiuiullcil, which might in part my grief huvu 

ouscil. 
Inferior to the vilest muv Ikiiiiih' 
Of iiiHii or worm ; tlu' vilest here excel me : 
They ereep, yet see ; I, darU in light, exposed 
To daily fraud, contempt, aliuse, and wrong. 
Within doors or without, still as a fool, 
III [Kiwer of others, never in my own ; 
Senree half I seem to live, dead more than half. 
O dark, ilark, dark, amid the Maze of noon, 
Iri'ceovembly dark, total eclipse. 
Without all hope of day I 



FKOM "I'AHADISE LOST." 

KVU's LAMKNr. 
llnuK XI, 

O fNBXPELTr.l) stroke, worse than of death ! 
Must I thus leave thee, I'aradise ! thus leave 
Thee, native soil ! these happy walks and shades. 
Fit haunt of gods ; where I had hope to spend, 
<}uiet, though sad, the resiiite of that day 
That must be mortal to us both I O llowers. 
That never will in other climate grow. 
My early visitation, ami my last 
At even, which I bred up with tender hand 
From the first opening bml, and gavi^ ye names! 
M'ho now shall rear ye to the sun, or rank 
Your tribes, and water from the ambrosial fount '/ 
Thee, lastly, nuptial bower ! by me adorned 
With what to sight or smell was sweet, from thee 
How shall I part, and whither wander down 
Into a lower world, to this obscure 
And wild I how shall wo brenlhe in other air 
Less pure, accustomed to immortal fruits '( 

EVE TO ADAM. 

DOOK XI. 

With sorrow and licnrl's distress 
Wearied, I fell asleep. Unt now lead on ; 
In nic is no delay ; with thee to go. 
Is to stay here ; without thee here to stay. 
Is to go hence unwilling ; thou to me 
Art all things umler heaven, all places tlioii, 
Who for my wilful crime art banished hence. 
This further consolation, yet secure, 
I curry hence ; though all by me is lost. 
Such favor I unworthy am vouchsafed, 
Hy nie the |)roniised Seed shall all restore. 



THE IlEl'AUTUItE KRIIM fAUAlllSE. 



In either hand the hastening angel caught 
dur lingering parents, and to the eastern gate 
Led tlicm direct, and down the elilf as fast 
To the subjected plain ; then disappeared. 
They, looking back, all the eastern side beheld 
Of I'aradi.se, so late their liappy .scat. 
Waved over liy that llaming linind ; the gate 
With dreadful faces thronged and liory arms. 
Some natural tears they dropt, but wiped them 

soon ; 
The world was all before Ihein, where to choose 
Their place of rest, and I'rovidcnco their guide. 
They, hand in ImimI, willi wandering steps and 

slow, 
Through Kdcn look their solitary way. 



WOLSEY'S FALL. 

I-KOM '■lll'.NKV VIM.," ACT 111. SC. a. 

Fahf.WELI,, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! 
This is the state of man : to-day he puts forth 
The tender leaves of hope ; to-morrow blossoms, 
.Villi bears his blushing honors thick upon him: 
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ; 
And — when he think.s, good easy iiiaii,fiill surely 
His greatness is a ripening — nips his root. 
And then he falls, as I do. I liavi! ventured, 
Like little wanton boys that swim on liladdcis. 
This many siiniiiiers in a sea of glory ; 
lint far beyond my depth ; my high-blown ]iiide 
At length broke under me ; and now has left me. 
Weary and old with .service, to the mercy 
Of a riidc slreain, that must forever hide me. 
Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hale ye : 
I feci my heart new opened. O, how wretched 
Is that iioor man that hangs on princes' favors! 
There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to. 
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, 
iMore Jiangs and fears than wars or women have : 
.\iid when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, 
Never to hope again. 

SIIAKUSrilAKli. 



WOLSEY'S ADVICE TO CROMWELL. 

FKOM ■•lll-NMV VII!.." ACT III. SC. 3. 

''KiiMWKM,, I did not lliink to shod u tear 
111 all my miseries ; but llioii hast forced me. 
Out of thy honest truth, to play the •.voman. 
Let 's dry our eyes : and thus far hear me, Crom- 
well ; 
.Villi — when I am forgotten, as I shall be, 
And sleep in dull, cnld marlile, where no mention 



322 



I'dKMS dl' SOIUiOW AND AOVEUSITV. 



Of mo more iiliist Iw heard ol — siiy, 1 tiuight tlieo, 
iSiiy, Wolsi'y — tliiit om'(> trod tlic wiiys offjlory, 
And simiuliHl all lluuln|itlis aiidslioidsiiriiiiiiDr- 
Fomul tlioo a way, oiit ol' liis wrw'U, to riso in ; 
A sure and sal'o inw, lli(nif;h lliy master missed il. 
Mark Imt my fall, and tliat that ruineil me. 
Cromwell, 1 eliarf,'e tliee, llinf; away ambition : 
l!y that sin tell tlie anjjels ; liow ean man, tlien. 
The innige ol' his Maker, ho|ie to win l>y 'I / 
hove thyself last : ehi'risli those hearts that hate 

thee ; 
Coiruplion wins not more than honesty. 
Still in thy right hand earry gentle peaee, 
'I'o silenee envious ton,i;ues. Be just, and fear not : 
lii't all the ends thou aim'st at be thy eonntry's, 
Thy Hod's, and trnlli's ; then if thou fall'sl, (I 

Cronnvell ! 
Thou fall'sl a blessed martyr. 
Serve the Uinj; ; and — pr'ythee, lead mi' in : 
There take an inventory of all 1 have. 
To the last [lenny ; 't is the kiujj's : my robe. 
And my intejjrity to heaven, is all 
1 dare now eall mine own. O (^romwell, Crom- 
well ! 
Had I but served my Cod with half the zeal 
1 .served my king, he would not in mine age 
Have loft me nuked to mine enemies ! 

siiAKiisrrAKii. 



Till'. l..\TK SI'KIN'C. 

SlIK stood alone amidst the .\pril lields. 

Hrown, sodden lields, all desolate and bare. 
"The spring is late," slu' said, "the faithless 
spring. 
That sliould have eonie to make the meadows 
fair. 

"Their sweet South left too soon, among the 
trees 

The binls, bewildered, llutter to and fro; 
Kor them no green boughs wait, -their memories 

Of la.st year's .\pril had deeeived them .so." 

She watehed the honudi'ss binis, the slow, sad 
spring. 
The banvn lields, and shivering, naked trees. 
"Thus (uid has dealt with nie, his child," she 
said ; 
"I wait my siuiug-tinu', and am eohl like 
these. 

"To them will eonu- the fuli\ess of their time ; 

Their .ipring, though late, will nuike the mead- 
ows fair ; 
SIiaU I, who wait like them, like them be blessed ? 

1 am his own, — doH» not my Father cam .' " 

LUUISB CHANDI.HK MOI'LIXJN. 



A LAMKNT. 

I) \voi:i,l> ! O Life ! O Tinu> ! 
On whose last steps I climb, 

Trembling at that where 1 had stood before ; 
When will return the glory of your prime ? 
No nuire, — O lu'vermore ! 

Out of the day and night 
.\ joy has taken llight ; 

Kresh s]u'ing, and summer, and winter hoar 
Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight 
No more, — nevermore ! 

rilKCV BVSSUr. SltliLLlV. 



•WHAT CAN AN OUD MAN 00 RFT 
niK !" 

Si'KlNU it is cheery, 

Winter is dreary, 
(ireen leaves hang, but the brown must lly ; 

When he 's forsaken. 

Withered and shaken. 
What I'uu an old man do but die ? 

Love will not clip him, 

iMaids will not liji him, 
Maud and Marian pass him by; 

Youth it is sunny. 

Age has no honey, — 
What ean an old nnm do but die ? 

.lune it was jolly, 

O f,>r its folly ! 
A dancing leg and a laughing eye ! 

Youth may be silly. 

Wisdom is chilly, — 
What can an (dd man do but die > 

Kricnds they are scanty, 

Hcggai's arc plenty, 
If he has I'ollowcrs, 1 know why ; 

(Jold 's in his clutches 

(Buying him crutches !) — 
What can an old man do but die ? 

THOMAS IIooix 



PERISHED. 

CATSKILL MOUNTAIN HOUSE. 

W.WK after wave of greenness rolling down 
Krom movii\tain top to base, a whispering sea 
Of tttlluent leaves through which the viewless 
Ineeze 
Murnuns mvsteriouslv. 



TllEKI': is such i)owcr even in smallest things 
To bring the dear past back ; a flower's tint, 
A snatch of some old song, the (Iccting glint 

Of sunbeams on the wave — each vivid brings 

The lost days up, as from the idle strings 

Of wind-harp sad a breeze evokes the hint 

Of antique tunes. A glove wiiich keeps imprint 

Of a loved liantl the heart with torture wrings 

By memory of a clasp meant more than speech ; 

A face seen in the crowd with curve of cheek 
Or sweep of eyelash our woe's core can reach. 

How strong is love to yearn, and yet how weak 

To strive with fate: the lesson all things teach. 
As of the past in myriad ways they speak. 



Arlo Hates. 




.!f-v 



Ni>f '^■' 



I.IFF,. 

l.iM', like a tomping si'liool-lun' lull ol' l;1oo, 
Doth Ih'.u- us on liis shoulders for a tinif: 
rhiio is no inth too sleep for liim to (.limb, 
With strong lithe limbs, as agile and as I'loo 
As some yoimg roe, he speeds by vale and sea, 
Bv tlowerv mead, b\- mountain-peak sublime. 
And all the world seems motion set to rh\ me. 
Till, tired out, he eries, " Now earry me!" 

In vain we murimn'. "Come," Lite says, " Fair play," 
And seizes on us. Ciod! Me goads us so. 
He does not let us sit down all the day. 
M each new step we feel the burden grow. 
Till om' bent backs seem breaking as wo go, 
W.itehini; lor Heath to meet us on the wav. 



Ella Wheelk.k Wiiiox. 



I'OKMS UK SUKUOW AND AltVKIJSIl'V. 



323 



And towiTiiiR up nmici tlic Ipsscr tlironp, 
A giant oak, so ilcsuliitrly Ki-aiid, 
Stri'tclios its gmy liiiplDiiii^' arms tii luMivcn 

In iiKonizti.l (Irnianil. 
Smitlcn by liKlitniii),' from a sumnid' sky, 
Or iMirinj; in its licait a slow ili'niy, 
What mattur, simc inexorable fato 

Is pitiless to slay. 
Ah, wayward soul, hedged in and ilotli.d iilioiil, 
Doth not thy life's lost hope lift up its licinl, 
And, dwarlinft present .joys, proilaim aloml, — 

" Look on nic, I am dead! " 

Marv I.otrtsii Kn irK. 



TIIK LAST I.KAK. 

I SAW liim onee before, 
As he passed by tlie door ; 

And again 
The pavenieiit-stoues resoinid 
As he tottei-s o'er the ground 

With his cane. 

They say tluit irj his prime. 
Ere the pnmingknife ol time 

Cut him down. 
Not n better man was found 
By the crier on his round 

Through the town. 

But now he widks the streets, 
And he looks at all he meets 

So forlorn ; 
And he shakes his feclilo head, 
That it seems as if he said, 
"They are gone." 

The tnos.sy nutrhlcs lest 

On the lips that he has ])ros8cd 

In Ihiir bloom ; 
And the names he loved to hear 
Have been carved for many a year 

On the tomb. 

My grandmanuna has .said — 
Poor old lady ! she is dead 

Long ago — 
That he had a Konian nose. 
And his I'hcek was like a rose 

In the snow. 

But now his nose is thin, 
And it rests upon his chin 

I/ike a stidf ; 
And a crook is in his back, 
And a melaneholy craek 

In his laugh. 



I know it is a sin 
Kor me to sit and grin 

At liiiii heri', 
Hut the old three-cornered hut. 
And the br Uva, - and all that, 

Are .so ipiecr ! 

And if 1 should live to bo 
The last leaf upon the tree 

In tile spring, 
Let them smile, as 1 do now, 
At the old forsaken bough 

Where I cling. 

()1.I\-1',K WliN[>IU.L IIULMUS. 



TIIK AlM'liOACll l)|.' ACK. 

I'KOM •* TAI.CS III' IMK IIAI.I.." 

Six years had jiasseil, and forty ere the six, 
When 'I'iine liegim (o play bis usual tricks : 
The locks once comely in a virgin's sight. 
Locks of pure brown, ilisjilayed the encroiiching 

white ; 
The blood, once fervid, now to cool begun, 
And Time's siroiig pressure to subdue the mini. 
I rode or walked as 1 was wont before. 
Hut now the boiiiidiiig spirit was no iiiore ; 
A moderiilc pace woubl now my body heal, 
A walk of modi^riiti^ lengtli distress liiy feet. 
1 showed my stranger guest those hills sublime, 
lint said, "Tin' view is poor, wr need not climb." 
At a friend's uiunsiou 1 began to dread 
The cold neat parlor and the guy glazed lied ; 
At home I felt a niori' decided taste. 
And must have all things in my order placed. 

1 ceased to bunt ; my horses plea.sed me less, 

My dinner more ; I learned to phiy at chess. 
I took my dog and gun, but saw tiie brute 
Was disappointed that 1 ilid not shoot. 
.My morning walks 1 now could Isar to lose. 
And bics.sed the shower that gave me not to 

choose. 
In fact, I lelt a laii^iio]' stealing on ; 
Thi^ aetivi' arm, the agile baud, were gone ; 
Small daily actions into habits grew, 
And new dislike to forms and fashions new. 
I loved my trees in onlcr to dispose ; 
I numbered peac/ies, looked how stocks arose ; 
Told Ihc sHiiiestoryofl, in sliort, began to prose. 

OaOKlJi CKAllUli. 

— »^ 
OLD. 

By tlio wayside, on a mossy stone, 
Sat a hoary pilgrim, sadly musing ; 

Oft I marked him sitting there alone, 

All the landscape, like a page, perusing; 
Poor, unknown, 

liy the waysido, on a mossy stone. 



324 



POEMS OF SORROW AND ADVERSITY, 



Buckled knee and shoe, and Inoail-brimmed hat ; 

Coat as ancient as tlie form 't was Iblding ; 
Silver buttons, ijueue, and crimped cravat ; 

Oaken staff his feeble hand ujiholding ; 
There lie sat ! 
Buckled knee and shoe, and broad-brimmed hat. 

Seemed it pitiful he should sit there, 
No one sympathizing, no one heeding. 

None to love him for his thin gray hair. 
And the furrows all so mutely jileading 
Age and care ; 

Seemed it pitiful he should sit there. 

It was summer, and we went to school. 
Dapper country lads and little maidens ; 

Taught the motto of the " Dunce's Stool," — 

Its grave import still my fancy ladens, — 

" Here 's a fool ! " 

It was sunnner, and we went to school. 

When the stranger seemed to mark our play. 
Some of us wi^re joyous, some sad-hearted, 

I remember well, too well, that day ! 
Oftentimes the tears unbidden started, 
Would not stay 

When the stranger seemed to nuirk our play. 

One sweet spirit broke the silent spell, 
0, to me her name was always Heaven ! 

She besought him all his grief to tell, 
(I was theu thirteen, and she eleven,) 
Isabel ! 

One sweet spirit broke the silent spell. 

"Angel," said he sadly, " I am old ; 

Earthly hope no longer hath a morrow ; 
Yet, why I sit here thou shalt be told." 

Then his eye betrayed a pearl of sorrow, 
Down it rolled ! 
"Angel," said he sadly, " I am old. 

" I have tottered here to look once more 
On the pleasant scene where I delighted 

In the careless, happy days of yore. 

Ere the garden of my heart was blighted 
To the core : 

I have tottered here to look once more. 

"All the picture now to me how dear ! 

E'en this gray old rock wlicre I am seated. 
Is a jewel worth my journey here ; 

Ah that such a scene must be completed 
With a tear ! 
All the picture now to me how dear ! 

" Old stone school-house ! it is still the same ; 

There 's the very step I so oft mounted ; 
There 's the window creaking in its frame, 

And the notchc's that I cut and counted 



For the game. 
Old stone school-house, it is still the same. 

"In the cottage yonder 1 was born ; 

Long my happy home, that humble dwelling; 
There the Helds of clover, wheat, and corn ; 

There the spring with limpid nectar swelling ; 
Ah, forlorn ! 
In the cottage yonder I was born. 

" Those two gateway sycamores you see 
Then were planted just so far asunder 

That long well-pole from the path to free, 

Anil tile wagon to pass safely under ; 

Ninety-three ! 

Those two gateway sycamores you see. 

" There 's th^ orchard where we used to climb 
When my mates and I were boys together, 

Thinking nothing of the Hight of time, 

Fearing naught but work and rainy weather ; 
Past its prime ! 

There 's the orchard where we used to climb. 

" There the rude, three-cornered chestnut-rails, 
Kound the pasture where the Hocks were graz- 
ing. 
Where, so sly, I used to watch for quails 
In the crops of buckwheat we were raising ; 
Traps and trails ! 
There the rnde, three-cornered chestnut-rails. 

" There 's the mill that ground our yellow grain ; 

Pond and river still serenely flowing ; 
Cot there nestling in the shaded lane. 

Where the lily of my heart was blowing, — 
Mary Jane ! 
There's the mill that ground our yellow grain. 

" There 's the gate on which I used to swing, 
IJrook, and bridge, and barn, and old red 
stable ; 
But alas ! no more the morn shall bring 
That dear group around my father's table ; 
Taken wing ! 
There 's the gate on which I used to swing. 

" I am Heeing, — all I loved have fled. 

Yon green meadow was our place for playing ; 
That old tree can tell of sweet things said 

When around it Jane and 1 were straying ; 
Slie is dead ! 
I am fleeing, — all 1 loved have tied. 

" Yon white s])ire, a pencil on the sky. 
Tracing silently life's changeful story. 

So familiar to my dim old eye. 

Points me to seven that are now in glory 
There on high ! 

Yon white spire, a pencil on the skv. 



POEMS OK SORKOW AND ADVEKSllV. 



325 



" Oft the aisle of that old eluiich we trod, 
Guided thither by an angel niotlier ; 

Now she sleeps beneatli its sacred sod ; 
Sire and sistei^i, and my little brother, 
tionc to God ! 

Oft the aisle of that old church we trod. 

"There 1 heard of Wisdom's jileasant ways ; 

Uless the lioly lesson ! — but, ah, never 
Shall I liear again those songs of praise, 

Tliosc sweet voices silent now forever ! 

Peaceful days ! 

There I heard of Wisdom's pleasant ways. 

"There my Mary blest me witli her hand 
When our souls drank in the nuptial blessinj; 

Kre she hastened to the spirit-land, 

Yoniler turf her gentle bosom ju'essing ; 
Broken band ! 

There my Mary blest me with her hand. 

" I have como to see that gi-ave once more, 
And the sacred place where we delighted, 

Where wc worshipped, ill the ilays of yore, 
Ere the garden of my heart was blighted 
To the core ! 

1 have come to see that grave once more. 

"Angel," said he sadly, " I am ohl ; 

Earthly hope no longer hath a morrow. 
Now, why I sit here thou hast been told." 

In his eye another pearl of sorrow, 
Down it rolled ! 
" Angel," said lie .sadly, " I am old." 

By the wayside, on a mossy stone. 

Sat the hoary pilgrim, sadly nuLsing ; 
Still I marked him sitting there alone, 
All the landscape, like a page, perusing ; 
Poor, unknown ! 
By the wayside, on a mossy stone. 

Ralph Hovt. 



HOME, WOUNDED. 

Wheel me into the sunshine. 

Wheel me into the shadow. 

There must be leaves on the woodbine. 

Is the king-cup crowned in the meadow ? 

Wheel me down to the meadow, 

Down to the little river. 

In sun or in shadow 

I shall not dazzle or shiver, 

1 shall be happy anywhere. 

Every breath of the moniing air 

Makes nie throb and quiver. 



Stay wherever you will, 

l!y the mount or under the hill, 

Or down by the little river : 

Stay as long as yon please. 

Give me only a bud Irom the trees, 

Or a blade of grass in morning dew, 

Or a cloudy violet clearing to blue, 

1 could look on it forever. 

Wheel, wheel through the sunshine. 
Wheel, wheel through the shadow ; 
There must be odors round the pine, 
There must be balm of breathing kine. 
Somewhere down in the meadow. 
Must 1 clioose ! Then anchor me there 
Beyond the beckoning poplars, where 
The larch is snooding her Howery hair 
With wreaths of morning shadow. 

Among the thickest hazels of the brake 

Perchance some nightingale doth shake 

His feathers, and the air is full of song ; 

In those old days when I was young and strong, 

He used to sing on yonder garden tree. 

Beside the nursery. 

All, I reinember liow I loved to wake. 

And find him singing on the self-same bough 

(I know it even now) 

Where, since the Hit of bat. 

In ceaseless voice he sat. 

Trying the spring night over, like a tune, 

Beneath the vernal moon ; 

And while I listed long. 

Day rose, and still he sang. 

And all his stanchless song. 

As something falling unaware. 

Fell out of the tall trees he sang among. 

Fell ringing down the ringing morn, .and rang, — 

Hang like a golden jewel down a golden stair. 

My soul lies out like a basking hound, — 

A hound that dreams and dozes ; 

Along my life my length I lay, 

I fill to-morrow and yesterday, 

I am warm with the suns tliat have long since 

set, 
I am warm with the summers that are not yet. 
And like one who dreams and dozes 
Softly afloat on a sunny sea, 
Two worlds are whispering over me, 
And there blows a wind of roses 
P'roin the backward shore to the shore before. 
From the shore before to the backward shore. 
And like two clouds that meet and pour 
Each through each, till core in core 
A single self reposies. 
The nevermore with the evermore 
Above nie mingles and closes ; 



326 



POEMS OF SORROW AND ADVERSITY. 



As my soul lies out like the basking liouiul, 

And wlierevm- it lies seems happy grouuil, 

Anil when, iiwiikened by some sweet sound, 

A dreamy eye uncloses, 

1 see a blooming world around. 

And I lie luniil primroses, — 

Years of sweet primroses. 

Springs of fresh primroses, 

Springs to be, and springs for me 

Of distiint dim primroses. 

O, to lie a-dream, a-dream. 

To feel 1 may dream and to know you deem 

My work is done forever, 

Aiul the palpitating fever. 

That gains and loses, loses and gains. 
And beats the hurrying blood on the brunt of a 
thousand pains. 

Cooled at onee by that blood-let 

Upon the parapet ; 
\nd all the tedious tasked toil of the difficult 
long endeavor 

Solved and (juit by no more fine 

Than these limbs of mine. 

Spanned and measured once for all 

Uy tliat right-luind I lost, 

Bouglit up at so light a cost 

As one bloody fall 

On the soldier's bed. 

And three days on the ruined wall 

.\niong the thirst less dead. 

O, to think my name is crost 

KroMi duty's muster-roll ; 

That I may slumber though the clarion call. 

And live the joy of an embodied soul 

Free as a liberated ghost. 

0, to feel a life of deed 

Was emptied out to feed 

That tire of pain that burned so brief awhile, — 

That fire from whii'h I come, as the dead come 

Forth from the irreparable tomb. 

Or as a martyr on his funeral pUe 

Heaps up the burdens other men do bear 

Through years of segregated care. 

And takes the total load 

Upon his shoulders broad. 

And steps from earth to God. 

0, to think, through good or ill. 
Whatever I am you '11 love me still ; 
O, to think, though dull I be. 
You that are so grand and free, 
^'|IU that are so bright and gay. 
Will pause to hear me when I will, 
As tlunigh my head were gay ; 
A single self reposes, 



The nevermore with the evermore 

Above me mingles and closes ; 

As my soul lies out like the basking hound. 

And wherever it lies seems happy ground. 

And when, awakened by some sweet sound, 

A dreamy eye uncloses, 

I see a blooming world around. 

And 1 lie amiil pi'imroses, — 

Years of sweet primroses. 

Springs of fresh primroses. 

Springs to be, and springs for me 

Of distant dim primroses. 

0, to lie a-dream, a-dream. 

To feel I may dream and to know you deem 

Jly work is done forever. 

And the palpitating fever, 

That gains and loses, loses and gains, 

And she. 

Perhaps, even she 

May look as she looked when I knew her 

In those old days of childish sooth. 

Ere my boyhood dared to woo her. 

I will not seek nor sue her. 

For I 'm neither fonder nor truer 

Than when she slighted my lovelorn youth. 

My giftless, graceless, guinealess truth. 

And I oidy lived to rne lier. 

But 1 '11 never love another. 

And, in spite of her lovers and lands. 

She shall love me yet, my brother ! 

As a child that holds by his mother. 

While his mother speaks his praises. 

Holds with eager hands, 

And ruddy and silent stands 

In the ruddy and silent daisies. 

And hears her bless her boy. 

And lifts a wondering joy. 

So I 'U not seek nor sue her. 

But I '11 leave my glory to woo her, 

And I '11 stand like a child beside, 

And from behind the purple pride 

I'll lift my eyes unto her. 

And I shall not be denied. 

And you will love her, brother dear. 

And perhaps next year you '11 bring mo here 

All through the balmy April tide. 

And she will trip like spring by my side, 

And be all the birds to my ear. 

And here all three we 11 sit in the sun. 

And see the Aprils one by one, 

Primroseil Aprils on and on. 

Till tlie lloating prospect closes 

In golden glimmers that rise and rise, 

And jierhaps are gleams of Paradise, 

.Vud [icrluips tiio far for mortal eyes. 



POEMS OK SORROW AND ADVERSITY. 



327 



New springs of fri-sh piiniroscs, 
Springs of nirth's i)riiiiroses, 
Springs to bo, and springs for nio 
Of (listunt dim primroses. 



SlDNUy DOet^LL. 



FAHK.Wia,!., LlKl':. 

WRITTEN DURING SICKNESS. APRIL. 1845. 

Faiif.wei.i,, lift' ! my slmi.scs swim, 
And the world is growing dim ; 
Thronging slmdows cloud the light, 
Like tlio iidvent of the night, — 
Colder, colder, colder still. 
Upward stciils a vaimr chill ; 
Strong the earthy odor grows, — 
I smell the mould above the rose ! 

Welcome, life ! the spirit strives ! 
Strength returns and hope revives ; 
Cloudy fears and shapes forlorn 
Fly like shadows at the morn, — 
O'er the earth there conies a bloom ; 
Sunny light for sullen gloom, 
Warm perfume for vapor cold, — 
I smell the rose above the mould ! 

THOMAS HOOD. 



THE MAY QUEEN. 

You must wake and call me early, call me early, 

mother dear ; 
To-morrow '11 be the happiest time of all the glad 

new-year, — 
Of all the glad new-year, mother, the maddest, 

merriest day ; 
For I 'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, 1 'm to 

be (Jueen o' the May. 

There's many a lilaik, black eye, they say, but 

none so bright as mine ; 
There's Margaret and Mary, there's Kate and 

Cajoline ; 
But none .so fair as little Alice in all the land, 

they say : 
So I 'ra to be Queen o' the May, nu)ther, 1 'm to 

be Queen o' the May. 

1 sleep 80 sound all night, molhcr. Hint I shall 

never waki'. 
If you do not call nie loud when the day begins 

to break ; 
Hut 1 must gather knots of flowers and buds, 

and garlands gay ; 
I'or I 'm to Ix; Queen o' the May, mother, I 'm to 

be Queen o' the May. 



As I came up the valley, whom thiid< yu should 

I see 
r.ut liobin leaning on the bridge beneath the 

hazel-tree ? 
He thought of that sharp look, mother, I gave 

him yesterday, — 
liut I 'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I 'm to 

be Queen o' the May. 

Ho thought I was a ghost, mother, for 1 was all 

in white ; 
And I ran by him without speaking, like r. Mash 

of light. 
They call me cruel-hearted, but I care not what 

they say. 
For I 'm to be IJuecn o' the May, mother, I 'm to 

be Queen o' the May. 

They say he's dying all for love, — but that can 
never bo ; 

They say his heart is breaking, mother, — what 
is that to me ? 

There's many a bolder lad '11 woo mo any sum- 
mer day ; 

And I 'm to bo Queen o' the May, mother, I 'm to 
be Queen o' the May. 

Little Effie shall go with me to-morrow to the 

green. 
And you '11 be there, too, mother, to see me made 

the Queen ; 
For the shepherd lads on every side '11 come from 

far away ; 
And I 'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I 'm to 

be Queen o' the May. 

The honeysuckle round the porch has woven its 

wavy bowers, 
And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet 

cuckoo-dowers ; 
And the wild marsh -marigold shines like lire in 

swamps anil hollows gray ; 
.\nil I 'm to be Qiu'cn o' the May, mother, I 'm to 

be Queen o' the May. 

The night-winds come and go, mother, upon the 

meadow-grass. 
And the happy stars above them seem to brighten 

as they pass ; 
There will not be a drop of rain the whole of the 

livelong day ; 
And I 'm to be Queen o' thi! May, mother, 1 'm to 

be Queen o' the May. 

All the valley, mother, 'II be fresli and green and 

still, ' 
.And tile cowslip and the crowfoot aro over all the 

hill, 



328 



POEMS OF SORROW AND ADVERSITY. 



And the rivulet in the llowery dale '11 raenily 

glance and play, 
For 1 'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I 'ni to 

be Queen o' the May. 



Upon the chancel-easement, and upon that grave 

of mine, 
In the early, early morning the summer sun '11 

shine, 
Before the red cock crows from the farm upon 

the hill, — 
When you are warm-asleep, mother, and all the 

world is still. 



So you must wake and call me early, call me 

early, mother dear ; 
To-morrow '11 be the happiest time of all the glad 

new-year ; 
To-morrow '11 be of all the year the maddest, When the Howers come again, mother, beneath 

merriest day, the waning light 

For I 'm to be Queen o' the Jlay, mother, I 'm to You 'II never see me more in the loug gray field* 
be Q\ieeu o' the May. | at night ; 

When from the dry dark wold the summer airs 

blow cool 
On the oat-grass and the sword-grass, and the 



NEW-YEAllS EVE. 



If you're waking, call me early, call me early, 
mother dear. 

For I would see the sun rise upon the glad new- 
year. 

It is the last new-year that I shall ever see, — 

Then you may lay me low i' the mould, and think 
no more of me. 

To-night I saw the sun set, — he set and left 

behind 
The good old year, the dear old time, and all my 

peace of mind ; 
And the new-year 's coming up, mother ; but I 

shall never see 
The blossom on the blackthorn, the leaf upon 

the tree. 

Last May we made a crown of flowers ; we had 

a merry day, — 
Beneath the hawthorn on the green they made 

me Queen of May ; 
And we danced about the May-pole and in the 

h.azel copse. 
Till Charles's Wain came out above the tall white 

chimney-tops. 



bulrush iu the pool. 

You 11 bury me, my mother, just beneath the 

hawthorn .shade. 
And yon '11 come sometimes and see me where I 

am lowly laid. 
I shall not forget yon, mother ; I shall hear you 

when you pass. 
With your feet above my head in the long and 

pleasant grass, 

I have been wild and wayward, but you '11 for 

give me now ; 
\'ou '11 kiss me, my own mother, upon my cheek 

and brow ; 
Nay, nay, you must not weep, nor let your grief 

be wild ; 
Yon should iu)t fret for me, mother — you have 

another child. 

If I can, 1 11 come again, mother, from out my 
resting-place ; 



upon your face ; 
Thongh I cannot speak a woiil, I shall hearken 
what you say. 
There's not a flower on all the hills, — the frost And be often, often with you when you think 



is on the pane ; 
I only wish to live till the snowdrops come 

again. 
I wish the snow would melt and the sun come 

out on high, — 
1 long to see a flower so before the day I die. 



The building rook '11 caw from the windy tall 

elm-tree. 
And the tufted plover pij>e along the fallow 

lea. 
And the swallow '11 come back again with sum- j She "11 find my garden tools upon the graiuiiy 



I 'm far away. 

Good night ! good night ! when I have said good 

night forevermoi-e. 
And yon see me carried out from the threshold 

of the door, 
Don "t let Ertie come to see me till my grave be 

growing green, — 
She '11 be a better child to yon than ever I have 

been. 



mer o'er the wave, 
But I shall lie alone, mother, within the mould- 
ering grave. 



floor. 

Let hei take 'em — they are hers ; I shall never 
gnnien more. 



POEMS OF SOllKOW AND ADVEUSITY. 



329 



But tell licr, whiMi 1 'm goiiu, to train the lose- 

busli that I si't 
About the parlor wiiulow and the box of iniguo- 

iiette. 

GooU iiight, 8weet mother ! Call iiie before the 
day is born. 

All night I lie awake, but I fall asleep at morn ; 

Hut I would see the sun rise upon the glad new- 
year, — 

So, if you re waking, call nie, call me early, 
mother dear. 



CONCLUSION. 

I THOUGHT to pass away before, and yet alive I 

am ; 
And in the fields all round I hear the bleating of 

tlie lumb. 
How sadly, 1 remember, rose the morning of the 

year ! 
To die before the snowdrop came, ayd now the 

violet 's here. 

O, sweet is the new violet, that comes beneath 

the skies ; 
And sweeter is the young lamb's voice to mo that 

cannot rise ; 
And sweet is all the land about, and all the 

flowei's that blow ; 
And sweeter far is death than life, to me that 

long to go. 

It seemed so hard at first, mother, to leave the 

blessed sun. 
And now it seems as hard to stay ; and yet, His 

will be done ! 
But still I think it can't be long before I find 

release ; 
And that good man, the clergyman, has told me 

words of peace. 

O, blessings on his kindly voice, and on his 

silver hair ! 
And blessings on his whole life long, until he 

meet me there ! 
O, blessings on his kindly heart and on his silver 

head ! 
A thousand times I ble.st him, as he knelt beside 

my bed. 

He taught me all the mercy, for he showed me 

all the sin ; 
Now, though my lamp was lighted late, there 's 

One will let me in. 
Nor would I now be well, mother, again, if that 

could be ; 
For my desire is but to pass to Him that died 

for me. 



I did not hear tlie dog howl, mother, or the 

death-wutuh beat, — 
There came a sweeter token when the night and 

morning meet ; 
liut sit beside my bed, mother, and put your 

hand in mine. 
And EBie on the other side, and I will tell the 

sign. 

All in the wild JIarch-moniing 1 heard the 

angels call, — 
It was when the moon was setting, and the dark 

was over all ; 
The trees began to whisper, and the wind began 

to roll. 
And in the wild March-morning I heard them 

call my soul. 

For, lying broad awake, I thought of you and 

Ertie dear ; 
I saw you sitting in the house, and I no longer 

here ; 
With all my strength I prayed for both, — and 

so I felt resigned, 
And up the valley came a swell of music on the 

wind. 

I thought that it was fancy, and I listened in my 

bed; 
iVnd then did something speak to me, — I know 

not what was said ; 
For great delight ami shuddering took hold of all 

my mind, 
And up the valley came again the music on the 

wind. 

But you were sleeping ; and I said, " It 's not 

for them, — it 's mine ; " 
And if it comes three times, I thought, I take it 

for a sign. 
And once again it came, and close beside the 

window-bars ; 
Then seemed to go right up to heaven and die 

among the stars. 

So now I think my time is near ; I trust it is. 
I know 

The blessed music went tli.it way my soul will 
have to go. 

And for myself, indeed, I care not if I go to- 
day ; 

But Effie, you must comfort her when I am past 
away. 

.\nd say to Robin a kind word, and tell him not 

to fret ; 
There 's many a worthier than 1, would make 

him hapijy yet. 



330 



POEMS OF SORROW AND ADVERSITY. 



If I liad lived — I cannot tell — I might have 

been his wife ; 
But all these things have ceased to be, with my 

desire of life. 

0, look ! the .sun begins to rise ! the heavens are 

in a glow ; 
He shines upon a hundred fields, and all of them 

I know. 
And there I move no longer now, and there his 

light may shine, — 
Wild flowei'S in the valley for other hands than 

mine. 

0, sweet and strange it seems to me, that ere 

this day is done 
The voice that now is speaking may be beyond 

the sun, — 
Forever and forever with those just souls and 

ti-ue, — 
And what is life, that we should moan ? why 

make we such ado ? 

Forever and forever, all in a blessed home, 
And there to wait a little while till you and Effie 

come, — 
To lie within the light of God, as I lie upon your 

breast, — 
And the wicked cease from troubling, and the 

weary are at rest. 

ALFRED TENNYSON. 



THE FEMALE CONVICT. 

She shrank from all, and her silent mood 
Made her wish only for solitude : 
Her eye sought the ground, as it could not brook, 
For innermost shame, on another's to look ; 
And the cheerings of comfort fell on her ear 
Like deadliest words, that were curses to hear ! — 
She still was young, and she had been fair ; 
But weather-stains, hunger, toil, and care, 
That frost and fever that wear the heart. 
Had made the colors of youth depart 
From the sallow cheek, save over it came 
The burning flush of the spirit's shame. 

They were sailing over the salt sea-foam, 
Far from her country, far from her home ; 
And all she had left for her friends to keep 
Was a name to hide and a memory to weep ! 
And her future held forth but the felon's lot, — 
To live forsaken, to die forgot ! 
She could not weep, and she could not pray. 
But she wasted and withered from day to day. 
Till you might have counted each sunken vein, 
When her wrist was prest by the iron chain ; 
And sometimes I thought her large dark eye 
H;ul the glisten of red insanity. 



She called me once to her sleeping-place, 

A strange, wild look was upon her face, 

Her eye flashed over her cheek so white. 

Like a gravestone seen in the paJe moonlight, 

And she spoke in a low, unearthly tone, — 

The sound from mine ear hath never gone I — 

" I had last night the loveliest dream : 

My own land shone in the summer beam, 

I saw the fields of the golden grain, 

I heard the reaper's harvest strain ; 

There stood on the hills the green pine-tree, 

And the thrush and the lark sang merrily. 

A long and a weary way I had come ; 

But I stopped, methoiight, by mine own sweet 

home. 
I stood by the hearth, and my father sat there, 
With pale, thin face, and snuw-white hair ! 
The Bible lay open upon his knee. 
But lie closed the book to welcome me. 
He led me ne,\t where my mother lay. 
And together we knelt by her gi-ave to pray. 
And hearda hymn it was heaven to hear. 
For it echoed one to my young days dear. 
This dream has waked feelings long, long since 

fled. 
And hopes which I deemed in my heart were 

dead ! 
— We have not spoken, but still I have hung 
On the Northern accents that dwell on thy 

tongue. 
To me they are music, to me they recall 
The things long hidden by Memory's pall ! 
Take this long curl of yellow hair. 
And give it my father, and tell him my prayer. 
My dying prayer, was for him." .... 

Next day 
Upon the deck a coffin lay ; 
They raised it up, and like a dirge 
The heavy gale swept over the surge ; 
The corpse was cast to the wind and wave, — 
The convict has found in the green sea a grave. 
Letitia Elizabeth Landon. 



THE DREAMER. 

FROM '■ POEMS BV A SEAMSTRESS. 

Not in the laughing bowers. 
Where by green swinging elms a pleasant shade 
At summer's noon is made, 

And where swift-footed hours 

Steal the rich breath of enamored flowers, 
Dream I. Nor wliere the golden glories be, 
At sunset, laving o'er the flowing sea ; 
And to ]nire eyes the faculty is given 
To trace a smooth ascent from Eaith to Heaven ! 



POEMS OF SORROW AND ADVERSITY. 



Not on a coui-'h of ease. 
With all the appliances of joy at hand, — 
Soft light, sweet fragrance, beauty at command ; 
Viands that n»iglit a godlike palate please, 
And music's soul-creative ecstasies, 
Dream I. Nor gloating o'er a wide estate. 
Till the full, self-complacent heart elate. 
Well satisfied with bliss of mortal birth. 
Sighs for an inimort;ility on Earth ! 

But where the incessant din 
Of iron hands, and roar of brazen throats. 
Join their unmingled notes, 

While the long summer day is pouring in, 
Till day is gone, and darkness doth begin. 
Dream I, — as in the corner where I lie. 
On wintry nights, just covered from the sky ! — 
Such is my fate, — and, barren though it seem. 
Yet, thou blind, soulless scorner, yet 1 dream ! 

And yet I dream, — 
Dream what, were men more just, I might have 

been ; 
How strong, how fair, how kindly and serene, 
Glowing of heart, and glorious of mien ; 
The conscious crown to Nature's blissful scene, 
In just and ccpial brotherhood to glean. 
With all mankind, exhaustless pleasure keen, — 

Such is my dream 1 

And yet I dream, — 
I, the despised of fortune, lift mine eyes, 

Bright with the lustre of integrity, 
In unappealing wretchedness, on liigli. 
And the last rage of Destiny defy ; 
Resolved alone to live, — alone to die. 

Nor swell the tide of human misery ! 

And yet I dream, — 
Dream of a slee]) where dreams no more shall 

come. 
My last, my first, my only welcome home ! 
Rest, unbeheld since Life's beginning stage. 
Sole remnant of my glorious heritage, 
I'nalienable, 1 shall find thee yet. 
And in thy soft embrace the past forget I 

Thus do I dream I 

Anonymous. 



A ROUGH RHY.ME ON A ROUGH 
MATTER. 

TMS ENGLISH CAME LAWS. 

The merr)' brown hares came leaping 

Over the crest of the hill. 
Where the clover ami corn lay sleei)ing, 

Under the moonlight still. 



Leaping late and early. 

Till under their bite and their tread, 
The swedes, and the wheat, and the barley 

Lay cankered, and trampled, and dead. 

A poacher's widow sat sighing 

On the side of the white chalk bank, 

Where, under the gloomy fir-woods, 
One spot in the lea throve rank. 

She watched a long tuft of clover, 

Where rabbit or hare never ran, 
For its black sour haulm covered over 

The blood of a murdered man. 

She thought of the dark plantation, 

And the hares, and her husband's blood, 

And the voice of her indignation 
Rose up to the throne of God : 

" I am long past wailing and whining, 

I have wept too much iu my life : 
I 've had twenty years of pining 

As an English laborer's wife. 

"A laborer in Christian England, 
Where they cant of a Saviour's name, 

And yet waste men's lives like the vermin's, 
For a few more brace of game. 

" There 's blood on your new foreign shrubs, 
squire, 

There 's blood on your pointer's feet ; 
There 's blood on the game you sell, sijuire, 

Aud there 's blood on the game you eat. 

" "You have sold the laboring man, squire. 

Both body and soul to shame. 
To pay for your seat in the House, squire. 

And to pay for the feed of your game. 

" You made him a poacher yourself, squire, 
When you 'd give neither work nor meat. 

And your barley-fed hares robbed the garden 
At our starving children's feet ; 

" When, packed in one reeking chamber, 
Man, maid, mother, and little ones lay ; 

While the rain pattered in on the rotten bride-bed, 
And the walls let in the day ; 

" When we lay in the burning fever. 

On the mud of the cold clay floor. 
Till you parteil us all for three months, squire. 

At the cursW w-orkhouse door. 

'* We quarrelled like brutes, and who wonders ? 

What self-respect could we keep. 
Worse housed than your hacks and your pointers. 

Worse fed than youi- hogs and your sheep ? 



POEMS OF SORROW AND ADVERSITY. 



"Our daugliters, with base-born babies, 
Have wandered away in their shame ; 

If your misses had slept, squire, where they did. 
Your misses might do the same. 

"Can your lady patch hearts that are breaking. 

With handl'uls of coals and rice. 
Or by dealing out llannel and sheeting 

A little below cost price ? 

"You may tire of the jail and the workhouse, 
And take to allotnu-nts and schools, 

But you 've run up a debt that will never 
Be repaid us by penny-club rules. 

"In the season of shame and sadness, 

In the dark and dreary day. 
When scrofula, gout, and madness 

Are eating your race away ; 

" When to kennels and liveried varlets 

You have cast your daughters' bread, 
And, worn out with liijuor and harlots, 
Your heir at your feet lies dead ; 

"When your youngest, the mealy-mouthed 
rector. 

Lets your soul rot asleep to the grave, 
You will find in your God the protector 

Of the freeman you fancied your slave." 

She looked at the tuft of clover, 
And wept till her heart grew light ; 

And at last, when her passion was over. 
Went wandering into the night. 

But the merry brown hares came leaping 

Over the uplands still, 
AVhere the clover and corn lay sleeping 

On the side of the white chalk hill. 

Charles Kingslev. 



MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN.* 

A DIRGE. 

Whek chill Xoveraber's surly blast 

Made fields and forests bare, 
One evening, as I wandered forth 

Along the banks of Ayr, 
I spied a man whose aged step 

Seemed weary, worn with care ; 
His face was furrowed o'er with years. 

And lioarv was his hair. 



• Gilbert Burns, the brother of the poet, says : " He ( Burns) used 
to remark to me that he couirt notwell conceive a more uiortifyintj 
picture of human life tlian a man seelcing woric In casting about 
ill hi» mind how this sentiment might he brought forward, tile eiejiy. 
A/aii Wflr tiMtU /(» nifliirtt. w.ts camposed. ' 



" Young stranger, whither wanderest thou ?' 

Began the reverend sage ; 
" Does thirst of wealth thy step constrain, 

Or youthful pleasures rage ? 
Or haply, prest with cares and woes. 

Too soon thou hast began 
To wander forth, with me, to mourn 

The miseries of man ! 

"The sun that overhangs you moors. 

Outspreading far and wide, 
W'here luindreds labor to support 

A haughty lordling's pride, — 
I 've seen yon weary winter sun 

Twice forty times return ; 
And every time has added proofs 

That man was made to mourn. 

" man, while in thy early years, 

How prodigal of time ! 
Misspending all thy precious hours 

Thy glorious youthful prime ! 
Alternate follies take the sway : 

Licentious passions burn ; 
Which tenfolti force gives Nature's law. 

That man was made to mourn. 

" Look not alone on youthful prime. 

Or manhood's active might ; 
Man then is useful to his kind. 

Supported in his right ; 
But see him on the edge of life, 

With cares and sorrows worn. 
Then age and want, O ill-matched pair ! 

Show man was niaile to nioiun. 

" A few seem favorites of fate. 

In pleasure's lap carest ; 
Yet think not all the rich and gi-eat 

Are likewise truly blest. 
But, O, what crowds in every land 

Are wretched and forlorn ! 
Through weary life this lesson learn, — 

That man was made to mourn. 

" Many and sharp the numerous ills. 

Inwoven with our frame ! 
More pointeil still we make ourselves, 

Kegret, remoi-se, and shame ! 
Anil man, whose heaven-erected face 

The smiles of love adorn, 
Man's inhumanity to man 

Makes countless thousands mourn ! 

" See yonder poor, o'erlabored wight. 

So abject, mean, and vile. 
Who begs a brother of the earth 

To give him leave to toil ; 



POEMS OF SORROW AND ADVEKSll'V. 






And see liis lonily I'cllow-wonn 

The jKior petition spuni, 
Unmindful, 'tliough a weeping wife 

And helpless ottspring mourn. 

" If I 'm designed yon loi-dling's slave, 

I5y Nature's law designed, — 
Why was an independent wish 

E'er planted in my nund .' 
If not, why am I subject to 

His cruelty or scorn ! 
Or why has man the will and power 

To make his fellow mourn ! 

" Yet let not this too much, my son, 

Disturb thy youthful breast : 
This partial view of humankind 

Is surely not the last ! 
The poor, oppressed, honest man 

Had never, sure, been born. 
Had there not been some recompense 

To comfort those that mourn 1 

■' Death ! the poor man's dearest friend, 

The kindest and the best ! 
Welcome the hour my aged limbs 

Are laid with thee at rest ! 
The great, the wealthy, fear thy blow, 

Fioin pomp and jileasure torn ; 
But 0, a blest relief to those 

That weary-laden mourn ! " 

ROBERT BURNS. 



LOSSES. 

Upon the white sea-sand 

There sat a pilgrim band, 
Telling the losses that their lives had known ; 

While evening waned away 

From breezy cliff and bay. 
And the strong tides went out with weary moan. 

One spake, with quivering lip, 

Of a fair freighted ship, 
With all his household to the deep gone down ; 

But one had wilder woe — 

For a fair face, long ago 
Lost in the darker depths of a great town. 

There were who mourned their youth 

With a most loving ruth. 
For its brave hcijies and memories ever green ; 

And one upon the west 

Turned an eye that would not lest. 
For far-off hills whereon its joy had been. 

Some talked of vanished gold. 
Some of proud honors told, 
Some spake of friends that were their trust no 
more ; 



And one of a green grave 
Beside a foreign wave. 
That made him .sit so lonely on the shore. 

But when their tales were done. 

There spake among them one, 
A stranger, seeming from all sorrow free : 

"Sad losses have ye met. 

But mine is heavier yet : 
For a believing heart hath gone from me." 

" Alas ! " these pilgrims said, 

" For the living and the dead — 
For fortune's crueltj', for love's sure cross. 

For the wrecks of laud and sea ! 

But, however it came to thee. 
Thine, stranger, is life's last and heaviest loss." 

FRANCES Brown, 



UNSEEN SPIRITS. 

The shadows lay along Broadway, 

'T was near the twilight-tide. 
And slowly there a lady fair 

Was walking in her pride. 
Alone walked she ; but, viewlessly. 

Walked spirits at her side. 

Peace charmed the street beneath her feet. 

And Honor channed the air ; 
And all astir looked kind on her. 

And called her good as fair, — 
For all God ever gave to her 

She kept with chary care. 

She kept with care her beauties rare 

From lovers w'arm and true. 
For her heart was cold to all but gold, 

And the rich came not to woo, — 
But honored well are charms to sell 

If priests the selling do. 

Now walking there was one more fair, — 

A slight girl, lily-pale ; 
And she had unseen company 

To make the spirit quail, — 
'Twixt Want and Scorn she walked forlorn, 

And nothing could avail. 

No mercy now can clear her brow 
For this world's peace to pray ; 

For, as love's wild prayer dissolved in air. 
Her woman's heart gave way ! — 

But the sin forgiven by Christ in heaven 
By man is cursed alway ! 

Nathaniel Parker wili.i& 



334 



I'OKMS OK SORUOW AND ADVKUSITV. 



i.oMKiN ciniKriiKs. 

1 NTiiDi), Olio Sumliiy inoniing, 
Hiil'iiio n \nrgi' I'luiicli iliwr, 
Tlio I'oiifjivKiitioii gullu'iml, 
And curiiiijjfs ii scoiv, 
Kioiii oiH' mil sli']iiiwl 11 liuly 
1 ol'l liml SUCH boloro. 

llcr liaiiil WHS nii ii priiyi'i'-lKiiik, 

Ami Ui'lil i\ viniiigrnllc ; 

Till' sij,'ii i>r iiiun's iviloiii|>tioii 

Clnur till llic book was sut, — 

Hul iibiivi' tbi' Cross tborc ulislolioil 

A }»i>lil('ii Coi'oiiol. 

l'\tr hor till' nltst'ijuioUN itciullo 
'I'hi' iiiiiiM' ibuir lUiiijj wi(b> ; 
l.i^bllv, n.s ii|i II liall-i'iumi, 
lli'i' I'oolsli'ps sornu'il to ^liib', 
Tbi'i'i' iiiif^Ut bii j;iiiul IbiHiglits in licr, 
Km- .'ill lici evil piiili'. 

Hilt iitlor bi'i' II woniiin 
IVi'pi'il wislliilly within, 
On wbiisi' wan I'lU'ii was graven 
Kilo's liiivilost tlis(-i|iliiu<, - 
'I'lio trace 111' the sad tfiiiity 
Of weakness, pain, and sin. 

The lew IVeeseat-s were crowded 
Where she could rest and inay ; 
With her worn garb coiitrastod 
Kiich side in lair array, — 
''IJod's honse ludds no poor aiiiners," 
She sighed, and crept uway. 

KlCMAKn MtJNCKVON MiLMiS. 

ll.oRi) Uoi'Ginxi.N.l 



BKAUTIKUI, SNOW. 

lllK snow, llie K'aiitil'iil snow. 
Killing the sky and the earth below ! 
Over the honse-tops. over the street. 
Over the lieads ol' the people yon meet, 
Oaneing, 

Klirtiiig. 

Skininiing along. 
Ucrtutiful snow ! it can do iiotliiiij; h ivng. 
Klying to kiss a fair lady's cheek ; 
Clinging to lips in a fivliesoine fivak ; 
lieaiitiliil snow, fiMiii the heavens above, 
I'niv as Hii angel and tickle as love I 

O the snow, the beautiful snow ! 

How the Ihikes gather and laugh as they go ! 



Whirling about in its niaddouiiig fun, 
It plays in its glee with every one. 
Chasing, 

l.iinghing, 

llnrryiii.g by, 
It lights up the lace and it sparkles the oyo ; 
And even the dogs, with a bark and a bound, 
Snap at the crystals thai eddy aiiniiid. 
'I'he town is alive, and its heart in a glow, 
To weleonie the coining of beaulilul snow. 

How the wild crowd go swaying along, 
Hailing each other with luinioi and song I 
How the gay sledges like meteors Hash by, — 
lirighl for a moinent, tlien lost to the uyo I 
Hinging, 

Swinging, 

Hashing they go ' 

Over the crest of the beaiitilnl snow: 
Snow .so piiic when it falls from the sky. 
To be trampled in imid by the crowd rushing by ; 
To bo trampled and triuked by the Ihou.saiids ot 

feet 
Till il blends wilh the horrible lillli in the street. 



Once 1 was pure as the snow, -- but I fell : 
Kell, like the snow-tlakes, from heaven - to hell : 
Kell, to be tramped as the lillh of the street : 
Kell, to be scolfed, to be spit on, and beat. 
IMcading, 
Cursing, 

Uicailiiig to die. 
Selling my sonl to whoever would buy. 
Healing in shame for a morsel of bread. 
Hating the living and fearing the dead. 
Merciful l!od ! have 1 talleu so low t 
.\nd vet 1 was once like this beautiful snow I 



Once 1 was fair as the beautiful snow. 

With an eye like its crystal.s, a heart like its 

glow ; 
Onee 1 was loved for my innocent grace, — 
Klatteivd and sought for the ehariii of my face. 
Father, 

Mother, 

Sistei-s all, 
Ood, and myself, I have lost by my fall. 
'l"he veriest wretch that goes shivering by 
Will take a wide sweep, lest 1 wander too nigh ; 
Kor ol all that is on or about me, 1 know 
Theiv is nothing that 's puiv but the beautiful 
snow. 

tlow strangx> it sliould be tlmt this beautiful 

snow 
Should fall on a sinner with nowheiv to go I 



ruKMS OK SUKUUW AM) ADVIOUSITV. 



•S6b 



Mow straiiKo it wiiiilil \'i\ wlicM llii' iiicrlil I'omrH 

iiKaiii, 
1 f the snow nml llio ice struck my ilfsporalc liruiii ! 
Kiiiiitiiif;, 

l'"ivi'ziti({, 

l)yiiiKnli>iu', 
Tiki wirki'd fur pruycr, t<ni wtuik lor my monii 
To 111' lii'uni in llii- I'ni.sli ol'lln' criizy town, 
(ioiii' mini in its joy lit tln> hhown i'omin){ ilown ; 
I'm lie ami to iliu in my ti'rrihli^ wor, 
VN'iIli u lii'tl unil a sliKuhl nl llif lit'antit'ul Niuiw ! 

JAMIS w. WAISON. 



TIIK ItlillKJK 01'" SHillS. 
■• Urtiwueil 1 ilruwncil ! ' — llAMLItr, 

Onk niori" nnfortunato, 
Weary of tireatli, 
Kaslily importnnate, 
Hone to In'r ilealli I 

Take her np lemlerly, 
Lift lier witli eari' ! 
Kasliionecl so slenderly, 
^'|>un;{, and so lair 1 

Ijook at her f^annents 
(linginff like eeri'nientH, 
Whilst the wave eonstanlly 
I'rips I'rom her elolhing ; 
Take her np insluntly, 
l.ovin^', not loalhiiif; I 

Tomli her not Hcornfnlly I 
Think of her nnairid'nlly, 
(lently.and linmanly, - 
Not ol' the stains ol' her ; 
All that renniins ol' her 
Now is pnre wonnntly. 

Make no deep serntiny 
Into her mutiny, 
Hash and nmlnlilnl ; 
Past all dishonoi; 
Death has h'I't on her 
Only the heanlil'nl. 

Siill, for all slips of horn, — 
One of Kvi''s family. 
Wipe those poor lips of hers, 
<lo/,in|{ so elamniily. 
lioop up her tresHt'H 
Kseaped from the eomh, — 
Her hur nnlinrn tresses, — 
Whilst woinlermunt gnesgOR 
Wheii! was her Inimii I 



Who was her father 1 
Who was her niother ? 
Hail she a sister 1 
Had she a lirother 1 
Or was there a ilearor one 
Still, and a nearer oiui 
Vel. Iliiin nil olher/ 

Alas ! for the I'arity 
Of ('hrislinn eharity 
Uinler the snn ! 
O, it was pitiful I 
Near u whole eily full, 
Honu' she had mine. 

Sisterly, hnillierly, 
Kalherly, motherly 
l''eelinxs had ehan^eil, • — 
I.nve, liy liMrsh evidenco. 
Thrown from its emiuenco ; 
I')ven tlnd's provideneii 
Seemiiif^ estran;^eil. 

Where I he liinips iptiver 

.So far in the river. 

With many a liKht 

Krom window and easomont, 

i''roni garret to hasennud, 

She stood, with amn/.ennuit. 

Houseless liy ni;{lit. 

The lileak wind of iMarrh 
l\lnile hej' lieudile and sliivor : 
Hut not the dark areh, 
Or the lilaik Mowing river; 
Mad from life's history, 
tilail to di'alh's mystery. 
Swift to he hurled 
Anywhere, anywhere 
Out of the world I 

In she pluu^;i'il holilly, — 
No matter how eoldly 
The rou«h river ran — 
Over the lirink of it I 
I'ii'lure it think of il. 
Dissolute man I 
l.ave in il, driidi of it, 
Then, if you ean 1 

Take her up tenderly, 
I.ifi her wilh rare I 
Kashioneil so slemlerly. 
Young, and so fair I 

Kre her limhs, frigidly, 
Slilfen too rigidly. 
Dfeentlv, kindlv. 



ooG 



POEMS OK SORROW AND ADVERSITY. 



Smooth and composo them ; 
Ami hor I'yes, closp thoni, 
StiU-in^' so blindly ! 
Droiidl'ully staiiiif; 
Through iimddy iiiiinirity, 
As wliiMi with the daring 
Last look of despiriug 
Fixed on futurity. 

Perishing gloomily, 
Spurred hy eontumely, 
Cold inhumanity, 
Burning insanity, 
Into her rest ! 
Cross her hands humbly, 
As if praying dumbly. 
Over her breast ! 

Owning her weakness, 
Her evil behavior, 
Ami leaving, with meekness, 
Her sins to her Saviour ! 

Thomas hood. 



ON WOMAN. 

rKOM "THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD." 

WilKN lovely woman stoops to folly, 

And finds too late that men betray, 

What eluirni ean soothe her melaneholy ? 

What art ean wash her guilt away / 

The only art her guilt to cover. 

To hide her shame from every eye, 
To give repentance to her lover, 
• And wring his bosom, is — to die. 

Oliver Goldsmith 



With the little box of matches she could not sell 

all day, 
And the thin, tattered mantle the wind blows 

every way. 
She clingeth to the railing, she shivers in the 

gloom, — 
There ivre parents sitting sinigly by the fiielight 

in the room ; 
And cliildren with grave faces are whispering one 

another 
Of presents for the New Year, for father or for 

mother. 
Hut no one talks to Grctchcn, and no one hears 

her speak ; 
No breath of little whisperers conies warmly to 

her cheek. 

Her lionic is cold and desolate ; no smile, no food, 

no lire, 
But children clamorous for bread, and an im- 
patient sire. 
So she sits down in an angle where two great 

houses meet, 
And she curleth up bencatli her for warmth lu'r 

little feet ; 
And she looketh on the cold wall, and on the 

colder sky. 
And wonders if the little stars are bright tires 

u p on high . 
She hears the clock strike slowly, up high in a 

church-tower, 
With such a sad and solemn tone, telling the 

midnight hour. 



THE LITTLE MATCH-C.U!L. 



Little Gi-etchen, little Gretcheu wanders up and 

down the street ; 
The snow is on her yellow hair, the frost is on 

her feet. 
Th. 



She remembered her of stories her mother used 
to tell. 

And of tlie cradle-songs she sang, when summer's 
twilight fell. 

Of good mi'U and of angels, and of the Holy 
Child, 

Who was cradled in a manger when winter was 
most wild ; 

■\Vho wa-s poor, and cold, and hungry, and deso- 
late and lone ; 

And she thought the song had tohl her he was 
ever with his own, 



., , ,11 -ii t 1 t 11 ever wini iiis ^' 

e rows ot long, dark houses Without look coUl .,,,,, ,, , ,•. ,i.,„ „,„^ 

, , " And all the poor and hungry and torsakeii ones 

and damp, .,., i •- _ 

Bv the struytfliu!' of the moonbeam, bv the •, ..~i' ■ ^ , i • i ,i,,» 

>i-i r.i 1 ■ " How good ot him to look on me m such a place 



as this ! " 



flicker of the lamp. 
The clouds ride fast as Uoi-ses, the wind is from 

the north, ; 

But no one cares for Greteheii, and no one look- ' Colder it glows and colder, but she does not feel 



eth forth. 



It now. 



Within those dark, damp houses are merry faces For the pressure on her bosom, and the weight 



bright. 
And happy hearts are watching out the old year's 
latest night. 



upon her brow ; 
But she struck one little match on the wall so 
sold and bare. 



I'OK.MS Ol'' SOItlUnV AND ADVKHSl IV. 



o'o7 



Tlmt slie iiiiglit look luouiul liiT, ami ace if lie 
Wll.s tlic'li'. 

Tin' siiigli' inatcli wiis kiiuUi-il ; ami, liy the li^'lit 
it IImcw, 

It sucliK'il to little Maggie tlmt the wall was rent 
in two. 

And she eoiilil »eo the room within, the loom all 
warm ami light, 

With the lire-glow led ami lilazing, and the la- 
sers lairning liright. 

And kindred there were gathered nniml thi' talile 

riihly s])read, 
With heaps ol'gooilly viands, red wine, ami jili'as- 

.mt lii'ead. 
She eonhl sm(dl the fragrant odor ; slie uould 

hear them talk and play ; 
Then all wius darkness once again — the niateli 

hail horned away, 
."^he strnek another hastily, and now she seemed 

to see. 
Within the same warm ehamher a glorious f 'hrist- 

nins-tree. 
The hranehes all were laden down with things 

that ehildren prize ; 
liright gifts for hoy and nnuilen they showed be- 
fore her eyes. 
And she almost .seemed to toneli them, and to 

join the weleome shout ; 
Then darkne.ss fell around her, for the little 

nniteli was out. 

Another, yet another, she has tried, — they will 

not light ; 
Thin all her little store she took, and struek 

with all her might. 
And the whole place around her was lighted 

with the glare : 
And lo ! there hung a little Child before her in 

the air ! 
There were blood-drops on his forehead, a spear- 
wound in bis side, 
And cruel miil-piints in his feet, nnd in his hands 

spread wide. 
And he looked upon lier gently, and she felt that 

he had known 
I'ain, hunger, cold, and sorrow, —ay, etiual to 

her own. 



And he pointed to the laden board and to the 

Christmas-tree, 
Then up to the cold sky, and said, "Will 

tii-ctehcn eoniu with nic (" 
The poor child felt her pulses fail, alio felt her 

eyeballs swinn, 
.\nd a ringing sound was in her cars, like her 

dead mother's hymn : 



And .she folded both her thin white hands and 
turned from that bright board. 

And friim the golden gifts, and said, " With thee, 
with thee, O Lord 1 " 

The chilly winter morning lacaks up in the duPi 

skies 
On the city wrapt in vapor, on the sjujt where 

(iretehen lies. 
In her scant and tattered garments, with her 

back against the wall. 
She sittcth cold and rigid, she answers to no 

call. 
They lifted her up fearfully, and shuildcreil as 

they said, 
" It was a bitter, bitter night ! the ihild is IVozen 

dead." 
The angels sang their greeting for oiu^ more re- 
deemed from .sin ; 
Men said, "It was a bitter night ; would lui one 

let her in ? " 
And they shivered as they simke of her, and 

sighed : they could not see 
How much of happiness there was alter that 

misery. 

I-roiTi tlic Uaiiisli of HANS CHRISI IAN ANUeKSI£N. 



THE SONO OF TIIi: SHIKT. 

With fingers weary and worn, 

With eyelids heavy and red, 
A woman .sat, in uiiwoniaiily rags, 

riyiiig her needle and thread, — 
SI itch ! stitch ! stitch ! 
Ill ]ioverty, hunger, and dirt ; 

And still with a voice of dolorous pitch 
She sang the "Song of the Shirt ! " 

" Work ! work ! work 

While the eoek is crowing aloof ! 
Ami work — work — work 

Till the .stars shine through the roof 
It 's, 0, to be a slave 

Along with the barbarous Turk, 
Where woman has never a soul to save, 

If this is Clirisliuii work ! 



" Work — work — w(nk 

Till the brain begins to swim ! 
Work — work — work 

Till the eyes are heavy and dim ! 
Scam, and gusset, and band. 

Band, and gus.set, and seam, — 
Till over the buttons I fall aslee)>, 

And sew them on in a dieam ! 



I'OEMS OF SORROW AND ADVEKSITV. 



" men with sistere dear ! 

meu with niotliers and wives ! 
It is not linen you 're wearing out, 

l!ut human creatures' lives ! 
Stitch — stitch — stitch, 

hi poverty, hunger, and dirt, — 
Sewing at once, with a double thread, 

A shroud as well as a shirt ! 

" But why do I talk of death, — 

That phantom of grisly hone ? 
I hardly tear his terrible shape, 

It seems so like my own, — 
It seems so like my own 

Because of the fasts I keep ; 
O God ! that bread should be so dear, 
■ And flesh and blood so cheap ! 

" Work — work — work ! 

My labor never flags ; 
And what are its wages ? A bed of straw, 

A crust of bread — and rags. 
That shattered roof — and this naked floor — 

A table — a broken chair — 
And a wall so blank my shadow I thank 

For sometimes falling there ! 

*' W'ork — work — work 

Fiom weary chime to chime ! 
Work — work — work 

As prisonei-s work for crime ! 
Band, and gusset, and seam. 

Seam, and gusset, ami band, — 
Till the heart is sick and the brain benumbed, 

As well as the weary hand. 

" Work — work — work 

In the dull December light ! 
And work — work — work 

When the weather is warm and bright ! 
Wliile underneath the eaves 

The brooding swallows cling, 
As if to show me their sunny backs. 

And twit me with the Spring. 

" 0, but to breathe the breath 

Of the cowslip and primrose sweet , — 
With the sky above my head. 

And the grass beneath my feet ! 
For only one short hour 

To feel as I used to feel. 
Before I knew the woes of want 

And the walk that costs a meal ! 

" 0, but for one short hour, — 

A respite, however brief ! 
No blessed leisure for love or hope, 

But onlv time for grief .' 



A little weeping would ease my heart ; 

But in their briny bed 
My tears muac stop, tor every drop 

Hinders needle and thread ! " 

With fingei's weary and worn, 

\VitIi eyelids heavy and red, 
A woman sat, in unwomanly rags. 

Plying her needle and thread, — 
Stitch ! stitch ! stitch ! 

In poverty, hunger, and tlirt ; 
And still with a voice of dolorous pitch — 
Would that its tone could reach the rich ! — 

She sang this " Song of the Shirt ! " 

Thomas Hood. 



GIVE ME THREE GRAINS OF CORN, 
MOTHER. 

THE IRISH FAMINE. 

Give me three grains of corn, mother, — 

Only three grains of corn ; 
It will keep tlie little life 1 have 

Till the coming of the morn. 
1 am dying of hunger and cold, mother, — 

Dying of hunger and cold ; 
And half tln^ agony of such a death 

My lijis have never told. 

It has giuiwed like a wolf, at my heart, mother,^ 

A wolf that is fierce for blood ; 
All the livelong day, and the night beside. 

Gnawing for lack of food. 
I dreamed of bread in my sleep, mother, 

And the sight was heaven to see ; 
I awoke with an eager, famishing lip. 

But you had no bread for me. 

How could I look to you, mother — 

How could 1 look to you 
For bread to give to your starving boy. 

When you were starving too ? 
For I read the famine in your cheek. 

And in your eyes so wild. 
And I felt it in your bony hand. 

As you laid it on your child. 

The Queen has lands and gold, mother, — 

The Queen has lands and gold. 
While you are forced to your empty breast 

.i skeleton babe to hold, — 
A babe that is dying of want, mother, 

As I am dying now, 
With a ghastly look in its sunken eye. 

And famine upon its brow. 



POEMS Ol-' SOUUOW AM) ADVEUSITV. 



339 



What has poor Irehiiui ilone, motlier, — 

\\'h:it has poor IreUuul (lone, 
Tliat the world looks on, aud sees us starve, 

Perishing one by one f 
Do tile men of Kiij;lantl care not, niotlier, — 

The ^reat men ami the high, — 
For the sullering sons of Erin's isle, 

Whether they live or die '! 

There is many a brave heart hero, mother, 

Dying of want and colil. 
While only across the Channel, mother. 

Are many that roll in gold ; 
There are rich and proud men there, mother, 

With woMilrous wealth to view. 
And the bread they Ming to their dogs to-night 

Would give life to mc and you. 

Come nearer to my side, mother. 

Come nearer to my side. 
And hohl me fondly, as you held 

My father when lie died ; 
Quick, for I cannot see you, mother. 

My breath is almost gone ; 
Motlier ! dear mother ! ere I die. 

Give me three grains of corn. 

AMELIA BLANDFORO EDWARDS. 



LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER. 

A CHIEFTAIN, to the Highlands bound. 
Cries, " Uoatinan, do not tarry ! 

.Vnd I '11 give thee a silver pound, 
To row us o'er the ferry." 

" Xow who tip yc, would cross Lochgyle, 
This dark and stormy water ? " 

■' < >, 1 'm the chief of Uiva's isle, 
.\nd this Lord Ullin's daughter. 

" .And fast before her father's men 
Three days we've fled together, 

For shoulil he find us in the glen. 
My blood would stain the heather. 

" His hoi-semen hard behind us ride ; 

.Should they our 3te|is discover. 
Then who will cheer my bonny bride 

W'hcii they have slain her lover ? " 

Out spoke the hardy Highland wight, 
" 1 '11 go, my chief, — I 'in ready : — 

It is not for your silver bright ; 
Hut for your winsome lady : 

" .\nd by my word ! the bonny bird 

III danger shall not tarry : 
So, though the waves are raging white, 

I "11 row you o'er the ferry." 



I5y this the storm grew loud apace, 

The water-wraith was shrieking ; 
And in the scowl of heaven each face 

Grew dark as they were speaking. 

Hut still as wilder blew the wind, 

And as the night grew drearer, 
Adowii tlic glen rode aimM men, 

Their trampling sounded nearer. 

"0, haste thee, haste ! " the lady cries, 
" Though tcniiiests round us gather ; 

I 'II meet the raging of the skies. 
But not an angry father." 

The boat has left a stormy land, 

A stormy sea before her, — 
When, 0, too strong for human hand, 

The tempest gathered o'er her. 

And still tlicy roweil amidst the roar 

Of waters fast prevailing : 
Lord UUin reached that fatal shore, 

His wrath was changed to wailing. 

For sore dismayed, through storm and shade. 

His child he did di.soover : 
One lovely hand she stretched for aid. 

And one was round her lover. 

"Coino back ! come back ! " he cried in giiii, 

"Across this stormy water : 
And I '11 forgive your Highland chief. 

My daughter ! — my daughter ! " 

'T was vain ; — the loud waves lashed the shore, 

Return or aid preventing ; 
The waters wild went o'er his child, 

And he was left lamenting. 

THOMAS CAMI'BliLL. 



THE MANIAC. 

Stay, jailer, stay, and hear my woe ! 

She is not mad who kneels to thee ; 
For what I 'm now too well I know. 

And what 1 was, ami what should be. 
I '11 rave no more in proud despair ; 

My language shall be mild, though sad ; 
But yet I firmly, truly swear, 

/ am not mad, J am not mad ! 

My tyrant husband foiged the tale 

Which chains mc in this dismal cell ; 
My late unknown my friends bewail, — 

t) jailer, haste that fate to tell ! 
0, haste my father's heart to cheer ! 

His heart at once 't will grieve and glad 
To know, though kept a captive here, 

I am not mad, I a. in not mad! 



;uo 



POKMS OK SORROW AND AllVKUSriY. 



Hi' siiiiles ill scorn, nml turns the key ; 

He (iiiits tlie gmto ; 1 knelt in vain ; 
His glininioiiiif; lamp still, still I see, — 

'T is gone I and all is gloom again. 
Colli, bitter colil ! — No warmth ! no light 1 

Life, all thy eonilVirts ouee 1 liaii ; 
Yet here I 'm ehainml, this freezing night, 

Although not imnl ; ««, no, — 7wl iiuid ! 



THE BEGGAR. 



'T is sure some divani, some vision vain ; 

What ! /, the ehihi of rank ami wealth, - 
hm I the wreleh who elanks this ehain. 

Bereft of freeilom, friemls, ami health > 
\\\ ! while 1 ihvell on blessings lied, 

Which nevermore my heart must glad, 
How aches my heart, how burns my head ; 

Hut 't is not »i(i</; no, 't is not mud! 



Hast thou, my child, forgot, ere this, 

A mother's face, a mother's tongue ! 
She '11 ne'er forget your parting kiss. 

Nor round her neck how fast you clung ; 
Nor how with her you sued to stay ; 

Nor how that snit your sire forbade ; 
Nor how — I '11 drive such thoughts away ! 

Thev '11 nuih' mc mad, thcv '11 wik^v mc mad ! 



His rosy lips, how sweet they smiled ! 

His mild blue eyes, how bright they shone ! 
None ever bore a lovelier child, 

.\nd art thou now forever gone ! 
And nuist I never see thee more, 

My pretty, pretty, pretty lad ? 
I will be free ! unbar the door ! 

lam not ntad ; lam «()< mad! 



0, luirk ! what mean those yells and cries ? 

His chain some furious nuidman breaks ; 
He eonu>s, — I see his glaring eyes ; 

Now, now, uiy dungcon-gi-ate he shakes. 
Uclji ! Help ! — He 's gone ! — 0, fearful woe, 

Such screams to hear, such sights to see ! 
My brain, my brain, — 1 know, I know 

I am ji()( mad, but soon shall be. 



Yes, soon ; — for, lo yoi\ ! while 1 speak, — 

Mark how yon denuin's eyelwUs glare ! 
He sees me ; now, with dreadful shriek, 

He whirls a serpent high in air. 
Horror ! — the reptile strikes his tooth 

Deep in my heart, so crushed auil sad ; 
Ay, laugh, ye tiends ; — I feel the truth ; 

Your t«sk is done, — 1 '.\i mai> ! I 'si M.\i> ! 
Matthew Okugorv Lfwis 



Pity the sorrows of a ])oor old man I 

Whose trcmliling limbs have borne him to 
your door. 

Whose tlays ai'e dwindled to the shortest span, 
0, give relief, and Heaven will liless your store. 

These tattered clothes my jwvcrty bcsjieak, 
These hoary locks proclaim my lengthened 
years ; 

And many a furrow in my grief-worn cheek 
Has been the channel lo a stream of tears. 

Von house, erected on the rising ground. 

With tempting aspect drew me from my road. 

For plenty there a residence has found, 
And graiuleur a magnificent abode. 

(Hard is the fate of tlie infirm ami poor !) 
Here craving for a morsel of their bread, 

.\ pamiiercd menial drove me from the door, 
To seek a shelter in a humbler shed. 

O, take me to your hospitable dome. 

Keen blows the wind, aiid pieriing is the cold ! 

Short is my passage to the friendly tomb, 
For I am poor ami miserably old. 

Should I ri'veal the source of every grief. 
If soft humanity e'er tinichcd your breast. 

Your hands would not withhold tlie kind relief. 
And tears of pity could not be repressed. 

Heaven sends misfortunes, — why should we 
repine ' 
'T is Heaven has brought mc to the state you 
see : 
And your condition may be soon like mine. 
The child of sorrow and of misery. 

.\ little farm was my paternal lot, 

Then, like the lark, I sprightly hailed the 
morn ; 
But ah ! oppression forced me from my cot ; 

My cattle died, and blighted was my corn. 

My da\ighter, — once the comfort of my age ! 

Lured by a villain from her native home. 
Is cast, abandoned, on the world's wild stage, 

And doomed in scanty poverty to roam. 

My temler wife, — sweet soother of my care ! — 
Struck with sad anguisli at the stern decree. 

Fell, — lingering fell, a victim to despair. 
And left tlie world to wretchedness and me. 



I'UKAIS (JK SUUKOW AMJ AlU lOltSl I'V. 



341 



Pily till' sorrows of ji poor old man ! 

Wliost' tri'inliliii^ liiiilis have liorni' him to 
your iloor, 
Wlioso (lays are dwimllod to tlii' sliortost siiaii, 
0, give relief, and Heaven will bless your store. 

Thomas Moss. 



FOR A' THAT AM) A' THAT. 

Is there for honest poverty 

Wlm hangs his head, and a' that ? 
The I'ottnid slave, we piuss him by ; 

We dare be ])oor for u' that. 
I'or n that, and a' that, 

Our toil 's obscure, and a' that ; 
The rank is but the f,'liineH's stamp, — 

The niun 's the f;owd for a' that. 



What though on hamely fare we dine, 

Wear hoililin gray, and a' that ? 
Oio fools their silks, and knaves their wine, - 

A nnni 's a man for a' that. 
For u' that, and a' that. 

Their tinsel show, and a' that ; 
The honest man, though e'er aao poor, 

Is king o' men for u' that. 

Yo see yon l)irkie ca'd a lord, 

Wha struts, anil stares, anil a' that, — 
Though hundreds worship at his word. 

He 's but a eoof for a' that ; 
For u' that, and a' that, 

His riband, star, and a' that; 
The man of indejiendent mind, 

He looks and laughs at a' that. 

A ]irinee ean mak a belted knight, 

A nniripiis, duke, and a' that ; 
Rut nu honest nuin 's aboon his might, — 

Ouid faith, he maunna fa' that ! 
For a' that, and a' that ; 

Their dignities, and a' that. 
The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth. 

Are liigher ranks than a' that. 

Then let us jiray that come it may, — 

As eonie it will for a' that, — 
That sense and worth, o'er a' the eartli, 

Moy bear the gree, and a' that. 
For a' tliat, and u' that. 

It 's eouiing yet, for a' that, — 
When nnin to man, the warld o'er, 

Shall brathcrs bo for a' that I 

ROBBRT DURNS. 



TIIK I'AI'I'KII'S DKATH-liKI). 

TiiKAi) softly, - liow llio head, — 

In reverent silenee bow, — 
No passiiig-liell doth toll. 
Vet an inimoi'tal .soul 

Is passing now. 

Stranger ! however great. 
With lowly revereuee bow ; 

'I'liiTi' 's one in that poor shed — 

One by thai pullry bed — 
(iriMiter than thou. 

Beneath that beggar's roof, 

I.o ! Death doth keep his state. 

Enter, no crowds attoiul ; 

Knier, no guards defend 
This palace gate. 

That pavement, damp and cold, 
No smiling courtiers tread ; 

One silent woman stand.s. 

Lifting with meagre hands 
A dying head. 

No mingling voices sound, — 

An infant wail alone ; 
A sob suppi'essed, — again 
That short deep gasp, and then — 

The parting gioan. 

chango ! O wondrous change ! 

Iturst are the prison bars, — 
This moment, thn-i\ so low, 
So agonized, and now, — 

licyimd the stars. 

chango ! stupendous change I 
There lies the .soulless cloil ; 

Tile sun eternal breaks. 

The new immortal wakes, — 
Wakes with his (iod ! 

CAK01.INH ANNII noWl.ES SOUTKHV. 



THF, TAUPKirs DlilVE. 

TlIEliE '.s n grim one-horse henrse in a jolly round 

trot, — 
To the churcliyard a pauper is going, I wot ; 
The road it is rough, and the hearse has no 

springs ; 
And hark to the dirge which the mad driver sings ; 
Jitill/c h in tiniifs tn'cr t/tc .sialics 1 
lie 's only a jiauiwr whoin nolmlij owns/ 

0, where are the mourners ? Alas ! there are none ; 
Ho has left not a gap in the world, now ho 's 
gone, — 



342 



POEMS OF hORKOW A.N,.U ADVERSITV. 



Not a tear in the eye of child, woman, or man ; 

To the grave with his carcass as fast as you can : 
Rattle his boites over the stones.' 
He 's only a paioper whom nnbodij owns ! 

What a jolting and creaking and splashing and 

din ! 
The wliip, how it cracks ! and the wheels, how 

tliey spin ! 
How the dirt, right and left, o'er the hedges is 

hurled ! 
The pauper at length makes a noise in the world ! 
Rattle his bimcs over the stoiics ! 
He 's only a pauper whom nobody owns I 

Poor pauper defunct ! he has made some approach 
To gentility, now that he 's stretched in a coach ! 
He 's taking a drive in Ids carriage at last ; 
But it will not be long, if he goes on so fast: 

Rattle his bones over the stones ! 

He 's only a pauper whom nobody oions I 

You bumpkins ! who stare at your brother con- 
veyed, 
Behold what respect to a cloddy is paid ! 
And be joyful to think, when by death you 're 

laid loH', 
You 've a chance to the grave like a gemman to 
go ! 
Rattle his bones over the stones I 
He 's only a pauper wlwm nobody owns J 

But a truce to this strain ; for my soul it is sad, 
To think that a heart in humanity clad 
Should make, like the brute, such a desolate end, 
And depart from the light without leaving a 
friend ! 

Bear soft his bones over the stones I 

Though a pauper, lie 's one whom Iiis Maker 

yet owns ! 

Thomas Noel. 



OVER THE HILL TO THE POOR-HOUSE. 

Over the hill to the poor-house I 'm trudgin' my 

weary way — 
1, a woman of seventy, and only a trifle gray — 
I, who am smart an' chipper, for all the yeare 

I 've told. 
As many another woman that 's only half as old. 

Over the hill to the poor-Iiouse — I can't quite 

make it clear ! 
Over the hill to the poor-house — it seems so 

horrid queer ! 
Many a step 1 've taken a-toilin' to and fro. 
But this is a sort of journey I never thonght 

to go. 



What is the use of heapiu' on me a pauper's 

shame ? 
Am 1 lai;y or crazy ? am I blind or lame ? 
True, 1 am not so supple, nor yet so awful stout ; 
But charity ain't no favor, if one can live without. 

I am willin' and anxious an' ready any day 

To work for a decent livin', an' pay my honest 

way ; 
For I can earn my victuals, an' more too, 1 '11 be 

bound. 
If anybody only is willin' to have me round. 

Once I was young an' han'soine — I was, upon 

my soul — 
Once my cheeks was roses, my eyes as black as 

coal ; 
And I can't remember, in them days, of hearin' 

people say, 
For any kind of a reason, that I was in their way. 

'T ain't no use of boastin', or talkin' over free. 
But many a house an' home was open then to 

me ; 
Many a han'some offer I had from likely men. 
And nobody ever hinted that 1 was a burden 

then. 

And when to John I was married, sure he « as 

good and smart. 
But he and all the neighbors would own 1 done 

my part ; 
For life was all before me, an' 1 was young an" 

strong. 
And I worked the best that 1 could in tryin' to 

get along. 

And so we worked together : and life was hard, 

but gay. 
With now and then a baby lor to cheer us on our 

way ; 
Till we had half a dozen, an' all growed clean 

an' neat. 
An' went to school like otheis, an' had enough 

to eat. 

So we worked for the child'rn, and raised 'em 

every one ; 
Worked for 'em summer and winter, just as we 

ought to 've done ; 
Only perhaps we humored 'em, which some good 

folks condemn. 
But every couple's child'rn 's a heap the best to 

them. 

.Strange how much we think of our blessed littli' 

ones ! — 
I 'd have ilied for my daughters, I 'd have dieii 

for my sons i 



I'OEMS OF SUintOW AM) AllVEUsnV. 



343 



And r.od lio inaile that rule of love ; but when 

we 're old ami gray, 
1 've uoticed it sonietiiiies somehow fails to work 

the other way. 

Strange, another thing : when our boys an' girls 

was giown, 
And when, exceptin' Charley, they d left us 

there alone ; 
When John he nearer an' nearer cdnu', an' dearer 

seemed to be, 
The Lord of Hosts he eonie one day an' took him 

away from me. 

Still I was honnil to struggle, an' never to cringe 

or fall — 
Still 1 worked for Charley, for Charley wms now 

my all ; 
And Charley was pretty good to me, with scarce 

a word or frown. 
Till at last he went a-courtin', and brought a wife 

from town. 

She was somewhat dressy, an' hail n't a pleasant 

smile — 
Slie wa-s ([uite eonceity, and carried a heap o' 

style ; 
But if ever I tried to be friends, I did with her, 

1 know ; 
But she was hard and proud, an' I could n't make 

it go. 

She had an edication, an' that was good for 

her ; 
But when she twitted me on mine, 't was carryin' 

things too fur ; 
An' I tolil her once, 'fore company (an' it almost 

made her sick). 
That 1 never swallowed a grammar, or 'et a 'ritli- 

mctic. 

So 't was only a few days before the thing was 

done — 
They wa.s a family of themselves, and I another 

cue ; 
And a very little cottage one family will do, 
But I never have seen a house that was big 

enough for two. 

An' I never could speak to suit her, never could 

please her eye, 
An' it made me indeiiendcnt, an' then I did n't 

try ; 
But I was terribly staggered, an' felt it like a 

blow. 
When Charley turned ag'in me, an' told me I 

could go. 



I went to live with Susan, Imt Susan's house was 

small. 
And she was always a-hintiu' how snug it was 

for us all ; 
Anil what with her husband's sisters, and what 

with I'hilil'in three, 
'T was ea.sy to discover that there wasn't roimi 

for me. 

An' then I went to Thomas, the oldest son 1 've 

got. 
For Thomas's buildings 'd cover the Iialf of an 

acre lot ; 
But all the child' rn was on me — I couldn't 

stand their sauce — 
And Thomas said I need n't think 1 was comin' 

there to boss. 

An' then I wrote to Rebecca, my girl who lives 

out West, 
And to Isaac, not far from her — some twenty 

miles at best ; 
And one of 'em said 't was too warm there for 

any one so old, 
And t' othci- had an opinion the climate was too 

cold. 

So they have shirked and slighted me, an' sliiftcd 

me about — 
So they have well-nigh soured me, an' wore my 

old heart out ; 
But still I 've borne up pretty well, an' was n't 

much put down. 
Till Charley went to the poor-master, an' put me 

on the town. 

Over the hill to the poor-house — my cliild'rn 

dear, good by ! 
Many a night I 've watched you when only Cod 

was nigh ; 
And God '11 judge betw<'cn us ; but I will al'ays 

pray 
That you shall never suffer the half I do to-day, 

WM.L M. CARLETON. 



THE BLIND liOY. 

0, .SAY, what is that thing called Light, 

Whicli I must ne'er enjoy ? 
What arc the blessings of the sight, 

0, tell your poor blinil boy ! 

You talk of wondious things you see 
You say the sun shines bright ; 

I feel him warm, but how can ho 
Or make it day or night ? 



344 



POEMS OF SORROW AND ADVERSITY. 



My day or night myself I make 
Whene'er I sleep or play ; 

And could I ever keep awake 
With nie 't were always day. 

With heavy .sighs I often hear 
You mourn my hapless woe ; 

But sure with patience 1 can bear 
A loss I ne'er can know. 

Then let not what I cannot have 
My clieer of mind destroy : 

Whilst thus I sing, I am a king, 
Although a poor blind boy. 



COLLEV CIBBER. 



THE RAINY DAY. 

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary ; 
It rains, and the wind is never weary ; 
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall. 
But at every gust the dead leaves fall. 
And the day is dark and dreary. 

lly life is cold, and dark, and dreary ; 
It rains, and the wind is never weary ; 
jMy thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past, 
But tlie hopes of youth fall thick in the blast. 
And the days are dark and dreary. 

Be still, sad heart ! and cease repining ; 
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining ; 
'I'liy fate is the common fate of all, 
Into each life some rain must fall. 
Some days must be dark and dreary. 

He.nry wadsworth Longfellow. 



THE END OF THE PLAY. 

The play is done, — the curtain drops. 

Slow falling to the prompter's bell ; 
A moment yet the actor stops, 

And looks around, to say farewell. 
It is an irksome word and task ; 

And, wlien he 's laughed and said his say. 
He shows, as he removes the mask, 

A face that 's anything but gay. 

One word, ere yet tlie evening ends, — 

Let's close it with a parting rhyme ; 
And pledge a hand to all young friends. 

As Hits the merry Christmas time ; 
On life's wide scene yon, too, have parts 

That fate erelong shall bid you play ; 
Good night ! — with honest, gentle hearts 

A kindly greeting go alway ! 



Good night ! — I 'd say tlie griefs, the joys, 

Just hinted in tliis mimic page. 
The triumphs and defeats of boys. 

Are but repeated in our age ; 
I 'd say your woes were not less keen. 

Your hopes more vain, than those of men, — 
Your pangs or pleasures of fifteen 

At forty-five played o'er again. 

I 'd say we suffer and we strive 

Not less nor more as men than boys, — 
With grizzled beards at forty-five, 

As erst at twelve in corduroys ; 
And if, in time of sacred youth. 

We learned at home to love and pray, 
Pray Heaven that early love and truth 

May never wholly pass away. 

And in the world, as in the school, 

I 'd say how late may change and shift, — 
The prize be sometimes with the fool, 

The race not always to the swift : 
The strong may yield, the good may fall, 

The great man be a vulgar clown, 
The knave be lifted over all, 

The kind cast pitilessly down. 

Who knows the inscrutable design ? 

Blessed be He who took and gave ! 
Why should your mother, Charles, not mine, 

Be weeping at her darling's grave ? 
We bow to Heaven tliat willed it so. 

That darkly rules tlie fate of all. 
That sends the respite or the blow. 

That 's free to give or to recall. 

This crowns his feast with wine and wit, — 

Who brought him to that mirth and state ? 
His betters, see, below him sit. 

Or hunger hopeless at the gate. 
Who bade the mud from Dives' wheel 

To spurn the rags of Lazarus ? 
Come, brother, in that dust we 'U kneel, 

Confessing Heaven that ruled it thus. 

So each shall mourn, in life's advance. 

Dear hopes, dear friends, untimely killed ; 
Shall grieve for many a forfeit chance 

And longing passion unfulfilled. 
Amen I — whatever fate be sent, 

Pray God the heart may kindly glow. 
Although the head with cares be bent. 

And wliitened with the winter snow. 

Come wealth or want, come good or ill, 
Let young and old accept their part. 

And bow before the awful will. 
And bear it with an honest heart. 



FHAGMEXTS. 



345 



Who misses, or wlio wins tlie prize, — 
Go, lose or coii(|uer as you can ; 

But if you fail, or if yon rise, 
He each, pray Cioil, a gentleman. 

A gentleman, or old or young ! 

(Hear kindly with my humble lays ;) 
The sacred chorus tirst was sung 

Upon the first of Christmas days ; 
The shepherds heard it overhead, — 

The joyful angels raised it then : 
Glory to Heaven on high, it said. 

And peace on earth to gentle men ! 

My song, save this, is little worth ; 

I lay the weary pen aside. 
And wish you health and love and mirth. 

As fits the solemn Christmas-tide. 
As fits the holy t'hristmas birth, 

Be this, good friends, our carol still, — 
Be peace on earth, be peace on earth. 

To men of gentle will. 

William Makepeace Thackeray. 



FRAGMENTS. 

Thk Lot of Mankind. 

Never morning wore 
To evening, but some heart did break. 

In Mtmor^am. vi. TENNYSON. 

Daughter of Jove, relentless power. 

Thou tamer of the human breast, 
Whose iron scourge and torturing hour 

The bad affright, afHict the best ! 

Hymn lo Adrrrstly. T. CRAY. 

suffering, sad humanity ! 
ye afflicted ones, who lie 
Steeped to the lips in misery, 
Longing, and yet afraid to die. 
Patient, though sorely tried ! 
Tiu GMtKif u/i. Longfellow. 

When sorrows come, they come not single spies. 
But in battalions. 

HamUt,Att\\.St.^ SHAKESPEARE. 

One woe doth tread upon another's heel 
So fast they follow. 

HamUl, ylcl iv. Sc. 7. SHAKESPEARE. 

Woes cluster ; rare are solitary woes ; 
They love a train, they tread each other's heel. 
.Vir*' nuugMtj, Ntehim. dr. e. vounc. 



O life ! thou art a galling load. 
Along a rough, a weary road, 
To wretches such as I ! 

Despondency. 

A man I am, crossed with adversity. 



T-wg Gentiemen 0/ yeroiut. Act iv. Sc. 



SHAKESPEARE. 



A wretched soul, bruised with adversity. 

Comedy 0/ Errors, Act Si^Sc. i. SHAKESPEARE. 



Sympathy and Scorn. 
He jests at scars, that never felt a wound. 

Romeo and Juliet, ActVuSc. 1. ShakespEARF- 

No one is so accursed by fate. 
No one so utterly desolate, 

But some heart, though unknown. 

Responds unto his own. 

Endymion. LONGFELLOW. 

What precious drops are those. 
Which silently each other's track pursue, 
Bright as young diamonds in their infant dew ? 

Conquest o/Gr,xnada, P,irt II. Act\\\. Sc. i. DRVDEN. 

'T is all men's office to speak jpaticHce 
To those that wring under the load of sorrow, 
But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency. 
To be so moral wlieu he shall endure 
The like himself. 

Much Ado About Xothin^. .-let v. Sc. i. SHAKESPEARE. 

Every one cau master - grief, but he that has it. 

Much Ado about Nothing, Act iii. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE. 

One writ with me in sour misfortune's book ! 

Ronuo and Juliet, Act v. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE. 



Press not a falling man too far. 

King Henry V'llL, Act iii. Sc. 2. 



SHAKESPEARE- 



Of all the griefs that harass the distrest. 
Sure the most bitter is a scornful jest. 

London. DR. S, JOHNSON. 

Disappointed Ambition. 

Here I and sorrows sit ; 
Here is my throne ; bid kings come bow to it. 

King John, Act iii. Sc. i. SHAKESPEARE- 

Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown, 
And put a barren sceptre in my gripe. 
Thence to be wrenched with an unlineal hand. 
No .son of mine succeeding. 

Macbeth, Actm. Sc. i. SHAKESPEARE. 

And be these juggling fiends no more believed. 
That palter with us in a double sense ; 
That keep the word of promise to our ear, 
And break it to our hope. 

Macbeth, Act v. Sc. 7. SHAKESPEARE. 



346 



POEMS OF SORROW AND ADVERSITY. 



And my large kingdom for a little grave, 
A little little grave, an obscure grave. 

Ki'itr Kii:n<ty<i II., Act iii. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE. 

Thrice he assaj'eil, and thrice in s]iitc of scorn 
Tears, such as angels weej), burst Inrtli. 

Paradise Lost. Boo/e i. MILTQ.N-. 

WoLSEY. I have touched the highest point of 
all my greatness, 
And from that full meridian of my glory, 
I haste now to my setting : I shall fall 
Like a bright exhalation in the evening, 
And no man see me more. 

Ktue Httiry fill.. Act iii. Sc. s. SHAKESPEARE. 

An old man, broken with the storms of state, 
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye ; 
Give him a little earth for charity ! 

Ktng Henry yill.. Act iv. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE. 

The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees 
Is left this vault to brag of. 

Macbeth, Act ii. Sc. i. SHAKESPEARE. 



WoKLLi- Weariness. 
I 'gin to be a-weary of the sun. 

Macbeth, Act v. Sc. 5. SHAKESPEARE. 

God ! O God ! 

How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable 
Seem to me all the uses of this world ! 

Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE. 

Man delights not me ; no, nor wonum neither. 

HamUt, Act u. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE. 

The Memoky of Soruows. 
Sorrows remembered sweeten present joy. 

TIu Course 0/ Tttne, Boot i. I'OLLOK. 

The hues of bliss more brightly glow. 
Chastised by sabler tints of woe. 

Oiie on the Pleasure arising /rotn I'lcissitucie. T. GRAV. 

Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan. 
Sorrow calls no time that 's gone : 
Violets pluckeil, the sweetest rain 
Makes not fresh nor grow again. 

The Queen 0/ Corinth. Act iii. 5c 2. J. FLETCHER. 



The Memory of Joys. 

No greater grief than to remember days 
Of joy when misery is at hand. 

Inferno. Cant. v. * DANTE. 

Of joys departed, 
Not to return , liow painful the remembrance ! 

The Crave. U. BLAIR, 



He that is stricken blind cannot forget 
The precious treasure of his eyesight lost. 

Romeo and Juliet, Act i. Sc. i. SHAKESPEARE. 

0, who can hold a fii'e in his band 

By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ? 

Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite 

By bale imaginatioii of a feast ? 

Or wallow naked in December snow, 

By thinking on fantastic Summer's heat? 

O, no ! tlie apprehension of the good 

Gives but the greater feeling to the worse. 

King Richard II., Act i. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE. 

Bad News. 

Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news 
Hath but a losing oltice ; and his tongue 
Sounds ever after as a sullen bell. 
Remembered knolUng a departed friend. 

King Henry IV., Part II. Act i. Sc. i. SHAKESPEARE. 

Varied Misery. 

A poor, inlirni, weak, and despised old man. 
King Lear, Act iii. Sc. 2. Shakespeare. 

Eating the bitter bread of banishment. 

King Ricltard II., Act iii. Sc. i. SHAKESPEARE. 

For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. 

Merchant 0/ Venice. Acti. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE. 

Lord of himself, — that heritage of woe ! 

Lara, Cant. i. BVRON. 

Lord of thy presence, and no land beside. 

King John, Act i. Sc, i. SHAKESPEARE. 

0, I could play the woman with mine eyes. 
And braggart witli my tongue ! 

Macbeth, Act iv. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE. 

Moping melancholy. 
And moonstruck madness. 



P.iradise Lost, Book : 



Milton. 



0, let not women's weapons, water-drops, 
Stain my man's cheeks. 

King Lear, Act ii. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE. 

The little dogs and all, 
Tray, Blanch, and Sweet-heart, see, tliey bark 
at me. 



King Lear, Act iii. Sc. 6. 



SHAKESPEARE. 



Vex not his ghost : 0, let him pass ; he hates 

him, 
Tliat would upon the rack of this tough world 
Stretch him out longer. 

King Lear. Act v. Sc. iii. SHAKESPEARE. 

In durance vile here must I wake and weep, 
And all my frowzy couch in sorrow steep. 

Episttefrom Esopus to Maria. BURNS. 



FRAGMENTS. 



347 



Consolation in Adveiisity. 
Chet-red up liinisfll' willi enils of verse, 
Aiiil sayings of plitlosuphers. 

/liLiti/raJt Part 1, C(l»t/. iii. BUTLER, 

On Fortune's cap «e are not the very button. 

Hamttl, Ait ii. St. a. SHAKESPEARE. 

I am not merry ; but 1 do beguile 
Tlio tiling I am, by seeming otherwise. 

oiiutio, Attn. Sc, t. Shakespeare. 

Heaven is not always angry when he strikes, 
Itut most chastises tlioso whom most lie likes. 

I'trsts 10 his FriiHii untltr 4fflictio». J. POMFRET. 

Thr weariest and most loathed worldly life. 
That afte, ache, penury, and imprisonment 
Can lay on nature, is a paradise 
To what we fear of death. 

Measuirt/or Ueasurt. Act Iii. Sc. i. SHAKESPEARE. 

Ilojie, the balm and life-blood of the souL 

Art c/ Prtstrvini' Htatlh. Book iv. J. ARMSTRONG, 

Loss OF Pkoperty. 

Who goeth a borrowing 
Goeth a sorrowing. 

^ix* Hundred Points o/Good Husbandry ■ ytitie's Abstract. 

T. TUSSER. 

Vou take my house when you do take the prop 
That doth sustain my house ; you take my life 
When you do take the nieaus wlieieby I live. 

.Merttuiitt 0/ t^enut. Act iv. Sc. i. SHAKESPEARE. 

The los-s of wealth is loss of dirt. 

As sages in all times as.sert ; 

The happy man "s witliout a shirt. 

Be Mirry^ Friends. J. HEVWOOU. 

If ever you have looked on Iwtter days ; 
If ever been where bulLs have knolled to church. 
At You Like It, Act ii. Sc 7, Shakespeare. 



We have seen better days. 

rnnon 0/ Athens, Act iv. Sc. a. 

.My pride fell with my fortunes. 

.// You Lite If. .1(1 i. St. 2. 



SHAKESPEARE. 



SHAKESPEARE. 



The Hioii and the Low. 
lie that is down needs fear no fall. 

Ptlgritn's Prosrtss, Part It. BUNVA.V. 

I am not now iu fortune's. power ; 
He that is down can fall no lower. 

H.idtbrai. Part I. Cant. iii. BUTLER. 

Their feet through faithless leather met the dirt. 
And oltencr changed their principles than shirt. 

//(.«. to .Mr I'o/e. H. Vou.NC, 



'T is better to be lowly born. 
And range with humble livers in content, 
Than to be perked up in a glisteiing grief. 
And wear a golden sorrow. 

AV«f Henry ml.. Act ii. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE. 

Yes, child of sutrering, thou niay'st well be sure, 
lie who ordained the Sabbath loves the poor ! 

t'rattia. (). w. lloLMES. 

As if Misfortune made the throne her seat, 
And none could be unhappy but the great. 

The Fair Penitent : Prologue, N. RoWE. 

None think the great unhappy, but the great. 

Lm/e o/Fame, Satire I. DR. E. YOUNG. 

Hope in Misery. 

The wretch condemned with life to part. 

Still, still on hoiie relies ; 
And every pang that rends the heart 

Hids expectation rise. 

The Captivity, Attn. GOLDSMITH. 

The worst is not 
So long as we can say, This is the worst. 

Kine Liar, Act iv. Sc, I. SHAKHSPEARE. 

The miserable have no other medicine, 
But only hope. 



Measure /or Measure, Act iii. Sc. t. 



SHAKESPEARE. 



Macb. Canst thou not minister to a mind 
diseased. 
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, 
Haze out the written troubles of the brain, 
And with some sweet oblivious antidote 
Cleanse the stutfed bosom of that perilous stuff, 
Whii h weighs upon the heart ? 

UoCT. Thei'eiii the patient 

Must minister to himself. 

M,tcbcllt, Act v. Sc. ). SHAKESPEARE. 

liltlEFNESS OF Joys. 

What though my winged hours of bli.ss have been. 
Like angel-visits, few and far between. 

Pleasures 0/ Hope, Part H, T. CAMPBELL. 

How fading are the joys we clote upon ! 

Like apparitions .seen and gone ; 

But those which soonest take their flight 
Are the most exquisite and strong ; 

Like angels' visits, short ami bi-ight, 
Mortality 's too weak to bear them long. 

The Parting. J. NORRIS. 

Dkspaik. 

1 am one, my liege, 
Whom the vile blows ami bullets ol' the world 
Have so incensed, that 1 am reckless what 
I do to spite the world. 

Macbeth. Aclin.St.2. SHAKESPEARE. 



348 



POEMS OF SORROW AND ADVERSITY. 



How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is 
To have a thankless child ! 

A-Klf Uttr. Act i. St. 4, SHAKESI'liAKK. 

0, that way madness lies ; let me shun that ; 
No more of that. 

Kins I-""-. Alt iii. iV. 4. SHAKESHEARE. 

I would that I were low laid in my grave ; 
1 am not worth this coil that 's made for me. 

King yehn. Att ii. Sc. i. SHAKESPEARE. 

I am a tainted wether of the Hock. 

McrcltanI o/ytnirt. Act iv. Sc. i. SHAKESPEARE. 

No words suffice the secret soul to show, 
For trutli, denies all elociuenco to woe. 

Tht Cormir. Cant. Iii. BYRON. 

Where pence 
And rest can never dwell, hope never comes. 
That comes to all. 

Paradisr Lost, Boot i. MlLTON. 

The stronftest and the fiercest spirit 
That fought in hcuveii, now fiercer by despair. 

Paradise Lost. Book ii. M lUTON. 



Kesionation. 

But luished be every thought that springs 
From out the bitterness of things. 

Addressed to Sir G. H. B. WORDSWORTH. 

'T is impious in a good man to be sad. 

NigUThougkls.Niehln. DR. E. YOUNG. 



The Uses of Adversity. 

Sweet are the uses of adversity, 

Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, 

Wears yet a precious jewel in his head. 



As You Like It, Act i. Sc. 3. 



Shakespeare. 



Heaven a Kekuoe for the Wketcued. 

Who ne'er his bread in sorrow ate, 

Who ne'er the mournful midnight lioui's 

Weeping upon Ids bed has sate, 

He knows you not, ye Heavenly Powers. 

Hvfienou. Book i. : .Motto: from Goethe's li'tlhelm Meister, 

Longfellow. 

In man's most dark extremity 
Oft succor dawns from Heaven. 

The Lord o/the Isles, Cant. \. SCOTT. 

The path of sorrow, and that path alone, 
Leads to the land where sorrow is iniknown. 

To an Abided Protestant Lady. COWPF.K. 

Here bring your woundi'd hearts, here tell your 

anguish — 
Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal. 

Sacred Songs: Come, y< Disconsolate. MOORE. 



Ho that lacks time to mourn, lacks time to mend. 
Eternity mourns that. 'T is an ill cure 
For life's worst ills, to liave no time to feel them. 
Where sorrow 's held intrnsive and turned out, 
There wisdom will not enter, nor true power. 
Nor aught that dignifies humanity. 

Phthp I 'an Artevelde. Part /. Act i. 5i-. 5. H. rAYLOR. 

The good are better made by ill. 
As odors crushed are sweeter still. 

y,tc,iueitiie. s. Rogers. 

.\s aromatic plants bestow 
No spicy fragrance while they grow ; 
But, crusheil or trodden to the ground, 
Uilfuse their balmy sweets around. 

Tlie Caf'ifity, Acli. GOLDSMITH. 

As snnshine, broken in the rill. 
Though turned astray, is sunshine still. 

Fire H'orsliippers. MOORH. 

Tho' losses and crosses 

Be lessons right severe. 

There 's wit there, ye 'II get there. 

Ye '11 find nae otherwhere. 

Epistle to Daiie. BURNS 

By advereity ai'e wrought 
The greatest works of admiration, 
And all the fair examples of renown 
Out of distress and misery are grown. 

On t/te Harl o/Sonthitmpton. S. DANIEL. 

More safe I sing with mortal voice, unchanged 
To hoarse or mute, though fidlen on evil days, 
On evil days though fallen, and evil tongues. 

Paradise Lost. Book m. MILTON. 



Calamity is man's true touchstone. 

Four Plays in One: The Trinmph 0/ Honor, Sc, t, 

Beaumont and Fletcher. 

Like a ball that bounds 
According to the force with which 't was thrown 
So in affliction's violence, he that 's wise 
The more he 's cast down will the higher rise. 
Uicneosmos. NABa 

0, fear not in a world like this, 

And thou shall know erelong, — 
Know how sublime a thing it is 
To suffer and be strong. 
The Light 0/ stars. LONCFELLOv. 




POEMS OF RELIGION. 











^^^5?^-»- /^^CTCo-a- J'/Cc■^^^ C><'<a-c-«i-<Z^ Sr_c^nC ^ /Lt^U.^ 



.C'-^QjkJ. 











POEMS OF RELKUON. 



THE CELESTIAL COUNTRY. 

The poem /V Contrmftu Muttdi was writlen In dactylic ticxnin- 
•tcr Latin verse by llenmrd tie Morlaix, Monk of Clutll. wild llvt-d 
In the earlier half of tlic twelfth century. It contaliieil three tliuu 
utnd lines divided Into three books. The poem commences : — 

Horn novlsaima, tcnipora pesslina 

Sunt, vltfilcnius. 
Ecce ininacller Itniuinet arbiter 

Ille siiprenius. 
Immlnet, lininlnet et mala termlnet, 

/Gqua coronet. 
Recta rentunerel, iinxla llbcret, 

/lilhera doiiet, 
Auferat aspera duraquc ponders 

Menles onusl;F 
Sobria munlat, Imprnbn punlat, 

Utraque Juste. 

Which have been rendered t — 

Hours of the latest I times of the basest I 

Our vliiil before us I 
Judjfment eternal of Ueini; supernal 

Now hanjfint; o'er us I 
Evil to terminate, e<|uity vindicate, 

Cometh the Kindly ; 
Kichtcousness scelnif, anxious hearts freeing. 

Crowninif each sintjiy, 
Bcarlnu life's weariness, tasting life's bitterness. 

Life as It must be, 
Th' riuhteout retaiulnij, sinners arraiKhlng. 

Judging all Justly. 

The translation following Is of n portion of the poem distln- 
guiahed by the sub-title " LAUS I'ATKl/ll CCELIibTls. 

The world i.s very evil, 

The times nil! wiixiiig Into ; 
Uo sober mill keep vigil, 

The ,Iu(lgi> is lit the gate, — 
The .Inilgc tlmt comes in mei-ey, 

Tile .ludge tlliit eoliics with might. 
To terminate the evil. 

To iliailem the right. 
When the just anil gentle Monanli 

Shall summon f'loni the loml), 
liCt man, the guilty, tremble, 

Kor Man, the (iod, .shall ilonm ! 

Arise, arise, good Christiaii, 

L(^t right to wrong succeed ; 
Let |ienitc>iitial sorrow 

To heavenly glailness lead, — 
To the light that hath no evening. 

That knows nor moon nor sun, 
The light so new and golden. 

The light that is but one. 



And when the Sole- liegotten 

.Shall render iij) oiiee more 
The kingdom to the Faiiiisk, 

Wlio.si! own it was before, 
Tliiiii glory yet unheard ol' 

Sliiill shed abroad it.s ray, 
Ke.scdving all i^nigmas. 

An endless Sabbath-day. 

Kor thee, dear, dear Country ! 

Mine eyt!s their vigils keeji ; 
For very love, lielioldiiig 

Thy liapiiy name, they weep. 
The mention of thy glory 

Is unetion to the breast. 
And medieine in siekncss, 

And love, and life, and rest. 

O one, () only Mansion ! 

(1 I'aradise olJoy, 
WliiM'i^ tears are ever baiiisliod. 

Anil smiles have no alloy I 
Hesiile thy living waters 

All idaiits are, great and snial!, 
The eedar of the forest. 

The hyssop of the wall ; 
With jaspers glow thy bulwarks. 

Thy streets with emeralds blaze, 
Tlie sardhis and the lojiaz 

Unite in thee their rays ; 
Thine ageless walls are bonded 

With aiiiethyst nnprieed ; 
Thy Saints build up its hibrie, 

And the eorner-stniie is Ciiiii.sT. 

The Cro.ss is all thy siileiidor. 

The (,'rui'illed lliy praise ; 
His laud and benedietion 

Thy ransomed jieoplo raise : 
".lesiis, the (iem of lieaiity. 

True flod ami Man," they .sing, 
"The never-failing (Janleii, 

Till' ever-golden King ; 
Tlio Uoor, the Pledge, the Husband, 

The Cuardian of his Court ; 
The Day-star of Salvation, 

The Porter and the Port ! " 



352 



POEMS OF KELKilON. 



Tliou hast no shore, fair ocean ! 

Thou liust no time, hri<;ht day ! 
Dear fountain of refreshment 

To [lilgrims far away ! 
Upon the Roek of Ages 

Tliey raise thy lioly tower ; 
Thine is the victor's hiureh 

And tliini' tlie gohh-n dower 1 

Thou feel'st in mystic rajiture, 

Bride that know'st no guile. 
The Prince's sweetest kisses, 

The Prince's h)voliest smile ; 
Unfading lilies, bracelets 

Of living jiearl tliine own ; 
The Lamb is evei' near thee, 

The Bridegroom thine alone. 
The Crown is he to guerdon. 

The BiU'kler to protect. 
And he himself the Mansion, 

And he the Architect. 

The only art thou needest — 

Thanksgiving for thy lo' ; 
The only joy thou seekes' — 

The Life where Death is not. 
And all thine endless leisure, 

In sweetest accents, sings 
The ill that was thv merit, 

Tlie wealtli that is tliy King's ! 

.lerusali'm the golden. 

With milk and honey blest, 
Beneath thy contemplation 

Sink heart and voice oppressed. 
I know not, O 1 know not, 

What social joys are there ! 
What radiancy of glory. 

What light beyond compare ! 

Anil when I I'ain would sing them. 
My spirit fails and faints ; 

And vainly would it image 
The assembly of the Saints. 

They stand, those halls of Zion, 

Conjubilant with song. 
And bright with many an angel, 

.\nd all the martyr throng ; 
Till' Prince is ever in them. 

The daylight is serene ; 
The pastures of the Blessed 

Are decked in gloiious sheen. 

There is the Throne of David, 
And there, from care released. 

The song of thpui that triumph. 
The shout of them that feast : 



And they who, with their Leader, 
Have connnered in the fight, 

Forever and forever 

Are clad in robes of white ! 

holy, placid hai-p-notes 

Of that eternal hynni ! 
sacred, sweet rellection. 

And peace of Seraphim ! 
thirst, foiever ardent. 

Yet evermore content ! 
true peculiar vision 

Of (iod cuiictii)Otent ! 
Ye know the nuiny mansions 

For many a glorious name. 
And divers retrilnitions 

That divers merits claim ; 
For midst the constellations 

That deck our earthly sky. 
This star than that is brighter — 

And so it is on high. 

Jerusalem the glorious ! 

Tlie glory of the Elect ! 
dear and future vision 

That eager hearts e.\pect ! 
Even now by faith I see thee. 

Even here thy walls discern ; 
To thee my thoughts are kindled. 

And strive, and pant, and yearn. 

Jerusalem the only. 

That look'st frmn lieaven below, 
Li thee is all my glory. 

In me is all my woe ; 
And though my body may not, 

My spirit .seeks thee fain. 
Till llesh and earth return me 

To earth and llesh again. 

none can tell thy bulwarks, 

How gloriously they rise ! 
O none can tell thy capitals 

Of beautiful device I 
Thy loveliness ojiinesses 

All human thought and heart ; 
And none, peace, Zion, 

Can sing thee as thou art ! 

New mansion of new jieople. 

Whom Ciod's own love and light 
Promote, increase, make holy, 

Identify, unite ! 
Thou City of the Angels ! 

Thou tiity of the Lord ! 
Whose everlasting music 

Is the glorious decachord I 



POEMS OK UELIGION. 



353 



Anil till re the Imnd of I'loiiliets 

I'liiti'il luuisu asciilics, 
Ami tlieie the twulvel'ukl churus 

Of Isiael's ninsomc'il tlihes. 
The lily-heels of viiginn, 

The roses' martyr-glmv, 
The cohort of the Kiilliers 

Who keiit the fiiith below. 

Ami tlnre the Sole-Bogotten 

Is Lord ill regal state, — 
Ho, Juclah's mystic I, ion, 

He, Lamb linmaciilato. 
tielils that know no sorrow ! 

state that fears no strife I 

prinoely bowers I O land of flowers ! 

realm and home of Life ! 

Jerusalem, exulting 
On that securest shore, 

1 hope thee, wish thee, sing thee. 
And love thee evermore ! 

I ask not for my merit, 

1 seek not to deny 
My merit is dpstniction, 

A child of wrath am I ; 
But yit with faith 1 venture 

And hoipe ujion my way ; 
For those perennial guerdons 

I labor night and day. 

The best and dearest Father, 
Who made me and who saved. 



I'ore witli me in defilement, 

And from delilemenl laved. 
When in liis strength I struggle. 

For very joy I leaji. 
When in my sin 1 totter, 

1 weep, or try to weep : 
Then grai'O, sweet grace i:elestial, 

Sliall all its lovi' display, 
And David's lioyal Fountain 

Purge every sin away. 

mine, my golden Zioii ! 

lovelier far than gold. 
With laurel-girt battalions. 

And safe victorious fidd ! 
O sweet and blessed Country, 

Shall 1 ever see thy I'acc ( 

sweet and blessed Country, 
Shall 1 ever win tliy grace ? 

1 have the lio]ie witliiii me 
To comfort and to bless ! 

Shall I ever win the prize itself ? 
O tell iiie, tell mc. Yes ! 

Fxult ! ilust and ashes ! 

The Lord shall be thy part ; 
His only, his forever. 

Thou shall be, and thou art ! 
F.xult, O dust and ashes ! 

The Lord shall be thy part ; 
His only, his forever. 

Thou shalt be, and thou art ! 

I-'foni tllC L:itin of BKRNARD DR MORLAIX, 
Transliition of JOHN MASON NEALB. 



DIES inM. 



f A L4Un poem by THOMAS OP CEtANO (a NeapolUan village), ohnut A. D. laso. Perhsps no poem hfts been more frequently 
itran\Utc<l. A German collector published eight y-seveli versions In German. Dr. Coles, of New.lrk, N. J., h.is made thirteen. Seven 
.are given in the " Seven Great Ilynuis of the Medi.x-vai Church," k,tn(Iol|)h & Co., N, V. The version here given preserves the 
measure of the original. J 



Dies ir-c, dies ILLA, rfi>r tribulallomi il anguili,!. di,! ,a- TW^T DAV, A DAY OF WRATH, » day a/trmhU and d<ilr,„. a 
Uam.iui, el miuria. rf.« l„„braru,n ,1 „<l,gi„„. d,„ i„l,uli tl ''"y "/ ^"lUiiesi and dtio/alim. a day o/ dnrkm:s and nloonn- 
turtinu d„i luttl tl ,lanior„ sufer tnilaU, mtmilas. tl suftr ""'■ " ''•'> "/ '''""''' "'"' "'"■* daftmss. a day «/ III, Iriimftl 
niifM/oiurr/joi/ — Sophoniasl. 15, 16. "'"' "'•"•'" afauisl Hit /tiictd aliti, and agauul IHl hieh law- 

frj /— Zephaniali 1, 15, 16. 



Dies ine, dies ilia ! 
Solvct sreclum in favilla. 
Teste David cum Sybilla, 



Day of vengeance, without mmrow ! 
Earth shall end in llaim^ and sorrow. 
As from Saint and Seer we borrow. 



Qnantus tremor est futurus, 
Quando Judex est vcntunis, 
Cuncta stricte tliscussurus ! 

Tuba minim spargens sonum 
Per sepiilcra rcgionum, 
Coget oinnes ante thronum. 



Ah ! what terror is impending. 
When the Judge is seen tlescendiug. 
And each secret veil is rending ! 

To the throne, the trumpet sounding, 
Through the .sepulchres resounding. 
Summons all, with voice .xstouncliug. 



354 



POEMS OF RELIGION. 



Mors stupebit, et natuia, 
Quum resurget creatuia, 
Judicanti responsura. 

Liber scriptus proferetur, 
In quo totum continetur, 
Unde mundus judicetiir. 

Judex ergo cum sedebit, 
Quidquid latet, apparebit : 
Nil inultum remanebit. 

Quid sum, miser ! tunc dicturus, 
Quern patronuin rogaturus, 
Quum vix Justus sit securus ? 

Bex tremendae majestatis, 
Qui salvandos salvas gratis, 
Salva me, tons pietatis ! 

Recordare, Jesu pie, 
Quod sum causa tufe viae ; 
Ne me perdas ilia die ! 

Quierens me, sedisti lassus, 
Redemisti, cnicem passus : 
Tantus labor non sit cassus ! 

Juste Judex ultionis, 
Donum lac remissionis 
Ante diem rationis ! 

Ingemisco tanquani reus, 
Culpa rubct vultus meus ; 
Supplicanti parce, Deus ! 

Qui Mariam absolvisti, 
Et latronem exaudisti, 
Mihi quoque spem dedisti. 

Preces mex non sunt dignse, 
Sed tu bonus lac benigne 
Ne perenni cremer igne ! 

Inter oves locum prjesta, 
Et ab hffidis me sequestra, 
Statuens in parte dextra. 

Confutatis maledictis, 
riammis acribus addictis, 
Voca me cum benedictis ! 

Oro supplex et acclinis, 
Cor coutritnm (|uasi cinis, 
Gere cnram mei finis ! 

Lacrymosa dies ilia, 
Qua resurget ex favilla 
Judicandus homo reus ; 
Huic ergo parce, Deus ! 

Thomas a Chiano. 



Death and Nature, mazed, are quaking, 
AVhen, the grave's long slumber breaking, 
Man to judgment is awaking. 

On the written Volume's pages. 
Life is shown in all its stages — 
Judgment-record of past ages. 

Sits the Judge, the raised arraigning, 
Darkest mysteries explaining, 
Nothing unavenged remaining. 

What shall I then say, unfriended, 

By no advocate attended, 

When the just are scarce defended ? 

King of majesty tremendous, 
By thy saving grace defend us. 
Fount of pity, safety send us ! 

Holy Jesus, meek, forbearing. 

For my sins the death-crown wearing. 

Save me, in that day, despairing ! 

Worn and weary, thou hast sought me ; 
By thy cross and passion bought me — 
Spare the hope thy labors brought me ! 

Righteous Judge of letribution, 
Give, give me absolution 
Ere the day of dissolution ! 

As a guilty culprit groaning. 
Flushed my face, my errors owning. 
Hear, God, my spirit's moaning ! 

Thou to Mary gav'st remission, 
Heard'st the dying thief's petition, 
Bad'st me hope in my contrition. 

In my prayers no grace discerning. 

Yet on me thy favor turning. 

Save my soul from endless burning '. 

Give me, when thy sheep contidiug 
Thou art from the goats dividing, 
On thy right a place abiding ! 

When the wicked are confoumled. 
And by bitter Hames surrounded. 
Be my joyful pardon sounded ! 

Prostrate, all my guilt discerning, 
Heart as though to ashes turning ; 
Save, save me from the burning ! 

Day of weeping, wlien from ashes 
Man shall rise mid lightning flashes, — 
Guilty, trembling with contrition. 
Save him, Father, from perdition ! 

JOHN A. DIX, 



rOExMS Ul' RELIGION. 



355 



STABAT MATEK DOLOROSA. 

(A Latin poem, written in tlic thirteenth century by jACOrONE. a Franciscan Triar. of Umbria. Of this and the two preceding poems 
Dr. Ncalc says : " The Dc Conlenifitu is the most lovely, the Dies tra the most sublime, and the Scabat Mater the most pathetic, of 
medi-Tval poenis."J 



Staba 1' Miitei- ilcilorosa 
Ju.xti cnieem Uiuryniusa, 

Diiin iieiulcbat tilius ; 
Ciijus aniiiiam gemcntcin, 
Contristatain ct doleiitem, 

Pertransivit gladius. 

O qiiam tristis et afflicta, 
Fult ilia beneilkta 

Mater unigeiiiti, 
Qua; mcciebat et doleliat, 
Pia mater, diiiii videbat 

Nati pcenas iiiclyti ! 

Quis est lionio qui non fleret, 
Christi matrein si videret 

In taiito supplicio ? 
Quis non posset contristaii 
Piam inatreni conteniplari 

Dolentem cum filio ? 

Pro peccatis sufe gentis, 
Vidit Jesuni in tormentis, 

Et llagellis subditum. 
Vidit suum duleem natnni, 
Morienteni, desolatuni, 

Uum emisit spiritum. 

Eia mater, fons amoris, 
Me sentire vim doloris 

Fac, ut tecum lugeam. 
Fac nt ardeat cor meuni 
In amanilo Christum Deuni, 

Ut illi complaceani. 

Sancta Mater, istud agas, 
Cnicilixi fige plagas 

Corili meo valide. 
Tui nati vulneiati, 
Tarn dignati pro me jiati, 

PcEuas mecum divide. 

Fac me verc tecum Acre, 
Crucitixo condolere, 

Donee ego vi.\ero ; 
Juxta crucem tecum stare, 
Et tibi me sociare 

lu plauctu (lesidero. 

Virgo virginum pnBclara, 
Mihi jam non sis aniara ; 

Fac me tecum plangere ; 
Fac ut porteni Christi mortem, 
Fassionis fac consortem, 

Et )ilagas recolere. 



Stood the alllicted mother weeping. 
Near the cross Iter station keeping 

Whereon hung her Son and Lord ; 
Through whose spirit sympathizing. 
Sorrowing and agonizing. 

Also passed the cruel sword. 

Oil ! how mournful and distressed 
Was that favored and most blessed 

Mother of the only Son, 
Trembling, grieving, bosom heaving, 
While perceiving, scarce believing, 

Pains of that Illustrious One ! 

Who the man, who, called a brother. 
Would not weep, saw he Christ's mother 

In such deej) distress and wild ? 
Wlio could not sad tribute render 
Witnessing that mother tender 

Agonizing with her child ? 

For his people's sins atoning, 
Him she saw in torments gi'oaning, 

Given to the scourger's rod ; 
Saw her darling offspring dying, 
Desolate, forsaken, crying. 

Yield his spirit up to God. 

Make me feel thy sorrow's power, 
That with thee I tears may shower, 

Teniler mother, fount of love ! 
Make my heart with love unceiising 
Burn toward Christ the Loiil, that pleasing 

I may be to him above. 

Holy mother, this be granted, 

That the slain one's wounds be planted 

Firmly in my heart to bide. 
Of him wounded, all astounded — 
Depths unbounded for me .sounded — 

All the pangs with me divide. 

Make me weep with thee in union ; 
With the Crucilied, communion 

In his grief and sulfering give ; 
Ne,ar the cross, with tears unfailing, 
I would join thee in thy wailing 

Here as long as I shall live. 

Maid of maidcn.s, all excelling ! 
Be not bitter, me repelling ; 

Make thou me a mourner too ; 
Make me bear about Christ's dying, 
Share his [lassion, shame defying ; 

All his wounds in me renew. 



356 



POEMS OF RELIGION. 



Fac mo plagis vulnerari, 
Cruce liai' iiiebiiari, 

Et cruore tilii ; 
Intlnmiimtvis et lu-censiis, 
Per te, Virgo, sim ilefensus 

111 die judicii. 

Fac mc rruco oustodiri, 
Morte C'hi-isti iinvimuiiri, 

Confovoi'i griiti;!. 
Quando corpus morictiir, 
Fac ut aiiimi* donetur 

Paradisi gloria. 



FRA JACOPONE. 



Wound for wound be there created ; 
AVith the cross into.vicated 

For thy Son's dear sake, I pray — 
May 1, Kred with pure all'cctioii. 
Virgin, have througli thee protection 

In the solemn Judgment Day. 

Let me by the cross lie warded, 
By the death ol" C'hrist bo guarded. 

Nourished by divine su]iplie3. 
When the body death liatli riven, 
Grant that to the soul be given 

Glories bright of Paradise. 

AjiKAiiAM Coles 



VENI SANCTE SPIlilTUS. 

[This hymn w,is written in the tenth century by ROBERT II., tlic gentle son of HUGH CAPET. It is often i 
rank to the Dits h\r.] 



cntioncd as secomi m 



Vexi, Saucte Spiritus, 
Et eniitte ca-litus 
Lucis tuic radium. 

A'eiii, pnter pau]icruni, 
Veni, dator inuncruni, 
Veni, lumen cordium. 

Coiisolator optime, 
Dulcis liospes anim«, 
Dulce refrigerium. 

In labore rei^uies, 
In lestu temperies, 
In fletu solatium. 

lux beati.ssima ! 
Reple cordis iiitima, 
Tuorum fidelium. 

Sine tuo numine, 
Nihil est in homiiie. 
Nihil est innoxiuni. 

Lava quod est sordid urn, 
Riga quod est ariduni, 
Sana tpiod est saucium. 

Fleete quod est rigiiluin, 
Fove quod est frigiiluni, 
Rege quod est deviuni. 

Da tuis fidelibus. 
In te confidentibus. 
Sacrum septenarium ; 

Da virtutis meritum, 
Da salutis exituin, 
Da perenne gautlium ! 

ROBERT II. OF FRANCE 



CoMR, Holy Ghost ! tliou tire ilivine ! 
From highest heaven on us down shine ! 
Gomforter, be thy comfort mine ! 

Come, Father of the poor, to earth ; 
Come, with thy gifts of precious worth ; 
Come, I.iglit of all of mortal birth ! 

Thou rich in comfort ! Ever blest 

The heart where thou art constant guest. 

Who giv'st the heavy-laden rest. 

Come, thou in whom our toil is sweet, 
Our shadow in the noonday heat. 
Before whom mourning Hieth fleet. 

Bright Sun of Grace ! thy sunshine dart 
Oil all who cry to thee aj)art. 
Anil till with gladness every heart. 

Whate'er without thy aid is wrought. 
Or skilful tlecd, or wisest thouglit, 
God counts it vain and merely naught. 

O cleanse us that we sin no more, 
O'er parcheil souls thy waters pour ; 
Heal the sad heart that aclieth sore. 

Thy will he ours in all our ways ; 
O melt the frozen with thy rtiys ; 
Call home the lost in error's maze. 

And grant us, l.iml, who cry to thee. 
And hold the Faith ill unity, 
Thy precious gifts of charity ; 

That we may live in holiness, 
And fiiul in death our happiness, 
And dwell with thee in lasting bliss ! 

CATHARINE WlNKWORTH 



POEMS OK RELIGION. 



357 



VKNl CllEATOl; SI'llMTUS. 



"'hit hymn, one of Ihc most Important In the service of the l.alln Church. Iins been sometimes ttttrlbuted to the HMPRROR 
CHAHLHMAGNB. The better opinion, however. Inclines to VoVf GKLt^DKY 1.. culled the Oreat, n» the author, and lixes Its origin 
somewhere In Ihc sixth century. J 



Veni, Creator SpiiiUis, 
Mciitvi) tuonim visita, 
Inipk' supeinu gratia, 
QuiB lu creusti poctinu. 



Ckhai'oii .S|iiiil, liy wlioHci aiil 

Tilt! world's roiiiiilatioii.s liist wtru laiil, 

C'oiiii^ visit every jiioii.s niiml, 

Come pDUi' tliy ,jiiys on Imiuaii kiiul ; 

From sill luiil .sorrow .sitt lis lieu, 

Ami iiiaUe tliy ti-iiiplus worlliy thee. 



Qui iliceris ramclitiis, 
Altissinii tloniiin Dei, 
Fona vivus, ignis, earitas, 
£t spiritaUs uuetio. 



O .source ol' iiiiereated liijlit, 
Tlie Father's proiiiiseil I'aracU'to ! 
Tliriee holy rouiit, tliriee holy lire, 
Our hearts with heavenly love inspire ; 
Come, iiiul thy siiereil uuetion liring, 
To sanctify us while we siiij;. 



Tu septirorniia niiiiiere, 
Uextnu Dei lu ili^'ilus 
Tu rite promissuni I'litria, 
Senuoue tiitaus gutturu. 



Plentoous of grace, ileseeiul from high, 

Uieli in thy seven-fohl energy ! 

Thou stri'iiglh of his almighty hanil. 

Whose power iloes heaven anil curt li roiiimuiicl I 

Proceeiling .Spirit, our ilefenee, 

Who dost the gills of tongues dispense, 

And crown'st thy gift with elonuence ! 



Acecnde lumen .sensibus, 
Infiinde amoreni eordibus, 
Inlirma iiostri corporis 
Virtute limiaiis perpeti. 



Refmo and purge our earthly parts ; 
But, O, inlliime and lire our hearts ! 
Our frailties help, onr vice control, 
Submit the senses to the soul ; 
And when rebellious they are grown. 
Then lay thy lianil and hold 'em down. 



Hosteni repellas longius, 
Paceiii(|Ue doues protinus : 
Ductoro sic to jirrevio 
Vitomus oninu noxiuni. 



Cliasf from our minds tin' infernal foo, 
And peace, the fruit of love, bestow ; 
And, lust our feel should step astray, 
Protect and guide us on tho way. 



Per te seianiiis da Patrein, 
Noseanius utipie Filiuni ; 
Te utrinsiiU" .Spirituni 
Crcdanius onini temiKjrc. 



Make us eternal truths receive, 
And practi.se all that we believe ; 
Give us thyself, that we may see 
TIio Father and the Son by theu. 



Deo Patri sit gloria 
Kt Filio (|ui a mortuis 
Surrc.xit, ae I'aniclito, 
In sieculoruni sa'cula. 

St, CkbGORV THS GREAT. 



Immortal honor, cmlle.ss fame, 

Attend tho Almighty Father's name ; 

The Saviour Son be glorilied. 

Who for lost man's redemption died ; 

And eipial adoration be. 

Eternal I'uraeluto, to thoo. 

John IJKvnr.N 



35S 



POEMS OF RELIGION. 



THE NEW . JERUSALEM. 

MOTHER dear, Jerusalem, 

When shall 1 come to thee ? 
When shall my sorrows have an end, — 

Thy joys when shall I see ? 

happy harbor of God's saints ! 

sweet and pleasant soil ! 
In thee no sorrow can be found, 

Nor grief, nor care, nor toil. 

No dimly cloud o'ershadows thee. 
Nor gloom, nor darksome night ; 

But every soul shines as the sun, 
For God himself gives light. 

Thy walls are made of precious stone, 

Thy bulwarks diamond-square, 
Thy gates are all of orient pearl, — 

God ! U' I were there ! 

my sweet home, Jerusalem ! 

Thy joys when shall I see ? — 
The King sitting upon thy throne, 

And thy felicity .' 

Thy gardens and thy goodly walks 

Continually are green, 
Where grow such sweet and pleasant flowers 

As nowhere else are seen. 

Quite through the streets with pleasing sound 

The flood of life doth flow ; 
And on the banks, on every side. 

The trees of life do grow. 

These trees each month yield ripened fruit ; 

Foreverniore they spring. 
And all the nations of the earth 

To thee their honors bring. 

Jerusalem, God's dwelling-place 
Full sore I long to see ; 

that my sorrows had an end. 
That I might dwell in thee ! 

1 long to see Jerusalem, 
The comfort of us all ; 

For thou ait fair and beautiful, — 
None ill can thee befall. 

No candle needs, no moon to shine, 

No glittering star to light ; 
For Christ the King of Righteousness 

Forever shiueth bright. 

0, passing hapi>y were my state, 
Might 1 be worth v found 



To wait upon my God and King, 
His praises there to sound I 

Jerusalem! Jenisaiem! 

Thy joys fain would I see ; 
Come (juickly, Lord, and end my grief, 

And take mo home to thee ! 

David Dickson. 



LITANY. 

Savioui;, when in dust to thee 
Low we bend the adoring knee ; 
Wlieu, repentant, to the skies 
Scarce we lift our weeping eyes, — 
0, by all thy pains and woe 
Sufl'ered once for man below. 
Bending from thy throne on high, 
Hear our solemn litany ! 

By thy helpless infant years ; 
By thy life of want and teai-s ; 
By thy days of sore distress 
In the savage wilderness ; 
By the dread mysterious hour 
Of the insulting tempter's power, — 
Turn, 0, turn a favoring eye, 
Hear our solemn litany ! 

By the sacred griefs that wept 
O'er the grave where Lazarus slept ; 
By the boding tears that flowed 
Over Salem's loved abode ; 
By the anguished sigh that told 
Treachery lurked within thy fold, — 
From thy seat above the sky 
Hear our solemn litany! 

By thine hour of dire despair ; 
By thiue agony of j)rayer ; 
By the cross, the nail, the thorn, 
Piercing spear, and torturing scorn ; 
By the gloom that veiled the skies 
O'er the dreadful sacrifice, — 
Listen to our humble cry. 
Hear our solemn litany ! 

By thy deep e.\piriug groan ; 
By the sad sepulchral stone ; 
By the vault whose dark abode 
Held in vain the rising God ; 
O, from earth to heaven restored. 
Mighty, reascended Lord, — 
Listen, listen to the cry 
Of our solemn litany ! 

SiK RORF.RT Grant. 



POEMS OK RELIGION. 



359 



THE HOLY Sl'lUIT. 

In till' dour of my distress, 
When temptations me oppress, 
And wlieu 1 my sins confess, 
Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! 

When I lie within my bed, 
Sick at heart, and sick in head, 
Aiid with doubts discomforted, 
Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! 

When the house doth sigh and weep. 
And the world is drowned in sleep. 
Yet mine eyes the watch do keep, 
Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! 

When the artless doctor sees 
No one hope but of his fees. 
And his skill runs on the lees, 
Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! 

When his jiotion and his pill 
Has or none or little skill. 
Meet for nothing but to kill, — 
Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! 

When tlie passing-bell doth toll, 
And the Furies, in a shoal. 
Come to fright a parting soul. 
Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! 

When the tapers now burn blue. 
And the comfortera are few, 
And that number more than true. 
Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! 

When the priest his last hath prayed. 
And I nod to what is said 
Because my speech is now decayed, 
Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! 

When, God knows, I 'm tost about 
Either with despair or doubt, 
Yet before tlie glass be out. 
Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! 

When the tempter me pursu'th 
With the sins of all my youth. 
And half damns me with untruth. 
Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! 

When the flames and hellish cries 
Fright mine ears, and fright mine eyes, 
And all terrors me surprise. 
Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! 

When the judgment is revenle<l, 
And that opened which was sealed, — 
When to thee 1 have appealed. 
Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! 

Robert IIerkick. 



DlvSlliE. 

Tiiiiii, who dost dwell alone ; 
Thou, who dost know thine own ; 
Thou, to whom all are known. 
From the cradle to the grave, ^ 
Save, 0, save ! 

From the world's temptations ; 
From tribulations ; 
From that Kerce anguish 
Wherein we languish ; 
From that torpor deep 
Wherein we lie asleep. 
Heavy as death, cold as the gi'ave, — 
Save, 0, save ! 

When the soul, gi-owing clearer, 
Sees tiod no nearer ; 
When the soul, mounting higher. 
To God comes no nigher ; 
Hut the arch-fiend Pride 
Mounts at her side, 
Foiling her high emprize, 
Sealing her eagle eyes. 
And, when she lain would soar, 
Makes idols to adore ; 
Changing the pure emotion 
Of her high devotion. 
To a skin-deep sense 
Of her own eloquence ; 
Strong to deceive, strong to enslave, — 
Save, 0, save ! 

From the ingrained fashion 
Of this earthly nature 
That mars thy creature ; 
From grief, that is but passion ; 
From mirth, that is but feigning ; 
From tears, that bring no healing ; 
From wild and weak complaining ; — 
Thine old strength revealing. 
Save, 0, save ! 

From doubt, where all is double, 
Wliere wise men are not strong ; 
Where comfort turns to tioublo ; 
Where just men suffer wrong ; 
Where sorrow tieads on joy ; 
Where sweet things soonest cloy ; 
Where faiths arc built on dust ; 
Where love is half mistrust, 
Hungry, and barren, and sharp as the sea ; 
0, set us free ! 

0, let the false dream fly 
Where our sick souls do lie. 
Tossing continually. 



360 



POEMS OK RELIGION. 



0, where thy voice doth come, 
Let all doubts be dumb ; 
Let all words be mild ; 
All strife be reconciled ; 
All paius beguiled. 
Light bring no bliuduess ; 
Love no uukindness ; 
Knowledge no ruin ; 
Fear no undoing, 
From the cradle to the grave, - 
Save, 0, save ! 



Matthew ak.nold. 



MY GOD, I LOVE THEE. 

My God, I love thee ! not because 

I hope for heaven thereby ; 
Nor because those who love thee not 

Must burn eternally. 

Thou, my Jesus, thou didst me 

Upon tlie cross embrace ! 
For me didst bear the nails and spear. 

And mauifohl disgrace, 

And griefs and torments numberless. 

And sweat of agony. 
Yea, death itself, — and all for one 

That was thine enemy. 

Then why, blessed Jesus Christ, 

Should 1 not love thee well ' 
Not for the hope of winning heaven, 

Nor of escaping hell ; 

Not with the hope of gaining aught, 

Not seeking a reward ; 
But as thyself hast loved me, 

everlasting Lord ! 

E'en so I love thee, and will love. 
And in thy praise will sing, — 

Solely because thou art my God, 
And my eternal King. 

From the I,atin of ST FRANCIS XAVIER. 
Translation of EDWAKD CASWALL. 



DROP, DROP, SLOW TEARS. 

Drop, drop, slow tears. 

And bathe tliose beauteous feet 
Which brought from heaven 

The news and Prince of peace ! 
Cease not, wet eyes. 

His mercies to entreat : 
To cry for vengeance 

Sin doth never ct-ase ; 



In your deep floods 

Drown all my faults and fears ; 
Nor let his eye 

See sin but through my tears. 

PniNEAS FLETCHER. 



DARKNESS IS THINNING. 

Darkness is thinning ; shadows are retreating ; 
Morning and light are coming in their beauty ; 
Suppliant seek we, with an earnest outcry, 
God the Almighty I 

So that our Master, having mercy on us. 
May repel languor, may bestow salvation. 
Granting us, Father, of thy lovingdcimlness 
Glory hereafter 1 

This, of his mercy, ever blessed Godhead, 
Father, and Son, and Holy Spirit, give us, — 
Whom thi-ough the wide world celebrate forever 
Blessing and glory ! 

From the Latin of ST. GKECOKV THE GREAT 
Translation of J OH.N .MASON NEALE. 



DELIGHT IN GOD. 

1 LOVE, and have some cause to love, the eartli, — 
She is my Maker's creature, therefore good ; 

She is my mother, for she gave me birth ; 
She is my tender nurse, she gives me food : 
But what 's a creature, Lonl, compared with 

thee > 
Or what 's my mother or my nurse to me ! 

I love the air, — her dainty sweets refresh 

My drooping soul, and to new sweets invite 
me ; 
Her shrill-mouthed choir sustain me with their 
Hesh, 
And with their polyjihonian notes delight nie : 
But what 's the air, or all the sweets that she 
Can bless my soul withal, compared to thee ! 

I love the sea, — slie is my fellow-creature. 
My careful purveyor ; she provides me store ; 

She walls me round ; she makes my diet greater ; 
She wafts my treasure from a foreign shore : 
But, Lord of oceans, when compared with thee, 
What is the ocean or her wealth to me ? 

To lieaven's high city I direct my journey. 

Whose spangled suburbs entertain mine eye ; 
Mine eye, bv contemplation's great attorney. 
Transcends the crystal pavement of the sky 
But what is heaven, great God, compared to 

thee ? 
AVithout thy presence, heaven 's no heaven to 
me. 



POEMS OK RELIGION. 



361 



Without tliy iircseiice, earth gives no ivfection ; 

Witlioiit tliy presence, sea all'ords no treasure ; 
Without tliy presence, air 's a rank infection ; 

Without thy presence, heaven 's itself no 
pleasure : 

If not possessed, if not enjoyed in thee. 

What 's earth, or sea, or air, or heaven to me ? 

The highest honora that the world can boast 
Are subjects far too low for my desire ; 

The brightest beams of glory are, at most, 
But dying sparkles of thy living fire ; 
The loudest llames that earth can kindle be 
But nightly glow-worms, if compared to thee. 

Without thy presence, wealth is bags of cares ; 
Wisdom but folly ; joy, disquiet — sadness ; 
Krirndship is treason, and delights are snares ; 
I'leasures but pain, and mirth but pleasing 

madness ; 
Without thee. Lord, things be not what they be, 
Nor have their being, when compared with 
thee. 

In having all things, and not thee, what have I ? 

Not having thee, what have my labors got ? 
Let me enjoy but tliee, what further crave 1 ? 

And ha\'ing thee alone, what have I not '! 

I wish nor sea nor land ; nor would I be 

Possessed of heaven, heaven unpossessed of 
thee ! 

FKANCIS QUARLES. 



THE PILGRIMAGE. 

(Give me my scallop-shell of quiet. 
Sly staff of faith to walk upon, 

My scrip of joy, immortal diet, 
My bottle of salvation, 

Jly gown of glory, hope's true gauge ; 

And thus I '11 take my pilgrimage ! 

Blood must be my body's balmer, 
No other balm will there be given ; 
Whilst my .soul, like quiet palmer, 
Travelleth towards the land of Heaven, 
Over the silver mountains 
Where spring the nectar fountains : 

There will I kiss 

The bowl of bliss. 
And di-ink mine everlasting fill 
Upon every milken hill. 
My soul will be a-dry before, 
But after, it will thirst uo more. 

Then by that happy, blissful day, 
Mcjre peaceful pilgrims I shall see, 
That have cast olf their rags of clay, 
Anil walk apparellcnl fresh like me. 



1 '11 take them lirst 

To quench tlieir thirst. 
And t.aste of nectar's suckets 

At those clear wells 

Where sweetness dwells 
Drawn u|) by saints in crystal buckets. 

And when our bottles and all we 

Are filled with immortality. 

Then the blest paths we 'II travel. 

Strewed with rubies thick as gravel, — 

Ceilings of diamonds, saiq>hire lloors. 

High walls of coral, and pearly bowers. 

Krom thence to Heaven's bribeless hall. 

Where no corrupted voices brawl ; 

No conscience molten into gold. 

No forged accuser, bought or sold. 

No cause deferred, no vain-spent journey, 

For there Christ is the King's Attorney ; 

Who pleads for all without degrees, 

And he hath angels, but no fees ; 

And when the grand twelve-million jury 

Of our sins, with direful fury, 

'Gainst our souls black verdicts give, 

Christ pleads his death, and then we live. 

Be thou my speaker, taintless pleader, 

Unblotted lawyer, true proceeder ! 

Thou giv'st salvation even for alms, — 

Not with a bribed lawyer's palms. 

And this is mine etei'nal plea 

To Him that made heaven, earth, and sea. 

That, since my flesh must die so soon. 

And want a head to dine next noon. 

Just at the stroke when my veins start and spread, 

Set on my soul an everlasting head : 

Then am I, like a palmer, fit 

To tread those blest paths which before I writ. 

Of death and judgment, heaven and hell, , 
Who oft doth think, must needs die wen.*^ 

SIR Walter Raleigh. 



A TRUE LENT. 

Is this a fast, — to keep 
The larder lean. 
And clean 
From fat of veals and sheep ? 

Is it to quit the dish 

Of llcsh, yet still 
To fdl 
The platter high with fish? 

Is it to fast an hour. 
Or ragg'd to go, 
Or show 
A downcast look, ami sour ? 



362 



POEMS OK RELIGION. 



(No ! 't is a fast to dole 

Thy sheaf of wheat, 
And meat, 
Unto the luingiT soul. 

^t is to fast from strife. 
From old debate 
And hate, — 
To circumcise thy life. 

,To show a heart grief-rent ; 
To starve tliy sin. 
Not bin, — 
And that "s to keep thy Lent. 

Robert herrick. 



BRIEFS. 

WATER TURNED IXTO WINE. 

The conscious water saw its God and blushed. 

THE widow's MITES. 

Two mites, two droiw, yet all her house and land. 
Fall from a steady heart, though trembling hand : 
The other's wanton wealth foamshigh, and brave ; 
The other cast away, slie only gave. 

"TWO WEST rr to the temple to prav." 

Two went to pray ? 0, rather say, 
One went to brag, the other to pray ; 

One stands up close and treads on high, 
Where the other dares not lend his eye ; 

One nearer to God's altar trod, 
The other to the altar's God. 

RICHARD CRASHAW. 



A PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF ST. 
AUGUSTINE. 

Long pored St Austin o'er the sacred page. 

And doubt and darkness ovei-spread his mind ; 
On God's mysterious being thought the Sage, 

The Ti-iple Pei-son in one Godhead joined. 

The more he thought, the hai\ier did he find 
To solve the various doubts which fast arose ; 

And as a ship, caught by imperious wind. 
Tosses where chance its shattered body throws. 
So tossed his troubled soul, and nowhere found 
repose. 

Heated and feverish . then he closed his tome, 
And went to wander by the ocean-side, 

Wlu-re the cool breeze at evening loved to come, 
.M urnmring rosiionsive to the murmuring tide ; 



And as Augustine o'er its margent wide 
Strayed, deeply pondering the puzzling theme, 

A little child before him he espied : 
In earnest labor did the urchin seem, 
Working with heart intent close by the sounding 
stream. 

He looked, and saw the child a hole had scooped. 

Shallow and narrow in the shining sand. 
O'er which at work the laboring inlant stooped. 

Still pouring water in with busy hand. 

The saint addressed the chihl in accents bland : 
"Fair boy," quoth he, "1 pray what toil is thine? 

Let me its end and purpose understand." 
The boy rejilied : "An easy task is mine, 
To sweep into this hole all the wide ocean's brine." 

" foolish boy ! " the s;>int exclaimed, " to hope 
That the broad ocean in that hole should lie ! " 

"O foolish saint!" exclaimed the boy; "thy 
scope 
Is still more hopeless than the toil I ply, 
■\\lio think'st to com]>rehend God's nature high 

In the small compass of thine luunan wit ! 
Sooner, Augustine, sooner far, shall I 

Confine the ocean in this tiny pit. 

Than finite minds conceive God's nature in- 
finite ! " 



I WOULD I 



WERE AN 
DIVINE. 



EXCELLENT 



I WOULD I were an excellent di\-ine 

That had the Bible at my Hngei-s' ends ; 

That men might hear out of this mouth of mine 
How God doth make his enemies his friends ; 

Rather than with a thundering and long prayer 

Be led into presumption, or desjiair. 

This would I be, and wotild none other be. 

But a religious servant of my Gotl : 
And know there is none other God but he. 

And willingly to sutler merey's rod, — 
.Toy in his grace, and live but in his love. 
And seek my bliss but in the world above. 

And I would fi-ame a kind of faitliful prayer, 
For all estates within the state of giace, 

That careful love might never know desjiair. 
Nor ser\-ile fear might faithful love deface ; 

And this would I both day and night devise 

To make my humble spirit's excivise. 

And I would read the rules of s;»cred life ; 

Persuade the troubled soul to patience ; 
The husband care, and comfort to the wife, 

To child and servant due obedience ; 
Faith to the friend, and to the neighbor peace, 
That love might live, and quarrels all might ce;ise.^ 



I'UK.MS 01' liELKJION. 



363 



I'riypr for tlui lioultli of nil tlmt iiir tliscased, 
I oiiffssiou unto iill Unit are cuiivic^tud, 

\ii<l imtieiK'o unto all that ai'u ciisplcaseil, 
And ('(inifoi't unto all that arc alllictcd, 

And niL'i'cy unt>> all that liavo oll'i'udud, 

And grace to all, that all may '"• amended. 

NICHOLAS BKI-rON. 



ADAM'S MOHNlNd HYMN IN I'AUADISE. 

FROM " PARADISE LOST," aoOK V. 

TilESK arc thy glorious works, I'arcnt of good, 
Alinlnhty, thine this universal I'ranie, 
riiiis wondrous fair ; thyself how wondrous then ! 
rnspeakalilc, who sitt'st above those heavens 
To us invisible, or dimly seen 
In these thy lowest works ; yet these declare 
Thy goodness beyond thou<;ht, and power divine. 
8|)cak, ye who best can tell, ye sons of light, 
Angels ; for ye behold liiin, and with songs 
And choral symphonies, day without night, 
Circle his throne rejoicing ; ye in Heaven, 
On earth join, all ye creatures, to citol 
Him liist, him last, him midst, and without end. 
Fairest of stars, UlsI in the train of night, 

I f better thou belong not to the dawn, 

.Sure pledge of day, that crown's! the smiling morn 
With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere, 
While day arises, that sweet hour of prime. 
Thou sun, of this great world Ijoth <'ye and soul, 
Acknowledge him thy greater ; sound his praise 
in thy eternal course, both wlicn thou dimb'st. 
And when high noon hast gained, and when thuu 

fall'sl. 
Moon, that now meets the orient sun, now fliost. 
With the fixed stai-s, fixed in their oib that Hies, 
And ye five other wandering lircs that move 
In mystic dance not without song, resound 
His praine, who out of darkness called up light. 
Air, and ye clement.s, the eldest birth 
of Nature's womb, that in 4Uateriiion run 
Perpetual circle, multiform, and mix 
And nourish all things, h^t your cea.sele.ss change 
Vary to our great Maker still new praise. 
Ye mists and exhalations, that now rise 
From hill or steaming lake, ilnsky or gray. 
Till the sun luunt your (Iceey skirts with gold. 
In honor to the world's great Author rise, 
Whether to deck with clouds tint uncolorcd sky, 
<.)r wet the thii'sty earth with falling showers, 
Rising or falling, still advance his praise. 

I I is praise, ye winds, that from four i|iiarteis blow, 
liieathc soft or loud ; and wave your tops, ye [liiii^s, 
With every plant, in sign of worship wave. 
Fountains, and ye that warble, as ye How, 
Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise. 
Join voiles, all ye living .souls ; ye birds, 



That singing u]i to Heaven-gate ascend, 

Hear on your wings and in your notes his praise. 

\'i; that in waters glide, and yi: that walk 

The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep, 

Witness if 1 be silt^nt, morn or even, 

To hill or valley, fountain or fresh shade. 

Made vocal by my song, and taught his jiraise. 

Hail, universal Lord ! be bounteous still 

To give us only good ; and if the night 

Have gathered aught of evil, or concealed, 

Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark. 

MILTON, 



PRAISE. 

To write a verso or two is all the praise 
That I can raise ; 
Mend my estate in any wayes, 
Thou slialt have more. 

I go to church ; help mo to wings, and I 
Will thither Hie ; 
Or, if I mount unto the skie, 
I will do more. 

Man is all weakncsse : there is no such thing 
As Prince or King ; 
His arm is short ; yet with a sling 
He may do more. 

A herb destilled, and drunk, may dwell ncxtdoore, 
On the same Hoore, 
To a brave soul : Exalt the poore, 
They can do more. 

0, raise mc then ! poore bees, that work all day, 
Sting my delay. 
Who have a work, as well as they. 
And much, much more. 

(jILOKGO HURUBRT. 



UP IIll.L. 

Does the road wind up hill all the way ? 

Ves, to the very aid. 
Will the day's journey take the whole long day ? 

From morn to nirj/it, mij friend. 

But is there for the night a resting-place ? 

A roof for when the stow dark hours begin. 
May not the ilarkness hide it from my face ! 

You cannot m iss that inn. 

Shall I meet other wayfarers at night ? 

ThoHe v)ho Imvr. gone before. 
Then must 1 knock, or call when just in .sight ? 

Thry will not kriji yon, standing at that door. 



364 



POEMS OK HEI.iniOX. 



V Shall I fiiul foiufort, tiavcl-sore and weak ! 
Of labor i/ou shnll find Ihc sum. 
Will there bo bods for me and all who seek ? 
Yea, beds for all wlw come. 

Christina g. rossetti. 



THE riELAR OF TllK CLOUD. 

Lead, kindly Light, amid the eneiivliug gloom, 

Lead thou me on ! 
The night is dark, and 1 am far from home, — 

Lead thou me on ! 
Keep thou my feet ; 1 do not ask to see 
The distant seene, — one steii enough for me. 

I was not ever thus, nor prayed (hat thou 

Shouldst lead me on : 
I loved to ehoose and see my path, but now 

Lead thou me ou ! 
I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, 
Pride ruled my will : rentember not past years. 

So long thy power hath blessed me, sure it still 

Will lead me on ; 
O'er moor and fen, o'er erag and torrent, till 
The night is gone ; 
fAnd with the morn those angel faeos smile 
Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile. 
JOHN HENRY Newman. 



FROM "THE CHURCH PORCH." 

Tiioii whose sweet youth and early hopes enhance 
Thy rate and price, and mark thee for a treasure. 
Hearken unto a Verser, who may chanee 
Rhyme thee to good, and make a bait of pleasui-e ; 
A verse may lind him who a si'rmou tlies 
.\nd turn delight into a sacrifice. 

When thou dost piH'pose aught (withiit thy 

power). 
Re sure to doe it, though it be but small : 
Constaneie knits the bones, and make usstowiv, 
When wanton pleasures beckon us to thrall. ( 
Who iMvaks his own Kind, forfoiteth himself : 
What nature made a ship, he makes a shelf. 

l?y all means use sometimes to be alone. 

Salute thyself: see what thy soul doth wear. 

Dare to look in thy chest ; ftir 't is thine own ; 

And tumble up and down what thou lind'st theiv. 
Who cannot ivst till he goml fellows linde. 
He breaks up house, turns out of doores his 
minde. I 



In clothes, cheap liandsomenesse doth bear tho 

bell. 
Wisdome's a trinnner thing than shoji e'er gave. 
Say not then, This with that laie will do well ; 
But, This with my discretion will be brave. 

Much curionsnesse is a perpetual wooing ; 

Nothing, with labor ; folly, long a doing. 

When once thy foot enters tlu' eluireh, be bare. 
God is more there than thou ; lor thou art there 
Only by his pi'rmission. Then beware. 
And make tliysell'all reverence and fear. 

Kneeling ne'er .spoiled .silk stockings ; unit 
thy state ; 

All ecjual are within the church's gate. 

Resort to sermons, but to prayers most ; 

Praying's the end of preaching. O, bo drest ! 

Stay not lor th' other pin : why thou hast lost 

A joy for it worth worlds. Thus hell doth jest 
Away thy blessings, and extremely llout thee, 
Thy clothes being fast, but thy soul loose 
about thee. 

.Judge not the preacher ; for ho is thy judge : 
If thou mislike him, thou eoncoiv'st him not. 
Inid ealleth preaching folly. Do not grudge 
To pick out treasures from an earthen pot. 

Tho worst speak something good : if all 

want sense, 
tlod takes a text, and preacheth Pa-ti-ence. 
Cbokge Herbert. 



AKT THOU WKAUY! 

(Art thou weary, art thou languid, 
Art thou sore distressed ? 
"Come to me," saith One, "and coming, 
Be at ivst." 

Hath he marks to lead me to him. 

If he be my Ouide ? 
" lu his feet and hands aix- wound-priuts, 

.\nd his side." 

Is theiv diadem, as nionari-h. 

That his brow adorns ? 

"Yea. a crown, in very surety, 
But of thorns." 

If I find him, if I follow. 

What his guerdon here ' 

" Many a sorrow, many a labor, ■ 
Many a tear." 

If 1 still hold closely to him. 

What hath he at last? 

"Sorrow vamjuished, lalior ended, 
.Ionian passed." 



I'OE.MS Ol' UKLHUON. 



365 



If I a.sk liim to receive iiie, 

Will lie miy ine nny ? 
" Not till earth, nml not till lienveii 

Pass away." 

Finding, foUowinj;, keeping, Btniggling, 

Is lie snre to lilvsa I 
" Saints, apostles, prophets, martyrs, 

Answer, Yes." 

I-rom tlie Latin of ST. SrHlMIIIN TMI-: SAOAITH 
Tranvlnllunof John MaSUN NbALH. 



TO HEAVEN APPHOACHED A SUFI 
SAINT. 

To heaven approached a Sufi Saint, 
From groping in the darkness late, 

And, tjipi>iiig timidly ami faint, 
Hesoiiglit admission at (jud's gate. 

Said God, " Who .seeks to enter here I " 
" 'T is I, dear Friend," the Saint replied. 

And treinliliiig minli with hopi^ and fear. 
" If it bo l/wu, withniit aliide." 

Sadly to earth the pour Saiiit turned. 
To hear the seoiir;;iiig of life's rods ; 

liut aye his heart within him yearned 
To mix and lose its love in (Jod's. 

He roamed alone through wear)' years, 
By crnel men still scorned and mocked, 

rmil from faith's pure tires and tears 
Again he rose, and modest knocked. 

^ked God, "Who now is at the door?" 

" It is thyself, beloved Lord," 
Answered the Saint, in doiiht no 'iiore. 

But clasped and rapt in his reward. 

From the I'criiaii of DscnilI.LAl.KDDIN RUMI. 
Traii\1ntiiin of William K. ALCIiK. 



THE DYING CHUI.STIAN TO HIS SOUL. 

Vrr.\i. spark of heavenly flame ! 
Quit, i|uit this mortal frame ! 
Trembling, hoping, lingering. Hying, 
O, the pain, the bliss of dying ! 
Cease, fonil nature, cease thy strife, 
And let me languish into lilo ! 

Hark ! they whi.sper ; angels say, 
Sister spirit, comtr awiiy ! 
What is this alisorlw me (|uite ? 
Steals my senses, shuts my sight, 
1 Irowiis my sjiirits, draws my breath ? 
Tell mo, my soul, can this be death ? 

The worM recedes ; it disappears ! 
Heaven ojiens on my eyes I my ears 



With soiiiida seraphic ring : 
Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I lly ! 
(irave ! where is thy victory ? 

Death I where is thy sting 1 

ALLXANUBK roPB, 

♦ 

PKAVKIt. 

O Got) ! though sorrow be my fato, 
And the world's hate 

F'or my heart's faith pursue mo. 
My peace, they cannot take away ; 
From day to day 

Thou dost anew iiiiliuc! me ; 
Thou art not far ; a little while 
Thou liid'sl thy face, with brighter smile 

Thy fatherdove to show me. 

Lord, not tny will, but thine, bo done ; 
If 1 sink down 

When men to terrors leave me. 
Thy father-love .still warms my breast ; 
All 's for the best ; 

SliiiU man have power to grieve me. 
When liliss eternal is niy goal, 
And thou thi^ keeper of my soul, 

Who never will deceive mo ? 

Thou art my shield, as saith the Word. 
Christ .lesus, Lord, 

Thou staiidest pitying by me, 
And lookest on each grief of mine 
And if 't were thine ; 

What, then, thougli foes may try me, 
Though thorns lie in my path coneealed ! 
World, do thy worst ! (Jod is my shield I 

And will be ever nigh me. 

Transl.itftl from MARY. UUUliN OP HUNGARY. 



THE MAUTYR.S' HYMN. 

Flu.no to the heedless winds. 

Or on the waters east. 
The martyr!,' ashes, wateiied, 

.Shall gathered be at last ; 
And from that scattered dnst, 

Around us and abroail. 
Shall spring a plenteous seed 

Of witiie.s.se8 for God. 

The Father hath received 

Their latest living breath ; 
And vain is .Satan's boast 

or victory ill their death ; 
Still, still, though dead, they speak, 

And, trunipettiingued, proclaim 
To many a (vakening land 

The one availing name. 

I-ruiii the f'.cfiiinn of MAKTIN I.UTItr.K, 
Tr.iitshlion of W, J. FOX. 



3G6 



POEMS OF KELKilON. 



THE FIGHT OF FAITH. 

fThe author of this poem, one of the victims of the persecuting 
Henry V'lII.. was burnt to death at Smithfield in 1546. It was made 
and sung by her while a prisoner in Newgate.] 

Like as the armed Knighte, 
Appointed to the fielde. 
With this worUl wil I fight, 
And faitli bhal be my shilde. 

Faith is that weapon strange, 
Which wil not faile at nede ; 
My foes theiel'ore amouge. 
Therewith wil I procede. 

As it is had in strengthe. 
And forces of Cliristes waye, 
It wil prevaile at lengthe, 
Though all the devils saye naye. 

Faithe of the fathers olde 
Obtained right witness, 
Which makes me verye bolde 
To fear no uorldes distress. 

I now rejoice in harte, 
And hope biiles me do so ; 
For Christ wil take my part. 
And ease me of my wo. 

Thou sayst, Lord, whoso knocke. 
To them wilt thou atteude ; 
Undo, therefore, the locke. 
And thy stronge power sende. 

More enemies now I have 
Than hceres upon my head ; 
Let them not me deprave. 
But fight thou in my steade. 

On thee my care I cast, 
For all their cruell spight ; 
I set not by their hast, 
For thou ait my delight. 

I am not slie that list 
My ankei' to let fall 
For every di'islinge mist ; 
My shipi>e's substancial. 

Not oft I use to wi'ight 
In prose, nor yet in ryme ; 
Yet wil I shewe one sight. 
That I sawe in my time : 

I sawe a royall tluoiie, 
Wlierc .Tnsticc shuUle have sitte ; 
But in her steade was One 
Of moody crucU witte. 



Absorpt was rightwisness, 
As by the raginge floude ; 
Sathan, in his e.xcess, 
Sucte up the guiltlesse bloude. 

Then thought I, — Jesus, Lorde, 
When thou shalt judge us all, 
Harde is it to recorde 
On these men what will fall. 

Yet, Lorde, I thee desire, 
For that they doe to me, 
Let them not taste the hire 
Of their iniquitie. 



ANNE ASKEWE. 



ON HIS BLINDNESS. 

When I consider how my light is spent 

Ere half my days, in this dark woild and wide. 
And that one talent, which is death to hide. 
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more 
bent 

To serve therewith my Maker, and present 
My true account, lest he returning chide ; 
" Doth God exact day-labor, light denied ? " 
I fondly a.sk. Bi\t Patience, to prevent 

That murmur, soon replies, " God dotli not need 
Either man's work or his own gifts ; who best 
Bear his mild yoke, they serve liim best : his 
state 

Is kingly ; thousands at his bidding speed. 
Anil [lost o'er land and ocean without rest ; 
They also serve who oidy stand and wait." 

MILTO.N. 



SAID I NOT SO? 

Said 1 not so, — that I would sin no moi-e ? 

Witness, my God, I did ; 
Yet I am run again upon the score : 

My faults cannot be hid. 

What shall I do ? — make vows and break them 
still ? 

'T will be but labor lost ; 
My good cannot prevail against mine ill : 

The business will be crost. 

0, say not so ; thou canst not tell what strength 
Thy God may give thee at the length. 

Renew thy vows, and if thou keeii the last, 
Thy God will pardon all that 's p;ist. 

Vow while thou canst ; while thou canst vow, 
thou mayst 
Perhaps peiform it when Ihou thinkest least. 



POEMS OF RELIGION. 






Thy Ooil hiitli not ileiiiud tliee all, 
Whilst 111' ]ii'niiits tlii'e but to call. 
Call to thy Ooil I'oi' grafe to kc't'|> 
Thy vows ; ami if thou break them, weep. 
Weep for thy broken vows, and vow again : 
Vows made with tears cannot be still iu vain. 
Tlien once agiiin 
I vow to mend my ways ; 

Lord, say Amen, 
And thine be all the praise. 

GEORGE HERBERT. 



HEAVEN. 

@^EAUTEOUS God ! uncircumseribfed treasure 
<)f an eternal pleasure ! 
Thy throne is seated far 
Above the highest star, 
Wliere thou preparest a glorious place, 
Within the brightness of thy face, 
For every spirit 
To inherit 

That builds his hopes upon thy merit. 
And loves thee with a holy charity. 
What ravished heart, seraphic tongue, or eyes 
Clear as the morning rise. 
Can speak, or think, or see 
That bright eternity, 

Where the great King's transparent throne 
Is of an entire jasper stone ? 
There the eye 
O" the chiysolite. 
And a sky 

Of diamonds, rubies, chrysoprase, — 
And aliove all thy holy face, — 
.Makes an eternal charity. 
When thou thy jewels up dost bind, that day 
Uemember us, we jiray, — 
That where the beryl lies. 
And the crystal 'bove the skies. 
There thou mayest appoint us place 
Within the brightness of thy face, — 
And our soul 
In the scroll 

Of life and bUssfulness enroll. 
That we may praise thee to eternity. Allelujah 1 

Jeremy Taylor. 



"ROCK OF AGES." 

^Such hymns are never forgotten. They clinff to us through our 
whole life. We carry them with us upon our journey. We siii^; 
them in the forest. The worknuin follows the plough witii sacred 
songs. Children catch them, .ind singing only for the joy it give^ 
them now, arc yet Liying up for -ill their life food of the sweetest 
Joy."— Hi-iNRV Ward Bebcher. 

MRocK of ages, cleft for me," 
Thoughtlessly the maiden sung. 

Fell the words unconsciously 
From her girlish, gleeful tongue ; 



Sang as littler children sing ; 

Sang as sing the birds in June ; 
Fell the words like light leaves down 

On the current of the tune, — 
" liock of ages, cleft for me, 

Let me hide myself in thee." 

" Let ine hide myself in thee : " 

Felt her soul no need to hide, — 
Sweet the song as song could be, 

And she had no thought beside ; 
All the wolds uiilieediiigly 

Fell from lips untouched by care, 
Dreaming not that they might be 

On some other lips a prayer, — 
" Hock of ages, cleft for me. 

Let me hide myself in thee." 

"Rock of ages, cleft for me," 

'T was a woman sung them now. 
Pleadingly ami prayerfully ; 

Every word her heart did know. 
Rose the song as storm-tossed bird 

Boats with weary wing the air. 
Every note with sorrow stirred, 

Every syllable a prayer, — 
" Koi^k of ages, cleft for me. 
Let me hide myself in thee." 

" Rock of ages, cleft for me," — 

Lips grown aged sung the hymn 
Trustingly and tenderly, 

Voice grown weak and eyes grown dim, — 
" Let me hide myself in Thee." 

Trembling though the voice and low, 
Rose the sweet strain peacefully 

Like a river in its flow ; 
Sung as only they can sing 

Who life's thorny path have passed ; 
Sung as only they can sing 

Who behold the [iromised rest, — - 
" Rock of ages, deft for me, 

Let me hide myself in thee." 

"Rock of ages, cleft for me," 

Sung above a coffin lid ; 
Underneath, all restfully, 

All life's joys and sorrows hid. 
Nevermore, O storm -tossetl soul ! 

Nevermore from wind or tide. 
Nevermore from billow's roll. 

Wilt thou need thyself to hide. 
Could the sightless, sunken eye.s, 

Closeil beneath the soft gray hair. 
Could the mute and .stili'ened lips 

Move again in pleading prayer, 
Still, aye .still, the wonls would be, — 

" Let me hide myself in Thee." 

i'Roi--. EDwAku II. Rice. 



368 



POEMS OP KELIGION. 



THE SriRIT-LAND. 

Father ! tliy woiuUts do ncit singly stiiiui, 
Nor far removed wliere t'lU't luiv(! seldom strayed 
Around us over lies tlio enelianted land, 
In marvels rieli to thine own sons disi)lii.yed. 
I In tinding tliee ari' all things round us found ; 
In losing thee are all things lost beside ; 
Ears have we, but in vain strange voiees sound ; 
And to our eyes the vision is denied. 
We wander in the country far remote. 
Mid tomlis anil ruined piles in death to dwell ; 
Or on the records of past greatness dote, 
And for a buried soul the living sell ; 
While on our path bewildered falls the night 
That ne'er returns us to the ticlds of light. 

Jones vkrv. 



HEAVEN. 

(Beyond these chilling winds and gloomy skies, 

Beyond death's cloudy portal. 
There is a land where beauty never dies, 
Where love becomes immortal ; 

A land whose life is never dimmed by shade, 

Whose fields are ever vernal ; 
Where nothing beautiful can ever fade. 

But blooms for aye eternal. 

We may not know how sweet its balmy air. 

How bright and fair its llowers ; 
AVe may not hear the songs that echo there. 

Through those enchanted bowers. 

The city's shining towers we may not see 

With our dim earthly vLsion, 
For Death, the silent warder, keeps the key 

That opes the gates elysian. 

But sometimes, when adown the western sky 

A fiery sunset lingers, 
Its golden giites swing inward noiselessly. 

Unlocked by unseen fingers. 

Anil while they stand a moment half ajar. 

Gleams from the inner glory 
Stream briglitly through the azure vault afar. 

And half reveal the story. 

lanil unknown ! land of love divine ! 

Father, all-wise, eternal ! 
0, guide these wandering, wayworn feet of mine 

Into those pastures vernal ! 

NANCY AMHLIA WOOUBUkV I'RIESI. 



"ONLY WAITING." 

{.\ very aged man in an almshouse was asked what he was doing 
now. He repUed, " Only waiting."] 

Only waiting till the .shadows 

Are a little longer giown, 
Only waiting till the glininier 

Of the day's last beam is llown ; 
Till the night of earth is faded 

From the heart, once full of day ; 
Till the stars of heaven are breaking 

Through the twilight soft ami gray. 

Only waiting till the reapers 

Have the last sheaf gathered home. 
For the summer time is fadeil. 

And the autumn winds have come. 
Quickly, reapers! gather ijuickly 

The last ripe hours of my heart, 
For the blooni of life is withered. 

And I hasten to depart. 

Only waiting till the angels 

Open wide the mystic gate. 
At whose feet 1 long have lingered, 

Weary, poor, and desolate. 
Even now 1 hear the footsteps, 

And their voices fi'r away ; 
If they call me, I am waiting, 

Only waiting to obey. 

Only waiting till the shadows 

Are a little longer grown. 
Only waiting till the glimmer 

Of the day's last beam is llown. 
Then from out the gathered darkness, 

Holy, deathless stars shall rise. 
By whose light my soul shall gladly 

Tread its pathway to the skies. 

FKA.NCIS LAUGHTON MACE. 



THE SOUL. 

Come, Brother, turn with me from pining 
thought 
.\nd all the inward ills that sin has wrought ; 
Come, senil abroad a love for all w'ho live. 
And feel the deep content in turn they give. 
Kind wishes and good deeds, — they make not 

poor ; 
They'll homo again, full laden, to thy door ; 
The streams of love How back where they begin. 
For springs of outwaiil joys lie deep within. 

Even let them flow, and make the places glad 
Where dwell thy fellow-men. Shouldst thou be 
sad. 



I'UKMS OF KELUilON. 



369 



And earth seem bare, ivml lioms, oiico liiippy, 

press 
I'poii thy thoU}{lits, anil make thy loneliness 
More lonely for the past, thou then shall hear 
The music of those waters running near ; 
Anil thy faint spirit lirink the cooling stream, 
And thine eye gladden with the playing heam 
That now upon the water dances, now 
Leaps up and dances in tlie hanging hough. 

Is it not lovely ! Tell nu', where dotli dwell 
The power that wrought so beautiful a spell > 
In thine own bosom, lirother ? Then as thine 
Gunnl with a reverent fear this power divine. 

An<l if, indeed, 't is not the outward state. 
But temper of the soul by which we rate 
Sadness or joy, even let thy bo.som move 
With noble thoughts ami wake thee into love ; 
And let each feeling in thy breast be given 
An honest aim, which, sanctilied by Heaven, 
And springing into act, new life imparts. 
Till beats thy frami^ as with a thousand hearts. 

Sin clouds the mind's clear vision ; 
Around the self-starved soul has spread a dearth. 
The earth is full oflifc ; the living Hand 
Touched it with life ; and all its forms expand 
AVith principles of being made to suit 
Man's varied powers and raise him from the 

brute. 
And shall the earth of higher ends be full, — 
Earth which thou trea<l'st, — and thy poor mind 

be dull ! 
Thou talk oflifc, with hall thy soul asleep ? 
Thou " living dead man," let tliy spirit leap 
Forth to the day, and let the fresh air blow 
Through thy soul's shut-up mansion. Wouldst 

thou know 
[Something of what is life, shake otT this death ; 
'Have thy soul feel the universal breath 
With which all nature 's (juick, and learn to be 
Sharer in all that thou <lost touch or see ; 
Break from thy body's grasp, thy spirit's trance ; 
Give thy soul air, thy faculties expanse ; 
Love, joy, even sorrow, — yield thyself to all ! 
They make tliy freedom, groveller, not tliy thrall. 
Knock off the sliackles which thy spirit bind 
To dust and sense, and set at large the mind ! 
Then move in sympathy with God's great whole, 
And be like man at tirst, a living soul. 

RicMAKD Henry Dana. 



SIT DOWN, SAD SOUL. 



(81 



^IT down, sad soul, and count 
The moments flying ; 

Come, tell the sweet amount 
That 's lost by sighing ! 



I low many smiles ? — a score ? 
Then laugh, and count no more ; 
Fur day is dying ! 

Lie down, sad soul, and sleep, 

And no more measure 
The tlight of time, nor weep 

The loss of leisure ; 
But here, by this lone stream, 
Lie down with us, and dream 
Of stany treasure ! 

We dream : do thou the same ; 

We love, — forever ; 
We laugh, yet few we shame, — 

The gentle never. 
Stay, then, till sorrow dies ; 
Then — hope and happy skies 
Are thine forever I 



Brvan Wallrr Procter. 

{Barry Cortfwatl.) 



TELL ME, YE WINGED WINDS. 

iTelIj me, ye wingtd winds, 
" That round my pathway roar, 
Do ye not know some spot 

Where mortals weep no more ? 
Some lone ami plca.sant dell, 

Some valley in the west. 
Where, free from toil and pain, 
The weary soul may rest ? 
The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low, 
-And sighed for pity as it answered, — " No." 

Tell me, thou mighty deeji, 

Who.sc billows round me play, 
Know'st thou some favored spot, 

Some island far away, 
Where weary man may find 

The bliss for wdiich he sighs, — 
Where sorrow never lives. 
And friendshiji never dies ? 
The loud waves, rolling in jierpetual flow. 
Stopped for a while, and sighed to answer, - 
"No." 

And thou, screnest moon. 

That, with such lovely face, 
Dost look upon the earth. 

Asleep in night's embrace ; 
Tell me, in all thy round 

Hast thou not seen some spot 
Where miserable man 

May find a happier lot ? 
Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in woe. 
And a, voice, sweet but sad, responded, — " No.' 



370 



I'OEiMS OF RELIGION. 



Tell me, my secret soul, 

0, tell me, Hope and Faith, 
Is there no resting-phice 

From sorrow, sin, and ileatli ? 
Ts there no happy spot 

Where mortals may be lilest. 
Where grief may find a balm. 
And weariness a rest ? 
Faith, Hope, and Love, best boons to mortals 

given. 
Waved their bright wings, and whispered, — 
" Yes, in heaven ! " 

CHARLES MACKAV. 



NOTHING BUT LEAVES. 

Nothing but leaves ; the spirit grieves 

Over a wasted life ; 
Sin committed while conscience slept, 
Promises made, but never kept. 

Hatred, battle, and strife ; 
Xothiny but leaves ! 

Nothing but leaves ; no garnered sheaves 

Of life's fair, ripened grain ; 
Words, idle words, for earnest deeds ; 
We -sow our seeds, — lo ! tares and weeds : 

We reap, with toil and pain, 
Nothing but leaves ! 

Nothing but leaves ; memory weaves 

No veil to screen tlie past : 
As we retrace our weary way, 
Counting each lost and misspent day. 

We find, sadly, at last, 
Nothing but leaves! 

And shall we meet the Master so. 

Hearing our withered leaves ? 
The Saviour looks for perfect fruit, 
We stand before him, humbled, mute ; 
Waiting the words he breathes, — 
'■ Xothing hut leaves?" 

LUCY E. AKERMAN. 



THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER. 

Father of all ! in every age. 

In every clime adored, 
By saint, by savage, and by sage, 

Jehovah, Jove, or Lord ! 

Thou great First Cause, least understood, 

Wlio all my sense confined 
To know but this, that thou art good. 

And that myself am blind ; 



Yet gave me, in this dark estate, 

To see the good from ill ; 
And, binding nature fast in fate, 

Left free the huuian will ; 

What conscience dictates to be done, 

t>r warns me not to do, 
This, teach me more tlian hell to shun, 

That, more than heaven pursue. 

What blessings thy free bounty gives 

Let me not cast away ; 
For God is paid when man receives, 

To enjoy is to obey. 

Yet not to earth's contracted span 

Thy goodness let me bound. 
Or think thee Lord alone of man. 

When tliousiUid worlds are round : 

Let not this weak, unknowing hand 

Presume thy bolts to throw, 
And deal damnation round tlie land 

On each I judge thy foe. 

If I am right, tliy grace impart 

Still in the right to stay ; 
If 1 am wrong, O, teach my heart 

To find that better way ! 

Save me alike from foolish pride 

And impious discontent 
At aught thy wisdom has denied, 

Or aught tliy goodness lent. 

Teach me to feel another's woe, 

To hide the fault I see ; 
Tlint mercy I to others show, 

Tliat mercy show to me. 

Mean though I am, not wholly so. 
Since quickened by thy breath ; 

0, lead me wheresoe'er I go. 
Through this day's life or death 1 

This day be bread and peace my lot ; 

All else beneath the sun. 
Thou know'st if best bestowed or not. 

And let thy will be done. 

To thee, whose temple is all space. 
Whose altar, earth, sea, skies. 

One chorus let all Being raise. 
All Nature's incense rise ! 

ALEXANDER POPE. 



I'OEMS UF KELIGIUN. 



371 



WKESTLING JACOB. 

FIIIST PAKT. 

CoMK, thou Traveller imkuown, 
Wlioni still I hoki, but cannot see ; 

My eoin|iany liefoio is gone, 
Anil I iini left iilone witli thee ; 

With thei' all night I mean to stay, 

And wrestle till the break of ilay. 

I neeii not tell thee who I am ; 

Jly sin and misery declare ; 
Thyself hast called me by my name ; 

l^ook on thy hands, and read it there j 
lint who, I ask thee, who art thou ! 
Tell me thy name, and tell mo now. 



I never will unloose my hold : 
.\rt thou the Man that died for me ? 

The secret of thy love uidbld ; 
Wrestling, 1 will not let thee go 
Till I thy name, thy natuie know. 

Wilt tliou not yet to mc reveal 

Thy new, unutterable name ? 
Tell me. I still beseech thee, tell ; 

To know it now resolved I am ; 
Wrestling, I will not let thee go 
Till 1 thy name, thy nature know. 

What though my shrinking flesh complain 
And murmur to contend so long ? 

I rise sujjerior to my pain ; 

When I am weak, then am I strong ! 

.\ud when my all of strength shall fail, 

1 shall with the God-man prevail. 

.SECOND PART. 

Yield to me now, for I am weak. 

But confident in self-despair ; 
Speak to my heart, in blessings speak ; 

Be concpiereil by my instant prayer ; 
Speak, or thou never hence shalt move, 
And tell nie if thy name be Love. 

'T is Love I 't is Love ! Thou diedst for me ; 

I hear thy whisper in my heart ; 
The morning breaks, the shailows tlee ; 

I'ure, univei-sal Love thou art ; 
To me, to all, thy bowels move ; 
Thy nature and thy name is Love. 

My prayer hath jKiwer with God ; the grace 

Unspeakable I now receive ; 
Thniugh faith I see thee face to face ; 

1 see thee face to face and live ! 



Ill vain 1 have not wept and strove ; 
Thy natuie and thy name is Love. 

I know thee. Saviour, who thou art, 
.lesus, the feeble sinner's friend ; 

Nor wilt thou with the night depart, 
But .stay and love me to the end ; 

Thy mercies never shall remove ; 

Thy nature and thy name is Love. 

The Sun of Kigliteousness on me 

Hath risen, with healing in his wings ; 

Withereil my nature's strength ; from thee 
Jly soul its life and succor brings ; 

My help is all laid up above ; 

Thy nature and thy uame is Love. 

f'ontented now upon my thigh 
I halt till life's short journey end ; 

All heljilessness, all weakness, I 
On thee alone for strength depend ; 

Nor have I power from tliee to move ; 

Thy nature and thy name is Love. 

Lame as I am, I take the prey ; 

Hell, earth, and sin with ease o'ercome ; 
I leap for joy, pursue my way. 

And, as a bounding hart, fly home ; 
Through all eternity to prove 
Thy nature and thy uame is Love. 

Charlhs weslev. 



A MIGHTY FORTRESS IS OUR GOD. 

" Ein' feste Burg isl unser Gott." 

A MIGHTY fortress is our God, 

A bulwark never failing ; 
Our helper he amid the Hood 

Of mortal ills jirevailing. 
For still our ancient foe 
Doth seek to work us woe ; 
His craft and power are gi'eat. 
And, armed with equal hate. 

On earth is not his equal. 

Did we in our own strength confide, 
Our striving would be losing ; 

Were not the right man on our side, 
The man of (ioil's own choosing. 

Dost ask who tliat may be ? 

Christ .lesus, it is he, 

Lord Sabaoth his name. 

From age to ag(,' the same, 
And he must win the battle. 

From llic Cenii.in of Martin Luthhr. TransUli«B 
of FKEOHKIC IIKNRV IIEDCK. 



37: 



I'uKMs or uKi.uaoN. 



IT KINDLES ALL MY SOUL. 

" V'rit me rntrin: decor." 

1 r kiiuUos all ii\y kouI. 
Jlv I'ouutrv's lovcliiirss ! 'I'liosc stiiny I'lioirs 

Tlmt watoli anuiiul llu' i>ol<', 
And tlio numn's ti'iuU'V liijlit, ami hoavoiily liivs 

Thiviij,'h j;iiUloii lialls that roll. 

I'honis of tlu' uijjl't 1 ^^^ iilaiiol.^i, .-iwoni 

Tho imisiL' of tho .spluTi's 
To follow ! Lovoly watilicrs, that think sconi 

To ivst till ihiy appcai-s ! 
Me, for ivhvstial lioim's of gloiy honi, 

Why hi'iv, 0, why so loiij;, 

1 to yi' K'hohl an rxilo linni on high I 

lli'i'c, O yo shining (luMng, 
With lilios siuvail tho inoin\d wheiv I shall lie ; 

lliuv lot ni(> ilioii my chain, 
And ilnst to iliist rctnvning, cast away 
Tho tmnmu'ls that loniain ; 
TTIio ivst of ino shall spring to endless day '. 

I'rvmillie Lalhi of CASIMIK ol" l\n.ANl>. 



.IKWlSll UVMN IN r.Al'Yl.tlX. 

Con of the thnudor ! fivni wlnvso olondy scat 

Tlio I'lory winds of Uosolatiou llow ; 
Kather of vengoanco, that with imriilo foot 

Liko a full wino-invss tioad'st tin' woihl holow 
Tho onilwttlod aimii's wait thy sign to slay. 
Nor sjuings Iho boast of havoo on his [iivy. 
Nor withering Famine walks his blasted way. 
Till thon hast marked the gnilty laud for woe. 

Ood of the rainbow I at whoso gnioions sign 

'I'he billows of the jiivnd their i-jige siippivss ; 
Father of mervies ! at one wonl of thine 

An Kden blooms in the waste wildi-rness, 
And fountains s|Kirkle in the arid sands. 
Anil timbivls ring in maidens" glaueiug hands. 
And marble cities eivwn the hnighing lauds. 
And iiilhux'd temples rise thy name to bless. 

O'er .Tudah's land thy thumlers bixike, I.oiil ! 

The chariots nittled o'er her sunken gate. 
Her sous wore \va.sted by the .Xssyriau's swoiil, 

Even her foes wept to see her fallen state ; 
And hca[vs her ivory juihu'es l>eeame, 
Her (irinces woiv tho captive's gi\rb of shame, 
Her temples ssink amid the smotildcring tlanie. 

For thou diilst rido the tempest cloud of fate. 

O'er Jiulah's laud thy raiulniw, I.oixl, shall Vwim, 
And the sad City lift her eivwulojis head, 

And sougs shall wak* and dancing footsteivs 
gleam 
lu stn>*ts wheiv bivods tho silence of the dead. 



Tho sun shall aliine on Salem's gilded towers, 

On (.'armel's side our maidens cull the llowers 

To deck at blushing eve their bridal bowers, 

And angel feet the glittering Sion tread. 

Thy vengi'auce g.ive us to the striinger's hand, 
.\nd Abraham's Children were led forth for 
slaves. 
With fettered steps wc left our pleasant laud, 

lCn\ying onr fathers iu their peaceful graves. 
The strangers' bread with bitter tears we stoop, 
.\nd when otir weary eyes should sink to sleep, 
In the unite midnight we steal forth to weep, 
Wheiv the pale willows shade I'.uphratcs" 
waves. 

The born iu sorrow shall bring forth iu joy ; 

Thy mercy, l.ortl, shall leail thy children luunc : 
Ho that went forth a tender prattling boy 

Yot, ere he die, to Salem's streets shall come i 
And t'anaau's vines for ns their fruit shall bear, 
And llertnon'sbces their honeyed stores pivpaiv, 
.\iul wo shall kneel agjiiu in thankful prayer, 

Wheiv o'er the cherub-soated Ood full blazed 
the iri-adiate dome. 

llrXKV llAKl MU.MAN. 



REBECCA'S HYMN. 



l-ROM " IVANllOr, 



WllKN Ismcl, of the Lord beloved. 

Ihit frvun the laud of bondagt- caiuo. 
Her fathci-s' (iod K'foiv her moved, 

An aw fill guide iu smoke and llaiue. 
By day, along the astonishcil lands. 

The cloudy pillar glided slow : 
By night, .Vmbia's criinsoned sands 

Kctnrned the licry columii's glow. 

Tlieiv ivse the chonil hymn of pmise. 

And trump and timbivl answered keen, 
And Zion's danghtei-s ponivd their lays. 

With priest's and warrior's voice iKtweou. 
No jHirtcnts now our foes annuo, 

Foi-sakcn Israel wanders lone ; 
Our fathei-s would not know thy ways. 

And thon hast left them to their own. 

But pn-seut still, though now unseen ! 

^Vhen brightly shines the pivsivivius day, 
Be thoughts of theo a cloudy sciven 

To temper the deceitful ray. 
And 0, when stoojis on .Tudah's jinth 

lu shade and storm the fivquent night. 
Be thou, loug-sntVeriug, slow to w iiith, 

A burning and a sliining light ! 



roKMS OV UKJilCilON. 



373 



Our Imrps wr li'l't liy ItiilK^l'.s striMiiis, 

Till! tyriinr.s just, the (iimlilr'h scciiii ; 
No cc'iisi'i' MHiiiil Diir altar liciiiiis, 

And iiiiili! art' tiiiilircl, liiirp, iiikI licuii. 
lUll tlioil hast Hnid, "Tlii! Iilnnil iil'iritui, 

Till' lli'sli of niiiis, 1 will nul ]iiizi; ; 
A iMiiitrili' licart, a lininliln tlmuglil, 

Are iiiiiiu auccptfil sacrilii'i!." 

SIK WALIIiR scull. 



TiiK iiviX(; sAViori;. 

; O HAiliKl) lliail, now WDiiiiili'il, 

With ^jrii'lanil Hhaino wiMj^hril iluwii ; 
Now HrornfiiUy Hiirri)iiiiiliil 

With tlinrns, thy only iiown ; 
O saiivil lliail, what glory, 

What lilisx, till now wiw thino ! 
Yut, though ilr.siiiwil ami gory, 

I joy lo rail tlii'i) niinr. 

O noblest brow mid dcnredt, 

In otlii'r days tin: world 
All I'l'iiri'd whi'ii thou appiiari-dst ; 

What shaiiii' on thru is liurlud I 
ll'iw art thou |iali; with anguish. 

With soru alinsu and scorn ! 
How doi;s that visagu languish 

Wliirh oni:i' was bright as morn 1 

What laiiguagi' shall I Ixirrow, 

To tliunk llni-, duari'st Kriund, 
For this thy dying sorrow. 

Thy pity without und ! 
O, niakir niu tliini' foruvur. 

And should I fainting bu, 
liOid, li't nil,' ni-vur, nuver, 

Oiillivii my bivu to thuc. 

If I, (I wretch, Hliould leave theo, 

<) Jesus, leave not me ! 
In faith nniy I receive tliee. 

When ileath shall set me free. 
When strength and comfort languish, 

And I must hence de|utrt, 
Koluasi- nie then from anguish, 

Hy thine own wounded lieart. 

lie near when I am dying, 

I ), show thy cross to mo ! 
And for my succor flying, 

Come, Lord, to set me free. 
These eyes new faith receiving, 

Kroni Jesus shall not move ; 
For he who dies Ixdieving 

I >ies safely — through tliy love. 

I'AUL CUKIMKUT. 



TIIK MINISTRY OF ANUKI,8. 

I'UOM "1111'. I'Aliklll 'JUI'.ICNII." HOOK II. CAN'IO H. 

A.Mi is there euro in heaven '/ And is tlieru lnvo 
III hiiavcnly spirits to these creatures base, 
Tlial iiiiiy I'linipassion of their evils move '/ 
There is : — else iiinili more wieti-liid vkmc tlie 

CttSU 

Of nicn tliiin beasts : but O the exceeding gmeo 
Of Highest (lod I that loves his creatures ho, 
y\nd all his workcs with mercy doth embrace. 
That blessed angels he sends to and fro, 
To serve to wicked man, to serve his wicked foe ! 

How oft do they their silver bowers leave, 
To come to succour us that succour want I 
How oft do they with golden pillions dcavo 
The Hitting skyes, like Hying pursuivant, 
Against fowie feeniles to iiyd us militant I 
They for us light, they watch, and ilewly ward, 
And tiii-ir bright S'piadrnns round about us 

plant ; 
And all for love, and iiolliiiig for reward ; 

O, why should heavenly (iod to men have such 

"'o'''-'0 ' liOMUNO Sei'.NlieK. 



NKAItKI!, MV liol), Ti» TIIKK. 

Nkaui'.u, my Ood, to thee. 

Nearer to thee I 
F/eii though it be a cross 

That rai.seth me ; 
Si ill all my song shall bo, — 
Nearer, my (iod, to thee. 

Nearer lo thee I 

Though, like the wanderer. 

The sun gone down, 
Oaikness be over me. 

My rest a stone ; 
Yet in my dreams I 'd be 
Nciiier, my Ood, to thee, 

Ncmvr lo Mice I 

There let the way appear 

Steps unto heaven ; 
All that thou sendest mo 

In mercy given ; 
Angels to beckon me 
Nearer, my Ood, to thee, 

Nearer to thee ! 

Then with my waking thoughts, 
Bright with thy |iraisu, 

Out of my stony griefs 
liethel I 'II raise ; 

So by my woes to Isi 

Nearer, my (!od, to thee, 
Nearer to thee ! 



37-4 



POK.MS OV RELIGION. 



Or if oil joyl'vil wing 

Oloaviiig tlio sky, 
Siiij, iiiOKii, mill still's forgot, 

rpwiinl 1 lly ; 
f^till nil my song shall bo, — 
Neuivr, my Cioil, to tliee, 

Nt'imn' to thee. 

SAKAll ll-OWER ADAMS. 



0, tunv 



I'liE THommr ok god 

ATTUACTS ! 

0, now till' tliouglit ol'Ooil iittmots 
Ami draws tlio lifiUt IVom riivtli. 

And siokons it of jiassing shows 
And dissipating mirth ! 

(f!od only is tlui I'lvatiiiv's home ; 

Though long and ivngh the rond, 
Yi't nothing loss oan sjitisty 

Tho lovo that longs for Ood. 

0, nttor but tho namo of Ood 
Uowii in your hoait of hoarts, 

And soo how IVom tlio world at once 
All tempting light doparts. 

A trusting lioart, a yoaniing eye, 

(.'an will their way alnno ; 
If mountains oaii Ih> moved by faith, 

Is tlioiv loss power in lovo ? 

How little of that road, n\y soul, 

How little hast thou gone ! 
Take heart, and lot tho thought of Ood 

Alliiit" tlioe farther on. 

Dole not thy duties out to Ood, 

l>ut let thy hand K> fi-eo ; 
Look long at .lesus ; his sweet Wood, 

How was it dealt to thee ? 

Tho porfoot way is lianl to llesli ; 

It is not haixi to love ; 
If thou wort siok for want of Ood, 

How swiftly wouldst thou move! 

FrisDbkick William Fabgr. 



THK OHAXGED CROSS. 

It was a time of sadness, ami my heart. 
Although it know and lovtnl the Wtter part. 
Felt woariwl with tho ooiitliot and the strife, 
And all the newlful disoipline of life. 

And while 1 thought on these, as given to me. 
My trial-tests of faith autl lovo to lie, 
1 1 soomod as if I never oouht Ih> sniv 
That faitliful to the end I should enduiv. 



And thus, no longiu- trusting to his might 
Who says, " \\'o walk by faitli and not by sight," 
Uoubting, and almost yiolding to despair. 
The thought arose, " Jly cross 1 cannot bear. 

"Far heavier its weight must surely be 
Than those of others which I daily see ; 
Oh ! if 1 might anothor buitleu choose, 
Mothinks 1 should not fear my crown to lose." 

A soloiim silonoo reigned on all around. 
E'en Natiuv's voices uttered not a sound : 
The evening shadows seemed of peace to toll. 
And sleep upon my weary spirit fell. 

A moment's pause, — and then a heavenly light 
Beained full upon my wondering, raptuix'd sight : 
Angels on silvery wings soomod oveiywhero. 
And angels' music thrilled the Iwliiiy air. 

Then One, more fair than all the rest to see. 
One to whom all the others bowed the knee, 
Came gently to me, as 1 tivmbling lay. 
And, "Follow me," he said ; " 1 am the Way." 

Then, speaking thus, he led me far above. 
And there, Ivueath a canopy of love. 
Crosses of diveis shape and size were seen, 
Lai'ger luul smaller than my own had been. 

And one there was, most Inniuteous to behold, — 

A little one, with jewels set in gold. 

"All! this," niethought, "I ean with oomfort 

wear. 
For it will lie an easy one to bear." 

And so tho little eivss I quickly took, . 
But all at once my frame beneath it shook : 
The sjiarkling jewels, fair weiv they to .vc. 
But far too heavy was their iiVHjht for me. 

"This may not In-," I cried, and looked again. 
To see if there was any lieiv could ease my pain ; 
But, one by one, I passed them slowly by. 
Till on a lovely one I cast my eye. 

Fair flowers ai-ound its soulptuivd form entwined. 
And grace and Wauty seemed in it combined. 
Wondering, 1 gazed, — and still I w ondeivil moiv. 
To think so many should have jmssed it o'er. 

But oh ! that form so beautiful to see 
Soon made its hidden sorrows known to me ; 
Thorns lay beneath those flowers and coloi-s fair : 
Scjrowing, I sjiid, "This civss I may not War. " 

.\nd so it was with eaeli and all around. — 
Xot one to .suit my nefii could there be found : 
Weeping, 1 laid eaoli heavy burden down. 
As my Ouido gnu ly sjiid, ■ • No cross, — no crow n . ' 



I'OEMS (JK RELIGION. 



375 



At li'iiHth to liiiii I luiseil my siiiUIeiicil linirt ; 
lie kiU'W its sorrows, bade its lUmljts ili'iuut ; 
" Be not iilVuiJ," lie said, " but trust in me ; 
My perfect love shall now be shown to thee." 

AimI then, with lighti'iu'd eyes and willing feet, 
Again I turned, my earthly i;ross to meet ; 
With forward footsteps, turning not aside, 
I'"or fear some hidden evil might Ijetidu ; 

And there — in the prepared, appointed way, 
Listening to hear, and ready to obey — 
A cross 1 ([uiekly fouml of plainest form. 
With only words of love inscribed thereon. 

With thankfulness I raised il rrnni tlu^ rest. 
And joyfully acknowledged it the best, — 
The only one, of all the many there. 
That I could feel was good for me to bear. 

And, while I thus my chosen one confessed, 
I saw a heavenly brightness on it rest ; 
And as 1 bent, my burden to sustain, 
I recognized my own uld cross again. 

But oh ! how dilFerent did it seem to bo. 
Now I had Iearnc<l its preciousncss to sco ! 
No longer could 1 unbelieving say, 
" Perhaps another is a better way." 

All, no ! henceforth my one desire shall be, 
That he who knows me best should choose for 

me ; 
And so, whate'er his love sees good to scud, 
1 '11 trust it 's best, — because he knows the end. 

HON. MkS. ClIAKLES HOBART. 



FROM TIIK RECESSES OK A LOWLY 
SPIRIT. 

From the recesses of a lowly spiiit. 
Our humble prayer ascends ; O Father ! hear it. 
Upsoaring on the wings of awe and meekness. 
Forgive its weakness ! 

We .SCO thy hand, — it leads us, it supports us ; 
We hear thy voice, — it counsels and it courts us ; 
And then we turn away ; and still thy kindness 
Forgives our blindness. 

O, how long-suffering. Lord ! but thou deliglitest 
To win with love the wandering : tliou invitest. 
By smiles of mercy, not by frowns or terrora, 
Man from his errors. 

Father and Saviour ! plant within each Inisom 

The seeds of holincs.s, and bid them blossom 

In fragrance and in beauty bright and vernal. 

And spiing eternal. 

John Bqwkin<.. 



THY WILL HE DONE. 

Wl! see not, know not ; all our way 
Is night — with Tluic alone is day : 
From out the torrent's troubled drift. 
Above the stoiin our prayers wc lift, 
Tliy will lie done ! 

The llcali may fail, the heart may faint, 
l!ut who are wc to make complaint, 
Or dare to plead, in times like these, 
The weakness of our love of ease V 
Thy will lie (liiiK^ ! 

Wc take with .solemn thankfulness 
Our burden up, nor ask il less, 
And count it joy that even wc 
May sud'ei-, servo, or wait for Thee, 
Whose will be done ! 

Though ilini as yet in tint and line. 
We trace Thy picture's wise design. 
And thank Thi-c that our age supplies 
Its dark relief of sacrifice. 
Tliy will be done ! 

And if, in our unworthiness. 
Thy sacrificial wine wc press ; 
If from Tliy ordeal's heated bars 
Our fi'et are seamed with crimson sears, 
Thy will lie done ! 

If, for the age to come, this hour 
Of trial hath vicarious power. 
And, blest by Thee, our present pain 
Be Liberty's eternal gain. 
Thy will bo done ! 

Strike, Thou the Master, we Thy keys, 
The anthem of the destinies ! 
The minor of Thy loftier strain. 
Our hearts shall breathe the old refrain, 
Thy will be done I 

John Gkiii-^nlhaf WHiTliriR. 



NEARER HOME. 

One sweetly solemn thought 
Comes to me o'er and o'er ; 

I 'm nearer my home to-day 
Than I over have been before ; 

Nearer my Father's house. 

Where the many mansions be ; 

Nearer the great white throne. 
Nearer tlie crystal sea ; 



370 



roKiMS ()!<' KELIOION. 



Neniw the bound of life, 

Where wo hiy our burdens down ; 
Nouror Uviving the cross, 

Nearer giiiniug Ihe crown ! 

But tho waves of thnt siK-nt sea 

Roll dark before my sight 
Tlmt brightly the other side 

Broiik on a shore of light. 

0, if my mortal feet 

Have almost gained the brink ; 
If it be 1 am nearer home 

Even to-day than I think, — 

Father, perfect my trust! 

Let my spiiit feel, in death. 
That her feet aie firmly set 

On the Koek of a living faith ! 

I'llOiUtl Carv. 



DDK. 



FROM "lltU SIMX "I AIOK." 

TiiK spaeions firmament on high, 

With all the bine ethereal sky. 

And spangled heavens, a shining frame, 

Their great tlriginal proelaim ; 

The unwearied sun, from day to day, 

Hoes his Creator's power display. 

And publishes to every land 

The work of an Almighty hand. 

Soon as the evening shades pivvail. 
The moon takes np the wondrous tale, 
.\ud nightly to the listening earth 
Iv'epeats the story of her birth ; 
While all the stars that round her burn, 
.Vnd all the planets in their tnrn, 
t'onlinii the tidings as they roll. 
And spread the truth from pole to pole. 

What though, in solemn siloiiee, all 
Move round the dark terivstrial Iwll ? 
What though no real voice or sound 
.\niid their radiant orKs be found ! 
In Ueason's ear they all rejoice, 
.\ud utter forth a glorious voice, 
Korever singing, as they shine, 
" The hand that made us is divine ! " 

Jv>SUl'H AOniSON. 



l.OUn ! WIIKX TIIO.^E GUMUOrs I.UUITS 
1 SEE. 

HYMN AND I'RAVKR FOR VHli fSli Ol- liliHrvliRS. 

l.oitii ! when these glorious lights I see 
With which thou hast adorned the skies, 

ttbserving how they moved be, 

.\nd how tlieir s|ileiidor fills mine eyes, 



Methinks it is too largo a gmeo, 
Hut that thy love ordained it so, — 

That creatures in so high a place 
Should servants be to man below. 

The meanest lamp now shining there 

In si/e and lustre dotli exceed 
The noblest of thy creatures here, 

.\nd of our friendship hath no need. 
Yet these upon mankind attend 

For secret aid or public light ; 
And from the world's extrcmest end 

Kcpair unto ns every night. 

0, had that stamp been undcfaced 

Which tiist on us thy liand had set, 
How highly should we have been graced. 

Since we are so much lionoivd yet I 
Good Goil, for what but for the sake 

0( thy beloved and only Son, 
Who did on him our nature take. 

Were these exceeding favors done ? 

As we by him have honored been, 

Ijct ns to liiin due honors give ; 
Let his uprightness hide our sin. 

And let us worth from him receive. 
Yea, so let us by grace improve 

What thou by natuiv doth bestow. 
That to thy dwelling-place above 

We may be niised from below. 

C.liOUOli WmtER. 



HYMN 



EEFORE SONRlSt. I.N THli VALB OF CIIAMUUNI. 

II.VST thou a charm to stay the morning star 
In his Steep course ! So long he seems to pause 
On thy bald, awful head, tl sovran lUanc ! 
The Arvc and .\rveiion at thy Iwse 
Kave ceaselessly ; but thou, most awful Form, 
Kisest from forth thy silent sea of pines 
How silently ! Around thee and above, 
Peep is the air and dark, substantial, black, — 
An olwn mass. Methinks thou piercest it, 
.\s with a wedge ! lUit when 1 look again. 
It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, 
Thy habitation from eternity ! 

divad and silent Mount ! 1 gazed upon thee. 
Till thon, still pivsent to the Ixidily sense. 
Didst vanish from my thought. Entranced in 

prayer 

1 woi-shipped the Invisible alone. 

\'et, like some sweet beguiling melody. 
So sweet wo know not we ai-e listening to it. 
Thou, the mean while, wast blending with my 
thought, — 



POEMS OF URMGION. 



377 



Veil, with my life ami lifr'.s i)Wii si'i'ict joy, — 
Till tlic (liliiliii;^ soul, iMinipl, Iniimruscil, 
liilo llir iiiij;lity visiiin piissinj,', tlii'ir, 
As ill liiT iiutuial fonii, swullml viusl to llcuvcii ! 

Awake, my smil ! not only imssive |niiiso 
Thou owfst ! not iilono tlu'sr swelling teius, 
Mull" tluiiiks, ami seeret ecstasy ! Awake, 
Voice of sweet song ! Awake, my lii-ait, awake ! 
Ciiecii vales unil iey elill's, all join my hymn. 

Thou first nnil chiif, solo sovoreigti oftlie vale I 
O, struflglinj; with (he darkness all the night. 
Anil visiteil all night hy troops of stars. 
Or when they eliinli the sky, or when they sink, 
t'oin|ianion of the morning-star at dawn, 
Thyseir Karth's rosy star, ami of the dawn 
Co. herald, — wake, 0, wake, anil niter praise ! 
Who sank thy sunless pillars deep in earth ? 
Who lillrd thy eountenanee with rosy light? 
Who uiailo thee luuent of perpetual streams ? 

And you, ye live wild torrents fiercely glail ! 
Who called you forth from night and uttei death. 
From dark and icy caverns I'allcd you forth, 
I'liwn those [irecipitons, lilack, jagged rocks, 
Forever shattered and the same loiever ? 
Who gave you your invulncralile life, 
Vour strength, your speed, your fury, and your 

joy, 
I'nooasing thunder and eternal foam ! 
And who conuiiandcd (and the silence came), 
lleie let the hilluws stilfen, and have rest I 

Ye ice-falls ! ye that from the mountain's brow 
Adown enormous ravines slope amain, — 
Torrents, niethinks, that heard a mighty voice. 
And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge I 
Motionless torrents ! silent cataiacts ! 
Who made you glorious as the gates of Heaven 
lieneath the keen full moon ? Who bade tlie sun 
Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living 

flowers 
Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? 
(Jod ! — let the torrents, like a shout of nations. 
Answer ! and let the ice-plains echo, (!od ! 
(iod ! sing, ye nufadow-streums, with gladsome 

voice ! 
Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like 

sounds ! 
And they too have a voice, yon piles of snow. 
Anil in their perilous fall shall tliunder, God ! 

Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost I 
Ye wild goats sporting round the eagh-'s nest ! 
Yo fagles, playmates of the mountain-storm ! 
Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds ! 
Ye signs and wondei-s of the elements ! 
Utter forth (iod, and lilt the hills with praise I 



Thou, too, hoar Mount! with thy sky-poinli]ig 
peaks. 
Oft from wliiisc feet thi^ avalanche, unheard, 
.Shoots downward, glittci-ing through the pun; 

serene. 
Into the depth of idiiuds that veil thy breast, — 
Thou too again, stupendous Mountain ! thou 
That, as I laisc my head, awhile bowed low 
In adoration, ni>ward from thy base 
.Slow (ravelling with dim eyes snil'used with teal's, 
Solemnly seemest, like a vapory itloud. 
To rise before me, — lilse, O, ever rise ! 
Hise, like a cloud of incense, from the Karlh ! 
Thou kingly Spirit throned among the hills. 
Thou dread ambassador from Kartli to lliMVcn, 
(ireat llicrarch ! tell thou (he silent sky, 
And tell the stars, and t.i'll yon rising sun, 
Kartli, with her Ihousanil voices, praises (Iod. 

SAMUIU. TAVLOK C'OI.IiKrDCU. 



AMAZINO, liEAUTEOU.S CHANni.;! 

AiMAZlND, beauteous change ! 
A world created new I 
My thoughts with transport range, 
The lovely scene to view ; 

In all I trace. 

Saviour divine, 

The work is thine, — 

\W thine the praise ! 

See crystal fountains play 
Amidst the burning sands ; 
The river's winiliiig'way 
Shines through the thirsty lamis ; 

New grass is seen. 

And o'er the meads 

Its (Mi'pet s]ireads 

Of living green. 

Where pointed braml)les gii'W, 
Intwined with horrid thorn, 
(iay llowers, forever new. 
The iiainted lielils adorn, — 

The blushing rose 

And lily there. 

In union fair. 

Their sweets disclose. 

Where the bleak mountain stood 
All bare and disarrayed. 
See the wide-branching wood 
Diffuse its grateful shade ; 

Tall cedars nod, 

And oaks and pines, 

And elms and vines 

Confess thee God. 



POEMS 1)1' UKLUilON. 



The tyrants of the plain 
Thi'ir sava^o ohivse j;ivc' o'or, — 
No nioro they iviul the slain, 
Anil thirst IVir blouil no more ; 

But infant hands 

l'"iei'fe tigers stroke, 

Anil lions yoke 

In iKnvery bands. 



O, when, Almighty Lord ! 
Shall these glad seenes arise, 
To verify thy word. 
And bless our wandering eyes ? 

That earth may raise, 

With all its tongues. 

United songs 

Of ardent praise. 

PHILIP DODDRIDGE. 



TlIK SAliliATll. 

How still the morning of the hallowed day I 

ilute is tho voice of rural labor, hushed 

The ploughboy's whistle and the milkmaid's 

song. 
The scythe lies glittering in the dewy wreath 
V .' tedded grass, mingled with fading tlowoi-s. 
That yesterniorn bloomed waving in the breeze ; 
Sounds the most faint attract the ear, — the 

hum 
Of early bee, the trickling of the dow. 
The distant bleating, midway u\^ tho hill. 
I'almness sits throned on yon unmoving eloud. 
To him who waudoi's o'er tho upland lens 
The blackbiixl's note comes mellowor from t]ie 

dale ; 
And sweeter from the sky the ghidsome lark 
Warbles his heaven-tuned song : the lulling 

brook 
Murmurs more gently down the deep- worn glen ; 
Wliile from yon lowly roof, whose circling smoke 
O'crmounts the mist, is heanl at intervals 
The voice of psalms, the simple song of praise. 
With dovelike wings IVace o'er yon village 

broods ; 
The dizzying mill-wheel irsts ; the anvil's din 
Hath ceased : all. all around is nuietness. 
Less fearful on this day, the limping haiv 
Stojw, and looks back, and stops, and looks on 

man. 
Her deadliest foe. The toil-worn horse, set free, 
I'nhecdful of the jiastuiv, roams at large ; 
.Vnd as his stilt", unwieldy bulk he rolls. 
Mis iron-armed hoofs gleam in the morning ray. 

I XMKS OkAHAMR. 



THE MF,ETINO. 

Till! elder folk shook hands at last, 

Down seat by seat the signal passed. 

To simple ways like ours unused, 

Half solemnized and half amused, 

With long-di-iwn breath and shrug, my guest 

His sense of gliul relief expresseil. 

Outside, the hills lay warm in sun ; 

The cattle in the meadow-run 

Stood half-leg deep ; a single bird 

The green repose above us stirred. 

" What part or lot have you," he said, 

" In these iluU rites of drowsy-head I 

Is silence worship .' Seek it where 

It soothes with dreams the summer air ; j 

Not in this close and rude-benched hall, 

But where soft lights and shadows fall. 

And all the slow, sleep-walking hours 

Glide soundless over grass and Mowers ! 

From time and place and form apart, 

Its holy ground the human heart. 

Nor ritual-bound nor templewaiil 

Walks the free spirit of llie Loiil ! 

Our common Master did not pen 

His followei's up from other men ; 

His service liberty indeed. 

He built no church, he framed no creed ; 

But while tlie saintly Tharisee 

Made broader his phylactery. 

As from the synagogue was seen 

The dusty-sandaled Nazarene 

Through ripening cornhelds lead the way 

Upon the awful Sabbath day. 

His sermons were the healthful talk 

That shorter made the mountain-walk. 

His wayside texts were llowei's and birds, 

Where mingled with his gracious woixis 

The rustle of the tnmarisk-tree 

And ripple-wash of Galilee." 

'•Thy words are well, O friend," 1 said ; 

" Unmeasured and unlimited. 

With noiseless slide of stone to stone. 

The mystic Church of God has grown. 

Invisible and silent stands 

The temple never made with hands, 

Unlieaixl the voices still and small 

Of its unseen confessional. 

He needs no special place of prayer 

Whose hearing ear is everywhere ; 

He brings not Iwck the childish days 

That ringed the earth with stones of praise. 

Roofed Karnak's hall of gods, and laid 

The plinths of Uhilie's colonnade. 

Still less he owns the selfish gooil 

And sieklv growth of solitude, — 



I'OK.MS OF KKI.Kiln.V. 



379 



rill- woitlilrss grace that, imt of sij^ht, 
I'lowiMs ill till" (li'seit aiicliorite ; 
|)issev<'H'd IVom the siiU'oriiig wliolo, 
l.ovi' liiitli 11" puwur U) save a soul. 
Not out of Si'lf, tlic origin 
And native air and soil of sin, 
'I'Ik! living waters spring and How, 
'I'lii' trees with leaves of healing grow. 

" Dream not, fnond, because I seek 

This i]uiet shelter twice a week, 

I hetter deem its ])ine-laid lloor 

Than breezy hill or sea-sung shore ; 

Hut nature is not solitude ; 

.She crowds us with her thronging wood ; 

Her many hands reaeli out to us, 

Her many tongues arc garrulous ; 

I'erpctual riddles of surprise 

.She oilers to our ears and eyes ; 

.She will not leave our senses still, 

ISut drags them captive at her will ; 

And, making earth too great for heaven, 

She hides the Giver in the given. 

" And so I find it well to come 

For deeper rest to this still room. 

For hero the habit of the soul 

Keels le.ss the outer world's control ; 

The strength of mutual purpose pleads 

More earnestly our common needs ; 

And from the silence niiilti|ilicd 

liy these still forms on either side. 

The world that time and sense have known 

Kails off and leaves us God alone. 

" Yet rarely through the clianned repose 
Unmixed the stream of motive Hows, 
A flavor of its many sjjriugs. 
The tints of earth and sky it brings ; 
In the still waters neeils must bo 
.Some shade of human sympathy ; 
I And here, in its accustomed place, 
I look on memory's di'arest face ; 
The blind by-sitter guesseth not 
What .shallow haunts that vacant spot ; 
Xo eyes save mine alone can see 
The love wlutrewith it welcomes nie ! 
And still, with those alone ray kin. 
In doubt anil weakness, want and sin, 
I liow my head, my heart 1 bare 
As when that face was living there, 
.And .strive (too oft, alas ! in vain) 
The peace of simple trust to gain, 
Kohl fancy's restless wings, and lay 
The idols of my heart away. 

" Welcome the silence all unbroken, 
Xor le.xs the woiils of fitness spoken, — 



Such golden words as lieis for whom 

Our autumn Iknvers have just made room ; 

Whose hopeful utterance through and through 

The fieshness of the morning blew ; 

Who loved not less the earth that light 

Kell on it from the heavens in sight, 

But saw in all fair forms more fair 

The Kternal beauty iniiriired there. 

Whose eighty years but added grace 

And saintlier meaning to her face, — 

The look of one who bore away 

Glad tidings from the hills of day, 

While all our hearts went forth to meet 

The coming of her beautiful feet ! 

Or hajily hers whose pilgrim tread 

Is ill the paths where .Jesus led ; 

Who dreams her chihlhood's sabbath dream 

15y .Jordan's willow-shaded stream, 

And, of the hymns of hope and faith, 

Sung by the monks of Nazareth, 

Hears pious echoes, in the call 

To prayer, from Moslem minarets fall, 

Uepcating where His works were wrought 

The lesson that her Master taught, 

Of whom an elder Sibyl gave, 

The prophesies of Cumse's cave ! 



" I ask no organ's soulless breath 

To drone the themes of life and death. 

No altar candle-lit by day, 
i No ornate wordsman's rhetoric-play, 

No eool philosophy to teach 

Its liliinil iiuibicitics of speech 
I To doulile-tasked idolaters, 

Themsidves their gods and worshippers, 

No pulpit hammered by the fist 

Of loud-asserting dogmatist. 

Who borrows for the hand of love 

The smoking thunderbolts of .love. 

I know how well the fathers taught. 

What work the later schoolmen wrought ; 

1 reverence old-time faith and men, 

Hut (!od is near us now as then ; 

His force of love is still uns])ent. 

His hate of sin as imminent ; 

And still the measure of our needs 

Outgrows the cramping bounds of creeds ; 

The manna gathered yesterday 

.\lready .savors of decay ; 

Doubts to the world's child-heart unknown 

(Juestion us now from stai' and stone ; 

Too little or too much we know. 

And sight is swift and faith is slow ; 

The |iower is lost to self-deceive 

With shallow forms of miike-believe. 

We walk at high noon, and the bells 

Call to a thousand oracles, 



3S0 



rOEMS OF RELIGION. 



Hul tlif siinml iloiilVus, anil llic light 
Is stixiiigt'i' timii our iliizzU'il sight ; 
Tlu' U'tli'i's 111' tht> siioi'i'il lidok 
lilimnu'i' mul swim lioiioiilli inu' look ; 
Still sti'iiggli's ill lliti .\g<''s biviist 
Willi ili'i'in'iiing agony of uni'st 
Tin- ohl t'litivaly : ' Alt Ihoii Ho, 
t'r look W'c lor llic t'lui>l to lu' ?' 

" Ooil shoulil ln' uiosi wliiMV man is least 

So, wlu'iv is noil hoi' oliuivh iioi' [iiiost, 

Aiul novoi- mig of I'onii or oivoil 

'I'o olollio tho nakoilnoss of iiood, — 

Whoro laniu'r-l'olk in siloiu'o moot, — 

I turn my lioll-unsuinmonoil toot ; 

1 lay tlio oritii''s glass asiilo, 

1 tivaii iipoii my lottoivil i>riilo. 

Ami, lowost-soatoil, tostily 

To tho ononoss of humanity ; 

I'onloss tho univorsal want. 

Ami shaiv wliatovor lloavoii may grant. 

llo liiiilolh not who sooks liis own, 

'I'lio soul is lost that 's savoil alono. 

Not on ono I'avorod I'oivhoail loll 

(H'olil tho liiv-longuoil ininu-lo. 

Hut llainoil o'or all tho thronging host 

I'ho lisptism of tho Holy tJliost ; 

Hiart answoiN lioarl : in ono ilosiiii 

'I'lio hlomliug linos of jiniyor aspiiv ; 

' Whoro, in my iianio, moot two or thivo,' 

Our l.oi\l hath said, ' I thoiv w ill bo ! ' 

"So somotimos oomos to soul and souse 
Tho fooling wliioh is oviiloiu'o 
That vory noar ahout us lios 
Tho ivalm of s|iiiitiial mystorios. 
Tho sphoiv of Iho snpornal iiowora 
lm|iingi's on this worlil of ours. 
Tho low ami dark horizon lifts. 
To light tho soonio torror shifts ; 
Tho bivath of a divinor air 
Blows down tho answor of a piiiyor : - 
That all our sorivw, |\ain, and doubt 
.\ givat ooin[vission olas(>s aliovit. 
And law and giioilnoss, lovo and foivo, 
Aiv woddod fast Ivyond divoivo 
Thon dnty loavos to lovo its task, 
Tho lH'gg;ir Solt forgi'ts to ask ; 
With smilo of trust and foldod hands 
Tho jwssivo soul in waiting stands 
To fool, as llowors tho sun and dow, 
Tho Ono trno l.ifo its own ronow. 

"So, to tho oalndy gathoivd thought 
Tho innorniost of truth is taught, 
Tho raystory dimly \indoi'stood. 
That lovo of t^od is lovo of good. 
And, ohiotly, its divin»gt ti-«oo 
In Him of Nazaivlh's holy faoo ; 



That to be sftved is only this, — 

Salvation fixini our soHishnoss, 

From iiioro than olomonlal liio, 

Tho soul's niisanotiliod dosiro, 

Kivm sin itsolf, ami not tho [lain 

That warns ns of its ohaling ohaiii : 

That worshiii's doojior moaning lios 

lu iiioivy, and not saorilioo. 

Not pivnd luimililios of sonso 

And iiosturing of iiinitoiu'o. 

Hut lovo's nntoivod obodionoe : 

That Hook and I'hunli and Day ai-o givin 

I'or man, not Ood, — for oarth, not hoavon, — 

Tho blossi'd nu'ans to holiost onds. 

Not mastors, but bonignant frionds ; 

That tho doar t'hrist dwoUs not afar, 

Tho king of somo ivniotor star, 

Listoniiig, at timos, with llattorod oar, 

To liouiagv wrung fiiim sollish foar. 

Hut lioi-o, amidst Iho poor and blind, 

Tho bound anil sulforiiig of our kind. 

In works wo do, in )ii';iyoi's wo i>ray. 

Life of our lifo, llo livos to-day." 

JOHN ORKUNLRAr WHITTU^K. 



A riiAVIli VOK LIFE. 

O FAniKi;, lot mo not die young 1 
Karth's boauty asks a lioart and tongiu' 
To givo truo lovo and jaaisos to lior worth ; 

Hor sins and judgmont-sulVorings call 
For fonrloss martyi-s to ivdooni thy I'arth 
Fivm hor disastivus fall. 
For though hor snmmor hills and valos might 

si'om 
Tho fair ol^'ation of a (loot's divani, — 

Ay, of tho llighost Foot, 
AVhoso \voi\lloss rhythms aiv ohantod by tho 
gyivs 
Of oonstollate star-ohoirs, 
That with doop molody Mow and ovorflow it, — 
Tho snoot Earth, — vory swoot, dospito 
Tho nink gmvosnioll forovor drifting in 
Among tho inloi-s fiMiii hor oonsors white 
t">f wavo-swung lilios and of wind-swung 
i-osos, — 
Tho Karth sad-swoot is dooply attaint with 
sin ! 
Tho p\ire air, wliioh encloses 
Hor aiul hor starry kin. 
Still shuddoi-s with tho nnspont jKilpitatiiig 
Of a gnat I'ui'so, that to its utmost slioio 
Thrills with a deadly shiver 
Whioh has not ooasoil to (luivor 
T>o\\i» all the ages, uathloss the stivng iH'atiug 

Of Ang»'l-wings, and tho dotiant ivar 
Of Farth's Titanio thundoi's 



I'UKM.S Ol' UKI.KilO.N. 



3S1 



l''(iir iiihI siul, 
III sin jiiiil bi'iiuty, oiii' hcldvc'il Kmlli 
Iluii iii'vil of III! Iitii' Hoii.t to niiiki' lii'i' ^liiil ', 
lliis need ol' iiiaityi-s to n'riin tlio liniii'lli 
( H' lii'i' (|ii('ii('lii'<l iiltars, (if lii'iciif iiii'ii 
Willi l''rcTiliiiii'.s.swonl,(ii''rnitli's.sM|icnial prn, 
'I'u sliiipi' till' H'oni-oiit iiKiiild of iiolili'Mi'Ss HK'iiii. 
Ami mIk! ims iii'i'd ol' IVii'tM who ciiii .string 
'I'liiMi' liurps with Hti'cl to riitcli llii' li;^lil- 

ning's liri', 
Ami pour Iht thninii'is I'loni tin: I'langiiig 

will', 

To flniiT Ihi' hrio, mingling with his iIiist, 
Arousii thi< higganl in the lmttli''.s icnr, 
Daunt the sti'in wii'ki'il, ami IVoni ilisi'iinl wring 
I'l'i'Viiiling Imnnoiiy, whih' tin' hniiiliii'st.soni 
AVIlo kfi'ps tin* turn? tho wariliM" angids sing 
In giililiMi choiis iiliove, 
And only wrnis, for crown ami unri'oir. 

The glnw-worni light of lowllrst hnman hivi', 
Shall lill with low, HWUut nniliMtnm's the 

idiaHiiiH 
< )f sih'iiri', 'twixt till' booming thnndi'r-spaHiii.s. 
And Kartli lias need of I'rophi'ls lii'rydippml 
Ami drcp-sonh'd, to annniiiici' I hi' gliiiiniis 
dooms 
Writ on the sili'iit lii'iivcns in starry si-ript, 
And Hashing litfnlly from Iiit Hhnddi'iing 
tombs, — 
Commifwiloned Anguls of tin' mwdiorn Kaith, 

To Icai'li till' immortality of (iood, 
'I'hr soul's (JoddikiMii'ss, Sill's roi'val di'iitli, 
And iiinirs indiHsoliibh' Itrothi'i'liood. 

Vet iii'ViT an age, wlii'ii (Jod lias ni'rd of liini, 

Shall want its Man, pivdi'stini'd by thai n I, 

To jionr his life in lii'iy wold or duud, — 
Till' strong Anhangid of tliu Klohiin ! 

Karth's hollow want is prophet of his I'liiniiig: 
In till' low miirmiir of her I'amishi'd rry, 
And ht'iivy sobs breathed up ilespairiiigly, 

Yi! Iiiuir till' near invisible hnmmiiig 
• )f his wide wings that fan llin lurid sky 
Into eool ripples of new life iinil hope, 
While far in its dissolving ether ope 
Peeps beyond deeps, of sapphire ealni, to I'lieer 
With Sabbath gleams the troiibleil Now and Here. 

Fiither! thy will lie done I 
iluly and righteous One ! 
Though the reluetant years 
.May never erowii my throbbing brows willi 
white. 
Nor round my nhouldcrs turn the golden light 
Of my tliiek loeks to wisdom's royal ermine ; 
Yet liy the solitary tvuiii, 
Oeiper lliBii joy or sorrow, —by the thrill. 
Higher than hope ur termr, whosu ijuiek gerniin, 



In tliii.se hot tears to sudden vigor sprung, 
Slii'd.s, even now, the friiits of graver iigi', 

Hy tliii long wrestle in wliieli inward ill 
l''ell like a trampled viper to the griinnd, 

Uy all that lifts me o'er my outward peers 
To thai Hiiperniil stage 
W'liure sold dissolves the bonds by Natuiii 
bound, 
Kail when 1 may, by pale di.seiisii nnstning, 
Or by llni hand of fnitrieidal rage, 

I eaniiot now die young I 

lil^olU.ll S. nuKLIllGII. 



WIll'.N. 



Ik I were tidd that 1 must die to-morrow. 

That the ne.\t hiiii 
Wliieli sinks should bear me past all fear and 
sorrow 
Kor any one. 
All the light fought, all the short Journey 
1linMi;,di, 
What sln'mld I do'( 

I do not think that I should .shrink or falter. 

Hut just go on, 
Doing my work, nor ehaiige nor seek to alter 

Aught that is gone ; 
lint rise uinl move and love and smile and pray 

l''or one more day. 

And, lying down at night bir a last sleeping, 

Say ill that ear 
Which hearkens ever : "Lord, within thy keeping 

How should 1 fear I 
And when to-morrow brings thee nearer still. 

Do thou thy will." 

1 might not sleep for awe ; but pi'ari'fiil, li'iider. 

My sold would lie 
All lliii night long; and when lie: niorniiig 
splendor 

l''lnslied o'er the sky, 
I lliiiik thill. I lould smile — could calmly say, 

" It is his day." 

r.iil if a wondrous hand from the blue yonder 

Held out a scroll. 
Oil whieh my life was writ, and I with wonder 

' lii'held unroll 
To a long eenliiry's end its mystic clue, 

WJiat should I do? 

What could I do, O bli's.sed (;nidii and Master, 

Other than this ; 
Still to go on as now, not slower, fiwter. 

Nor fi'iir to miss 
The road, although so very long it Iw, 

While led by thee 1 



382 



PtIKMS UK l!i:i.l(ilO\. 



step ftfti>r sti'ii, I'l'oliiij; thoo eloso beside mo, 

Allluuij'li \ins('(Mi. 
Thi-ongh thorns. tliroii};li Mi>«>m-s, wlnllnr llu 
ti'inpi'st liiilii tlu'c, 

Or lii':ivi'ns siMviic, 
Assiiivil tliy I'liilliruliu'ss cannot In-tray, 

Tliy lovi' lU'iiiy. 

1 niiiy not know ; niy t!o,l, no li:uul ii'vciiU'tli 

'I'liy oonnsi'ls wiso ; 
Along tlie jmth a ili'i'in-ning slimlow stoulotli. 

No voii'c n']ilii's 
'I'o all my i|m'stioninjt tlioiij;lit, llio linio to till ; 

Anil it is well, 

l.i't mo kooji on, abiilini; anil nnlVaring 

Thy will always, 
'riiiMiijjh a long ooiitniy's liiioning frnitioii 

C^r a short ilay's ; 
Thon oanst not oomo too soon ; and I can wait 

ir thon oomo latp. 

SAKAn WoOLSliY (^IMilM CtSi/l.^'t-). 



THK Kl.lClir lM\t KCVIT. 

A UAl.LAD. 

TiiKltK's a U\gtMnl that 's toKl of a gypy who 
ilwolt 
In thi> lands whoiv tho pyramids Iw ; 
And hor i-oho was oiuhividi'ivd with stars, and 
lu-r iH'lt 
With dovioos right wondrous to soo ; 
And sh(> lived in tho dnvs when onr l.oixt was « 
ohild 
On his mother's immaonlato hiwist ; 
When In' lU'd I'lvm his loos, — whon to Kg\'j>t 
oxilod, 
llo wont down with SI. .losoph tho Most, 

This Kgj'ptiiin hold oonvprso with magio, mcthinks, 

Atid tho I'utniv was given to hor gazo ; 
Kor an olvlisk markod hor aluxlo, and a sphinx 

On hor thn'shold kopt vigil always. 
Sho was jHMisivo and ovor alono, nor was soon 

lu tho hannts of tho dissoUito oivwd ; 
Unt oommuntHl with tho ghosts of tho rininiohs, 
1 woon. 

Or with visiloi's wrapped in a shivud. 

And theiv ean\o an old man fivm the dosort ono 
day. 
With a maid on a mule hy that r>v>d ; 
Ami a ehild on hor Kvson> RHlinod, and tho wsy 

1.<h1 thorn straight to tho g,viwy's aKnlo ; 
And tJioy seemed to have travelled a wetmsoine 
ivtth, 
Frwiu thonoo m.iny, many a league, — 



From n tyrant's pursuit, from an enoniy's wrath. 
Spent with toil and o'ereomo with fatigue. 

And the gypsy oamo forth from her dwelling, and 
prayed 

That the pilgrims wonUl rest them awhile ; 
And sho oll'erod hor eoueh to thai deliouto maid. 

Who had I'onio many, nniny a mile. 
.\nd sho fondled tho halie with aU'eotion's oaivss, 

.\nd sho hogged tho old man would repose ; 
" lloiv tho stranger," she said, "ovor linds five 
aoft'ss. 

And the wanderer halm for his woes." 

Then her guests IVorn tho glare of tho noondav 
she led 
To a .seat in her gi^olto so eool ; 
Wheiv she sjuvad them a l>i\ni|uet of fruits, and 
a shed. 
With a ntangor, was found for the mule ; 
With tho wine of the palni-tivo, with dales nfwlv 
eulled. 
All the toil of the day she beguiled ; 
And with song in a language mysterious she lulled 
On her bosom tho wayl'arii\g child. 

M'hon tho gypsy anon in hor Kthiop hand 

Took tho infant's diminutive iialm, 
O, 't was tearful to see how tho foatuivs slie scanned 

Of tho hibo in his slumWrs so calm ! 
Well sho noted each mark and each furivw that 
crossed 

O'er tin' traeiugs of destiny's line : 
"WiiENTK OAMK YE?" she criod, in astonish- 
ment lost, 

"For, riiis tMiii.i> is ok i.tNK.voi-. Divink' " 

" From tJio village of Niuareth," .Itvsoph ivpliod, 

" Whor\< wo dwelt in the land of tho .lew. 
Wo have tied fi\)in a tyrjint whoso garment is 
dyed 

In the gviiv of tho ohildivn he slew : 
Wo weiv told to ivnniin till an angid's eommand 

Should apiHiint us tho hour to ivturn ; 
But till then we inhabit tho foivigners' land. 

And in Kgypt we make onr sojourn." 

"Thon ye tarry with mo," criod tho gypsy in joy, 

" Ami ye make of my dwollingyour homo ; 
Many yts-irs have 1 prayed that tho lsr;iolito boy 

(UlosstVl hoi* of the (ientiles !^ would come." 
And sho kissed K>th the foot of tho infant :uid 
knelt. 

And adoi\Hl him at once : thon a smile 
Lit tlio face of his mother, who choorfuUy dwelt 

With her hi>st on tho Kinks of the Nile. 

FRANCIS MAMONV [Fatker Prfttr\ 



POKMS UK llKLHilON. 



383 



UUIUAI, OF MOSKS. 

"Anil hr IturlrtI him In « valley in tlic IiuhI ot Moali, over AifnlnM 
llrth-|>ror ', but no man knowetli of lil% itc|iulclirc unto tlila dny." — 
1)1 IT aixiv. 6. 

By Nebo's loiioly iiuiiniliiin, 

On tills siilo .Ionian's win'c, 

In n vnli' in thi' liiiiil ul' Moiili, 

TliKir lii'M II luiii'ly giiivc ; 

Kilt no iniin liiiilt tliiil si'imlihii'. 

And no nmii hhw it c'it ; 

Kor tlic un^ulH of (iod ii|itill'li('il tlui soil, 

Ami luiil till' ilriul mini tlioiv. 

Tliiit wiut tlir giaiiilcst I'lliicial 

That liver piissi'd on oiirtli ; 

Yi't no man li«aril tliii tnimpling, 

Or saw till' tniin ^o t'ortli : 

Niiisi'lcssly as the ilaylif^lit 

Comi's wlii'ii tlir ni^'Iit is tlono, 

Anil till' crimson streak on ocean's chouk 

(iidws into till' ^ri'iit sun ; 

Noiselessly us tlic spriiiH-tinie 

llir rrown of vrrdiiri' weaves, 

And all tlie trees on all the liills 

Infold their thousand leaves : 

.So without sound of miisie 

Or voiiHi of them that wept, 

.Silently down from the mountuin's crown 

The ifivnl procession swept. 

I'erchance the liald old eagle 

On K'liy lietli-peor's height 

Out of his rocky eyry 

Looki'd on the wondrous sight ; 

reri'Iiance the lion stalking 

Still shuns that hallowed spot ; 

For heast and hiril have seen iiiiil heard 

That wliii'h man knowi'th not. 

lint, when the warrior dietli, 

His comritdes of the war, 

With arms reversed and inilllled drums. 

Follow the fiiiieriil car : 

They show the liiinners taken ; 

They lell his Iialtles wiui ; 

And after him lead his nia.stcrle88 8tco(l, 

Wliiln peaU the iiiiiiute-gun. 

Amid the nolilest of the land 

Men lay the sage to rest, 

And give the hard an honored pliico. 

With costly niarliles dresi. 

In the great miimter transept 

Where lights like glories fall. 

And the sweet idioir sings, and tlivorKan rings 

Along tile eliihhuoned hall. 



This was the liravust warrior 

That ever liiickli'd Hworil ; 

This the most gifted poet 

That ever hreatlied a word ; 

And never earth's philosopher 

Traced with his golden |peij 

On the ileuthli'ss page truths half xo sage 

As he wrote down for men. 

And liail he nol high honor I — 

The hillside for ii pall ! 

To lie in state while iingels wait. 

With stars for tiipers tall ! 

And the dark rock-pines, like tossing |ilunies, 

Over his bier to wave, 

And Cod's own hand, in that lonely hind, 

To lay him in his grave ! — 

In that strange grave without a name. 

Whence his uncollined I'lay 

.Shall lireak iigiiin O wondrous thought I — 

Jieforn (he judgment-day. 

And sliinil, wilh glory wrapped around. 

On the hills he never trod, 

And speak of the strife that won our life 

With the incarnate .Son of (Jod. 

O I ly Ininh ill Moali's land I 

O ihirk Uctli-pi'or's hill ! 

.Speiik to these curious Iieiirts of ours. 

And teach them to lie still : 

(!od halh his mysteries of grace, 

Ways that we cannot tell. 

He hides them deep, like the secret sleep 

Of him he loved .so well. 

Ciu II. l-UANCIIS ALHXANDr.k. 



Till') GKKENWOOI) SHRIFT. 

CItORGU III. AND A DYING WOMAN IN WINDSOK I'ORHST. 

OirrsTHKTCiiKi) beneath the leafy shade 
Of Windsor forest's deepest glade, 

A dying woman lay ; 
Three little children round her stood, 
And there went u]i from the greenwood 

A woful wail that day. 

" O mother ! " was the mingled cry, 
"O mother, motbi'r ! ilo not die. 

And leave us all alone." 
" My blessed babes ! " she tried to any, 
lint the faint accents died away 

In u low sobbing inoiui. 

And then, life struggled hard with (hath, 
And fust and strong she drew her brent h. 
And up she raised her head ; 



384 



POEMS OV RELIGION. 



And, peering through the deep wood maze 
With a long, sluirp, unearthly gaze, 
" Will she not couio ? " she said. 

Just tlien, the parting boughs between, 
A little maid's light I'orm was seen, 

All hi'eathless with her speed ; 
And, following close, a man came on 
(A portly man to look upon). 

Who led a punting steed. 

" Mother ! " the little maiden cried, 
Or e'er she reached the woman's side. 

And kissed her clay-cold cheek, — 
" I have not idled in the town. 
But long went wandering up and down, 

The minister to seek. 

" They told me liere, they told me there, — 
I think they mocked me everywhere ; 

And when 1 found liis home, 
And begged him on my bendeil knee 
To bring his book and come with me. 

Mother ! he would not come. 

"I told him how you dying lay, 
And could not go in peace away 

Without the minister ; 
1 begged him, for dear Christ his sake, 
But 0, my heart was tit to break, — 

Jlother ! he would not stir. 

"So, though my tears were blinding me, 
I ran back, fast as fast could be. 

To come again to you ; 
And here — close by — this sijuire I met, 
AVho asked (so mild) what nuide me fret ; 

And wlien 1 told him true, — 

'"I will go with you, cliild,' he said, 
' God sends me to this dying bed,' — 

Mother, he 's here, hard by." 
While thus the little nuiiden spoke, 
The man, his back against an oak, 

Looked on with glistening eye. 

The bridle on his neck hung free, 

With quivering Hank and trembling knee, 

Pressed close his lionny bay ; 
A statelier man, a st^itelier steed. 
Never on greensward paced, 1 rede. 

Than those stood there that day. 

So, while the lit lie maiden spoke, 
The nnm, his back against an oak. 

Looked on with glistening eye 
And folded arms, and in his look 
Something that, like a sermon-book. 

Preached, — "All is vanity." 



But when the dying woman's face 
Turneil tow'ard him with a wishful gaze. 

He stepped to where she lay ; 
And, kneeling down, bent over her. 
Saying, "I am a minister. 

My sister ! let us pray." 

And well, withouten book or stole, 
(l.iod's words were printed on his soul 1) 

Into the dying ear 
He breathed, as 't were an angel's strain, 
The things that unto life pertain. 

And deatli's dark shadows clear. 

He spoke of sinners' lost estate. 
In Christ renewed, regenerate, — 

Of God's most blest decree. 
That not a single soul should die 
^\■ho turns repentant, with the cry 

" Bo merciful to me." 

He spoke of trouble, pain, and toil. 
Endured but for a little while 

In patience, faith, and lOve, — 
Sure, in God's own good tinn', to be 
Exchanged for an eternity 

Of happiness above. 

Then, as the spirit ebbed away. 

He raised his hands and eyes to pray 

That pi'accful it might pass ; 
And then — the orphans' sobs alone 
Were heard, and they knelt, every one, 

Close round on the green grass. 

Such was the sight their wandering eyes 
Beheld, in heart -struck, nuUc surjirisc. 

Who reined their I'ourscrs back. 
Just as they found the long astray. 
Who, in the heat of chase tliat day. 

Had wandered from tlieir track. 

But each man reined his pawing steed, 
And lighted down, as if agreed, 

In silence at his siile ; 
And there, uncovered all, they stood, — 
It was a wholesome sight and good 

That day for mortal pride. 

For of the noblest of the land 

Was that deep-hushed, bareheaded band ; 

And. ci'ntral in the ring. 
By that dead pauper on the ground. 
Her ragged orplians clinging round. 

Knelt their anointed king. 

ROBERT .ind Caroline southeyJ 



POEMS OK KELKilON. 



o65 



THK COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT. 

INSCRIBED TO R. AIKBN, ESQ. 

" Let not ambition mock thclf useful toil. 

Tlicir homely Joys and destiny obscure ; 
Nor i;rdn(leur hear, with a ilisiLiinful smile, 

The short but siiinJle annals of the poor." — GRAY. 

.My loveil, my lionori'il, imich-iespecteil frieiul, 

No lueici'imrv luml liis lioiiiage pays : 
With honest piiile I scoin each seltish end ; 
My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and 
pmisf. 
To you I sing, in simple Scottish hiys, 

The lowly train in life's seiiuestereil scene ; 
The native feelings strong, the guileless ways ; 
What Aikeii in a cottage would have been ; 
Ah ! thougli his worth unknowu, far happier 
there, I ween. 

November chill blaws loud wi' angry siigli ; 
The shortening wintcr-ilay is iu«r a clo.sc ; 
The niiiy bciists retreating frae the [ileugli, 
The blackening trains o' craws to their 
repose ; 
The toihvoni cotter frae his labor goes, — 

This niglit his weekly moil is at an end, — 

Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes, 

Hoping the morn in ea.sc and rest to spend, 

And weary, o'er the moor, liis course does haine- 

ward benil. 

At length his lonely I'ot ap|icars in view. 

Beneath the shelter of an .aged tree ; 
Tir ex|iectant wee things, toddlin', staclier 
through 
Tomcet theirdad.wi' llicliterin'noisean'glee. 
Ilis wee bit ingle, blinking bonnily. 

His clean hearthstane, his tliriftic wifie's 
smile. 
The lisping infiiit |irattling on his knee. 
Does a' his weary carking cares beguile. 
Anil makes him (piite forget his labor and his toil. 

Belyve* the elder bairns come drapping in, 

At service out aiiiaiig the farmers roun ; 
Some ca' the pleugli, some herd, some tentie t 
rin 

A cannio errand to a neibor town ; 
Their eldest hope, their .Tenny, woman grown. 

In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in here'e, 
I 'omes liame, jierhaps, to shew a bra' new gown. 

Or deposit her sair-won penny-fee. 
To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be. 

Wi' joy unfeigneil brothers and sisters meet. 
An' eaih for other's weelfare kindly spiers : 

The social hours, swift-wiiigiMl, unnoticed fleet ; 
Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears ; 

• Kyandby. t C.iut-ous. 



The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years ; 

Antii'ipation forwanl points the view : 
The mother, wi' her nectilc an' her shears, 

(lars auld clacs look amaist as wccl 's the new ; 
The father nii.xes a' wi' admonition due. 

Tlii'ir master's an' their mistress's command. 

The younkers a' are warnt;d to obey ; 
And mind their labors wi' an eydent * hand, 
And ne'er, though out o' sight, to jauk or 
play ; 
"An' 0, be sure to fear the Lord alway ! 

An' mind your duty, duly, morn an' night ! 
Lest ill temptation's' path ye gang astray. 
Implore his counsel and assisting might ; 
They never sought in vain that sought the Lord 
aright ! " 

liut, bark ! a rap comes gently to tln^ door. 

Jcnuj', wha kens the meaiuiig o' the same, 
Tells how a neibor lad cam o'er the moor, 

To ilo some errands and convoy her haine. 
The wily mother sees the conscious Ihuiio 

Sparkle in .Icnny's e'e, and Hush her cheek ; 
Wi' heart-struck anxious care inciuires his 
name. 
While .Icniiy liaflliiist is afraid to speak ; 
Weel jileased the mother hears it 's iiae wild, 
worthless rake. 

Wi' kindly welcome, .Icnny brings him ben ; 

A stra])pin' youth ; he taks the mother's e'e ; 
Blithe .lenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en ; 

The father i^-acks of horses, pleiighs, and kye. 
The youngster's artli'ss heart o'erllows wi' joy. 
But blate anil lathefu', scarce can weel be- 
have ; 
The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy 
What makes the youth sac baslifu' an' sae 
grave ; 
Weel pleased to think her bairn 's respected like 
the lave. 

hajipy love ! where love like this is found ! 
O heartfelt raptures ! bliss licyoml compare ! 

1 've paced much this weary mortal round, 

And sage experience bids mc this declare : — 
If Heaven a ilrauglit of heavenly jileasure spare. 

One cordial in this melancholy v.ale, 
'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair 
In other's arms breathe out the tender tale. 
Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the 



Is there, in human form, that Ix'ars a heart, 
A wretch, a villain, lost to love and truth. 

That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art. 
Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth ! 

• Diligent. t Half. 



386 



POEMS OF RELIGION. 



L'urse on his perjured arts! dissembling smooth! 

Are honor, virtue, conscience, all exiled ? 
Is there no pity, no relenting ruth, 

Points to tilt' p;ircnt,s ioiidliiij; o'er their 
child. 
Then paints the ruined maid, and their distrac- 
tion wild ? 

But now the supper crowns their simple board, 
The halesomc parritch, chief o' Scotia's food ; 
The soupe their only lunvkie * does attbrd, 

That'youtthehallantsnugly chows hercood ; 
The dame brings forth, in comiilimental mood, 
To grace the lad, her weel-haiued kebbuclc J 
fell. 
An' aft he 's prest, an' aft he ca's it guid : 
The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell, 
How 'twas a towmoud § auld, sin' lint was i' the 
bell. 

The cheerfu' s\ipper done, wi' serious face, 

They, round the ingle, form a circle wide ; 
The sire turns o'ei-, wi' patriarchal grace. 

The big ha'-Bible, anco his father's pride : 
His bonnet reverently is laid aside, 

Hi.s lyart halTets || wearing thin an' bare : 
Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, 

He wales a portion with juilicious care ; 
And "iLet us worship God ! " he says with sol- 
emn air. 

They chant their artless notes in simple guise ; 

They tune their hearts, by far the noblest 

aim : 

Perhaps "Dundee's" wild-warbling measures 

rise. 

Or plaintive " Jl.irtyrs," worthy of the name; 

Or noble " Elgin " beets the heavenward flame. 

The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays : 
Compared with these, Italian trills are tame; 
The tickled ears no heartfelt raptures raise ; 
Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise. 

The priest-like father reads the .sacred page, — 

How Abrani was the friend of God on high ; 
Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage 

With Amalek's ungracious progeny ; 
Or how the royal bard did groaning lie 

Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire ; 
Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry ; 

Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire ; 
Or other holy seers that tune the sacred IjTe. 

Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme, — 
How guiltless blood for guilty man wa.'; shed : 

How He, who bore in heaven the second name. 
Had not on earth whereon to lay his head ; 



• Cow. 

§ Twelvemonth. 



» Partition. 
B Cray locks. 



How his first followers and servants sped ; 

The precepts sage 1 hey wrote to many a land ; 
How he, who lone in Patmos banished. 
Saw in tlie sun a mighty angel stand. 
And heard great Bab'loii's doom pronounced by 
Heaven's command. 

Then, kneeling down, to heaven's eternal King, 

The saint, the father, and the husband prays : 
Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing," 

That thus they all shall meet in future days ; 
There ever bask in uncreated rays, 

No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear. 
Together hymning their Creator's praise. 

In such society, yet still more dear ; 
While circling Time moves round in an eternal 
sphere. 

Compared with this, how^ poor Religion's pride, 

In all the pomp of method and of art. 
When men disjday to congregations wide, 

Devotion's every grace, except the heart ! 
The Power, incensed, the pageant will desert. 

The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole ; 
But, haply, in some cottage far apart. 

May hear, w'ell pleased, the language of tlie 
soul ; 
And in his Book of Life the inmates poor enroll. 

Then homeward all take off their several way ; 

The youngling cottagers retire to rest : 
The parent-pair their secret homage pay. 

And proffer up to Heaven the warm reipicst, 
That He who stills the raven's clamorous nest. 

And decks the lily fair in flowery pride, 
Would, in the way his wisdom sees the best. 

For them and for their little ones provide ; 
But, chiefly, in their licarts with grace divine 
preside. 

From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur 
springs. 
That makes her loved at home, revered 
abroad ; 
Princes and lords are but the breath of kings, 
" An honest man 's the noblest work of 
God ! " 
And certes, in fair Virtue's heavenly road. 

The cottage leaves the palace far behind : 
^Yhat is a lordling's pomp ? — a cumbrous load, 
Disguising oft the wretch of humankind. 
Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refined ! 

Scotia ! my dear, my native soil ! 

For whom mi" warmest wish to Heaven is 
sent. 
Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil 

Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet 
content ! 



I'OKMS Ol' UELIGION. 



387 



And, O, may llfaveii their simple lives prevent 

From luxury's contagion, weak and vile ! 
Then, liowe er irowns and coronets be runt, 
A virtuous populace may rise the while, 
And stand a wall ol' lire around their muili-loved 
isle. 

Thou ! who poured the patriotic tide. 

That streamed through Wallace's undaunted 
heart ; 
Who dared to nobly stem tyrannic pride, 
Or nobly die, the second glorious jiart, 
(The patriot's God peculiarly thou art, 

His friend, ins[)irer, guarilian, and reward !) 
0, never, never Scotia's realm desert ; 
But still the patriot and the patriot bard 
In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard I 

RoKRRT Burns. 



THE RELIGION OK HUDIBRAS. 

FROM "HUDIBRAS." PART I. 

He was of that stubborn crew 
Of errant saints, whom nil men grant 
To be the true c^hundi niilitant ; 
Such as do build their faith u[)on 
The holy text of i>ike and gun ; 
Decide all controversies by 
Infallible artillery, 
And prove their doctrine orthodox 
By apostolic blows and knocks ; 
tall fire, and swonl, and desolation 
A godly, thorough Heformation, 
Which always must be carried on 
And still be doing, never done ; 
As if religion were intended 
For nothing else but to be mended. 
A sect whose chief devotion lies 
In odd [wrverse antipathies; 
In falling out with that or this, 
.\nd finding somewhat still amiss ; 
.More peevish, cross, and splenetic. 
Than dog distract, or monkey sick ; 
That with more care ki^c]) holiday 
The wrong than others the light way ; 
Compound for sins they arc inclined to. 
By damning those they have no mind to ; 
Still so j)erverse and opposite. 
As if they worship|>ed God for spite ; 
The self-same thing they will abhor 
One way, and long another for. 

Samuel butlbr. 



TlIK FAITHFUL ANGEL. 

FROM " PARADISE LOST," BOOK V. 

The seraph Abdiel, faithful found 
Among the faithles.s, faithful only he ; 
Among innumerable false, unmoved, 
Unshaken, unscdiiced, unterriHed, 



His loyalty he kept, his love, his zeal ; 

Nor number, nor example with him wrought 

To sweive from truth, or change his constant 
mind. 

Though single. From amidst tliem forth he 
passed. 

Long way through hostile scorn, which he sus- 
tained 

Superior, nor of violence feared aught ; 

And with retorted scorn his back he turned 

On those proud towers to swift destruction 

doomed. 

Milton. 
« ' 

THE OTHER WORLD. 

(It lies around us like a cloud, — 

A world we do not see ; 
Yet the sweet closing of an eye 

May bring us there to be. 

Its gentle breezes fim our cheek ; 

Amid our worldly cares 
Its gentle voices whisper love. 

And mingle with our prayers. 

Sweet hearts around us throb and beat, 
Sweet helping hands arc stirred, 

And lial])itatcs the veil br'tween 
With breathings almost heard. 

The silence — awful, sweet, and calm — 
They have no power to break ; 

For mortal words are not lor them 
To utter or partake. 

So thin, so soft, so sweet they glide, 
So near to pre-ss they seem, — 

They seem to lull us to our rest, 
And melt into our dream. 

And in the hush of rest they bring 

'T is ea-sy now to see 
How lovely and how sweet a pass 

The hour of death may be. 

To close the eye, and close the ear. 

Rapt in a trance of bliss. 
And gently dream in loving arms 

To swoon to that — from this. 

Scarce knowing if we wake or sleep, 

Scarce asking when' we are, 
To feel all evil sink away. 

All sorrow and all care. 

Sweet souls around us ! watch us still. 

Press nearer to our side, 
Into our thoughts, into our prayers, 

With gentle helpings glide. 



388 



POEMS OF RELIGION. 



Let death between us be as naught, 
A dried and vanished sti-eani ; 

Your joy be the reality, 

Our suffering life the dream. 

HARRIET UUECHER STOWE. 



THE LOVE OF GOD. 

All things that are on earth shuU wholly pass 

away, 
Except the love of God, which shall live and last 

for aye. 
The forms of men shall be as they had never been ; 
The blasted groves shall lose their fresh and ten- 
der green ; 
The birds of the thicket shall end their pleasant 

song, 
And the nightingale shall cease to chant the even- 
ing long. 
The kine of the pasture shall feel the dart that 

kills, 
And all the fair white Hocks shall perish from 

the hills. 
The goat and autlered stag, the wolf and the fo.K, 
The wild boar of the wood, and the chamois of 

the rocks. 
And the strong and fearless bear, in the trodden 

dust shall lie ; 
And the dolphin of the sea, and the mighty 

whale, shall die. 
And realms shall be dissolved, and empires be 

no more. 
And they shall bow to death, who ruled from 

shore to shore : 
And the great globe itself, so the holy writings 

tell. 
With the rolling firmament, where tlie starry 

armies dwell. 
Shall melt with fervent heat, — they shall all 

pass away, 
* Except the love of God, which shall live and last 

for aye. 

From the Provencal of BERNARD RASCAS. Trails- 
latioii of William Cullen Brvant 



THE AIASTEK'S TOUCH. 

In the still air the music lies uidieard ; 

In the rough marble beauty hides unseen : 
To make the music and the beauty, needs 

The master's touch, the sculptor's chisel keen. 

Great Master, touch ns with thy skilful han.l ; 

Let not the music that is in us die .' 
Great Sculptor, hew and polish us : nor let. 

Hidden and lost, thv form within us lie ! 



Spare not the stroke ! do with us as thou wilt ! 

Let there be naught unfinished, broken, marred ; 
Complete thy purpose, that we nuiy become 

*rhy perfect inuigc, thou our God and Lord ! 



HORATIUS BONAR. 



DIFFERENT MINDS. 

' Some murmur when their sky is clear 

And wholly bright to view. 
If one small speck of dark appear 

In their great heaven of blue ; 
And some with thankful love are filled 

If but one sti-eak of light. 
One ray of Goil's good mercy, gild 

The darkness of their night. 

In palaces are hearts that ask. 

In discontent and pride, 
Why life is such a dreary task. 

And all good things denietl ; 
And hearts in poorest liuts ailinire 

How Love has in their aid 
(Love that not ever seems to tire) 

Such rich provision made. 

KlCHARD CHENEVIX TRE.\CH. 



CANA. 



Dear Friend ! whose presence in the house, 

Whose gracious word benign, 
Could once, at Cana's wedding feast. 

Change water into wiue ; 

Come, visit us ! and when dull work 

Grows weary, line on line. 
Revive our souls, and let us see 

Life's water turned to wine. 

Gay mirth shall deepen into joy. 
Earth's hopes grow half divine. 

When Jesus visits us, to make 
Life's water glow as wine. 

The social talk, the evening fire. 

The homely household shrine. 
Grow bright with angel visits, when 

The Lord pours out the wine. 

For when self-seeking turns to love. 

Not knowing mine nor thine. 
The miracle again is wrought. 

And water turned to wine. 

James Freeman Clarke. 




■^-^Ai- 



.^?- ■■'7^7?==^ 



FAITH. 

O World, thou choosest not the better part ! 
It is not wisdom to be only wise, 
And on the inward vision close the eyes, 
But it is wisdom to believe the heart. 
Columbus found a world, and had no cliart. 
Save one that faith deciphered in the skies; 
To trust the soul's invincible surmise 
Was all his science and his only art. 
Our knowledge is a torch of smoky pine 
That lights the pathway but one step ahead 
Across a void of mystery and dread. 
Bid, then, the tender light of faith to shine 
By which alone the mortal heart is led 
Unto the thinkiii!/ of tlic thoutrht divine. 



George Sa.mavana. 




Drawn by Thomas R. Mauley. 



POEMS. 



Presentiment is that long shadow on the lawn 
Indicative that suns go down ; 
The notice to the startled grass 
That darkness is about to pass. 



I NEVER saw a moor, 

I never saw the sea ; 
Yet know I how the heather looks, 

And what a wave must be. 

I never spake with God, 

Nor visited in heaven ; 
Yet certain am I of the spot 

As if the chart were given. 



Emily Dickinson. 



POEMS OF RELIGION. 



389 



THE WAY, THE TRCTH, AND THE 

LIFE. 

O THor great Friend to all the sons of men. 
Who onee appeared in humblest guise below, 

Sin to rebuke, to break the caiitivo's ehain, 
And call thy brethren forth from want and 
woe, — 

We look to thee ! thy truth is stUl the Light 
Whi.h guides the nations, groping on their 
way, 

Stumbling and falling in disastrous night, 
Yet hoping ever for the perfect day. 

(Ves ; tliou art still the Life, thou art the Way 
■"■ The holiest know ; Light, Life, the Way of 

heaven ! 
And they who dearest hope and deepest pray. 
Toil by the Light, Life, Way, which thou hast 
given. 

THEODORE PARKER. 



FOREVER WITH THE LORD. 

FnuEVER with the Lord ! 
Amen 1 so let it be ! 
Life from tlie dead is in that word. 
And immortality. 

Here in the body pent. 
Absent from him I roam. 
Yet nightly pitch my moving tent 
A day's march nearer home. 

My Father's house on high. 
Home of my soul ! how near. 
At times, to faith's foreseeing eye 
Thy golden gates appear ! 

Ah ! then my spirit faints 
To reach the land I love, 
The bright inheritance of saints, 
Jerusalem above ! 

Yet clouds will intervene. 
And all my prospect flies ; 
Like Noah's dove, 1 tlit between 
Rough seas and stormy skies. 

Anon the clouds depart. 
The wind.s and waters cease ; 
While sweetly o'er my gladdened heart 
E.\pands the bow of peace ! 

Beneath its glowing arch. 
Along the hallowed ground, 
I see cherubic armies march, 
A camp of fire around. 



I hear at morn and even, 
At noon and midnight hour. 
The choral hannonies of heaven 
Earth's Babel tongues o'erpower. 

Then, then I feel that he, 
Kemenibered or forgot. 
The Lord, is never far from me. 
Though I perceive him not. 

In darkness as in light. 
Hidden alike from view, 
I sleep, I wake, as in his sight 
Who looks all nature through. 

All that I am, have been, 
All that I yet may be, 
He sees at once, as he hath seen, 
And shall forever see. 

" Forever with the Lord : " 
Father, if 't is thy will, 
The promise of that faithful word 
Unto thy child fulfil ! 

So, when my latest breath 

Shall rend the veil in twain. 

By death I shall escape from death. 

And life eternal gain. 

James Montgomery. 



THE SABBATH OF THE SOUL. 

Sleep, sleep to-day, tormenting cares. 

Of earth and folly born ; 
Ye shall not dim the light that streams 

From this celestial morn. 

To-morrow will be time enough 

To feel your harsh control ; 
Ye shall not violate, this day, 

The Sabbath of my soul. 

Sleep, sleep forever, guilty thoughts ; 

Let fires of vengeance die ; 
And, purged from sin, may I behold 

A God of purity ! 

ANNA LETITIA BARBAULQ 



EDWIN AND PAULINUS: 

THE CONVERSION OF NORTHUMBRIA 

The black -haired gaunt Panlinus 

By ruddy Edwin stood : — 
" Bow down, king of Deira, 

Before the blessed Rood ! 
Cast out thy heathen idoh, 

And worship Christ our Lord." 
— But Edwin looked and pondered. 

And answered not a word. 



J90 



POEMS OF HELICION. 



Agiiiii tlu' gsvunt riiiiliims 

To riuUly IMwiii sjwke : 
" OimI otVoi's lilV imiiiortiU 

Kor his doiir Son's own sako ! 
^Vilt thou not hoiir his nu'ss;>gi'. 

Who boai's tho koys aiul swoixl t " 
— Uut Kilwin lookrtl and iKindeiwl, 

Aud answered not a woixl. 

Rose then a sage old w-arrioi- 

Was livosooiv wintoi's old : 
Whoso Ih';ii\1 I'lvui ohiu to gii\lle 

l.iki' one long snow-wivath rolled : — 
"At Yule-tinio in our ohanilior 

Wo sit in warmth and light. 
While cold aud howling ivund us 

Lies tho blaok land of Xight, 

" Athwart the room a sparrow 

Uarts from the oi>on door : 
Within the haj>i>v hearth-light 

One re\l Ihisli. — and no more ! 
Wo st\' it come from darkness, 

Aud into darkness §vi : — 
So is our life. King Edwin ! 

Alas, tliat it is so ! 

" But if this |v»le Fauliuus 

Have somewhat niotv to toll : 
Some news of Whence luul Whither, 

And \vher\- the soul will dwvU ; — 
If on that outer darkness 

The sun of hoiv may sliine ; — 
Ho makes life worth the living ! 

1 take his God for mine ! " 

So s|v>ke the wise old warrior ; 

And all aK>ut hin\ cried, 
" rauliuus" luxl hath ivnijuorvHl ! 

And he shall Iv our guide ; — 
For he makes life worth living 

Who brings this message plain, 
When our brief days ai* over, 

That we sliall live .igain." 

ANX"»XV«OCS, 



THE LOVE OF GOD SUPREME. 

Tiiof hidden love of OvhI, whose height, 
Wlu>se depth unfathonieri no man knows, 

I stv from far thy K>auteous light, 
I nly 1 sigh for thy rejx^se. 

My ho.irt is (uintsl, nor can it Iw 

At rest till it finds rvst in thee. 

Thy secret voice invites me still 
The sweetness of thy yoke to prove. 

And fain I would : btit tikugh my will 
Be fixevl, yet wide my )<assious tow. 



Yet hindrances strew all the way ; 
I aim at thee, yet from thee stray. 

'T is mercy all that thou hast brought 
My miud to seek her peace in thee. 

Yet while I seek but tiiid tlu-e not 
No peace my waiul'ring soul shall see. 

Oh I when shall all my wand'rings end, 

Aud all my stei»s to-thee-wiu\l »eud .' 

Is there a thing lieneath the sun 

That strives with thee my heart to share t 
Ah '. tear it thence and ivign alone, 

The Lonl of every motion there. 
Thou shall my heart froiu emth be free. 
When it has found ropose in thee. 

Oh ! hide this self from me, that I 
Xo more, bvit Christ in me, may live. 

My vile atl'ections crucify. 

Nor let oue darling hist survive. 

In all things nothing may I see. 

Nothing desir* or sock but thee. 

Ixive, thy sovereign aid impart. 
To save me from low-thoughtovl care ; 

Chase this self-will through all my heart, 
Through all its latent m.tzes there. 

Make me thy duteous child, that I 

Ceaseless may Abba, Father, cry, 

.\h ! no : ne'er will 1 IwckwanI turn : 
Thine wholly, thine alone 1 am. 

Thrice happy he who views with si-om 
Earth's toys, for thtv his coustant flame. 

Oh ! holi>, that I may never move 

From the blest footstej^ of thy lo\-e. 

Each moment draw from earth awav 
My heart, that lowly Wiiits thy call. 

Sjieak to my inmost soul, .-uid say, 
"1 am thy Love, thy God, thy All." 

To feel thy power, to hear thy voice. 

To taste thy love is all my choice. 

JOHN WESIEY. 



THE RIGHT .MIST WIN. 

l">, rr is hard to work for God, 

To rise and t;iko his jwrt 
ri<ou this Kittle-tield of earth. 

And not sometimes lose heart ! 

He hides himself so wondrously, 
.\s though there were no Gc»l : 

He is least seen when idl the jxiwers 
Of ill are most alvrvvad. 



rOEMS OK KKI.IIilON. 



391 



Or lie deserts us nt tlio hour 

The tiglit is all hut lost ; 
Anil seems to leave us to ourselves 

Just whtui wo need hiui luost. 

Ill masters good, good seems to eliango 

To ill with greatest ease ; 
And, worst of all, the good with good 

Is at eross-purposcs. 

Ah ! God is other than we think ; 

His ways are far above, 
Far beyond reason's height, and reached 

Only by ehildliko lovo. 

Workman of Ood I 0, lose not heart, 

Hut learn what (lod is like ; 
And in the darkest battle-licld 

Thon shall know where to strike. 

Thrice blest is he to whom is given 

The instinet that can tell 
That Ood is on the field when he 

Is most invisible. 

Blest, too, is he who can divine 

Where real right doth lie. 
And dares to take the side that seems 

Wrong t» man's blindfold eye. 

For right is right, since Hod is God ; 

And right the ilay must win ; 
To doubt would be disloyalty, 

To falter would bo sin ! 

I-KP.DERtcK William Faber. 



A DYING IIVMX. 

EAItTll, with its dark and dreadful ills, 

Keeedes and faites away ; 
Lift up your heads, ye heavenly hills ; 

Ye gates of death, give way ! 

My soul is full of whispered song, — 

My blindness is my .sight ; 
The shadows that I feared so long 

Are full of life and light. 

The while my pulses fainter beat, 

My faith iloth so abounil ; 
I feel grow firm beneath my feet 

The green, immortal ground. 

That faith to me a coumgo gives 

l,ow as the grave to go : 
1 know that my Hedeemer lives, — 

That I shall live 1 know. 



The palace walls I almost see 

Where dwells my Lord and King ! 

grave, where is thy victory I 
death, where is thy sting? 

Alice carv. 



HOPEFULLY WAITING. 

" Blessed are they who are liomeslck, for they sh.ill come at last to 
tUcir l-ather's house." — HtlNRICH STILLING. 

Not as you meant, learned man, and good ! 
Do I accept thy words of truth and rest ; 
God, knowing all, knows what for inc is best, 
And gives me what I need, not what he could. 

Nor always as I would ! 
I shall go to the Father's house, and see 

Him and the Elder Brother face to face, — 
What day or hour I know not. Let me be 
Steadfast in work, and liarnest in the race, 
Not as a homesick child who all day long 
Whines at its play, and seldom speaks in song. 

If for a time some loved one goes away. 
And leaves us our a]ipointed work to do. 
Can we to him or to ourselves be true 
In mourning his departure day by day. 

And so our work delay ? 
Nay, if we love and honor, we shall make 

The absence brief by doing well our task, — 
Not for ourselves, but for the dear One's sake. 
And at his coming only of him ask 

Approval of the work, which most was done. 
Not for ourselves, but our Beloved One. 

Onr Father's house, I know, is broad and grand ; 
In it how many, many m.^nsions are! 
And, far beyond tlu^ ligbt of sun or star. 
Four little ones of mine through that fair lanil 

Are walking haml in hand ! 
Think you I love not, or that I forget 

These ol' my loins ? Still this world is fair, 
And 1 am singing while my eyes are wet 
With weeping in this balmy summer air : 
Yet 1 'm not homesick, and the children lure 
Have need of me, and so my way is clear. 

1 would be joyful as my days go by. 
Counting God's mercies to me. He who bore 
Life's heaviest cross is mine forevermore, 
And 1 who wait his coming, shall not I 

On his sure word lely ? 
And if sometimes the way be rough and steep, 

lie heavy for the grief he sends to me, 
Or at my waking I would only weep, 

Let me remember these are things to be, 
To work his blessed will until he come 
To take my hand, and lead me safely home. 

ANSO.M D. F. RANDOLPH. 



392 



POEMS OF RELIGION. 



WHY THUS LONGING? 

Why thus longing, tluis forever sighing 
For tile I'lir oil', iiniittained, and dim, 

Wliile the beautirul, all round thee lying, 
Otlers lip its low perpetual hyiiin ? 

Wouldst thou listen to its gentle teaching. 
All thy restless yearnings it would still ; 

Leaf and flower and laden bee are preaching 
Thine own sphere, though humble, first to till. 

Poor indeed thou must be, if around thee 
Thou no ray of light nml joy canst throw, — 

If no silken cord of love hath bound thee 
To some little world through weal and woe ; 

If no dear eyes thy fond love can brighten, — 
No fond voices answer to thine own ; 

If no brother's sorrow thou canst lighten 
By daily sympathy and gentle tone. 

Not by deeds that win the crowd's applauses, 
Not by works that gain thee worUl-renown, 

Not by martyrdom or vaunted crosses. 
Canst thou win and wear the immortal crown. 

Daily struggling, though unloved and lonely, 
Every day a rich rewanl will give ; 

Thou wilt find, by hearty striving only. 
And truly loving, thou canst truly live. 

Dost thou revel in the rosy morning. 
When all natuiv hails the Lord of light, 

And his smile, the mountain-tops adorning, 
llobes yon fragrant fields in radiance bright ? 

Other hands may grasp the field and forest, 
Proud proprietors in pomp may shine; 

But with fervent love if thou adorest. 

Thou art wealthier, — all the world is thine. 

Yet if through earth's wide domains thou rovest, 
Sighing that they are not thine alone, 

Not those fair fields, but thyself thou lovest, 
And their beauty and thy wealth are gone. 

Nature weai-s the color of the .spirit ; 

Sweetly to her worshipiier she sings ; 
All the glow, the grace she doth inherit, 

Rouud her trusting child she fondly Hings. 
Harriet Winslow sfwai-L. 



YET WE TIU'.^^T THAT SOMEHOW 
GOOD. 

FROM "IN ME.MORIAM." 

YF.T we trust that somehow gooil 
Will be the final goal of ill. 
To pangs of nature, sins of will, 

Defects of doubt, and taints of blood ; 



That nothing walks with aimless feet ; 
That not one life shall be destroyed, 
Or cast as rubbish to the void. 

When God hath made the pile complete; 

That not a worm is clo\'cii in vain ; 
That not a moth with vain desire 
Is shrivelleil in a fruitless fire. 

Or but subserves another's gain. 

Behold, we know not anytliing ; 
I can but trust that good shall fall 
At last — far otT — at last, to all. 

And every winter change to spring. 

So runs my dream : but what am 1 > 
An infant crying in the night : 
An infant crying for the light : 

And with no language but a cry. 

ALFRED TE.VNVS0N. 



THE LOVE OF GOD. 

Tiioti Grace Dirine, encircling all, 

A soundless, shoreless sea ! 
Whei-ein at last our souls must fall, 

Love of God most free ! 

\\nien over dizzy heights we go. 
One soft hand blinds our eyes. 

The other leads ns, safe and slow, 
O Love of God most wise ! 

And though we turn us from thy face. 

And wander wide and long. 
Thou hold'st us still in thine embrace, 

Love of God most strong ! 

The saddened heart, the restless soul. 
The toil-worn frame and mind, 

Alike confess thy sweet control, 
Love of God most kind ! 

But not alone thy care we claim. 

Our wayward steps to win ; 
We know thee by a dearer name, 

Love of God within ! 

And, filled and quickened by thy breath. 

Our souls are strong and free 

To rise o'er sin and fear and death, 

Love of God, to thee ! 

Eliza SCI'Dder. 



LOVE DIVINE, ALL LOVE EXCELLING. 

Love divine, all love excelling, 
Joy of heaven to earth come do\m, 

Fix in us thy humble dwelling. 
.Ml thv faithful iiieivies crown ; 



POEMS OV RELIGION. 



393 



Jesus, tlioii ni't uU compiMsiuii ! 

Puro, miboiiiuleil love thou art ; 
Visit us with tliy siilvntion, 

Enter every tixiubliiig heart. 

Bi-ciithe, O, biiMtlio thy loving spirit 

Into every troubleil breiist ; 
Let us all in thee inlierit, 

Lot us linil the iironiised rest ; 
Take away the love of sinniug, 

Alpha anil Ouiega be ; 
End of faith, as its beginning, 

Set our hearts at liberty. 

Come, almighty to deliver, 

Let us all thy life receive ; 
Suddenly return, and never. 

Never more thy temples leave : 
Thee we would be always blessing, 

Serve thee as thy hosts above ; 
Pray and praise thee without ceasing. 

Glory in thy precious love. 

Finish then thy new creation ; 

Pure, unspotted may we be ; 
Let us see thy great .salvation 

Perfectly restored by theo : 
Changed from glory into glory. 

Till in heaven we take our place ! 
Till we east our crowns before thee. 

Lost in wonder, love, and praise. 

Augustus Topi.adv, 



I S.WV THEE. 

" When thou wast under the fig-tree, I saw thee." 

I SAW thee when, as twilight fell. 
And evening lit her fairest star. 

Thy footsteps sought yon tpiiet dell. 
The worhl's confusion left afar. 

I saw thee when thou stood'st alone, 

Where droojiing bramOies thick o'orhung 

Thy still retreat to all unknown. 
Hid in deep shallows darkly Hung. 

I saw thee when, as died each sound 
Of bleating tlock or woodland bird. 

Kneeling, as if on holy ground. 
Thy voice the listening silence heard. 

I saw thy calm, uplifted eyes. 

And marked the heaving of thy breast. 
When rose to heaven thy heartfelt sighs 

For purer life, for perfect rest. 



I saw tlie light that o'er thy face 
Stole with a soft, suffusing glow, 

As if, within, celestial grace 

lireathed the same bliss that angels know. 

1 saw — what thou didst not — above 
Thy lowly head an ojieu heaven ; 

Anil tokens of thy Father's love 

With smiles to thy rapt spirit given. 

1 saw thee from that sacred spot 

With linn ami peaceful soul ilepart ; 

I, Jesus, saw tlieo, — doubt it not, — 
And read the secrets of thy heart ! 

Kay falmf.r. 



STRONG SON OF GOD, IMMORTAL LOVE. 

FROM "IN MEMORIAM." 

Strono Son of God, immortal Love, 
Whom we, that have not seen thy face, 
By faith, and faith alone, embrace, 

Believing where we cannot prove ; 

Tliino are these orbs of light and shade ; 

Thou nuulest Life in man and brute ; 

Thou inadest D<'ath ; and lo, thy foot 
Is on the skull which thou hast made. 

Thou wilt not leave us in the dust : 
Thou madest man, he knows not why; 
He thinks he was not made to die ; 

And thou hast made him : thou art just. 

Thou seemest human and divine, 
The highest, holiest maidiood, thou : 
Our wills are ours, we know not how ; 

Our wills are ours, to make them thine. 

Our little .systems have their day ; 

They have their day and ceaso to be ; 

They are but broken liglits of thee. 
And thou, Lord, art more than they. 

We have lint faith : we cannot know ; 

For knowledge is of things wo see ; 

Anil yet we trust it comes from thee, 
A beam in darkness : let it grow. 

Let knowledge grow from more to more. 
But more of reverence in us dwell ; 
That mini! ami soul, according well. 

May nuike one music as before, 

But vaster. We are fools ami slight ; 
We mock thee when we do not fear : 
But help tliy foolish ones to bear ; 

Help lliy vain worlds to liear tliy light. 



39-4 



POEMS OF KELIGION. 



Forgive what seemed my sin in me ; 

What seemed my worth since I began ; 

For merit lives from man to man, 
And not from man, Lord, to thee. 

Forgive my grief for one removed. 
Thy creature, whom I found so fair. 
I trust he lives in thee, and there 

I find him worthier to be loved. 

Forgive these wild and wandering cries. 

Confusions of a wasted youth ; 

Forgive them where they fail in truth, 
And in thy wisdom make me wise. 

ALFRED TEN.v^'SON. 



FEAGMENTS. 

Deity. 
From thee, great God, we spring, to thee we tend. 
Path, motive, guide, original, and end. 

The Rambler. !ic. 7. DR. S. lOHNSOlJ. 

God sendeth and giveth, both mouth and the meat. 

Good Husbattdry Ltssons. T. TUSShK. 

'T is Providence alone secures 

In every change both mine and yours. 

A Fabk. COWPER. 



THE SOUL'S CRY. 

'■ I cry umo thee daily." — PS. Uxxvi. 3. 

0, EVIER from the deeps 

Within my soul, oft as I muse alone, 

Comes forth a voice that pleads in tender tone ; 

As when one long unblest 

Sighs ever after rest ; 

Or as the wind perpetual murmuring keeps. 

I hear it when the day 

Fades o'er the hills, or 'cross the shimmering sea ; 

In the soft twilight, as is wont to be. 

Without my wish or will, 

■NMiUe all is hushed and still. 

Like a sad, plaintive cry heard far away. 

Not even the noisy crowd. 

That like some mighty torrent rushing down 

Sweeps clamoring on, this cry of want can drown ; 

But ever in my heart 

Afresh the echoes start ; 

I hear them still amidst the tumult loud. 

Each waking morn anew 

The sense of many a need returns again ; 

I feel myself a child, helpless as when 

I watched my mother's eye. 

As the slow hours went by, 

And from her glance my being took its hue. 

I canuot shape my way 

"Where nameless perils ever may betide. 

O'er slipperj' steeps whereon my feet may slide ; 

Some mighty hand I crave, 

To hold and help and save. 

And guide me ever when my steps would stray. 

There is but One, 1 know. 
That all my hourly, endless wants can meet ; 
Can shield from hann, recall my wandering feet ; 
My God, thy hand can feed 
And day by day can lead 

Wliere the sweet streams of peace and safety flow. 

Ray Talmer. 



One God, one law, one element. 
And one far-off divine event. 
To which the whole creation moves. 

In Memiyrutm, Cofictusian. TEN.V^'SON. 

Give what thou canst, without thee we are poor ; 
And with thee rich, take what thou wUt away. 

ThiTask: H'inler Monitii^ ll'ali. COWPER. 

God, from a beautiful necessity, is Love. 

0/ Immortality. M. F. TUPPER. 

Yet I shall temper so 
Justice with mercy, as may illustrate most 
Them fully satisfied, and thee appease. 

Paradise Lost. Book y., MILTON. 

Who sees with equal eye, as God of all, 
A hero perish, or a sparrow fall, 
Atoms or systems into ruin hurled, 
And now a bubble birrst, and now a world. 

Essay on Man. EpistU I. POPE. 

And He that doth the ravens feed, 
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, 
Be comfort to ray age ! 

As YoH Ute II. Act il 5c 3. SHAKESPEARE. 

My God, my Father, and my Friend, 
Do not forsake me at my end. 

Translation o/DUs Ira. EARL OF ROSCOMMON. 

As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns. 
As the rapt seraph that adores and burns : 
To Him no high, no low, no great, no small ; 
He fills. He bounds, connects, and equals all ! 

Essay on Man. EfislU I. POPE. 

To God the Father, God the Son, 
I And God the Spirit, three in one ; 
\ Be honor, praise, and glory given, 
j By all on earth, and all in heaven. 

I Glory to llie Farhrr and Ike So't. DR I. WATTS. 



FRAGMENTS. 



395 



Atheism. 

Forth from his dark and lonely hiding-place, 
(Portentous sight !) the owlet Atheism, 
Sailing on obscene wings athwart the noon, 
Drops his hlue-fringed lids, and holds them close, 
And, hooting at the glorious Sun in Heaven, 
Cries out, " Where is it ? " 

Ftars in Solitude. COLERIDGE. 

An atheist's laugh 's a poor e.xchange 
For Deity otlended ! 

Efistte A> a Youttg Friend. BURNS. 

PUE.VCHIXG AND MiSSIO.NS. 

I preached a.s never sure to preach again, 
And as a dying man to dying men. 

Lave breathing Thant:s and Praise. R. BAXTER. 

What in me is dark 
Illumine, what is low raise and support ; 
That to the height of this great argument 
I may assert eternal Providence, 
And justify the ways of God to men. 

Paradise Lost. Book i . M ILTON . 

Time Hies, death urges, knells call, heaven in- 
vites. 
Hell threatens. 

Night Thoughts, Night ii. DR. E. VouNG. 

If goodness lead him not, yet weariness 
May toss him to my breast. 

The Pulley. GEORGE HERBERT. 

Religion stands on tiptoe in our land, 
Ready to pass to the American strand. 

The Church Militant. GEORGE HERBERT. 

From Greenland's icy mountains. 

From hulia's coral strand, 
Where Afric's sunny fountains 

Roll down their golden sand. 

Missionary Hymn. BISHOP HEBER. 

Sin. 

I see the right, and I approve it too, 
Condemn the wrong, and yet the wrong pursue. 

Metamorphoses, </'\\. io. TT. o( Tate & Sloiustreet. OVID. 

Where is the man who has not tried 
How mirth can into foUy glide. 
And folly into sin ! 

The Bridal o/ Trtrrinain. Cant. i. SCOTT. 

There is a method in man's wickedness. 
It grows up by degrees. 

el King and HO King. Act v. Sc. 4. 

Beaumont .-ind Fletcher. 

Ay me, how many perils doe enfold 

The righteous man, to make him daily fall. 

Faerie Queene. Boob \. SPRNSF.R. 



Of man's first (lisobedience and the fruit 
Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste 
Brought death into the world and all our woe. 

Paradise Lost, Book \, MiLTON. 

Though every prospect pleases, 
And only man is vile. 

Missionary Hymn. 



Bishop Heber. 



And he that does one fault at first. 
And lies to hide it, makes it two. 



Divine Songs. 



DR. I. Watts. 



But, sad as angels for the good man's sin, 
Weep to record, and blush to give it in. 

Pleasures o/Hofe. T. CAMPBELL. 

About some act, 
That has no relish of salvation in 't. 



Hamlet, Aet iii. Sc. 2. 



Shakespeare. 



Long is the way 
And hard, that out of hell leads up to light. 

Paradise Lost, Boolt ii. MILTON. 

Commit 
The oldest sins the newest kind of ways. 

Henry ly.. Part II. Act iv. Sc. 4. Shakespeare. 

So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear. 
Farewell remorse : all good to me is lost. 
Evil, be thou my good. 

Paradise Lost, Book iv. MILTON. 

Vice is a monster of so frightful mien 
As to be hated, needs but to be seen. 

Essay on Man, Epistle //. POPE. 



shame, where is thy blush ? 

llatnlel. Act iii. Sc. 4. 



SHAKE5PEAR&. 



Conscience. 
Servant of God, well done. 

Paradise Lost, Book vi. 

As ever in my great taskmaster's eye. 

On his being arrived to the Age 0/ T-wenty-three. 

And sure the etemal Master found 
His single talent well employed. 



Verses on Rol>ert Level. 



DR. S. Johnson. 



Consideration, like an angel, came 

And whipped the offending Adam out of him. 

Henry y.. Act i. Sc, \. SHAKESPEARE. 

Leave her to Heaven, 
And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge. 
To ])rick and sting her. 

Hamlet. Act I. Sc. S' SHAKFSPEARE- 

Why should not conscience have vacation. 
As well as other courts o' th' nation ? 

Hitdibras, Part It, Cant. ii. DR. S. BUTI-ER. 



o.M) 



POEMS OF RELIGION. 



Remorse. 

Now conscience wakes desiwir 
That slumbered, wakes the liitter niemoiy 
Of what he was, what is, ami wliat must be. 

r.i nitiise Lost. B^Jt iv, M I LTON'. 

M'hat exile tVou> himself can tleo ? 

To zones though more ami more remote 

Still, still pvirsues, where'er I be. 

The blight of life — the demon Thought. 



Se quoque digit. 
Cdts. BiKtk ii. Ode xvii. 



ratri.v qilis o\sul 



BYRON. 



HORACE. 



Fleeting Goon. 

Some fleeting good, that mocks nu- with the view. 
T>u TroftUer. Goldsmith. 

The good he scorned 
Stalkeci oil reiuctniit, like an ili-used ghost, 
Not to return : or, if it did, in visits 
Like those of angels, short and far between. 

TMt Gnnt, Furl II. R. BLAIR. 

Heu.. 
All hope abandon, ye who enter here. 

Inftma Cant. iii. D.ANTE. 

Which way sliall I tly 
Infinite wrath, and infinite despair ? 
Wliich way I lly is liell ; myself am hell ; 
And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep, 
Still threatening to devour me, opens wide, 
To which the hell I suffer seems n heaven. 

ParaJisr Lost. Boot iv. MILTON. 

Wien all the world dissolves, 
Aihl every creatuiv shall be purified, 
All places shall be liell that are not heaven. 
F.tustus. C. Marlowe. 



Hypocrisy. 

That practised falsehood under saintly shew. 
Deep malice to conceal, couched witli revenge, 

i\irajist Lost.Boobiv. MiLTON. 

AVith devotion's visage, 
And pious action, we do sugar o'er 
The devil himself. 

HatHlet. .-Ictw. Sc, 1. SHAKESPEARE, 

I waive the quantum o' the sin. 

The hazard of concealing ; 
But, och ! it hariiens a' within. 

And petrifies the feeling. 

EfistUtoa I'ouHff FrienJ. BURNS. 

Built God a church, and laughed his word to 
scorn. 

Retirtment. COWPER. 

But then I .sigh, and with a piece of scripture 
Tell tliem that God bids us do good for evil : 
And thus I clothe my naked villany 
With odd old ends stol'n forth of holy writ. 
And seem a saint when most I play the deril. 

King Rifhttni tit.. Act i. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE. 

And the devil did grin, for his darling sin 
Is pride that apes humility. 

T)u Dtvirt TkoHghli. COLERinCE 

ECCLESI.VSTICISM. 

Christians have burnt each other, quite per- 
suaded 

That all the Apostles would have done as they 
did. 

Don Juan. GtNt. i. BVRON. 

Till Peter's keys some christened Jove adorn. 
And Pan to Moses lends his pagan horn. 

Tlic DuMCia/l. Boct iii, POPE. 



The Deviu 
The devil hath power 
To assume a pleasing shape. 



Hj'Hlet. .4rt ii. Sc. =. 



Shakespeare. 



And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, 
Tlie instruments of darkness tell us truths ; 
Win us with honest trifles, to l>eti"!>y us 
hi deepest consequence. 

.\r^ct>ctM, Act i. Sc. 3. Shakespeare. 

But the trail of the serpent is over them all. 

PctraMse atut th- l\ri. MOORE. 



Re-spectability. 
As.sume a virtue, if you ha^'rfit not. 



Hamlet. Act iii. St. 4. 



Shakespeare. 



With crosses, relics, crucifixes. 
Beads, pictures, i-osaries, and pixes ; 
The tools of working out salvation 
By mere mechanic operation. 

Hndiiraj. Part tit Cam. 1. DR S. BVTLER. 

When pious frauds and holy shifts 
Are dispensations and gifts. 

HudO-ras. Fan I. Cant. ;. DR. S. BUTLER. 

In hope to merit heaven by making earth a hell. 

CUMe Harolil, Caul. i. EVROX. 

Spires whose " silent fingers jioint to heaven.'" 

I r*e ItAntrsioii. Boot vi. WORDSWORTH. 

To rest, the cushion and soft dean invite, 
Who never mentions hell to eai-s polite. 

A/oral Hss.iys. l-fist/e II '. POPE. 



FRAGMENTS. 



397 



Perverts the Prophets and purloins the Psalms. 

En£/lth Bards and Siehh Rniewert. BYRO.N. 

The enormous faith of many made for one. 

Eltay en Man, EpiilU III. Vuvr.. 

Kiiibryos and idiots, eremites and friars, 
White, black, and gray, with all their trumpery 

Paraditl Loll. Bxik iil. MILTON. 



Theology. 

In Adam's full 
AVe binned all. 

My Book and Heart 
Must never part. 

Young Obadias, 
David, Josias, — 
All were pious. 

Peter denyed 

His Lord, and tryed. 

Young Timothy 
Learnt sin to fly. 

Xerxes did die. 
And so must \. 

Zaccheus he 

Did climb the tree 

Our Lord to sec. 

Nrut p.ttgtattd Printer. 

Hold thou the good : define it well : 
For fp.ir divine Philosophy 
Should push beyond her mark, and be 

Procuress to the Lords of Hell. 

In Memoriam. TENKVSON. 

Star-eyed Science ! hast thou wandered there, 
To waft us home the message of despair ? 

Pltasurtl 0/ Hefe. T. CAMPBELL. 



The Bible. 
When love could teach a monarch to be wise. 
And Gospel-light first dawned from Bullen's eyes. 

Education and Covernnifitl. T. CRAY. 

Just knows, and knows no more, her Bible true. 

Truth. COWPER. 

Within that awful volume lies 
The mystery of mysteries ! 

And better had they ne'er been born. 
Who read to doubt, or read to sconi. 

Tht Monasltry. SCOTT. 



[ Belief and Dol'bt. 

One in whom persuasion and belief 
Had ripened into faith, and faith become 
A passionate intuition. 

Tht Excursion, EaoA vi. WORDSWORTH. 

Nor less 1 deem that there are Powers 
Which of them.selves our minds impress ; 
That we can feed this mind of ours 
In a wise passiveness. 

Expostulation and Reply. WOROSWORTU. 

But there are wanderers o'er Eternity 
Whose bark drives on and on, and anchored 
ne'er shall be. 

Chtldt Harold, Cant. iiL BYRON. 

Whose faith has centre everywhere, 
Nor cares to fi.x itself to fonn. 

In Memoriam. TENNYSO.N, 

But Faith, fanatic Faith, once wedded fast 
To some dear falsehood, liugs it to the la,st. 

Lalla Rookh : Veiled Prophet o/ Khorassan. MoORE. 

For forms of government let fools contest; 
Whate'er is best administered is best : 
For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight ; 
His can't be wrong whose life is in the right. 

Essay on Man. Epistle III. I'oPE. 

Perplexed in faith, but pure in deeds, 

At la-st he beat his music out. 

There lives more faith in honest doubt, 
Believe me, than in half the creeds. 

In Memoriam. TENNYSO.N. 



Jesus Christ. 

Brightest and best of the sons of the morning ! 
Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid. 

Epiphany. BISHOP HEBER. 

Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes 
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated. 
The bird of dawning singeth all night long : 
And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad ; 
The nights arj wholesome ; then no planets 

strike. 
No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm. 
So hallowed and so giacious is the time. 

Hamlet, Act I Se.i. SHAKESPEARE. 

In those holy fields. 
Over whose acres walked those blessed feet 
Which fourteen hundred years ago were nailed, 
For our advantage, on the bitter cross. 

Henry n- . Parti. Act\.Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE. 



598 



POEMS OF RELIGION. 



He was the Woi-d, that spake it ; 
Hi^ took the biead and brake it ; 
And what that Word did make it, 
I do believe and take it. 

Divine Potms : On the Sacrament, 



Dr. J. DONNE. 



Virtue. 
Uo Will and right, and let the world sink. 



Cauntry Parson. 



George Herbert. 



For blessings ever wait on virtuons deeds, 
And though a late, a sure reward succeeds. 

Tlie Msurnini Bride. Act \. St. \1. W. CONCREVE. 

That virtue only makes our bliss below. 
And all our knowledge is, oureelves to know. 

Essay on Man, Epistle /K POPE. 

Pygmies are pygmies still, though perched on 

Alps ; 
And pyramids are pyramids in vales, 
liach man makes his own stature, builds hini.sclf : 
Virtue alone outbuilds the Pyramids ; 
Her monuments shall last when Egypt's fall. 

Night Thouehts, jVii'/U vi. DR. E. YOUNG. 

Abashed the devil stood. 
And felt how awful goodness is, and saw 
Virtue in her shape how lovely. 

Paratiise Lost, Book iv. MILTON. 

Count that day lost whose low descending sun 
Views from thy hand no worthy action done. 

Art 0/ Reading. [Birllctt. p. 606.] STAMFORD. 

Shine by the side of every path we tread 
With such a lustre, he that runs may read. 



Good, the more 
Communicated, more abundant grows. 

Paradise Lost. Book v, 

His/uiWt, perhaps. 
Be wrong ; his Uf(, 

On the Death o/Crash,. 



in some nice tenets might 
r nr sure, was in the right. 
7c. A. Cowley. 



Know then this truth (enough for man to know) 
" Virtue alone is happiness below." 

Essay on Afan, Efistle IV. POPE. 

There buds the promise of celestial worth. 

The Last Day. Book iii. DR. E. YOUNG. 

The best of what we do and are. 
Just God, forgive. 

Thoughts Suggested on the Banks 0/ Kith. WORDSWORTH. 



Tkuth. 

The firste vertue, sone, if thou wilt lere. 
Is to restreine, and kepen wel thy tonge. 

The .ManeipUs Tale. CHAUCER. 

0, while you live, tell truth, and shame the devil. 

Henry IV., Part I. Act iii. 5c i. SHAKESPEARE. 

And simple truth miscalled simplicity, 
And captive good attending captain iii. 

Sonnet LA' VL SHAKESPEARE. 

Truth is the highest thing that man may keep. 

The Franketeines Tate. CHAUCER. 

For truth has such a face and such a nuen. 
As to be loved needs only to be seen. 

The Hind and Panther. DRVDEN. 



Charity. 

In Faith and Hope the world will disagree. 
But all mankind's concern is charity. 

Essay on .Uan. Epistle t!l. POPE. 

Whene'er I take my walks abroad, 

How many poor I see ! 
What shall I render to my God 

For all his gifts to me ? 

Divine Songs. 



Dr. I. Watts. 



Who will not mercie unto others show. 
How can he mercy ever hope to have ? 

Faerie Qneene. Book vi. SPENSER. 

'T is hers to pluck the amaranthine flower 
Of Faith, and round the sutfcrer's temples bind 
Wreaths that endure atlliction's heaviest shower, 
And do not shiink from sorrow's keenest wind. 

Sonnet AWXV. WORDSWORTH. 

The primal duties shine aloft, like stars ; 
The charities that soothe, and heal, and bless. 
Are scattered at the feet of man, like flowers. 

The Excursion. Book ix. WoRDSWORI H. 

And learn the luxury of doing good. 

Tlie Traveller. GOLDSMITH. 



Pr.wer. 

Prayer is the soul's sincere desire, 
Uttered or uiie.\piessed, 

The motion of a hidden fire 
That trembles in the breast. 

It'haf is Prayer^ 



J. MONTCOMERV. 



And Satan trembles when he sees 
The weakest saint upon his knees. 

Exhortation to Prayer. 



FRAGMENTS. 



399 



Tlie imperfoct oflices of prayer and praise 

rill Ixciirsicii. Km* i. WORDSWORTH. 

Ker oycs are lioines of silent prayer. 

/.I .\l,n,or,.,m. THNNVSON. 

O limcil soul ! that, struggling to be free, 

Art more engngetl ! Help, angels! make assay : 

Bow, stubborn knees ; auJ, heart, with strings 

of steel. 
Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe. 

Hamlit, Atl \A.Sc. I SllAKESPEARH. 



Religious Meditation. 

Remote from man, with God he passed the days, 
Pniyer all bis business, all his pleasvire praise. 

Th€ Hirmtt. T. PARNHLL. 

Or if Sion hill 
Delight thee more, and Silou's brook, that (lowed 
Fast by the oracle of l!od. 

Por^diK I ml, Hmt I M 1 LION. 



The Cmki.sti.vn Lifr. 

I held it truth, with him who sings 
To one clear harp in ilivers tones. 
That men may ri.se on stepping-stones 

Of their dead selves to higher things. 

/« Mtmoriain. TENNVSON. 

Saint Augustine ! well hast thou said. 

That of our vices we can frame 
A ladder, if we will but tread 

Beneath our feet eaidi deed of shame ! 

Thr t.ndtter fi/St. An£iistinf. LONGFELLOW. 

Could we forbear dispute, and |iractise love. 
We should agree as angels do above. 

Dntnt Lffit. Ctnl. id. IL. WALLKR. 

A Christian is the highest style of man. 

Xiijftt Jhotightt, h'iehtW. DR. E. VOUNC. 



Hkavkn. 

If C.od hath made this world so fair, 

Wliere sin and death abr)und, 
How beautiful, beyond compare, 

Will paradise be found ! 

The l-iirtltfittt o/Oo^ts Ooodtitss. J. MONTGOMERY. 

Wo know what we are, but know not what we 
may be. 



llitt'iUt, Actv.Sc. s. 



SHAKeSPl=.ARH. 



Lo, the poor Indian ! whoso untutored mind 
Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind ; 
His soul, pioud Science never taught to stray 
Far as the solar walk or milky way. 

But thinks, admitted to that equal .sky, 
His faithful dog shall bear him company. 

i-ssay ou Man, Efistte I. POPE. 

Tins world is all a fleeting sliow, 

For man's illusion given ; 
The smiles of joy, the tears of woe, 

Deceitful shine, deceitful flow, — 
There 's nothing true but Heaven ! 

S,icre<t Sotigs : The world it nil ajtcettng show, MOORB. 

Beyond this vale of tears 

There is a life above. 
Unmeasured by the flight of years ; 

And all that life is love. 



The Issues of Life and Death. 



J. MONTGOMERY. 



For all we know 

Of what the blessed do above 

Is, that they sing and that they love. 

lyhile I listen to thy voice. E. WALLER. 

Of all that is most beauteous imaged there 
In happier beauty ; more pellucid streams, 
An ampler ether, a diviner air. 
And fields invested with purpureal gleams. 

t.aodamia. WORDSWORTH. 

Other height.'! in other lives God willing. 

One IVord More. R, ISROWNINU 



<f 



ii 



^ 







4 





POEMS OF NATURE. 





^ 



^ ^^' 



C^ ^^r<^ 



i^^ 



>^ 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



SONNET. 

The World is too imieli witli us ; late and soon, 
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powei's ; 
Little we see in nature that is ours ; 
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon ! 
This soa that bares lier bosom to the moon ; 
The winds tliat will be howling at all hours, 
And arc up-gathered now like sleeping flowers ; 
For this, for everything, we are out of tune ; 
It moves us not. —Great God ! 1 'd rather be 
A Pagan suekledin a creed outworn. 
So miglit I, standing on this pleasant lea. 
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn ; 
Have sight of I'roteus rising from the sea. 
Or hear old Tiiton blow his wieathed horn. 

WILLIAM Wordsworth. 



NATURE. 

(The bubbling brook doth leap when I come by, 
Hecause my feet find measure with its call ; 
The birds know when the friend they love is nigh. 
For I am known to them, both great and small. 
The flower that on the lonely hillside grows 
Expeets me there when spring its bloom has given ; 
And Tiiauy a tree and bush my wanderings knows, 
And e'en tlic rlouds and silent stars of heaven ; 
For he who with liis Maker walks aright, 
Sliall be their lonl as Adam was befoie ; 
His ear shall catch each sound with new delight, 
Each object wear the dress that then it wore ; 
And he, as when erect in soul he stood, 

(Tl»ar from his Father's lips that all is good. 

JoNKS VERY. 



COME TO THESE SCENES OF PEACE. 

Come to these scenes of peace, 
Where, to rivers niumiuring. 
The sweet birds all the .summer sing. 
Where cares and toil and sadness cease ! 
Stranger, does thy lieart deplore 
Friends whom thou wilt see no more ! 



Does thy wounded spirit prove 
I'augs of hopeless, severed love ? 
Thee the stream that gushes clear, 
Thee the birds that carol near 
Shall soothe, as silent thou dost lie 
And dream of their wild lullaby ; 
Come to bless these scenes of peace, 
Where cares and toil and sadness cease. 

WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES. 



TINTEKN ABBEY. 

Five years have past ; live summers, with the 

length 
Of live long winters ! and .again I hear 
These waters,*rollingfrom theirmountain-springs 
With a soft inland murmur. — Once again 
I-)o 1 behold these steep and lofty clills, 
That on a wild, secluded scene impress 
Thoughts of more deep seclusion, and connect 
The landscape with the (piiet of the sky. 
The day is come when I again repose 
Mere, under this dark .sycamore, and view 
These plots of eottage-gi'ound, these orchard-tufts, 
Which at this season, with their unripe fruits, 
Are clad in one green hue, and lose tliemselves 
Mid groves and copses. Once again 1 see 
These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines 
Ot sjiortive wood run wilil : these pastoral famis. 
Green to the very door ; and wreaths of smoke 
Sent up, in silence, from among the trees ! 
With some uncertain notice, as might seem 
Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods, 
Or of some hennit's cave, where by his lire 
The hermit sits alone. 

These beauteous forms, 
Through a long absence, have not been to me 
As is a landscape to a lilind man's eye ; 
But oft, in lonely rooms, and mid the din 
Of towns and cities, 1 have owed to them. 
In hours of weariness, sensations sweet. 
Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart ; 
And passing even into my purer mind, 

• Tlie Rivet Wye. 



404 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



With tranquil restoration : — feelings too 

Of unremenibered pleasure : such, perhaps, 

As have no slight or trivial intluencc 

On that best portion of a good man's life, 

His little, nameless, unremenibered acts 

Of kindness and of love. Nor less, 1 trust. 

To tliem I may have owed another gift, 

Of aspect more sublime ; that blessed mood. 

In which the burden of the mystery. 

In which the heavy and the weary weight 

Of all tliis unintelligible world. 

Is lightened, — that serene and blessed mood, 

In which the affections gently lead us on, 

Until, the breath of this corporeal frame 

And even the motion of our Imnian blood 

Almost suspended, we are laid asleep 

In body, and become a living soul : 

While witli an eye made cjuiet by the power 

Of harmony, and tlie deep power of joy, 

We see into the life of things. 

If this 
Be but a vain belief, yet, 0, how oft — 
In darkness and amid the many sliapes 
Of joyless daylight ; when tlie fretful stir 
Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, 
Have hung upon the beatings of my lieart — 
How oft, in spirit, have 1 turned to thee, 

sylvan Wye! thou wanderer through the woods. 
How often has my spirit turned to thee ! 

And now, with gleams of half-e.\tinguislied 

thought. 
With many recognitions dim and faint, 
And somewhat of a sad perplexity, 
Tlie picture of the nund revives again : 
While here I stand, not only with the sense 
Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts 
Tliat in tliis moment there is life and food 
For future years. And so I dare to hope, 
Though changed, no doubt, from what I was when 

first 

1 came among these hills : when like a roe 
I bounded o'er the mountains, by the .sides 
Of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams, 
Wherever nature led ; more like a man 
F'lying from something that he dreads, than one 
Who souglit tlie tiling lie loved. For nature then 
(The coarser pleasures of my boyish days 

And their glad animal movements all gone by) 
To me was' all in all. — I cannot paint 
What then I was. Tlie sounding cataract 
Haunted me like a passion : the tall rock. 
The mountain, and the lieep and gloomy wood, 
Their colors and their forms, were then to me 
An a]ipetite ; a feeling and a love. 
That had no need of a remoter charm 
By thoughts supplied, nor any interest 
Unborrowed from the eye. — That time is past. 



And all its aching joys are now no more, 

And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this 

Faint 1, nor mourn nor murmur ; other gifts 

Have followed ; lor such loss, I would beUeve, 

Abundant recompense. For 1 liave learned 

To look (111 nature, not as in the hour 

Of thoughtless youth ; but hearing oftentimes 

The still, sad music of humanity, 

Nor harsh iior grating, though of ample power 

To chasten and subdue. And I have felt 

A presence that disturbs me with the joy 

Of elevated thoughts ; a sense sublime 

Of something far more deeply interfused. 

Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, 

.\nd the round ocean, and the living air, 

And the blue sky, and in the mind of man ; 

A motion and a spirit, that impels 

All thinking things, all objects of all thought, 

And rolls through all things. Therefore am I 

still 
A lover of the meadow's and the woods. 
And mountains ; and of all that we behold 
From this green earth ; of all the mighty world 
Of eye, and ear, — both what tliey half create,* 
And what perceive ; well pleased to recognize 
In nature and the language of the sense, 
Tlie anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse, 
The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul 
Of all my moral being. 

Nor perchance, 
If I were not thus taught, should I the more 
Suffer my genial spirits to decay : 
For thou art with me here upon the banks 
Of this fair river ; thou my dearest friend. 
My dear, dear friend ; and in thy voice I catch 
The language of my former heart, and read 
My former pleasures in the shooting lights 
Of thy wild eyes. 0, yet a little while 
May I behold in thee what 1 was once. 
My dear, dear sister I and this prayer I make, j 
Knowing that Nature never did betray 
The heart that loved her ; 't is her luivilcge. 
Through all the years of this our life, to lead 
From joy to joy : for she can so inform 
The mind that is within us, so impress 
With cpiietness and beauty, and so feed 
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues. 
Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men. 
Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all 
The dreary intercourse of daily life. 
Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb 
Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold 
Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon 
Shine on thee in thy solitary walk ; 
And let tlie mistv mountain-winds be free 



' " This Irne has a close resemblance to an admirable line of 
Younjjs, the exact expression of which I do not recollect. ' — TlIU 
AUThuK. 




THE SILENCE OF THI-: HILLS. 

The windy forest, rousins^ from its sleep, 
Voices its heart in hoarse Titanic roai^; 
The ocean bellows from its rocky shore ; 
The cataract, that haunts the rut^ged steep, 
Makes mighty music in its headlong leap ; 
The clouds have voices, and the rivers pour 
Their floods in tiiunder down to ocean's floor; — 
The hills alone mysterious silence keep. 
They cannot rend the ancient chain that bars 
Their iron lips, nor answer back the sea 
That calls to them far off in vain ; the stars 
They cannot hail, nor their wild brooks. Ah me ! 
What cries from out their stony hearts will break. 
In God's great day, when all that sleep shall wake ! 



Wii.i.i.\M Prescott Foster. 




Draivn hy Thomas R. Manlev. 

EVENING. 

From upland slopes I see the cows file by, 

Lowing, great-chested, down the homeward trail, 
By dusking fields aiul nicatlows shining jiale 

With moon-tipped dandelions; flickering high, 

A peevish night-hawlc in tiie western sky 
Beats up into the lucent solitudes, 
Or drops with grilling wing; the siill)- woods 

Grow dark and deep, and gloom ni}-steriously. 

Cool night-winds creep and whisper in mine ear; 
The homeh' cricket gossijis ;;t my feet ; 
I''rom far-off pools and wastes of reeds I hear 

With ebb and cliange the chanting frogs break sweet 
In full Pandean chorus; one by one 
Shine 'jut the stars, and the great night comes on. 

ARCI11H.\LD T,.\MrM.\N. 



I 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



405 



To liUiw agiiiust tlicL' : iiml, in alUT yi'iirs, 

When these wiUl ecstusii's sluiU be iimtiueil 

Into n sober iileasiire ; when thy ininil 

Shall be u mansion for all lovely tonus, 

Thy memory tie as a ilwelling-jilaee 

For all sweet sounds ami harmonies ; 0, then, 

If solitude or fear or pain or f;rief 

Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts 

0( tender joy wilt thou remember me, 

And these my exhortations ! Nor, perchunee, — 

If 1 sliould l» where 1 no more can liear 

Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these 

gleams 
Of past existence, — wilt thou then forget 
That on the banks of this delightful stream 
We stood together ; and that 1, so long 
A worshipper of Nature, hither came 
Unwearied in that service : rather say 
With warmer love, — 0, with far deeper zeal 
Of holier love. Nor wilt thou then forget 
That after many wanderings, many years 
Of absence, these steep woods and lofty clifls, 
And this green pastoral landscape, were to me 
More dear, both for themselves and for thy sake ! 
William Wordsworth. 



FOR A COPY OF THEOCRITUS. 

VILLANELLE. 
FROM "ESSAVS IN OLD FRENCH FORMS OF VF.RSH." 

SiXGEU of the field and fold, 
Theocritus ! Pan's pipe was thine, — 
Thine was the happier Age of Oold. 

For thee the scent of new-turned mould, 
The beehives and the murmuring pine, 
Singer of tlie field and I'old ! 

Thou sang'st the simple feasts of old, — 
The beechen bowl made glad with wine : 
Thine was the happier Age of Gold. 

Thou bail'st the rustic loves be told, 
Thou bad'st the tuneful reeds combine, 
O Singer of the field and folil ! 

And round thee, ever laughing, rolled 
The blithe and blue Sicilian brine: 
Thine was the happier Age of Gold. 

Alas for us ! Our songs are cold ; 
Our Northern .snns too sadly shine : — 
O Singer of the field and fold. 
Thine was the happier Age of Gold ! 

AUSTIN DCBSON 



NATIIKK'S CHAIN. 

FROM "THE ESSAY ON MAN." 

Ldiiiv round our world ; behold the chain of love 
Combining all below and all above, 
.See plastic nature working to this end, 
Tlie single atoms each to other tend, 
Attract, attracted to. the next in place, 
Formed and iniiielled its neighbor to embrace. 
See matter next, with variims life endued, 
Press to one centre still, the general good. 
See dying vegetables life .sustain, 
See life dissolving vegetate again : 
All forms that perish other forms sujiply 
(Hy turns we cjitch the vital bieath, and die) ; 
Like bubbles on the sea of matter liorne. 
They rise, they break, aiul to that sea return. 
Nothing is foreign ; (larts relate to whole ; 
One all-extending, all-preserving Soul 
Connects each being, greatest with the least; 
Made beivst in aid of man, and man of beast ; 
All served, all serving ; nothing stands alone ; 
The chain holds on, and where it ends, unknown. 
Has God, thou fool ! worked solely for thy good, 
Thy joy, thy [lastime, thy attire, thy food ? 
Who for thy table feeds the wanton fawn, 
For him as kiniUy spreads the llowery lawn. 
Is it for thee the lark ascends and sings 1 
,Ioy tunes his voice, joy elevates his wings. 
Is it for theo the linnet pours his throat ? 
Loves of his own and raptures swell the note. 
The bounding steed you pompously bestride 
Shares with his lord the plea.sure and the pride. 
Is thine alone the seed that strews the plain ? 
The birds of heaven shall vindicate their grain. 
Thine the full harvest of the golden year ! 
Part pays, and justly, the deserving -steer t 
The hog that ploughs not, ncn- obeys thy call, 
Lives on the labors of this lord of all. 

Know, Nature's children uU divide her care ; 
The fur that warms a monarch warmed a bear. 
While man exclaims, "See all things for my use I" 
" See man for mine ! " reidies a pampered goose : 
And just as short of reason he must fall 
Who' thinks all made for one, not one for all. 

ALEXANOER I'Ol'E. 



EACH AND ALl-. 

Lrn-i.F. thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked 

clown, 
or theo from the hill-to]i looking do-rn ; 
The heifer that lows in the upland farm, 
Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm ; 
The sexton, tolling his bell at noon, 
Deems imt that great Napoleon 
Stops his horse, and lists with delight. 
Whilst his files sweep round you Alpine height ; 



406 



POEMS OF NATl'RE. 



Nor knowcst thou whnt nigiiiiu'iit 

Thy life to thy neighbor's oreed has lent. 

All are needed ty eneh one ; 

Nothing is fair or goo(i alone. 

1 thought the sparrow's note from l\eaven, 

Singing at dawn on the alder Kwgh ; 

I brought him home, in his nest, at even ; 

lie sings the song, but it pleases not now. 

For 1 did not bring honu- the river luid sky ; — 

He sung to my ear, — they sang to my eye. 

Tlie ilelioate sliells lay on the sliore ; 

The bubbles of the latest wave 

Fivsh pearls to their enamel gswe ; 

And the bellowing of the savage sea 

Oiveted their safe eseape to me. 

1 wipeil away the weeds and foam, 

1 fetehed my sea-born treasures home ; 

But the poor, unsightly, noisome things 

Had left their beauty on the shoi-e, 

AVith the sun and the s;ind and the wild uproar. 

The lover watehed his gmeeful maid. 

As mid the virgin train she strayed. 

Nor knew her Ik-auty's best attii-e 

Was woven still by the snow-white ehoir. 

At last she eame to his hermitage. 

Like the binl from the woodlands to the cage ; — 

The gay enchantment was undone, 

A gentle wife, but fairy none. 

Then 1 s;iid, '• I covet truth ; 

Beauty is unripe childhooiVs elieat ; 

I leave it behind with the giunes of youth." — 

.\s 1 sjxike, beneath n\y feet 

The ground-pine curled its pivtty wreath, 

Kunning over tlie club-moss bun's ; 

1 inhaled the violet's bivath ; 

Around me stood the oaks and tire ; 

Pine-cones and acorns lay on the ground ; 

Over me s«)ix'd the eternal sky. 

Full of light and of deity ; 

Again I s;iw, again 1 heai-vl. 

The rolling river, the morning biixl ; — 

Beauty thivugh my senses stole ; 

I yielded myself to the perfect whole, 

Ralph Waldo Emeksg.n*. 



KETIKEMENT. 

INSCRIPTION IN A HERMITAGE. 

IBexeath tins stony ixjof i-ecliueJ, 
1 siwthc to iH'ace my jK'Usive mind ; 
And while, to shade my lowly cave, 
Eniliowering elms their umbrage \vave, 
.\ud wliile the maple dish is mine, — 
The K'eehen cup. nnstaineil with wine, • 
1 scorn the gay liowitious crowd. 
Nor hivd the tovs that deck the proud. 



Within my limits, lone and still. 
The blackbird pipes in artless trill ; 
Fast by my couch, congenial guest. 
The wren has wove her mossy nest : 
From busy scenes and brighter skies, 
To Inrk with innocence, she flies. 
Here hopes in siife repose to dwell, 
Nor aught suspects the sylvan cell. 

At morn 1 take my customed round. 
To mark how buds yon shrubby mound. 
And every opening prin\rose count. 
That trimly paints my blooming mount ; 
Or o'er the sculptures, ijnaint and rude. 
That grace my gloomy solitude, 
1 teach in winding wivaths to stray 
Fantastic ivy's gadding spray. 

At eve, within yon studious nook, 

1 ope my brass-embosscii book. 

Portrayed with many a holy deed 

Of martjTS, crowned with heavenly meed ; 

Then, as my tjijx'r wa.xes dim, 

Chant, ere 1 sleep, my measuivd hymn, 

And, at the close, the gleams behold 

Of parting wings, bedropt with gold. 

While sucl; pure joys my bliss create. 
Who but would smile at guilty state ? 
Who but would wish his holy lot 
In calm oblivion's humble grot ? 
Who but would cast his pomp away, 
To take my staff, and amice gray ; 
And to the world's tumultuous stage 
Prefer the blameless hermitage > 

THOMAS W'ARTON. 



ON A BEAUTIFUL DAY. 

tTNSEEN Spirit ! now a calm divine 

Comes forth fivm thee, rejoicing earth and air ! 

Trees, hills, and houses, all distinctly shine, 
And thy great ocean slnmlwi-s everywhere. 

Tlie mountain ridge against the purple sky 
Stands clear and strong, with darkened rocks 
and dells. 

And cloudless brightness opens wide and high 
A home aerial, where thy presence dwells. 

The chime of bells remote, the mnrmuving sea,x,_^ 
The song of binls in whisjieriug copse and wooil, 

The distant voice of children's thoughtless glee, 
-And maiden's somr, are all one voice of good. 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



407 



Amid tho leaves' green mass a sunny piny 
(If Hash and shadow sill's like inwaid lite : 

Tlie ship's white sail gli<les onward far away, 
rnhaiiiili'd by a dieani of storm or strife. 

John sterling. 



INVOCATION TO 1J(;11T. 

FROM •■ PARADISE LOST." BOOK HI. 

H.vii., holy Light, olfspriiig of Heaven first-born ! 
Or of the Kteriial eoelernal beam 
Slay I exjux'ss thee unblamed i since (lod is light, 
And never but in iiiiapproaehi'd light 
Ihvelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee, 
I'liight etlluence of bright essenee iiioreate ! 
Or liear'st thou rather pure ethereal stream. 
Whoso fountain who shall tell ? Before tho sun, 
liefore the heavens, tlion Wert, and at the voice 
Of God, as with a mantle, didst invest 
The rising world of waters dark and deep. 
Won from the void and formless inliuitu. 
Thee 1 revisit now with bolder wing. 
Escaped the Stygian [lool, though long detained 
In that obscure sojourn, while in my (light 
Through utter and through middle darkness 

borne. 
With other notes than to the Orphean lyre, 
I sung of Chaos and eternal Night, 
Taught by the heavenly Muse to venture down 
The dark descent, and up to re-ascend. 
Though hard and rare : thee I revisit safe, 
.\nd feel thy .sovereign vital lamp ; but thou 
Kevisitest not these eyes, that roll in vain 
To find thy piercing ray, and lind no dawn ; 
So thick a drop serene hath iinenched their orbs, 
Or dim sullusion veileil. Yet not the more 
Cease I to wander wlnue the Muses haunt 
Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill, 
Sinit with the love of sacred song ; but chief 
Thee, Sioii, and the llowery brooks beneath, 
That wasli thy hallowed feet, and warbling How, 
Nightly 1 visit : nor sometimes forget 
Those other two cipialled with me in fate. 
So were I eipialled with them in ri^nown, 
lUind Thamyris ami blind Mieonides, 
And Tiresias and Pliiin'Us, prophets old ; 
Then feed on thoughts that voUintary move 
Harmonious numbci's; as the wakeful hinl 
.Sings darkling, and in shadiest covert hid 
Tunes her nocturnal note. Thus with the year 
Seasons return, but not to me returns 
Day, or the sweet a])proacli of even or morn. 
Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose. 
Or Hocks, or lieixls, or human face divine ; 
But cloud, instead, and everiluring dark. 
Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men 



Cut ott', and for the book of knowledge fair 
I'resented with a universal blank 
Of nature's works, to nie expunged and rased. 
And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out. 
So much the rather thou, celestial Light, 
Shine inward, and the miiul through all her 

powers 
Irradiate ; there plant eyes, all mist from thence 
Purge and disperse, that I may see and tell 
Of things invisible to mortal sight. 

MILTON. 



FROM THE "HYMN TO LIGHT.'' 

Say, from what golden quivers of tho sky 
Do all thy winged arrows lly ? 
Swiftness and Power by birth are thine : 
From thy great sire they came, thy sire, the 
Wold Divine. 

Thou ill the Moon's bright chariot, proud and 

Dost thy bright wood of stars survey ; 
And all the year dost with thee bring 
Of thousand flowery lights thine own nocturnal 
spring. 

Thou, Seythian-Iike, dost round tliy lands 
above 
The Sun's gilt tent forever move. 
And still, as thou in pomp dost go, 
The shining pageants of the world attend thy 
show. 

Nor amidst all these triumphs dost thou scorn 
The humble glow-worms to adorn, 
And with those living spangles gild 
(0 greatness without pride !) the bushes of the 
Held. 

Night and her ugly subjects thou dost flight, 
And Sleep, the lazy owl of night ; 
Ashamed, and fearful to appear. 
They screen their horrid shapes with the black 
hemisphere. 

At thy appearance. Grief itself is said 

To shake his wings, and rouse his head : 
And cloudy Care has often took 
A gentle beamy smile, rellected from thy look. 

At thy appearance, fear itself grows bold ; 
Thy sunshine melts away his cold. 
Encouraged at the sight of thee 
To the cheek color comes, and firmness to the 
knee. 



40S 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



When, goddess, tliou lil't'.st uji thy \v;ikened 
heud 
Out of the luoniing's purple bed. 
Thy iiuire of binls about thee phiy. 
And all the joyful world salutes tlie rising day. 

All the world's bravery, that delights our eyes, 
Is but thy several liveries ; 
Thou the rieli dye on tlieui bestow"st, 
Thy uiuible peueil paints this landscape as thou 
go'st. 

A crimson garment in the rose thou wear'st ; 
A crown of studded gold thou bear'st ; 
The virgin-lilies, in their white. 
Aiv clad but with tlie lawn of almost naked light. 

The violet, Spring's little infant, stands 
l!irt in thy purple swaddling-bands ; 
On the fair tulip thou dost dote ; 
Thou cloth'st it in a gay and party-colored coat. 

Tlirough the soft ways of heaven, and air, and 
sea. 
Which open all their pores to thee, 
Like a clear river thou dost glide. 
And with thy living stream through the close 
channels slide. 

But the vast ocean of unbounded Jay, 
In the empyrean heaven does stay. 
Thy rivci-s, lakes, and springs, below, 
From thence took tirst their rise, thither at last 
must tlow. 

.\DKAI1AM COWLEV. 



DAYBREAK. 

A WIND came up out of the sea. 

And said, "0 mists, make room for me ! " 

It hailed the ships, «ud cried, " Sail on, 
Ye mariners, the night is gone ! " 

And hurried landward far away, 
frying, " Awake ! it is the day ! " 

It si\id unto the forest, "Shout ! 
Hang all your leafy banners out ! " 

It toueheil the wood-biitl's foUleil wing. 
And said, '• bird, awake and sing ! " 

.\uil o'er the farms, "0 chanticleer. 
Your clarion blow ; the day is near ! " 

It whispereil to the tialds of corn, 

" Row down, and hail the comini; morn !" 



It shouted through the belfry-tower, 
'• Awake, bell ! proclaim the hour." 

It crossed the churchy anl with a sigh. 
And said, " Not yet ! in quiet lie." 

HENRV WadSWORTH LONGFELLOW, 



MORNING SONG. 

Up ! quit thy bower ! late wears the hour. 
Long liave the rooks cawed round the tower ; 
O'er llower and tree loud hums the bee. 
And the wild kid sports merrily. 
The sun is bright, the sky is dear ; 
Wake, lady, wake '. and hasten hero. 

rp, maiden fair ! and bind thy hair, 

Anil rouse thee in the breezy air ! 

The lulling stream that soothed thy dream 

Is dancing in the sunny beam. 

Waste not these horn's, so fresh, so gay : 

Leave thy soft couch and haste away ! 

I'p ! Time will tell the morning bell 
Its service-sound has chimed well ; 
The aged crone keeps house alons, 
The reapers to the fields are gone. 
Lose not these hours, so cool, so gay : 
Lo ! while thou sleep'st they haste away ! 

JOA.N.NA BAILLIE. 



MOKNlNf;. 

Is the barn the tenant cock. 
Close to ptutlet jwrched on high, 

Briskly creiws (the shepheixl's clock !^ 
Jocund that the morning 's nigh. 

Swiftly from the nuiuntain's brow. 
Shadows, nursed by night, retire : 

And the peeping sunbeam now. 
Paints with gold the village spiie. 

Philomel forsakes the thorn. 

Plaintive where she prates at night ; 
And the lark, to meet the nuirn. 

Soars beyowl the shepheiils sight. 

From the low -roofed cottage ridge. 
See the chattering swallow spring ; 

Darting through the one-arched bridge. 
Quick she dips her dappled wing. 

Now the pine-tree's waviug top 
Gently greets the morning galo : 

KiiUings now begin to crop 
Daisies, on the dewy dale. 



POEMS OF NATUHE. 



409 



From the bilniy sweets, uiioloycd 
(Hestless till her task bo doiiu), 

Now the busy bee 's em|iloyeil 
Sipping (lew before the sun. 

Triekling through the creviced roik, 
Where the limpid stream distils, 

Sweet refivshment wiiits the lloek 
When 't is sun-drove from the hills. 

Colin 's for the promiseii eorn 
(Krc the harvest hopes are ripe) 

Anxious ; — whilst the luiutsnnin's honi, 
FJoldly sounding, drowns his pipe. 

Sweet, O sweet, the wiirbling tlirong, 

On the wliite emblossomed spray ! 

Nature's universal song 

Eclioes to the rising day. 

John Cunningham. 



THE NORTHERN I.IGHT.S. 

To claim the Arctic came the sun 
With banners of the burning zone. 
Unrolled upon their airy spars, 
They froze beneath the light of stars ; 
And there they float, those streamers oUl, 
Those Northern Lights, forever cold ! 

hi-:njamin franklin Taylor. 



DAWN. 



The night was dark, though sometimes n faint 

star 
A little wliile a little si)ace nnule bright. 
The night was long and like an iron bar 
Liiy lieavy on the land : till o'er the .sea 
Slowly, within the East, there grew a light 
Which half was starlight, and half .seemed to be 
The herald of a greater. The pale white 
Turned slowly to pale rose, and up the height 
( If heaven slowly climbed. Tile gray sea grew 
Rose-colored like the sky. A white gull tlew 
Stmight toward the utmost boundary of the East, 
Where slowly the rose gathcreil and increased. 
It was as on the opening of a door 
liy one that in his hand a lamp doth hold, 
Whose llame is hidden by the garment's fold, — 
The still air moves, the wide room is less dim. 

More bright the East became, the ocean turned 
Dark and more dark against the brightening 

sky, — 
Sharper against the sky the long sea line. 
The hollows of the bre.ikci-s on the shore 
Were green like leaves whereon no sun doth shine. 
Though white the outer branches of the tree. 



From rose to red the level heaven burned , 
Then sudden, as if a sword fell from on high, 
A blade of gold flashed on the horizon's rim. 

RiciiAKu wa'ison Gilder. 



PACK CLOUDS AWAY. 

Pack clouds away, aiul welcome day, 

With night we banish sorrow ; 
Sweet air, blow soft ; mount, lark, aloft. 

To give my love gooil morrow. 
Wings from the wiml to please her mind. 

Notes from the lark I '11 borrow : 
liird, prune thy wing ; nightingale, sing. 

To give my love good nuu'row. 

To give my love good morrow. 

Notes from them all I '11 borrow. 

Wake from thy nest, robin redbreast, 

Sing, binla, in every furrow ; 
And from each hill let music shrill 

(iive my fair love good morrow. 
Hlaekbird and thrush in every bush. 

Stare, linnet, and eoek -sparrow. 
You petty elves, amongst yourselves. 

Sing my fair love good morrow. 

To give my love good morrow, 

Sing, birds, in every furrow. 

Thomas Hf.vwood. 



MORNING. 



FROM "THE MINSrREL.' 



BlTT who the melodies of morn can tell ? 
The wild brook babbling down the mountain- 
side ; 
The lowing herd ; the sheejifold's simple bell ; 
The pipe of early .shepherd dim descried 
In the lone valley ; echoing far and wide 
The clamorous horn along the cliffs above ; 
The hollow murmur of the ocean-tide ; 
The hum o( bees, the linnet's lay of love. 
And the full choir that wakes the universal grove. 

The cottage curs at early pilgriui bnik ; 
Crowneil with her iiail the flipping milkmaid 

sings ; 
The whistling ]iloughnian stalks alicld ; and, 

hark! 
Down the rough slojic the pomlerous wagon 

rings ; 
Through rustling corn the hare astonished 

springs ; 
Slow tolls the village-dock the drowsy liour ; 
The partridge bursts away on whirring wings ; 
Deep mourns the turtle in scipicstered bower, 
And shrill lark carols clear from her aerial tower. 

JAMP.S BPATTIB. 



410 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



THK SAI'.r.Al'll MORNING. 

Wrni .silent awe I hnil the aacieil Mumi, 
Tlmt .slowly wiikes while all the lielils live still ! 
A soothing culm on every breeze is borne ; 
A graver innrniur gnrfjles from the rill ; 
And eeho answers softer IVoni tlie hill ; 
Anil sweeter sings the linnet I'roni the thorn : 
The skylark warbles in a tone less shrill. 
Hail, light serene ! hail, saered Sabliath morn ! 
The rooks lloat silent by i" «"',>' drove ; 
The .sun ti (ilaeid yellow Instre throws ; 
The gales that lately sighed along the grove 
Have linslied thoir downy wings in dead repose ; 
The hovering rack of clouds forgets to move, -- 
So smiled the day when the lirst morn arose ! 

JOHN Levden. 



RfeVE DIT MTDl. 

WllKN o'er the monntain .steejis 
The hazy noontide eiveps, 
And tlu^ shrill cricket sleeps 
Under the grass ; 
When .soft the shadows lie, 
Ami cbmds sail o'er the sky. 
And the idh> winds go by, 
With the heavy scent of blossoms as they pass, — 

Then, when the silent strean\ 
Lap.ses as in a dream. 
And the water-lilies gleam 
I'p to the snn ; 

When the hot and burdened day 
Kests on its downward way. 
When the moth forgets to play. 
And the plodding ant may dream her work is 
done, — 

Then, from the noise of war 
And the din of earth afar, 
Like some forgotten star 
Dropt from the sky, — 
The sounds of love and foar. 
All voices sad and clear, 
Uanished to silence drear, — 
Till' willing thrall of trances sweet 1 lie. 

Some melanehoJy gale 
Breathes its mysterious tale, 
Till the rose's lips giiiw pale 
With her sighs ; 
And o'er my thoughts are cast 
Tints of the vanished jmst. 
Glories that fadod fast, 
Kenewed to s]>lendor in my dreaming eyes. 



As poised on vibrant wings. 
Where its sweet treasure swings, 
The hom-y-lover clings 
To the red tlowers, — 
So, lost in vivid light, 
So, rapt from day and night, 
I linger in delight, 
Enraptured o'er the vision-t'reiglitc'd hours. 

ROSK TliRRV COOKE. 



A SUMMER NOON. 

Who Ims not dreamed a world of bliss 

On a bright sunny noon like this, 

( 'onehed by his native brook's green maze, 

With comrade of his boyish days. 

While all around them seemed to be 

,Iust as in joyous infancy ' 

Who has not loved, at such an hour, 

I'jion that heath, in birchen bower, 

Lidled in the poet's dreamy mood. 

Its wild and sunny solitude ! 

While o'er the waste of purple ling 

You mark a sultry glimmering ; 

Silence herself there seems to sleep. 

Wrapped in a slumber long and deep, 

Where slowly stray those lonely sheep 

Through the tall foxglove's crimson bloom, 

And gleaming of the scattered broom. 

Love you not, then, to list and hear 

The crnekling of the gorse-Howers near. 

Touring an orange-scented tide 

Of fragi-ance o'er the desert wide ? 

To hear the buzzard's Hhini)iering shrill, 

Hovering above you high and still ? 

The twittering of the bird that dwells 

Among till' heath's delicious bells > 

While round your bed, o'er fern and blade, 

Insects in green and gold arrayed. 

The sun's gay tribes have lightly strayed ; 

And sn^'eter sound their hunnning wings 

Than the proud minstrel's echoing strings. 

William Howitt. 



NOONTIDE. 

Beneath a shivering canopy reclined. 
Of aspen-leaves that wave without a wind, 
1 love to lie, when lulling bi-eezes stir 
The spiry cones that tremble on the lir : 
Or wander mid the daik-gieen fields of broom. 
When peei-s in scattered tufts the yellow bloom; 
Or trace the path with tangling furze o'errnn. 
When bursting seed-bells crackle in the sun, 
.And pittering grasshoppers, coul'us'dly shrill, 
Pijie giddily along the glowing hill : 



POEMS OV NATURE. 



411 



Swiet gm.sslioii|Hr, wlio lov'st at noon to lie 
Serenely in the j^ieen-iibljed elover's eye, 
To sun thy lilniy wiiijjs iinil inieiuUl vest, 
Unseen thy form, unci un(listiiil)ecl thy rest. 
Oft have I listening nuiseil the sultry day, 
Anil wondered what thy ehirping song might say, 
When naught was heaiil along the lilossomed lea, 
To join thy niusie, save the listless bee. 

John Levdun. 



THE JUDGES DANCE AIJOON THE BURN. 

The midges dnneo aboon the burn ; 

The ilews begin to Ik' ; 
The pairtrieks down the rushy liidni 

Set up theii e cuing ea'. 
Now loud and elear the blaekbird's sang 

Kings through the briery sliaw, 
Whih', Milting gay, the swallows play 

Around the enstle wa'. 

lieneath the golden gloamin' sky 

The nuivis mends her lay ; 
The redbreast pours his sweetest .strains 

To eharm the lingering day ; 
While weary yeldrins seem to wail 

Their little nestlings torn, 
The merry wien, I'rae den to di'U, 

Uaes jinking through the thorn. 

The roses fauld their silken leaves, 

The foxglove shuts its bell ; 
The honeysuekle and the birk 

Spread fragranee through the dell. 
Let othei-s erowd the giddy eourt 

Of niirtli and revelry. 
The simple joys that nature yielils 

Ale dearer far to me. 

KOHI-.nr TANNAUILL. 



DAY IS DYING. 

FROM " IHE SPANISH GVI'SV." 

Day is dying I Eloat, soug, 
Down the westward river, 

Heipiiem chanting to the Day, — 
Day, the mighty Giver. 

Pierced by shafts of Time he bleeds. 

Melted rubies sending 
Through the rivi'r ami tlu' sky. 

Earth and heaven blending : 

All the long-drawn earthy banks 
Up to clouddanil lifting : 

Slow between them drifts the swan, 
'Twi.xt two heavens drifting. 



Wings half o|ii'n, like a llower 

lidy deeper llusliiiig. 
Neck anil breast as virgin's pure, — 

Virgin proudly blushing. 

Day is dying ! Float, () swan, 

Down the ruby river ; 
Follow, song, in re(|uiem 

To the mighty Giver. 

Marian livANs Lewes Cross [George Bliat). 



THE EVENING WIND. 

Spikit that breathest through my lattice: thou 
That cool'st tlii^ twilight of the sultry day ! 

Gratefully Hows thy freshness round my brow ; 
Thou hast been out upon the deep at play. 

Riding all day the wild blue waves till imw, 
Roughening their crests, and scattering high 
their spray. 

And swelling the white sail. I welcome thee 

To the scorched land, thou wanderer of the sea ! 

Nor I alone, — a thousand bosoms round 
Inhale thee in the fulness of delight ; 

And languid forms rise up, and pulses bound 
Livelier, at coming of the wind of night ; 

And languishing to hear thy welcome souml, 
Licsthevast iidanil, stretched beyond the sight. 

Go fortli into the gathering shade ; go forth, — 

God's blessing breathed upon tlie fainting earth ! 

Go, rock the little wood-bird in his nest ; 

Curl the still waters, bright with stars ; and 
rouse 
The wide ohl wooil from his majestic rest, 

Summoning, from the innumerable boughs, 
The strange deep harmonies that haunt liis breast. 

I'lea.sant shall be thy way where meekly bows 
The shutting llower, ami darkling waters pa.ss. 
And where the o'ershailowing branches sweep 
the grass. 

Stoop o'er the place of graves, and softly sway 
The sighing herbage by the gleaming stone. 

That they who near the churchyard willows stray. 
And listen in the deepening gloom, alone. 

May think of gentle souls that jiassed away, 
Like thy pure breath, into the vast unknown, 

.Sent forth from heaven among tlu^ sons of men, 

And gone into the boundless heaven again. 

The faint old man shall lean his silver head 
To feel thee ; thou shalt kiss the child aslrcii. 

And dry the moistened curls that overspread 
His temples, while his breathing grows more 
deep ; 



412 



I'OEMS OF NATURE. 



Ami they who stiiiul about the sick man's lieil 

Shall joy to listim to thy distant sweep, 
Anil softly part his cui-tiiins to allow 
Thy visit, jjratftul to his luiniing lirow. 

Go, — Init the eiicle ot" eternal change, 
Wliieli is the lite of nature, shall restore, 

M'ith soumls ami seents from all thy mighty 
range, 
Thee to thy birthplaee of the deep once more. 

Sweet odors in the sea air, sweet ami strange, 
Shall tell the homesick mariner of the shore ; 

And, listening to thy murmur, he shall deem 

He hears the rustling leaf and running stream. 
William Cullt.n Ukvam'. 



TllK KVENINC STAR. 

Sr.vii that bringest lionu' the bee. 
And sett'st the weary laborer free ! 
If any star shed peace, 't is thou. 

That send'st it from above, 
Appearing when heaven's breath anil brow 

Are sweet as hers we love. 

Come to tlie luxuriant skies. 

Whilst the landseajie's odors rise. 

Whilst far-olf lowing heids are heard. 

And songs when toil is done. 

From cottages whose smoke unstirred 
Curls yellow in the sun. 

Star of love's soft interviews, 
Parted lovers on thee muse ; 
Their renu'iubramer in heaven 

Of thrilling vows thou ait, 
Too delicious to he riven 

By abseiK'e from the heart. 

THO.\lAS Campbell. 



CAPE-COTTACE AT SUNSET. 

We stood upon the ragged rocks, 

When the long day was nearly done ; 

The waves had ceased their sullen shoi'ks. 
And lapped our feet with nuuniuring tone. 

And o'er the bay in streaming locks 
Blew the red tresses of the sun. 

Along the west the golden bars 

Still to a deeper glory grew ; 
Above our heads the faint, few stars 

Looked out from the unfathomcd blue ; 
And the fair city's elnmorous jars 

Seemed melted in th.it c\*eninL;' hue. 



sunset sky ! purple tide ! 

friends to fiiends that closer pressed ! 
Those glories have in darkness died. 
And ye have left my longing breast. 

1 could not keep you by my side. 
Nor li.\ that radiance in the west. 

WII.LIA.M BELCUKR GLAZIER. 



SUNSET. 

FROM "QUEEN MAD." 

Ik solitude hath ever led thy steps 
To the w ild ocean's echoing shore, • 
And thou hast lingered there 
Until the sun's broad orb 
Seemed resting on the burnished wave, 

Tliou must liave nntrked the lines 
l^f purple gold that motionless 

llnng o'er the sinking sphere : 
Thou must have maiked the billowy clouds, 
Edgi'd with intolenible radiancy, 
Towering like rocks of jet 
CrowiH'd with a diamond wivath. 
And yet there is a moment, 
Wlo'ii the sun's highest point 
Peejis like a sfcu' o'er ocean's western edge. 
When those far clouds of feathery gold, 
Shaded witli deepest purjile, gleam 
Like islands on a dark-blue sea ; 
Then has tliy fancy soared above the earth, 
.\nil fulled its wearied wing 
Within the Fairy's fane. 
Yet not the golden islands 
(ileaming in yon Hood of light. 

Nor the leathery curtains 
Stretching o'er the sun's bright couch, 
Nor the burnished ocean's waves 

Paving that gorgeous dome. 
So fair, so wondertnl a sight 
As Mali's ethereal palace could altbrd. 
Yet likest evening's vault, that fairy Hall ! 
Heaven, low resting on the wave, it spread 
Its Hoors of Hashing light. 
Its vast and azure dome. 
Its fertile golden islands 
Floating on a silver sea ; 
Whilst snns their mingling beamings darted 
Through clouds of circumambient darkness. 
And pearly battlements around 
Looki'd o'er the ininieuse of heaven. 

TEKCV BVSSHU SHELLEV. 



NIGHTFALL: A PICTURE. 

Low burns the summer afternoon ; 

A mellow lustre lights the scene ; 
And from its smiling beauty soon 

The purpling shade will chase the sheen. 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



413 



The old, (|uaiut hoiiu'sleiurs windows blaze ; 

'I'lu' ccdiiis long, bluck pictuirs show ; 
Ami bi'ouilly slopes one path of rays 

Within the burn, ami inaUes it f;low. 

The loft stares out — the eat intent, 
hike carving, on some jjmiwing rat — 

W'ith sun-bathed hay and rafters lient, 

Nookcd, eobwebbod homes of wasp and bat. 

Tho liarness, bridle, saddle, dart 

tileams Irom the lower, rough e.\|ianse ; 

At either side the stooping cart, 

Pitchfork and plough east looks askance. 

White Dobbin through the stable-doors 
Shows his round shape ; faint color coats 

The manger, where the farmer pours. 
With rustling rush, the glancing oats. 

A sun-haze streaks the dusky shed ; 

Makes speare of scams and gems of chinks : 
In mottled gloss the straw is spread ; 

And the gmy grindstone dully blinks. 

The sun salutes the lowest west 

With gorgeous tints around it drawn ; 

A beacon on the mountain's breast, 
A crescent, shred, a star — and gone. 

The landscape now prepari's for night : 

A gauzy niist slow settles round ; 
Eve shows her hues in every sight, 

And blends her voice with every sound. 

The sheep stream rippling ilouii the dell. 
Their smooth, shar|) faces [loiuted straight ; 

Tho pacing kine, with tinkling bell. 
Come grazing through the pa-sture-gate. 

The (lucks are grouped, and talk in fits : 
One yawns with stretch of leg and wing ; 

One rears and fans, then, settling, sits ; 
One at a moth makes awkward spring. 

The geese march grave in Indian tile, 
The ragged i>atriarcli at the hi^ad ; 

Then, scj'eaniing. Mutter olf awhile. 
Fold up, and once more stately tread. 

Hrave chanticleer shows haughtiest air ; 

Hurls his shrill vaunt with lofty bend ; 
Lifts foot, glares round, then follows where 

His scratching, picking partlets wend. 

Staid Towser scents the glittering ground ; 

Then, yawning, draws a crescent deep. 
Wheels his head-drooping fmmo aronnil 

Anil sinks with fore-paws stretched for slec-]T. 



The o.\cn, loosened from the ]>lough, 
Hest by tho pear-tree's crooked tiunk ; 

Tim, standing with yoke-burdened limw. 
Trim, in a mound liesido him sunk. 

One of the kine upon the liaidi 

Heaves her face-lifting, w'heezy roar ; 

One smooths, with lapping tongue, her Hunk ; 
With ponderous droop one linds the lloor. 

Freed Dobbin through the soft, clear dark 
Cllininii'rs across the [lillarcd .scene. 

With tho grouped geese, — a pallid mark, — 
And scattered bushes black between. 

The fire-flies freckle every spot 

With tickle light that gleams and dies ; 

Tho bat, a wavering, somuUess blot. 
The I'at, a pair of prowling eyes. 

Still the sweet, fragi'ant dark o'erllows 

The deepening air and darkening ground ; 

Hy its rich scent I trace the rose, 
The viewless beetle by its sound. 

The cricket scrapes its rib-like bars ; 

The tree-toad purrs in whirring tone ; 
And now tho heavens are set with stars, 

And night and ([uiet reign alone. 

ALlfKUD D. STREHT. 



KVENlNll IN I'AliADlSE. 

FROM " I'ARADISP. LOST." BOOK IV. 

Now came still evening on, and twiliglit gray 
Had in hor sober livery all things clad ; 
Silence accompanied ; for beast and bird. 
They to their grassy couch, these to their nests. 
Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale ; 
She all night long her amorous descant sung. 
Silence was pleased : now glowed the lirnniment 
With living sapphires ; Hesperus, that led 
The starry host, rode brightest, till the moon, 
liising in clouded majesty, at length 
Apparent queen, unveiled her pceilcss light, 
And o'er the dark her silver nnintle threw. 

MILTON. 



KVENINC. 

FROM •• DON Jl'AN, 

Ave Maria I o'er the earth aiid sea, ' 

That heavenliest hour of heaven is worthiest thee ! 

Ave Maria I blesseil be the hour, 

Tho time, tho clime, the spot, where I so oft 
Have felt that moment in its fullest power 

Sink o'er the earth so beautiful and soft, 



414 



rOEMS OF NATURE. 



While swung llic ilcip I'l'll in llio Jistnnt towt'i- 

Or tlio I'liiiit ilyiiij; iliiy-liviim sloU' iilol'l, 
Ami not II liiviitli I'n'pt tlii'iiui;li ll»i rosy air, 
Ami yet tlm I'orost Iciwcs si'ciiuhI stirroil with 
prayi'i'. 

Avo Miiria ! "t is thi> hour of priiyor ! 

Ave Mnriii ! 't is tho hour of lovt> ! 
Avo Marin ! may o\ir spirits ilaro 

I.imk up til thiiu' ami to thy Sou's above ! 
Avo Maria ! O that faco so fair ! 

'I'hosi' ilowiH'ast eyos liiMu'ath the Aluiighty 
ilovi', — 
What thoujjli 'tis hut a picluri'il image? — 

striko, - - 
That paiuliug is uo iilol, - - 't is too liko. 

Swi'i'l hour of twilight ! iu the solitmle 
or the pine foivst, ami the silent shoiv 

Whieh hounds liavenna's iniuiemorial wood. 
Hooted wheiv onee the Adi'ian wave llowed o'er 

'I'o where the last C'lvsaivau fortress stood, 
Kvergiven foivst ; whieh Hoeeaeeio's loiv 

And Orydeu's lay made haunted ground to me. 

How have 1 loved the twilight hour and thee ! 

'l"he shrill I'iealas, people of the pine, 

Making their sunnner lives one eeaseless song, 

Woiv the sole eehoes, save n\y steed's and 
mine. 
And vesper hells that rose the honglis along; 

The speetii' huntsman of Onesti's line. 

Mis hell-dogs, and their eliase, and the fair 
throng 

Whieh learned from this evaniple not to lly 

I'liau a true lover. shadowed m^• mind's eye. 

(1 Hesperus ! thou hringi'st all good things, — 
llonu' to the weary, to the hungry eheer. 

To the young liii\l the |vaivnt's brooding wings. 
The weleome stall to the o'erlabored steer ; 

Wlmle'er of peaee about our hearthstone eliiigs, 
Whate'er our household gods proteet of vlear, 

Aiv gathered i\uiud us by thy look of rost ; 

Thou bring'st the ehild, too, to the luoHmr's 
bivast. 

Soft ho>u' ! whieh wakes the wish and nadts tlie 
heart 

l>f those who sail the seas, on the fu'st day 
When they fivm their .sweet friends aro torn 
ajvirt ; 

Ov tills with love the pilgrim on his way, 
.■\s the far bell of vesper makes him start. 

Seeming to weep the dying day's decay : 
Is this a faney whieh our i-eason seorns ? 
.Ml ! sur«>l_Y nothing dies but something mourns. 

l.v>RU BVRO.N. 



TO OKl.lA. 

Caiummiaumku Sleep, son of the .sable Night, 
Brother to Heath, in silent darkness born : 
Uelieve my languish and le.store the light ; 
With dark forgetting of my eaie, ivtnrn. 
And let the day be time enough to nionrii 
The shipwreck of my ill-advent uied youth : 
Let waking eyes siilliee to wail I heir seorn 
Without the torment of the night's untruth. 
t\iase dreams, the images of day desires, 
To model forth the pa.ssions of the morrow ; 
Never let rising sun approve you liars, 
To add more grief to aggravate my sorrow. 
Still let ine sleep, eiuhiaeing elonds iu vain. 
And never wake to feel the day's disdain. 

SAMl'HL UANIEL. 

»^ 

THE CAMP AT NUUIT. 

FROM "Tllll ILUn." ItoOK Vlll. 

TllK winds transferred into the friendly sky 

Tlioir sn|iper's savor : to the whieh they sat de- 
lightfully, 

And silent all night in open held ; fires round 
about them shined. 

As when about the silver moon, when air is five 
from wind. 

And stars shine elear, to whose sweet beams. 
high prospects, and the hiinvs 

Of all steep hills and pinnaeles, thrust uj> them- 
selves for shows. 

And oven the lowly valleys joy to glitter in their 
sight. 

When the unmeasiiivd firmament biii-sts to dis- 
close her light. 

And all the signs in heaven aiv seen, that glad 
the slieplici\rs heart ; 

So many liivs iliselosed their beams, made by the 
Trojan i>art. 

Before the face of llion. and her bright tiinvts 
sliowed. 

A tliousand courts of gnaiil kept tiivs. and every 
guaixl allowed 

Fifty stout men. by whom their lioi-se eat oats 
and lianl white corn, 

And all did wishl'iiUy o.xpoct the silver-throned 

morn. 

l-Toin the C.r«ek of HOMBK. Trxitslxtion 
of GBURGK CltAfMAN. 



TO NuniT. 

Swiftly walk over the western wavo. 

Spirit of Night I 
tint of the luisty eastern cave, 
Wheiv, all the long and lone daylight. 
Thou wovest divanis of joy ami fear 
Which imike thee terrible and dear, — 

Swift \v ihy llight ! 



POEMS OP NAirUK 



415 



Wrap thy form in u in;iiill>i gray, 

Stiir-iinviiiiight ; 
llliiiil with tliiiiy hiiir Iho oyi'S of Dny, 
Kiss Iht until slio Iw vvimrioil out ; 
Tliiii wiimlor o'lU- city iiiul sim iiuil Iniiil, 
Touihiim all with tliiuo opiato waml, — 

C'ouii', liiiig-siiU|,'lit ! 

W'lioii I aroso ami saw the ilawii, 

I sifjlii'd lor llu'i' ; 
Wlicm liglit null' liigli, ami Hi" 'li'W was gone, 
Auil noon lay liwivy on IIowit and truo, 
Anil tlu' wcaiy Day tuinnd to linr riwt, 
l/ing«iinj; lika an unlovi'd guest, 

I iiighud lor tlnu ! 

Thy lirotliir Death laine, and cried, 

" Wouldst llioii nie ?" 
Thy swiiol eliild Slei'|), tile lilniy-eyi'd, 

Murnuned like a noontide bee, 
" Shall I nestle near thy side ! 
Wonhlst thou nie I" — And 1 replied, 

" No, not thee ! " 

Death will romu when tluai ait dead, 

Soon, too soon, 
Sleep will eonie when thiai art lleil ; 
or neither would 1 ask the boon 
I ask of thee, beloved Night, - - 
Swilt bo thine approaehing llight. 

Come soon, soon ! 

I'UKtv nvssiiu snni.i.HV. 



NKJllT. 

PROM ••CHU.DH UAROLD." CANTO II. 

'T IS night, when Meditation bids us feel 
We ome have lovid, though love i« ut an end : 
The heart, lone mourner of its ballled zeal. 
Though IViemlless now, will dream it had a 

friend. 
Who wilh the weight of years would wish to 

iHMid, 

Whi'll Youth itself survives yming l.ove and 

j'ly ' 

Alas ! when iniii;;liiig souls forget to bleml. 
Death hath but litUe left him to destroy ! 
Ah I liajipy years ! once more who would not bu 
a boy I 

Thus Iwnding o'er the vossel's laving side. 
To gaze on Dian's \vavo-rellecl<'d sphere, 
The soul forgets lior sehemes of 1 lope and I'rido, 
And Hies unconscious o'ereiu h backward year. 
None are so dcsolatu but something dear. 
Dearer than scdf, |)ossesses or jiossessed 
A thought, and claims the homage of a tear ; 
A Hashing pang! of which the weary breast 
Would still, allK'it in vain, the heavy heart ilivesl. 



To sit on rocks, to muse o'er Hood and fell. 
To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, 
Whi'ie things that own not man's dominimi 

dwell. 
And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been ; 
To climb the trackless mountain all unseen. 
With the wild Hock that never needs a fold ; 
Alone o'er stei'ps ami foaming falls to lean, — 
This is not solitude ; 'tis hut to hohl 
Converses with Nature's eharins, and view her 

stores unrolled. 

But midst the crowil, Ihe hniu, the shock of 

men 
To hear', to si'e, to feid, and to possess. 
And roam along, the worlil's tired (h^nizon. 
With none who bless us, Hone whom we ciin 

bless ; 
Miiuons of splendor shrinking from distress ! 
Nnui'lhat, with kindred ccmsciousness endued. 
If we were not, woulil seem to smile the less 
Of all that Haltered, followed, sought, and sued ; 
This is to be alone ; this, this is scditude ! 

LOKO nvKoN. 



NlOllT. 



MvsTKKIoUH Night ! when our lirst p;irent knew 
Thee, from report divine, and heard thy namo. 
Did he not tremble for this lovely frame, - 
This glorious canopy of light and blue ! 
Yet 'ncath a curtain of trauslneent dew, 
Hatheil in the rays of the great setting lliini'i, 
Ilnspcnis, with the host of heaven, nnnv. 
And lo ! ereatiou widened in man's view. 
Who could have thought such darkness lay con- 
cealed 
Within thy beams, O Sun ! or who coiihl find. 
Whilst Hy and leaf and in.seet stood revealed. 
That to such C(miitli^ssorbs thou mad'st us blind ! 
Why do we then shun death with an.xious strife ! 
If light can thus deceivi', wherefore not life ? 

JOSlilMl hLANCO Wiini!. 



Nil 11 IT. 

I'ltOM " QOeUN MAIL" 

How beautiful this night ! the balmiest sigh 
Which vernal zephyrs breathe in evening's ear 
Wore discord to the speaking ipiielude 
That wraps this moveless .scene. Heaven's ebon 

vault. 
Studded with stars iiniillciMbly bright, 
Through which the moon's unclouded grandeur 

rolls, 
.Seems like a canopy which lovo has spread 
To (curtain her sleeping wmld. Yon gentle hills, 
Kidied in a garmciil of niilroilden snow ; 



416 



POEMS OP NATURE, 



Yon darksome rocks, whence icicles ilepeml, 
So stainless that their white and glittering spires 
Tinge not the moon's pure beam ; yon castle steep. 
Whose banner hangeth o'er the time-worn tower 
So idly that rapt fancy deemeth it 
A metaphor of peace — all form a scene 
Where musing solitude might love to lift 
Her soul above this sphere of earthliness ; 
Where silence undisturbed might watch alone, 
So cold, so bright, so still. 

The orb of day 
In southern climes o'er ocean's waveless field 
Sinks sweetly smiling : imt the faintest breath 
Steals o'er the unruffled deep ; the clouds of eve 
Reflect unmoved the lingering beam of day ; 
And vesper's image on the western main 
Is beautifully still. To-morrow comes : 
Cloud upon cloud, in dark and deepening mass. 
Rolls o'er the blackened waters ; the deep roar 
Of distant thunder mutters awfully ; 
Tempest unfolds its pinion o'er the gloom 
That shrouds the boiling surge ; the pitiless fiend. 
With all his winds and lightnings, tracks hisprey ; 
The torn deep yawns, — the vessel finds a grave 
Beneath its jagged gulf. 

PERCY BVSSHE SHELLEV. 



NIGHT. 



Night is the time for rest : 
How sweet, when labors close. 

To gather round an aching breast 
The curtain of repose, 

Stretch the tired limbs, and lay the head 

Upon our own delightful bed ! 

Night is tlie time for dreams : 

The gay romance of life, 
AVhen truth that is, and truth that seems, 

Blend in fantastic strife ; 
Ah ! visions, less beguiling far 
Than waking dreams by daylight are ! 

Night is the time for toil : 

To plough the classic field. 
Intent to find the buried spoil 

Its wealthy furrows yield ; 
Till all is ours that sages taught, 
Tliat poets sang or heroes wrought. 

Night is the time to weep : 

To wet with unseen tears 
Those graves of Memory, where sleej 

The joys of other yeare ; 
Hopes, th.at were Angels at their birth. 
But perished young, like things of earth. 



Night is the time to watch : 

O'er ocean's dark expanse, 
To hail the Pleiades, or catch 

The full moon's earliest glance. 
That brings into the homesick mind 
All we have loved and left behind. 

Night is the time for care ; 

Brooding on hours misspent. 
To see tlie spectre of Desjiair 

Come to our lonely tent ; 
Like Brutus, midst his slumbering host, 
Startled by Caesar's stalwart ghost. 

Night is the time to muse • 

When, from the eye, the soul 
Takes flight ; aiul, with expanding views, 

Beyond the starry pole 
Descries athwart the abyss of night 
The dawn of uncreated light. 

Night is the time to pray : 

Our Saviour oft withdrew 
To desert mountains far away ; 

So will his foUowei-s do, — 
Steal from the tlu'ong to haunts untrod, 
And hohl communion there with God. 

Night is the time for Death : 

When all around is peace. 
Calmly to yield the weary breath, 

From sin and suffering cease. 
Think of heaven's bliss, and give the sign 
To parting friends ; — such death be mine ! 
James Montgomery 



HYMN TO THE NIGHT. 

WanaaCrj, TpiAAtffTO?. 

I HEARD the trailing garments of the Night 
Sweep through her marble halls ! 

I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light 
From the celestial walls ! 

I felt her presence, by its spell of might, 

Stoop o'er me from above ; 
The calm, majestic presence of the Night, 

As of the one I love. 

I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight, 

Tlie manifold, soft chimes, 
That fill the haunted chambers of the Night, 

Like some old poet's rhymes. 

From the cool cisterns of the midnight air 

My spirit drank repose ; 
The fountain of perpetual peace flows thee. — 

From those deep cisterns flows. 



POEMS OF NATURE, 



417 



<) holy Night ! iVoru theu I h'arn to bu:ii- 

What niau has borne bul'oie ! 
Thi>ii hiyest thy lini^er on thi! lips of Caiv, 

And they eoniplaiu no more. 

Peace ! Peace '. Orestes-like I breathe this prayer ! 

Descend with broad-winged flight, 
The welcome, the thrice-prayed for, the most fair. 

The best-beloved Niglit ! 

Hknrv wadsworth Longfellow. 



HYMN. 



FROM "THE SEASONS.' 



These, as they change, .Uniighty Father, these 
Are but the varieil God. The rolling year 
Is full of thee. Forth in thi' pleasing spring 
Thy beauty walks, thy tenderness and love. 
Wide Hush the tields ; the softening air is balm ; 
Echo the mountains round ; tJie forest smiles ; 
.\nd every sense and every heart is joy. 
Then comes thy glory in the summer months, 
With light and heat refulgent. Then thy sun 
Shoots full perfection through the swelling year ; 
And oft thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks, 
And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve, 
15y brooks and groves in hollow-whispering gales. 
Tliy bounty shines in autumn unconKiied, 
And spreads a common feast for all that lives. 
In winter awful thoul with clouds and storms 
Arounil thee thrown, tempest o'er tempest rolli'd. 
Majestic darkness 1 on the whirlwind's wing 
Kidiiig sublime, thou bidd'st the world adore. 
And humblest nature with thy northern blast. 

Mysterious round 1 whatskill, what force divine, 
Deep felt, in these appear ! a simple train, 
Yet so delightful mixed, with such kind art. 
Such beauty and beneficence combined ; 
Shade, uuperceivcd, so softening into shade ; 
And all so forming an harmonious whole. 
That, as they still succeed, they ravish still. 
Hut wandering oft, with br\ite unconscious gaze, 
Man marks not thee, marks not the mighty hand. 
That, ever busy, wheels the silent spheres ; 
Works in the secret deep ; shoots, steaming, 

thence 
The fair profusion that o'ei'spreads tlie spring ; 
Flings from the sun direct the flaming day ; 
Feeds eveiy creature ; luiils the tempest forth ; 
And, as on earth this grateful changi- revolves. 
With transport touches all the springs of life. 

Nature, attend ! join every living .soul. 
Beneath the spacious temple of the sky. 
In adoration join ; and, ardent, raise 
One general song ! To Him, ye vocal gales. 
Breathe soft, whose spirit in your freshness 

breathes : 



0, talk of him in solitary glooms ; 

Where, o'er the rock, the scarcely waving pine 

Fills the brown shade with a religious awe. 

And ye whose bolder note is heari.1 afar, 

Who shake the astonisheil world, lift high to 

Heaven 
The impetuous song, aud say from whom you 

rage. 
His praise, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills ; 
And let me catch it as I muse along. 
Ye headlong torrents, rapid, and profound ; 
Ye softer Hoods, that lead the luunid maze 
Along the vale ; and thou, majestic main, 
A secret world of wonders in thyself, 
Sound his stupendous praise, — whose greater 

voice 
Or bids you roar, or bids your roarings fall. 
Soft roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and 

Howers, 
111 mingled clouds to him, — whose sun exalts, 
Whose breath perfumes you, and whose pencil 

paints. 
Ye forests bend, ye harvests wave, to him ; 
Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart, 
As home he goes beneath the joyous moon. 
Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth asleep 
Unconscious lies, eH'use your mildest beams. 
Ye constellations, while your angels strike, 
Amiil the spangled sky, the silver lyre. 
Great source of day ! best image here below 
(If thy Creator, ever pouring wide. 
From world to world, the vital ocean round. 
On Nature write with every beam his praise. 
The thunder rolls : be hushed the prostrate 

world ; 
While cloud to cloud returns the solemn hymn. 
Bleat out afresh, ye hills ; ye mossy rocks, 
Retain the souml ; the broad responsive low. 
Ye valleys, raise ; for the great Shepherd reigns. 
And his iinsufl'eriug kingdom yet will come. 
Ye woodlands all, awake ; a boundless song 
Burst from the groves ; and when the restless 

day. 
Expiring, lays the warbling world iisleep. 
Sweetest of birds ! sweet I'hilomela, charm 
The listening shades, and teach the night his 

praise. 
Ye chief, for whom the whole creation smiles, 
.^t once the head, the heart, and tongue of all. 
Grown the great hymn ! in swarming cities vast, 
Assembled men to the deep organ join 
I The long-resounding voice, oft breaking clear, 
.\t .solemn pauses, through the swelling bass ; 
And, as each mingling Hame increases each. 
In one united ardor rise to heaven. 
Or if you rather choose the rural shade, 
And find a fane in every sacred grove, 
I There let the .shepherd's Hutc, the virgin's l.iy. 



418 



I'OEMS OF .NATIUK. 



The prompting seraph, and the poet's lyiv, 
Still sing the Hod ol' seasons as they I'oll. 
Vol- nie, when 1 forget the durling theme, 
Whether the blossom blows, the summer ray 
linssets the plain, inspiring aiitnmn gleams, 
Or winter rises in the blackening east, — 
He my tongne nuite, my I'aney jwint no more. 
Anil, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat ! 

Should fate eommand nie to the farthest verge 
Itf the green earth, to distant barbarous elimes, 
Kivers unknown to song, — where lii-st the snn 
Gilds Indian nionntains, or his setting beam 
Flames on the Atlantic isles, — 't is naught to 

me : 
Since God is ever present, ever felt. 
In the void waste as in the city full ; 
And whei-e he vital breathes there must be joy. 
When even at last the solemn hour shall come. 
And wing my mystic llight to futniv worlds. 
1 cheerful will olx'y ; theiv, with new powers, 
AVill rising wondei-s sing : I cannot go 
AVheiv Univei-sal Love not smiles around, 
Sustaining all yon orlis, and all their suns ; 
From seeming evil still educing giiod. 
And better thence agiiin, and better still. 
In infinite progression, but I lose 
Myself in him, in light inetlable ! 
Come, theu, expressive Silence, muse his praise. 

James Tiio.msos. 



MORNING IN MAY.* 

rKOM "THE CArfTERBURY PILGRIMS : THE KNICHTES TALE." 

Thk busy larke, messager of daye, 
Salueth in hire song the morwe graye ; 
And fyry Phebus ryscth nji so brighte, 
That lU the orient laugheth of the lighte, 
.■\ud with his stremes dryeth in the givvcst 
The silver dropcs, hongyng on the leevcs, 
.\nd Arcite, that is in the court ryal 
With Theseus, his squyer principal, 
Is risen, and loketh on the merye day. 
And for to doon his observaunce to May, 
Uemembryng on the jioynt of his desir. 
He on his coni-ser, stertyng as the tir, J 
Is riden. into the feeldes him to pleye, g 
Out of the court, were it a niyle or tweye. 
And to the grove, of which that 1 yow tolde. 
By avcnture his wey he g-an to holde. 
To maken him a pniand of the givves, 
Were it of woodebynde or hawethorn leves, 
.\nd lowde he song ayens the sonnc scheene : 
"May, with alle thy flonivs and thy gi-eene, 
Welcome be thou, wel faire fressche May, 
I hope that I som grene gcte may." 



MARCH. 

Slater of winter, art thou here agsun i 
welcome, thou that bring'st the summer nigh ! 
The bitter wind n\akes not thy victory vain, 
Nor will we mock thee for thy faint blue sky. 
Welcome, Miurh ! whose kindly days lUid dry 
Make April ready for the throstle's song. 
Thou fii-st ivdresser of the winter's wrong ! 

Yea, welcome, Maivh ! and though I die ere June, 
\'et for the hope of life I give thee praise, 
Striving to swell the bni\len of the tune 
That even now 1 hear thy brown binis raise, 
Vnmindful of the pjtst or coming days ; 
Who sing, '• joy ! a new year is In'gnn ! 
What happiness to look upon the sun ! " 

O, what iH-getteth all this storm of bliss. 

But Peath himself, who, crjiug solemnly. 

Even from the heart of sweet Forgettulness, 

Bids us, "Rejoice ! lest pleasureless ye die. 

Within a little time must ye gi> by. 

Strotch forth your open hands, and. while ye live. 

Take all the gifts tluit Death and Life may give." 

WILLIAM MORRIS. 



sruiXG. 

FROM "IN MEMORIAM." 

Dip down upon the northern shore, 
O sweet new-year, delaying long : 
Thou doest expectant Xatuiv wrong ; 

Delaying long, delay no more. 

What stays thee from the clouded noons. 
Thy sweeUtess from its proiwr place ! 
Ciui tix)uble live with April days. 

Or sadness iu tlte summer moons ? 

Bring oivhis, bring the foxglove spire. 
The little sjieedwcirs darling blue. 
Deep tulips dashed with tiery dew, 

Laburnums, dropping-wells of lire. 

thou, new-year, delaying long, 
Delayest the sorrow in my blood, 
That longs to burst a frozen bud. 

And flood a freslier throat with song. 

Now fades the last long streak of suow ; 
Now boui-geons every nnize of quick 
About the llowering squares, and thick 

By ashen roots the \-iolets blow. 

• Text of the Ciirmrfw SfrUs. 

t Cro>-es. : Fire. § Phy. 



POEMS OF NATIUE 



419 



Now rings tlic wooiUnml loud nnd long, 
The tlistuiu'c takes a lovt^lior hue. 
Ami tlrowiieil in yo"<li'i' living blno 

The lark luconK's a sightless song. 

Now (Ian™ tlip lights on lawn anil Ira, 
Tin' Hocks arc whiter down tlui vale, 
And milkier every milky sail 

On winding stream or distant sea ; 

Where now tlio sea-mew piiies, or dives 
In yonder greening gleam, and tly 
The happy birds, that ehange their sky 

To Imild and brcioil, that live their lives 

From land to land ; and in my breast 
Spring wakens too ; and my regret 
liecomes an April violet. 

And buds nnd blossoms like the rest. 

ALI-Kl.U TENNVSON. 



DIE DOWN, DISMAL DAY. 

DiK down, dismal day, and let me live ; 
And come, blue deeps, magnifieently strewn 
AVith colored clouds, — large, light, and fugi- 
tive, — 
By upper winds through pompous motions blown. 
Xow it is death in life, — a vapor dense 
Creeps round my window, till I cannot sec 
The far .snow-shining mountains, au<l the glens 
Shagging the mountain-tops. O (!od ! make free 
This barren shackled earth, so deadly cold, — 
Br»atho gently forth thy spring, till winter Hios 
In rude ania<!ement, fearful and yet bold. 
While she iierfonns her customed charities ; 
I weigh the loaded hours till life is bare, — 
Gild, for one clear day, a snott'drop, and sweet 

air ! 

David Gray. 



SUMMER LONGINGS. 

(All ! my heart is weary waiting, 

Waiting for the May, — 
Waiting for the pleasant rambles 
Where the fragrant hawthorn-brambles. 
With the woodbine alternating. 

Scent the dewy way. 
Ah ! my heart is weary waiting. 
Waiting for the May. 

Ah ! my heart is sick with longing, 
Longing for the May, — 
Longing to escaiie from study 
To the young face fair and ruddy, 



And the thousand charms belonging 

To the summer's day. 
Ah ! my heart is sick with longing. 

Longing for the May. 

Ah ! my heart is sore with sighing. 
Sighing for the May, — 
Sighing for their sure returning. 
When the summer beams arc burning, 
Hopes and flowers tliat, dead or dying. 

All the winter lay. 
Ah ! my heart is sore with sighing. 
Sighing for the May. 

Ah ! my heart is pained with throbbing. 
Throbbing for the May, — 
Throbbing for the seaside billows. 
Or the water-wooing willows ; 
Where, in laughing and in sobbing, 

fllide.thc streams away. 
Ah ! my heart, my heart is throbbing. 
Throbbing for the May. 

Waiting sad, dejected, weary. 
Waiting for the May : 
Spring goes by with wasted warnings, — 
Moonlit evenings, sunbright mornings, — 
Summer comes, yet dark and dreary 

Life still ebbs away ; 

Man is ever weary, weary. 

Waiting for the May ! 

DP.N'TS 1-I.ORCNCK MACCARTHV. 



WHEN THE HOUNDS OF SPRING. 

When the hounds of spring are on winter's 
traces. 

The mother of months in meadow or plain 
Kills the shadows and windy places 

With lisp of leaves and rijiplc of rain ; 
And the brown briglit nightingale amorous 
Is half assuaged for Itylus, 
For the Thracian ships and the foreign faces ; 

The tongueless vigil, and all the pain. 

Come witli bows bent and with emptying of 
quivers. 

Maiden most perfect, lady of light. 
With a noise of winds and many rivers. 

With a clamor of waters, and with might ; 
liind on thy sandals, thmi most licet. 
Over the splendor and speed of thy feet ! 
!'"iir the faint east quickens, the wan west'shivers. 

Round the feet of the day and the feet of tho 
night. 



420 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



"\VluM-e slinll we timi lioi-, liow sliall we sing to lier, 
Fold our Immls rmiiul lier knees ami cliiig ? 

that man's lieart were as lire and could spring 
to her, 
Fire, or the strength of the streams that spring I 

For the stars and the winds are unto her 

As raiment, as songs of the har|i-ptayer ; 

For the risen stars and the fallen eling to her, 
And the southwest-wind and the west-wind 
sing. 

For winter's i-ains and ruins are over, 
And all the season of snows and sins ! 

The days dividing lover and lover. 

The light that loses, the night that wins ; 

And time remembered its grief forgotten. 

And frosts are slain and llowers begotten, 

And in green underwood and eover 
Blossom by blossom the spring begins. 

The full streams feed on flower of rushes, 
Ripe gnvsses trammel a travelling foot. 

The faint fresh llame of the young year Hushes 
From leaf to flower and tlower to fruit ; 

And fruit and leaf are as gold and fire, 

And the oat is heard above tlie lyre. 

And the hoofed heel of a .satyr erushes 
The ehestnut-husk at the ehestnut-root. 

And I'un by noon and liaeehus by night. 

Fleeter of foot than the fleet-foot kid. 
Follows with dancing and lills with delight 

The Micuad and tlie Has.sarid ; 
And soft as lips that laugh and hide. 
The laughing leaves of the trees divide. 
And screen from seeing and leave in sight 
The god pursuing, the maiden hid. 

The ivy falls with the Bacchanal's hair 
Over her eyebrows shading her eyes ; 
The wild vine slipping down leaves bare 

Her bright breast shortening into sighs ; 
The wild vine slips with the weight of its leaves, 
Uut the berried ivy catches and cleaves • 

To the limbs that glitter, the feet that scare 
The wolf that follows, the fawn that flies. 

ALc-tKxoN Charles SwiNbUR.\E. 



THE WINTKl! BKIXG OVER. 

The winter being over, 

III oilier comes the spiiiig, 

'JVliich doth green lierbs discover. 

And cause tho binls to sing. 

The night also exiiired. 

Then comes the morning bright, 



Which is so much desired 
liy all that love the light. 

This may learn 

Them that mourn 
To put their grief to flight : 
The spring succeedeth winter. 
And day nmst tbllow night. 

He therefore that sustaincth 
Affliction or distress 
Which every nu>mber paineth, 
And tindeth no release, — 
Let such therefore despair not, 
But on firm hojie depend, 
Whose griefs immortal are not, 
And therefore must have end. 

They that faint 

AVith com])laint 
Therefore are to blame ; 
They add to their afflictions. 
And amidify the same. 

For if they could with jiatience 
Awhile possess the mind, 
Ry inward consolations 
They might refreshing find. 
To sweeten all their crosses. 
That little time they 'dure ; 
So might they gain by losses, 
And sharp would sweet procure. 

lint if the mind 

Be inclined 
To nmiuietness. 
That only may be called 
The worst of all distress. 

He that is melancholy. 
Detesting all delight. 
His wits by sottish folly 
Are ruinated quite. 
Sad discontent and luurmui's 
To him are incident ; 
Were he possessed of honors, 
He could not be content. 

Sparks of joy 

Fly away ; 
Floods of care arise : 
And all dclightfid motion 
hi the conception dies. 

But those that are eonteuted 
However things do fall. 
Much anguish is prevented. 
And they soon freed from all. 
They finish all their laboi-s 
With much felicity ; 
Tlieirjoy in trouble savora 
Of perfect piety. 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



421 



Cheerfulness 

Doth expiess 
A settled jiimis miiul, 
Whieh is not prone to jjnulging, 
From uuinniiriug relinud. 



ANNU Collins. 



SPRING. 

WRITTEN WHILE A PRISONER IN ENCLA.ND. 

TilK Time hiith laid his mantle by 

tU' wind anil rain and ic\y ehill, 
And dons a rieli embroidery 

Of sunlight ]ioHred on lake and hill. 
No beast or bird in earth or sky. 

Whose voice doth not with gladness thrill, 
For Time hath laid his mantle by 

Of wind and rain and iey chill. 

Uiver and fountain, brook and rill, 
Bes|iangled o'er with livery gay 
Of silver droplets, wind their way. 
All in their new apparel vie, 
For Time hath laid his mantle by. 

CtiAKms OF Orleans, 



RETURN OF SPRING. 

God shield ye, heralds of the spring ! 
Ye faithful swallows, tieet of wing, 

Iloups, cuckoos, nightingales, 
Turtles, and every wilder bird. 
That make your hundred chirpings heard 

Through the green wooils and dales. 

God shield yo, Easter daisies all. 
Fair roses, buds, and blossoms small. 

Anil he whom erst the gore 
Of Aja.x ami Nareiss ilid print, 
Ye wild thyme, anise, balm, and mint, 

I welcome ye once more ! 

God shield ye, bright embroidered train 
Of butterllies, that on the plain 

Of each sweet herblet sip ; 
And ye, new swarms of bees, that go 
Where the pink Mowers and yellow grow 

To kiss thciu with your lip ! 

A hundred thousand times I call 
A hearty welcome on ye all ! 

This season how I love — 
This merry din on every shore — 
For winds and storms, whose sullen roar 

Forbade my steps to rove. 

l-foin the I-rcncIl of I'lEKKE RONSAKO. 



SPRING. 

Again the violet of our early days 

Drinks beauteous azure from the golden sun, 

And kindles into fragrance at his blaze ; 

The streams, lejoiccd that winter's work is done, 

Talk of to-morrow's cowslips, as tliey run. 

Wild apple, thou art blushing into bloom ! 

Thy leaves are coming, snowy-blossomed thorn ! 

Wake, buried lily ! spirit, ipiit thy tomb I 

And thou shade-loving hyacinth, be born ! 

Then, haste, sweet rose ! sweet woodbine, hymn 

the morn. 
Whose dewdrops shall illume with pearly light 
Each grassy blade that thick embattled stands 
From sea to sea, while daisies iutinite 
Uplift in praise their little glowing hands, 
O'er every hill that under heaven expands. 

EBENEZER liLLIOTT. 



SPRING. 

Lo ! where the rosy-bosomed Hours, 

Fair Venus' train, appear, 
Disclose the long-expecting flowers 

And w.ake the purple year ! 
The Attic warbler pours her throat 
Responsive to the cuckoo's note. 
The untaught harmony of spring : 
While, whispering pleasure as they Hy, 
t'ool zephyrs tlirongh the clear blue sky 

Their gathered fragrance Uiug. 

Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch 

A broader, browner sluule, 
Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech 

O'ereanopies the glade. 
Beside some water's rushy brink 
With me the Mu.se shall sit, and think 
(At ease reclined in rustic state) 
How vain the ardor of the crowd. 
How low, how little are the proud, 

How indigent the great ! 

Still is the toiling hand of care ; 

The panting herds ro]iose : 
Yc^t hark, how through the peopled air 

The busy murmur glows ! 
The insect youth are on the wing, 
Eager to taste the honeyed spring 
And lloat amid the li(iuid noon : 
Some lightly o'er the current skim, 
Some show their gayly gilded trim 

Quick-glancing to the sun. 

To Contemplation's sober eye 

Such is the race of man ; 
And they that creep, and they that fly, 

.■shall end where thev l>e<;an. 



422 



POEMS OK NATURE. 



Alike tlie Imsy and the gay 
But tUittei' tliiough life's little day, 
111 Fortune's vai yiiij{ inilors ili'est : 
Hi'usIuhI by the liaiul of rough misclianco 
Or ehilUul by aye, their airy dauee 
They leave, ill dust to rest. 

Methiiiks 1 hear iii aeeents low 

The sjiortive kind reply : 
I'oor moralist ! ami what art thou ? 

A solitary Hy ! 
Thy joys no glittering leinale meets. 
No hive liast tlioii of hoarded sweets. 
No jiaiuted iiUimage to display ; 
On hasty wings thy youth is tlown ; 
Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone, — 

We t'rolie while 't is May. 

THOMAS GKAV. 



SWEETLY 15REATHI>'G, VERNAL All!. 

Sweetly breathing, vernal air, 
That with kind warmth doth repair 
Winter's ruins ; from whoso breast 
All the gums and spiee of the East 
Morrow their perfumes ; whose eye 
Gilds the morn, and elears the sky • 
Whose dislievelled tresses shed 
Pearls upon the violet lied ; 
On whose brow, with ealiii smiles divst 
The haleyou sits and builds her nest ; 
lieauty, youtli, and endless spring 
Uwell upon thy rosy wing ! 

Thou, if stormy Boreas throws 
Pown whole forests when he blows. 
With a pregnant, tlowery birth. 
Canst refresh the teeming earth. 
If he nip the early bud, 
If he blast what 's fair or good, 
If he scatter our elioiee (lowers. 
If he shake our lialls or bowel's. 
If his rude breath thivaten us, 
Tlion eanst stroke great .iiolus. 
And from him the gi-.iee obtain, 
To bind him in an iron chain. 

Thomas Cakew. 



SPRING, THE SWEET SPUING. 

Si'RlNO, the sweet spring, is the year's pleasant 

king ; 
Then bhuuus each thing, then maids dance in a 

ring, 
fold doth not sting, tile pretty birds do sing, 
(,'nekoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo ! 



The palm and may make eouiitry-honses gay, 
Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day. 
And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay, 
Cuekoo, jng-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo ! 

The lields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet. 

Young lovers meet, old wives a sunning sit. 

In every street these tunes our ears do greet, 

t'nekoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo ! 

Spring ! the sweet spring ! 

Thomas Nash. 



SPRING. 

Bkiiold the young, the rosy spring 
(iives to the breeze her scented wing. 
While virgin graces, warm with May, 
Kling roses o'er her dewy way. 
The ninrmuriug billows of the deep 
Have languished into silent sleep ; 
And mark ! the Hitting sea-birds lave 
Their plumes in the rellecting wave ; 
While cranes from hoary winter lly 
To lluttcr in a kinder sky. 
Now tlie genial star of day 
Dissolves the murky clouds away, 
And cultured lield and winding stream 
Are freshly glittering in his beam. 

Now the earth prolilie swells 
With leafy bmls and tlowery bells ; 
Gemming shoots the olive twine ; 
Clusters \iright festoon the vine ; 
.Ml along the branches creeping, 
Tiirough the velvet foliage peeping. 
Little infant fruits we see 
N ui'siug into luxury. 

From the Greek of ANACREON. Transla. 
tion of THOMAS MOOKlv. 



I 



MAY MORNING. 

Now the bright moniing star, day's harbinger, 
Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her 
The tlowery May, who Iroiii her green lap throws 
The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose. 
Hail, bounteous May ! that doth iiispiiv 
•Mirth and youth and warm desire ; 
Woods and groves are of thy dressing, 
Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. 
Thus we salute thee witli our early song, 
And welcoiue thee, and wish thee long. 



SPRING IN CAROLINA. 

SiM'viNf., with that nameless pathos in the air 
Which dwells with all things fair. 
Spring, with her golden suns and silver rain. 
Is with us once again. 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



423 



Out ill the lonely woods the jasmine buiiis 
Its fragrant lumps, luul turns 
Into 11 royal lourt with grteu festoons 
The banks of dark lajjoous. 

In the deep heart of every forest tree 
The blood is all agloc. 

And there 's a look about the leafless bowers 
As if they dreamed of llowers. 

^■^■t still on every side wo trace the hand 
Of Winter in the huul. 
Save where the niaide reddens on the lawn, 
Flushed by the season's dawn ; 

Dr where, like those strange semblances we find 
That af;e to childhood bind, 
The elm jmts on, as if in Nature's scorn. 
The brown of autumn corn. 

As yet the turf is ilark, although you know 
That, not a span Iwlow, 

A thousanil f;crnisare groping through the gloom, 
And soon will bui-st their tomb. 

In gardens you may note amid the ilearth, 
The crocus bn-aking earth ; 
And near the snowdrop's tender white and green, 
The violet in its screen. 

liut many gleams and shadows need must pass 
Along the budding grass. 
And weeks go by, before the enamored South 
Shall kiss the rose's mouth. 

Still there 's a sense of blossoms yet unborn 
In the sweet aire of morn ; 
One almost looks to .see the very street 
Grow purple at his feet. 

At times a fragrant breeze comes floating by, 
.\nd brings, yon know not why, 
.\ feeling as when eager crowds await 
before a palace gate 

Some wondrous jiagcant ; and you scarce would 

start. 
If from a iH'ech's heart, 

A blue-eyed Dryad, stepping forth, should say, 
"Behold me ! I am May!" 

HE.VKV TIMROD. 



MAY. 



The spirit of the gentle south-wind colls 

From his blue throne of air. 
And where his whispering voice in music fulls, 
lieauty is budding there ; 
The bright ones of the valley break 
Their slumbers, and awake. 

The waving verdure rolls along the ]>lain, 

.■\nd the wide forest weaves, 
To welcome back its playful mates again, 
A canopy of leaves ; 
And from its darkening shadow lloats 
.\ gush of trembling notes. 

Fairer and brighter spreads the reign of May ; 

The tresses of the woods 
With the light dallying of the west-wind play ; 
And the full-brimming Hoods, 
As gladly to their goal they run. 
Hail the returning sun. 

James Gates percival. 



I FEEL a newer life in every gnle ; 

The winds that fan thc> llowei-s. 
And with their welcome breathings till the sail, 
Tell of aerener hours, — 
Of lioui-s that glide unfelt away 
lieueath the skv of May. 



THEY COME! THF. MERRY SUMMER 
MONTHS. 

Tiir.v come! the merry summer months of,' 

beauty, song, and flowers ; 
They come ! the gladsome months that bring 

thick leafiness to bowers. 
Up, up, my heart ! and walk abroad ; fling cark 

and care aside ; 
Seek silent hills, or rest thyself where peaceful 

waters glide ; 
Or, underneath the shadow vast of patriarchal 

tree. 
Scan tluough its leaves the cloudless sky in rapt 

tranquillity. 

The grass is soft, its velvet touch is grateful to 
the hand ; 

And, like the kiss of maiden love, the breaze is 
sweet and bland ; 

The dai.sy and the bullercuii are nodding cour- 
teously ; 

It stirs their blood willi kindest love, to bless 
and welcome thee ; 

And mark how with thine own thin locks — 
they now are silvery gray — 

That bli-ssful breeze is wantoning, and whisper- 
ing, "lie gay!" 

There is no cloud that sails along the ocean of 

yon sky 
But hath its own wingeil mariners to give it 

nnOiKly ; 



4Z-k 



I'OEMS OF NATLUE. 



TlkHi si'i'st tlioir ,i;littoiin,;; I'.nis oulsini'M.l, M 

gli'iimiiij; like rnl jjuKl ; 
Aiul li;iik ! willi sliriU \n\n' mu.vii-iil, llu'iv ii\imtv 

I'diM'si' llu'V Imlil. 
Cunl liU'ss llu'lll nil, |1k>si> litllc OIU'S, wlio, l';ir 

iilwvi' this I'lii'lli, 
Van iiiako a sooll' ol' its inraii ji'vs. ami vent a 

iiolili'i- miilh. 

liiil sul'l ! uiino oar ujn'anght i> souiul. (\vn\ 

j'omU'i' woml il I'aiiU' I 
Tlip spiiil of llio ilim jjivi'M ghulo ilitl lnvalhi' liis 

own j;linl iiaiMi' ; 
Yi's, it is lio 1 till' luMimt Innl. tlial, apart Uvw) 

all his kiiiil. 
Slow spoils his biMils luoiu'toiums to the soft 

wt'stfin wiiul ; 
OiU'koo ! Oui'koo ' ho siii^ns again. ' his mitos 

iiiv voiU of aii ; 
Hut simiilost stniiiis do soonosi soniul tlu' iU'0|i 

I'onnts ol' tho hoart. 

(5ooil l.oi\l ! it is a j;i'»t'i<>iis boon I'oi- thoujillt- 

oni/oil wight liko mo, 
To snioU ajriin ihoso siinanor llowofs bonoath 

this snmnior tivo ! 
To suok onoo nunv in ovovv bivath (hoir lilllo 

souls away, 
Autl food my I'anoy with loiul ilivains ol" youth's 

blight sunnnov day, 
\Vhou, inshing forth liko untamod oolt, tho 

ivokloss, tinaiit Kiy 
Waiidoii'd thivngh givi'nwoods all day long, a 

Hiighty hoait of joy ! 

I 'm sjiddi'i' now, - 1 havo had oanso ; but O, 

I 'in pmnd to think 
That oaoli puiv joy-fount, lovod of yoit<, I yot 

dolight to diink ; - 
l.o«l', lilossoiu, bhido, hill, viUloy, stivam. tlio 

oalin, uiioloudod sky. 
Still iniuglo iiuisio with my ditsims, as in tho 

days gono by. 
Wbwi sunimoi's lovolinosa and light fall round 

mo dark and oohl, 
I'll Iwav iinhvd lilo's lionviost oui's»\ — a hwut 

that hath wa.\od old! 

WlLU-^-U MornURWKLt. 



PKIUI "rilB VISICN OK SIR LAl'SKAl. ' 

Kauto gi'ts its jiiiot> for what Kjiith givos us : 
Tho iH'gjpir is tax)^! for a ooruor to dio in, 

Tho priosl hath his fw who oouios and sliriwsus. 
\\'o Ivu-gsiin tor tho gi-;\vos wo lio in ; 

At tho Uovil's Kwtli aix- all things sold. 

Kaoh ounot> of diwss oosis its ouiuv of gxild ; 



Kor a oa|i and liolls our livos wo pay, 
Uubblos wo oain with a wholo soul's tasking ; 

'T is hoavon alono that is givoii away, 
'T is only (!od may bo had for tho asking ; 
Thoiv is no prioo sot on tho lavish suninior, 
.\nd .Inno may bo had by tho poorest ooinor. 

And what is so niro as a day in .hmo ! 

Thon. if ovor, oomo porfoot days ; 
Thon lli'avon trios tho oarth if it bo in tnno. 

And ovor it s<il'lly hor warm oar lays : 
Whothor wo look, or whothor wo listen. 
Wo hoar life murnmr. or see it glisten ; 
Kvory olod tools a stir of might, 

An instinot within it that roaohos and tc'.vcr? 
And, giMping blindly above it lor light, 

I'limUs to a soul in gi-ass and llowei-s ; 
Tho Hush of life may well bo soon 

Thrilling Kiok ovor hills and valleys ; 
Tho oowslip startles in meadows given, 

Tho butteivup eatehos the sun in its olialioe, 
.Viul tlioiv 's never a leaf or a blado too moan 

To be some happy eivatuiv's palaoo ; 
Tho litllo biiil sit.s at his door in the sun, 

Atilt like a blossom among tho leaves, 
.\iid lets his illumined being o'errun 

With the dolugx' of summer it ivooivos ; 
His mate feels the eggs bonoath her wings. 
And tho hoart in her dumb breast tluttoi's and 

sings ; 
lie sings to the wide world, and she to hor nest, — 
In the nieo ear ol Natuiv, wliioli song is the best ! 

Now is tho high-tide of the year. 

And whatever of life hath e\llH^l away 
l\>mes Hooding Iwek, with a ripply ehoor. 

Into ovoiy baiv iiih-t and ereok and Kiy ; 
Now the hoart is so Inll that a di\>p overlills it. 
Wo aiv happy now iH'oause tn>d wills it ; 
No matter how Kirivn the jwst may have Ihh-ii, 
'T is oiiough for us now that tho loaves are giwu ; 
Wo sit in the warm shade and fool right well 
How the sap oitt'i^s up and the blossoms swell ; 
Wo may shut our oyos, but wo cannot help know- 
ing 
That skies nn< oloiir and grass is givwing ; 
The bivo/o eomos whispering in our oar. 
That dandelions aiv blassomiug near, 

That luaiio has sproutwl, that stroams aw 
llowing. 
That tho river is bluer than the sky. 
That the ivbin is plastering his house lianl by ; 
And if the biiv/o kept the _gv>od news Iviok, 
For other oonrioi-s wo should not lack : 

We oould guess it all by yon heifer's lowing, — 
And hark I liow oloar Kdd ehantieltvr, 
Warmwl with the new wiuo of tho ywir, 

Tells a'l in his Instv eivwing ! 




.^^.^4- 



POEMS Ol'' NATI HE. 



425 



Joy comes, grief goes, «i' know iml how ; 
Everything is happy now, 

Evorytluiig is upwaril striving ; 
"Tis as easy now for the lieart to be trno 
As for grass to be green or skies to be blue, — 

T is the natiual way of living ; 
Who know>; whither the elouils have lied ? 

In the unsearreil heaven they leave no wake, 
And the eyes forget the tears they have shed, 

Tlie heart forgets its sorrow and ache ; 
The soul |iartakes the season's youth, 

And tlie sulphurous rifts of passion and woe 
Lie deep 'neath a silenee pure and smooth. 

Like burnt-out craters liealed with snow. 

jAMlib RUSStLL LOWULL. 



JUNE. 



I OAZKii upon the glorious sky. 

And the green mountains round. 
And thou^jlit that when I eanie to Ho 

At rest within tlie ground, 
'T were |ileasant that in llowery .Tune, 
AVhen brooks send up a cheerful tune, 

An<l groves a cheerful sounil. 
The sexton's hand, my grave to make, 
The rich, green mountain turf should break. 

A eel! within the frozen mould, 

A eodin Imrne through sleet, 
And Icy clods above it rolled. 

While fierce the tempests bent — 
Away : 1 will not think of these — 
Uluu be the sky anil soft the breeze, 

Karth ^rcen beneath the feet. 
And l)c the damp mould gently pres-sed 
Into my narrow place of rest. 

There, through the long, long, summer hours 

The golden light should lie, 
And thick young herbs and groups of flowers 

Stand in their beauty by. 
The oriole should build and tell 
His love-tale close beside my cell ; 

The idh- butterlly 
Should rest him there, and there hi' heard 
t'he housewife bee and humniing-biril. 

Anil what if cheerful .shouts at noon 

Come, from the village sent. 
Or song of maids beneath the moon 

With fairy laughter bh'Ut ' 
And what if, in the eveidug light, 
l5etrollied lovers walk in sight 

Of my low monument ? 
I would the lovely scene around 
Might know uo sadder sight nor sound. 



I know that I no more should see 

The season's glorious sliow, 
Nor would its brightness shine for me. 

Nor its wild nnisic How ; 
Hut if, around my place of sleep. 
The friends 1 love should come to weep. 

They might not haste to go. 
Soft air.s, and song, and li^'ht and bloom 
Should kce[i them lingering by my tomb. 

Thi'sc to their softened hearts should bear 
The thought of what has been. 

And speak of oiu' who cannot share 
The gladness of the siTiie ; 

Whose part, in all the pom]! that fills 

The circuit of the summer hills. 
Is that his grave is green ; 

And deeply would their hearts rejoice 

To hear again his living voice. 

wn.i.iAM cuLLiiN Bryant. 



SONG OF THE SUMMER WIND.S. 

Ur the dale and down the bourne. 

O'er the meadow swift we fly ■, 
Now we sing, and now wo mourn, 

Now we whistle, now wo sigh. 

I5y the grassy-fringed river. 

Through llie murmuring reeds we sweep ; 
Mid the lily-leaves we (piiver. 

To their very hearts wo creep. 

Now the maiden rose is blushing 

At the frolic tilings we say, 
While aside her cheek we 're rushing, 

l.iko some truant bees at play. 

Through the blooming graves we rustle. 

Kissing every bud we pass, — 
As we dill it in the bustle, 

Scarcely knowing how it wa-s. 

Down the glen, across the mountain. 
O'er the yellow heath we roam, 

Whirlin;^ round about the fountain, 
Till its little breakers foam. 

lieiidiiig down the weeping willows, 
While our ves)ier hymn we sigh ; 

Then unto our rosy pillows 
On our weary wings we hie. 

There of idlenesses ilreaining. 
Scarce from waking we refrain, 

Moments long as a^es deeming 
Till we 're at our play again. 

r.noRc.r Darlev. 



426 



POEMS OK NATURE. 



THE STORY OF A SUMMER DAY. 

PERFECT Light, which shaid away 

The darkness from tlie liglit, 
And set a ruler o'er tlio day, 

Another o'er the niglit ; 

Thy glory, when the day forth flies, 

More vively docs appear. 
Than at midday unto our eyes 

The shining sun is clear. 

The shadow of the earth anon 

Removes and tlrawis by. 
While in the east, when it is gone, 

Appears a clearer sky. 

Which soon perceive the little larks. 

The lapwing and the snii)e, 
And time their songs, like Nature's clerks, 

O'er meadow, muir, and stri]ie. 

Our heniis]ihcre is polished clean, 
And Uglitened more and more ; 

While everything is clearly seen, 
Whicli seemiid dim before ; 

Except the glistering .astres bright, 
Which all the night were clear, 

Otfusked with a greater light 
No longer do appear. 

The golden globe incontinent 

Sets up his shining hea<l. 
And o'er the earth and tirmament 

Displays his beams abread. 

For joy the birds with bouMen throats 

Against his visage sheen 
Take up their kindly nuisic notes 

In woods and gardens green. 

The dew ripon the tender crops. 
Like pearles white and rouinl. 

Or like to melted silver drops. 
Refreshes all the ground. 

The mi.sty reek, the clouds ol' rain 
From tops of mountains skails, 

Clear are the highest hills and plain. 
The vapors take the \'ales. 

The amide heaven, of fabric sure, 

In cleanness docs surpass 
The crystal and the silvei- ])nre, 

Or clearest polished glass. 

The time so tranquil is and still, 

Tliat nowhere shall ye find. 
Save on a high and barren liill. 

The air of pci'piug wind. 



All trees and simples, great and small, 

That balmy leaf do bear, 
Than they were painted on a wall, 

No more they move or steir. 

Calm is the deep and jiurplc sea. 
Yea, smoother than the sand ; 

The waves, that weltering wont to be. 
Are stable like the land. 

So silent is the cessile air. 

That every cry and call. 
The hills and dales and forest fair 

Again repeats them all. 

The flourishes and fragrant flowers, 
Through Phccbus' fostering heat. 

Refreshed with dew and silver showers. 
Cast np an odor sweet. 

The clogged, busy humming-bees, 

That never think to drone. 
On Mowers and flourishes of trees, 

Collect their li()imr brown. 

The sun, most like a .speedy po.st. 
With ardent course ascends ; 

The beauty of the heavenly host 
Up to our zenith tends. 

Not guided by a Phacthon, 

Not trained in a chair. 
But by the high and holy One, 

Who does allwhere empiie. 

The Viurning beams down from liis face 

So fervently can beat. 
That man and beast now seek a place 

To save them from the heat. 

The herds beneath some leafy tree, 
Amidst the flowers they lie ; 

The stable ships upon the sea 
Tend up tlu'ir sails to dry. 

With gilded eyes and open wings, 
The cock his courage shows ; 

With cla]is of joy his breast he dings, 
And twenty tin\es he crows. 

The dove with whistling wings so blue, 

The winds can fast collect, 
Her purple pens turn nurny a hue 

Against the sun direct. 

Now noon is went ; gone is midday, 

The heat does slake at last. 
The sun descends down west away. 

For three o'clock is past. 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



427 



Tho rayons of the sun we si'o 

UiniinUh in tlieir stien},'lli, 
The shaite of t'vcry towur and tree 

Extundcd is in length. 

Great is tho calm, for everywhere 

The wind i.s .settling down. 
The reek throws right uiJ in the air 

From every tower and town. 

Tho gloaming comes, the day is spent, 

Tho sun goes out of si^lit. 
Ami painted i^t the occiilont 

With purple sanguine bright. 

The scarlet nor the golden thread. 

Who would their beauty try. 
Arc nothing like the color red 

And beauty of the sky. 

Our west horizon circular, 

From time tho sun bo .set, 
Is all with rubies, as it were. 

Or roses red o'erfret. 

What pleasure were to walk and see, 

Endlong a river clear, 
The perfect form of every tree 

Within the deep appear. 

0, then it were a seemly thing, 

While all is still and calm, 
The praise of (Jod to play and sing 

With cornet and with shalm ! 

All laborers draw home at even. 

And can to other say. 
Thanks to the gracious God of heaven. 

Which sent this summer day ! 

ALe.XANDBR HUME. 



BEFORE THE RAIN. 

We knew it would rain, for all the mom, 

A spirit on .slender ropes of mist 
Was lowering its golden buckets down 

Into the vajKiry amethyst 

Of marshes and swamps and dismal fen.s, — 
Scooping the dew that lay in the flowers, 

Dipping tho jewels out of the sea, 
To sprinkle them over the land in showers. 

We knew it would rain, for the jwplars .showed 
The white of their leaves, the amber grain 

Shrunk in the wind, — and the lightning now 
Is tangled in tremulous skiins of rain. 

Thomas uailev aldrich. 



SIGNS OF RAIN.* 

FOUTV REASONS FOR NOT ACCEPTING AN INVITATION OH 
A FRIEND TO MAKE AN EXCURSION WITH HIM. 

1 TiiK hollow winds begin to blow ; 

2 The clouds look black, the glass is low, 

3 The soot falls down, the spaniels sleep, 

4 And spiders from their cobwebs peep. 

5 Last night the sun went pale to bed, 

6 Tho moon in halos hid her head ; 

7 The boding slio|)hord heaves a sigh, 

8 For see, a rainbow spans the sky ! 

9 The walls are damp, the ditches smell, 

10 Closed is tho pink-eyed pimpernel. 

11 Hark how tho ch.airs and tables crack ! 

12 Old Betty's nerves arc on the rack ; 

13 Ijoud nuacks tlie duck, the peacocks cry, 

14 The distant hills are seeming nigh. 

15 How restless are the snorting swine ! 

16 The busy Hies disturb the kiiie, 

17 Low o'er the grass tho .swallow wings, 

18 The cricket, too, how sharp he sings ! 

19 Puss on the health, with velvet paws, 

20 .Sits wiping o'er her whiskered jaws ; 

21 Through the clear streams the lishos rise, 

22 And nimbly catch tho incautious flics. 

23 The glow-worms, numerous and light, 

24 Illumed the dewy dell last night ; 

25 At dusk the si|Ualid toad was seen, 

26 Mopping and crawling o'er the green ; 

27 The whirling dust the wind obeys, 

28 And in tho rajiid eddy ]>lays ; 

29 Tho frog has changed his yellow vest, 

30 And ill a russet coat is dressed. 

31 Though June, the air is cold and still, 

32 The mellow blackbird's voice is shrill ; 

33 My dog, so altered in his taste, 

34 Quits mutton-bones on grass to feast ; 

35 And .see yon rooks, how odd their flight I 

36 They imitate the gliding kite, 

37 And .seem precijiitate to fall, 

38 As if they felt the piercing ball. 

39 'T will surely rain ; I see with sorrow, 

40 Our jaunt must be put off to-morrow. 

DR. Edward Jenner. 



SUMMER MOODS. 

I LOVK at eventide to walk alone, 
Down narrow glens, o'erhung with dewy thorn. 
Where from the long grass underneath, the snail, 
Jet black, creeps out, and sprouts his timid 

horn. 
I love to muse o'er meadows newly mown. 



• "verified by Darwin." wys C. C BombauKh in his "clcin. 
injjv from the H,irvesl I-icltlv of l.ttcrature, ' thougtl his version of 
the lines varies somewhat from this. 



42S 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



MMiere withcriiij; ijrass pcirumcs tlif sultry air ; 
Wlieie bees scaixli louinl, willi sail and wuuiv 

drone, 
In vain, for flowers that liloonii'd but newly 

there ; 
While in the juiey eorn tlic hidiien ipiail 
(.'ries, "Wet uiy foot;" and, hid as thoughts 

unborn. 
The fiiiry-like and scUloni-seon land-rail 
Utters "Craik, craik," like voices underground, 
Kight glad to meet tlie evening's dewy veil, 
And see the light lade into gloom around. 

John Clake. 



INVOCATION TO KAIN IN SUMMER. 

O GENTLE, gentle summer rain. 

Let not the silver lily pine. 
The drooping lily pine in vain 

To feel that dewy touch ol' thine, — 
To drink thy freshness once again, 
gentle, geutlo summer rain ! 

In heat the landscape ipdvering lies ; 

The cattle pant beneath the tree ; 
Through parching air ami purple skies 

The earth looks up, in vain, for thee ; 
For thee — for thee, it looks in vain, 
gentle, gentle summer rain. 

Corao thou, and hrim the meadow streams. 
And soften all the hills with mist, 

falling dew ! from burning dreams 
By thee shall herb and llower be kissed. 

And Earth shall bless thee yet again, 

gentle, gentle summer rain. 

William cox Bcn-nhtt. 



RAIN IN SUMMER. 

How beautiful is the rain ! 

After the dust and heat. 

In the broad and liery street. 

In the luirrow lane, 

How beautiful is the rain ! 

How it clatters along the roofs. 

Like the tramp of honl's ! 

How it gushes and struggles out 

From the throat of tlie overtlowing spout ! 

.\eross the window-pane 

It pours and pours ; 

And swift and wide, 

With a muddy tide. 

Like a river down the g\ittcr roai-s 

The rain, the welcome rain ! 



The sick man from his chamber h.oks 

At the twisted brooks ; 

He can feel the cool 

ISreath of each little pool ; 

His fevered brain 

(irows calm again. 

And he breathes a blessing on the rain. 

From the neighboring school 

Come the boys. 

With more than their wonted noise 

And commotion ; 

And down the wet streets 

Sail their mimic Heets, 

Till the treacherous pool 

Ingulfs them in its whirling 

And turbulent ocean. 

In the eoi\ntry, on every side. 

Where I'ai' and wide. 

Like a leopard's tawny and spotted hide. 

Stretches the plain. 

To the dry grass and the drier grain 

How welcome is the rain ! 

In the furrowed land 

The toilsome and patient oxen stan.l ; 

Lil'ting the yoke-encunibereil head, 

With their dilated imstrils sjiread, 

They silently inhale 

The clover-scented gale. 

And the vapois that arise 

From the well-watered and smoking soil. 

For this rest in the furrow after toil 

Their large and lustrous eyes 

Seem to thank the Lord, 

More than nnin's spoken word. 

Near at hand. 

From under the sheltering trees. 

The farmer sees 

His pastures, and his fields of grain, 

As they bend their tops 

To the numberless beating drops 

Of the incessant rain. 

He counts it as no sin 

That he sees therein 

Only his own thrift and gain. 

These, and far more than these. 

The Poet sees ! 

He can behold 

Ai^uarius old 

Walking the fenceless fields of air ; 

And from each ample fold 

Of the clouds about him rolled 

Scattering everywhere 

The showery rain. 

As the farmer scatters his grain. 



I 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



429 



He ciiii belioUl 

Tliiiij;s inaiiifoUl 

That have not yet been wlioUy told, — 

Have not bt'cn wliully siuif; nor saiil. 

For liis thouglit, tliiit never stops, 

Follows the water-ilrojis 

Down to tlio graves of tile dead, 

Down through I'hasnis and gidl's iirofiiund. 

To the divary fountain-head 

Of lakes anil rivers iindergroiiiul ; 

And sees them, when the rain is done. 

On the bridge of eolors seven 

Climbing iij) once more to heaven, 

Opposite the setting sun. 

Thus the Seer, 

With vision clear, 

Sees forms apiiear and disappear. 

In the jierpetual round of strange, 

Jlysterinus change 

From birth to death, from death to birth. 

From earth to heaven, from heaven to earth ; 

Till glimpses more sublime 

Of things, unseen before. 

Unto his wondering eyes reveal 

The I'niverse, as an immeasurable wheel 

Turning forcvermore 

In the injiid and rushing river of Time. 

IiF.sRV wadsworth Longfellow. 



SUMMER STORM. 

Untrf..MIII.oiis in the river clear. 
Toward the sky's image, hangs the imaged bridge ; 

So still the air that I can hear 
The slender clarion of the unseen miilge ; 

Out of the stillness, with a gathering creep, 
Like rising wind in loaves, which now decreases. 
Now lidl^, now swells, and all the while increases. 

The huddling tramiile of a drove of sheep 
Tilts the loose gdanks, and then as gradually ceases 
In dust on the other side ; life's emblem deep, 
A confused noise between two silences, 
Finding nt last in dust precarious peace. 
On the wide marsh the puriile-blossomed gra.s.ses 
Soak up the sunsliine ; sleeps the brimming tide, 
.Sive when the wedgc-.shaped wake in silence 
]iasscs 
Of some slow water-rat, whose sinuous glide 
Wavers the long green sedge's shade from side 
to side ; 
Hut uji the west, like a rock-shivered surge, 
C'limlw u great cloud edged with sun-whitened 
spray ; 
Huge whirls of foam boil toppling o'er its verge. 
And falling still it seems, and yet it climbs 
alway. 



Suddenly all the sky is hid 

As with the shutting of a lid. 
One by one great drops are falling 

Doubtful and slow ; 
Down the pane they are crookciUy crawling, 

And the wind breathes low ; 
Slowly the circles widen on the river, 

Widen and mingle', one and all ; 
Here and there the slenderer (lowers shiver. 

Struck by an icy rain-droji's fall. 

Now on the hills I hear the thunder mutter. 

The wind is gathering in the west ; 
The upturneil leaves lirst whiten and lluttcr. 

Then droop to a fitful rest ; 
Up from the stream with sluggish flaji 
Struggles the gull and lloats away ; 
Nearer and nearer rolls the thundcr-elap, — 
We shall not see the snii go down to-day ; 
Now leaps the wind on the sleei)y marsli, 

And tramples the grass with terrilied feet. 
The startled river turns leaden and harsh. 
You can hear the quick heart of the tempest 
beat. 

Look ! look ! that livid Hash ! 
And instantly follows the rattling thunder. 
As if some cloud-crag, split asunder, 

Fell, splintering with a ruinous crash. 
On the Earth, wluch crouches in silence under ; 

And now a solid gray wall of rain 
Shuts off the land.scape, mile by mile ; 

For a bieuth's space I see the blue wood again. 
And, ere the next heart-beat, thewind-hurled pile, 
That seemed but now a league aloof, 
liursts crackling o'er the sun-parched loof ; 
Against the windows the storm comes dashing. 
Through tattered foliage the hail tears crashing. 
The blue lightning Hashes, 
The rapid hail clashes. 
The white waves are tumbling, 

And, in one balflcd roar, 
Like the toothless sea mumbling 

A rock-bristled .shore. 
The thunder is rumbling 
And crashing ami crumbling, — 
Will .silence return nevermore ? 

Hush ! Still as death. 
The tempest holds his bieath 
As from a sudilen will ; 
The rain stops short, but from the eaves 
You .see it drop, and hear it from the leaves, 
All is so boilingly still ; 

Again, now, now, again 
Plashes the rain in heavy gouts. 
The crinkled lightnijig 
Seems ever brighti'iiing, 



430 



POEMS OK NATl'HK. 



And loud iiiul long 
A^nin tlio lliuncUii' sliouls 

His liiiltKi-soiifj, — 
Olio iiiiivorin}» lliisli, 
Out' wiKloriu,i; oiiisli. 
Followed by siliMU'o divul iiud dull, 
As if till' I'loud, 1ft ^'o, 
l;i>ii|il liodily lu'Unv 
'I'll wludiu tlio fiirtli in ouii unul ovi'illuow, 
Anil tlu'ii 11 tuliil hill. 

doui', giiMi', so soon I 
No nioiv my Imll'-iM'iizml liincy tlioni 
Van sliiipo II ^iiint in the iiir, 
No morn I see his stiviimiii}; Imir, 
Till' writhing jioili'iit of his form ; — 
'The pule mid iniict moon 
Miikcs hor cidm foivlu'iid hiiiv, 
And tlio last fnignu'iits of tlii' storm, 
I.ikc slmttcrcd rigging from i\ light iit sen, 
Sili'Ut and low, arc drifting ovi'r mi'. 

UMl s Kl'SSIU.I. I.OWl.ll.. 



Al'TKU THK RAIN. 

TiiK rain has oi'asod, mid in my room 
Tlu' sunshini' pours an airy lloml ; 
And on the ohun-h's diz.'y vaiu' 
Till' ancient Cross is biitln'd in Mood. 

Kroin out the dripping ivy-loaves, 
Antiiiuoly earvcii, gray and high, 
A dormer, fiieing westward, looks 
Upon the village like an eye : 

And now it glimmers in the sun, 
A siiuaix' of gold, a di.sk, n speck ; 
And ill the boHVy sits a Dove 
Witli purple ripplos on her neck. 

Thomas wailuv aluricii. 



A VliOV ilV PKW. 

See how the orioiil dew, 
Shed from the bosom of the morn 
Into the blowing ixises, 
(Yet caivless of its mansion new 
For the clear ifgioii wheiw 'twas born) 
lioiind in itself cndosos, 
And ill its little globe's extent 
Frames, as it can, its tintive element. 

How it the purple Itowcr iloes slight. 

Scarce touching wlieie it lies ; 

But gazing back upon the skies. 

Shines with a mournfnl light, 



I.iko its own tear, 
Ueeaiiso so long divided from the sjilierc ; 
Restless it rolls, and iinseeiire. 

Trembling, lest it grow impure. 
Till the warm sun pities its pain, 
.\iid to the skies e.\lialcs it back again. 
So the soul, that drop, that ray 
Of the dear fountain of eternal day. 
Could it within the hiinian llowcr be .seen, 
liemembering still its former height, 
Sluiiis the sweet leaves ami blossoms green. 
And, recollecting its own light, 
Does, in it-s pure and circling thoughts, express 
The greater heaven in a heaven less. 
Ill how coy a figure wound, 
l''.very way it turns away ; 
So the world excluding round. 
Yet receiving in the ilay. 
Park beneath, but bright above ; 
Here disdaining, there in love. 
How loose iiiid easy lieiico to go ! 
How girt and ready to ascend ! 
Moving but on a point below. 
It all about does iiinvards bend. 
Such did the manna's sacred dew distil. 
White and cut ire, although congealed and chill, — 
rongealcd on earth, but docs, ilissolviiig, run 
Into the glories of the Almighty sun. 

AMIKI'W MAR\'lil.U 



A SHMMEU EVENING'S MEDITATION. 

" One sun by d«y. by niijla len lluMis.tnd slitne. " — Vol'NC. 

'T IS past, — the sultry tyrant of the South 
Has spent his short lived rage ; moix' grateful 

houra 
Move silent on ; the skies no more repel 
The dazzled sight, but, with mild maiden beams 
Of tempered lustre, court the eheiislied eye 
To waiuler o'er their sphere ; where, hung aloft, 
Dian's bright ciescent, like a .silver bow. 
New strung in heaven, lifts its beamy horns 
Inii>atieiit tor the night, and seems to push 
Her brother down the sky. Fair Venus .shines 
Kveii in the eye of day ; with sweelest beam 
rivpitious shines, and shakes a trembling flood 
Of softciied railianee with her dewy locks. 
The shadows spread apace ; « bile meekened Kve, 
Her cheek yet warm with blushes, slow retires 
Through the Hesperian gaidens of the West, 
And sliiits the gates of Day. 'T is now the hour 
When Ooiiteniplatioii, from her sunless haunts. 
The cool damp givtto, or the lonely depth 
Of iiiipieieed woods, where iii]>t in solid shade 
She mused away the gauily hours of noon, 
.•\iid fed on thoughts unripened by the sun. 
Moves forwanl and with radiant fiiigt'r points 



I'OKMS OK NATURK. 



431 



Til yi'» I'liu' conciivo nwollcd liy hniilli ilivinc, 
WliiTP, oiii' liy III"', till' living ryi'H <il' liravoii 
Awakii, iiiiii'k kindling' "'I'l' llin I'lU'o oI'i'IIht 
Oiii' IhiuiiiIIi'sh IiIh/i' ; ti'ii tliniiKiiinI ti'i'iiil>liii>; 

Hits, 
Ami iliini'iii); liislrrs, wln'ir llii' Mnsli'iuly ryi', 
It'i'Htli'HH mill ila/.;tli'il, wiiiiili'i's iiiii'iiiiHiii'il 
O'i'i- all lliis lir-ld .if j;liiiioM ; B|iariiiii.i lirld. 
And MiJiiliy of tlin Maxtor, — lie wlicisi' liaiid 
Willi liirio);ly|iliii'H iddi'i' lliaii lliii Nilr 
liiM-lilii'd till' iiiystic liilili'l, liiiii^ nil lii^'li 
'I'll piililio nazi', mid said, Admi', •> iimii ! 
Till' liiinor nl'tliy (iod. Kiimi what luiii' wi'lU 
or milky Hk'IiI, wlial rtiift n'lTllowiiiK mil, 
All' all llii'si' Imiips SI) liUiid f tlii'sii fni'iidly 

laiiips, 
Forovor strcuiiiing o'it the aziiri' ilirp 
Til point mil' piitli, and HkIiI iih In niir Iiuiiik. 
Iliiw Kiil't tliry ulidr ailing llioir lurid splinvH, 
And, sili'iit as till' I'liiit III' Tiinu, Inllil 
Tlii'ir di'stiiii'd riinisi's ! Natinr's scH' is IiiinIii'iI, 
And luit a scatli'i'i'd liial', wliii li nistli's tlirmiKli 
Till' lliirk-wiivi' I'liliayi', nut a sniind is liciiid 
Til Ini'iik tlic niidiii;,'lit air; tlmiiKli lln' laisi'd 

rar, 
Inti'iitly listi'iiinK, drinks in nvriy Ini'iitli. 
Iliiw ili'i'p till' sili'iii'i', yi't liinv liiiid llir praiso I 
Hut ai'i! tliry sili'iil all t iir is tlirrii nut 
A toiiKiiit ill I'Vi'i'V star lliat talks with man, 
And wiKH's him to la* wisr ? inn wool's in vain : 
This di'iiil III' niidnif{lit is Ihn noun ol' thon^hl, 
And Wisdom mniints lii'i' ;ci'nilli with tin' stars. 
At this still hour thii Ki'lf-rollcctiMl soul 
TnriiH inward, and hrliolds a stran^rr thi'l'i' 
or hi;;li di'sri'iit, and liiori' than mortal lank ; 
An rmliryo (ioil ; u spark of liri' ilivini', 
Wliii'h iiiuHl burn on for ii({i'», wlini tin' snii 
(Fair Iniiisiloiy I'l'ratnri' of a day !) 
lias iliisrd his fjoldi'ii I'yi', and, wrapt in shades, 
Korni'ti- his woiilrd joiiriiiiy tlii'onf;li thn I'jisl. 

Yr I'it.idi'lH of li^lit, and si-ats offends ! 
IVrliups my fntniT lionii', IVoni whi'in'r thii soul, 
Iti'Viilvin^ pi'i'iods past, may oft look hitck* 
Willi roiolli'i'lril ti'iidi'mi'sH, on all 
Till' various husy sceiiCH she Irft hrlow, 
Its dri'p-luid pioji'i'ls and its strangii rvi'iits, 
As on Miliii' fond and doting lain that soothud 
Ilir iid'ant hours, — O, he it lawful now 
To Iri-ail till' hallowi'd I'ircla of your I'onrtH, 
And with mute wondrr and ihlif^litvd nwo 
Approarh your buriiiii); iiinriiii'H ! ,Sui»'d in 

thiMi){lit, 
On Faniy's wild and roving win^' I sail, 

l''i'oiii tlir, )(ri'rn liiirdi'i's of Ihi' | pli'd I'arth, 

And till! pale moon, hiT dutroiiK, fair attiuiilant ; 
l''ioiii solitary Mars ; from tin' vimt orb 
Of liipitor, whosit hu){i' ^i^aiilic hulk 
Uani'i's in cthi-r like thu lit^lilist liaf, 



To tlio dim Torgo, the siihuihs of tho »ynlt'ni, 
Whiiro chuorloss Saturn midst his walrry iiioouh 
Oii't with a lurid /^onii, in ^dooniy |iiiinp, 
Sits likii an I'xih'd inoiiaroh : frarli'ss llioiico 
I hinni'h into tin' trackh'ss dorps of spiiru, 
Whrir, linriiiiig round, Irii tliiiusmid suns appear, 
Of rldrr hraiii, which ask no Iravr to shinr 
Of our ti'i'irstrial star, nor horriiw lij^lit 
From till' proud rr^jnit of our sranty day ; 
Sons of thn monilii^', first-horii of rrratioii, • 
And only Irss lliaii Him who marks tliiiir track 
And Huidrs their liny wheels, line must I stop, 
Or is there au<(lit beyond V Wlial liainl uiiseuii 
Impels lull oiiwani tlu'on}{li the fjlowiiif,' orbs 
Of hahitahlr iiaturr, hir rrniotr. 
To the dread conliiies of eirrnal iii>;hl, 
To solitudes of waste unpeopled space, 
The desertH of ereation, wide and wild ; 
Where embryo systems and niikiinlled sniis 
SIrrp in the womb of chaos '! Fancy droops, 
And Tlion^jht, astiinished, stops her bold career, 
lint, O thou mifjhty Mind ! whose pownfiil won! 
Said, "Thus let all thin^js hi'," and thus they 

were, 
Where shall I seek thy prrsnicr ? how unhlmnid 
Invoke thy dread perfection ? 
Have the broad eyelids of the nmi n lii'licM Mice! 
Or does the beaiuy Mhoulder of Orion 
Support thy throne/ O, look with pily down 
III! erring, ;{uilty man ; not in thy names 
of terror elad ; not with those thunders arineil 
That I'onscions Sinai felt, wlini h'ar appallr.d 
The scattrrril tribes ; thou hast a ({unller voire. 
That wliis[iei's comfort to the swelling; liearl, 
Aluished, yet loni{inj; to hi'hold her Maker ! 
lint now my soul, unused to stretch her powora 
111 liiiid .HO darin;,', drops her weary wiiif;, 
And seeks ii^aiii the known arruHtonied spot, 
Drest up with huh and shadu and lawns and 

streams, 
A mansion fair and spacious for its quests. 
And all replete with wonders. Let me here, 
rontnit and ){ralelul, wait the Mppointed time. 
And ripen for the skies : the hour will ciinie 
When all these splendors hni'Htiii;^ on my si).(liL 
Shall stiinil uiiveileil, and to my ravished sense 
Unlock the glories of the world unknown. 

Anna l.rtill.\ liASliAlM.n. 



A SUMMKIt KVF.NINd. 

Iliivv line has the day been I how bright was the 

Hiin ! 
I low lovely and joyful the coiirHr that he run, 
Thou^^h he rose in a mist wdieii his race he be^iin. 
And there followed some drop|iinf(s of rain ! 



432 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



But now the fair traveller 's come to tlie west, 
His rays are all gold, and his beauties are best : 
He paints the sky gay as he sinks to his rest. 
And foretells a bright rising again. 

Just such is the Christian : his course he begins. 
Like the sun in a mist, wlien lie mourns for his 

sins. 
And melts into tears ; tlien he breaks out and 

shines. 

And travels his heavenly way : 

But when he conies nearer to finish his race. 

Like a fine setting sun, he looks ridier in grace. 

And gives a sure hope, at the end of his days, 

Of rising in brighter array. 

ISAAC Watts. 



MY HEAKT LEAPS UP. 

Mt heart leaps up when 1 behold 

A rainbow in the sky ; 
So was it wlien my life began. 
So is it now I am a man. 
So he it when I shall grow old. 

Or let me die ! 
The Child is fatlier of the Man : 
And I could wisli my days to be 
Bound eadi to each by natural piety. 

William Wordsworth. 



MOONLIGHT IN SUMMER. 

Low on the utmost boundary of the sight, 
The rising vapoi-s catch the silver light ; 
Thence fancy nu-asures, as they parting Hy, 
Which first will throw its shadow on the eye. 
Passing the source of light ; and thence away, 
Succeeded quick by brighter still than they. 
For yet above these wafted clouds are seen 
(In a remoter sky still more serene) 
Others, detacheil in ranges through the air, 
Spotless as snow, and countless as they 're 

fair ; 
Scattered immensely wide from cast to west. 
The beauteous semblance of a flock at rest. 
These, to the raptured mind, .aloud proclaim 
Their mighty Shepherd's everlasting name ; . 
And thus the loiterer's utmost stretch of soul 
Climbs the still clouds, or passes those that 

roll. 
And loosed imagination soaring goes 
High o'er his home and all his little woes. 

Robert bloomfield. 



MOONLIGHT ON THE PRAllUE. 

FROM "EVANGELINE." 

Beautiful was the night. Behind the black 

wall of the forest. 
Tipping its summit with silver, arose the moon. 

On the river 
Fell here and there through the branches a t rcmu- 

lous gleam of the moonlight, 
Like the sweet thoughts of love on a darkened 

and devious s]iirit. 
Nearer and round about her, the manifold llowcrs 

of the garden 
Poured out their souls in odors, that were their 

prayers and confessions 
Unto the night, as it went its way, like a silent 

Carthusian. 
Fuller of fragrance than they, and as heavy with 

shadows and night-dews. 
Hung the heart of the maiden. The calm and 

the magical moonlight 
Seemed to inundate her soul with indefinable 

longings. 
As, through the garden gate, and liciieath the 

shade of the oak-tive,s, 
Passed she along the path to the edge of the 

measureless prairie. 
Silent it lay, with a silvery haze upon it, and 

iire-llies 
Gleaming and floating away in mingled and in- 
finite numbers. 
Over her head the stars, the thoughts of God in 

the heavens. 
Shone on the eyes of man, who had ceased to 

marvel and woi'ship. 
Save wheti a blazing comet was seen on the walls 

of that t*mple. 
As if a hand had appeared and written upon 

them, " Upharsiu." 
And the soul of the maiden, between the star.* 

and the fire-liies, 
'Wandered alone, and she cried, "0 Gabriel ! 

my beloved ! 
Art thou so near unto me, and yet I cannot 

behold thee ? 
Art thou so near unto me, and yet thy voice 

does not reach me ? 
Ah ! how often thy feet have trod this path to 

the prairie ! 
Ah ! liow often thine eyes have looked on the 

woodlands around nie ! 
Ah ! how often beneath tliis oak, returning from 

labor. 
Thou hast lain down to rest, and to dream of 

me in thy slumbers. 
When shall these eyes behold, these arms be 
folded about thee ! " 



guldi:nrod. 



./ 



-^^ 







When the wayside tangles blaze 

In the low September sun, 
When the (lowers of Siunnier days 

Droop and wither, one by one. 
Reaching up througli bush and brier, 
Sumptuous lirow and heart of fire, 
Flaunting higii its wind-rocked ])lunie, 
Brave with wealth of native bloom, — 
Goldenrod ! 

When the meadow, lately shorn, 

Parched anil languid, swoons with pain, 
When her life-blood, night and morn, 

Shrinks in every throbbing vein, 
Round her fallen, tarnished urn 
Leaping watch-fires brighter burn; 
Royal arch o'er Autumn's gate. 
Bending low with lustrous weight,- - 
Goklenrod ! 

In the pasture's rude embrace, 
All o'errun with tangled vines, 

Where the thistle claims its place. 
And the straggling hedge confines, 

Bearing still the sweet impress 

Of unfettered loveliness. 

In the field and by the wall. 

Binding, clas|)ing, crowning all, — 
Goldenrod ! 

Nature lies dishevelc<l, jtale, 
With her feverish li])s apart, — 

Day by day the pulses fail. 
Nearer to her bounding heart ; 

Yet that slackened gras]) doth hold 

Store of ]nire and genuine gold ; 

Quick thou comest, strong and free. 

Type of all the wealth to be,— 
Goldenrod ! 

Kl.AINt-. GOODALE [EaSTMANj. 




Fivm Pnitttiitff hy L, Mnti/as. 



Brrliti Phot. Co 



A TWILIGHT FANCY. 



I sil Iktc aiul the earth is wrapped in snow, 

And llic cold air is tliitl< with lallins; ni^lit : 

1 think of the still, dewy summer exes, 

W'lien eows came slowly sauntering up the lane, 

^Vaitin^ to nililile at the juicy ijrass ; 

When the green earth was full of changing life. 

When the warm wind blew soft, and slowly passed, 

Caressing now and tlien some wayside flower, 

Stopjjing to stir the tender majile-leaves. 

And breathing all its fragrance on the air ! 

I think of the broail meadows, daisy-white, 

With the long shade of some stray apjile-tree 

Falling across them, — and the rustlings faint 

When evening breezes shook along the grass. 

I think of all the thousand summer sounds. — 

The cricket's chirp, repeated far and near ; 

The sleepy note of robins in their nest ; 

The \vhip]ioorwill, whose sudden cry rang out, 

I'lainlive, yet strong, upon the startled air. 

And so it was the summer twilight fell. 

And deepened to the darkness of the night : 

.\nd now I lift my heart out of ni\- dream 

.\nd see instead the jiale, cold, ilying lights, 

The dull gray skies, the barren, snow-clad fields.. 

That come to us when winter evenings come. 

UOK.\ Rl'.AD CiOnHALE. 



I 



I'dKMS OK NA'rrui';. 



433 



hoiul and siiiUlun niul npar tho note of n wliip- 

Iioorwill sounded 
I.iki' a lluti' in tlic woods ; iind aiiini, llmiugli 

the noij^lilioiinj; lliicki'ls, 
Fartlior and further iiwiiy it lloiited and drii]>|pid 

into silenie. 
" I'atienee ! " whispered the oaks I'roin oraenlur 

eaverns of ihirkness ; 
And, from tlie moonlit ineudow, n sigh responded, 

" To-morrow !" 

Henry wadsworth Longfellow, 



SEPTEMBEK. 

Sweet is the voice tliat ealls 

From Kibbling waterfalls 
In meadows where tlie downy seeds are Hying; 

And soft the breezes blow. 

And eddying eomo and go 
In faded gardens where tlic rose is dying. 

Among the stubbled corn 

The blithe cjuuil pipes at morn, 
The merry partridge drums in liidch'ii (ilaces. 

And glittering insects gleam 

Above the reeily stream, 
AVhere busy spiders spin their lilmy laces. 

At eve, eool slnnlows fall 

Across the garden wall. 
And on the clustered grapes to pur|ile turning ; 

And pearly vapors lie 

Along the eastern sky, 
AVliere the broad harvest-moon is redly burning. 

Ah, soon on Held and liill 
The wind shall whistle chill. 

And patriarch swallows call their Hocks together. 
To (ly from frost and snow, 
And seek for lands where blow 

Tho fairer blossoms of a balmier weather. 

The cricket ehir])s all day, 

"O fairest summer, stJiy !" 
The squirrel eyes askance the chestnuts browning; 

Tlie wild fowl tly afar 

Above the foamy bar, 
And hasten southward eie the skies aro frowning. 

Now comes a fragrant breeze 

Through the dark cedar-trees, 
And round about my temples fondly lingers, 

In gentli' playfulness. 

Like to the soft caress 
Bestowed in happier days by loving fingers. 



Yet, though n sense of grief 

Comes with the falling leaf. 
And memory makes the s\immer doubly [jleasunt. 

In all my autumn dreams 

A future summer gleams. 
Passing the fairest glories of the present ! 

OUORGli ARNOLD. 



AUTUMN. 



The iiutumn is old ; 
The sear leaves are flying ; 
lie hath gathered up gold. 
And now he is dying : 
Did age, begin sighing ! 

Tlie vintage is ripe ; 
Thi^ harvest is heaping ; 
Hut some that have .sowed 
Have no riches for reaping : — 
Poor wretch, fall a-weeping ! 

The year '.s in the wancr ; 
Tlieie is nothing adorning ; 
The night has no eve. 
And the day has no morning ; 
Cold winter gives warning. 

The rivers run chill ; 
The red sun is sinking ; 
And 1 am grown old. 
And life is fast Hhrinkiiig ; 
Here 's enow for sad thinking I 

THOMAS Hooix 



THE LATTER UAIN. 

The latter rain, — it falls in an.\ioiis haste 
Upon the sun-ilrii'd fields and branches bare, 
Loo.sening with .searching drops the rigid waste 
As if it would each root's lost strength repair; 
But not a blade grows green as in the spring ; 
No swelling twig puts forth its thickening 

leaves ; 
The robins only mid tho harvests sing, 
Pecking the grain that scatters from the sheaves ; 
The ruin falls still, — the fruit all ripened 

drops. 
It pierces eheslnut-burr anil walnut-shell ; 
The furrowed lields disclose the yellow crops ; 
Each bursting pod of talents u.sed can tell ; 
And all that once received the early rain 
Declare to man it was not sent in vain. 

Junes Vekv 



4:34 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



THE AUTLIMX. 

Tin: autumn tiuii- is with us ! Its uiiiiroach 
\Viis lioraUlod, not iiumy iliiys iigo, 
Hy lia/y skies that vcih-il the biazeu suu, 
Anil soi-likf nuirmui's lioui the lustliug eoni, 
Ami Knv-voieeil brooks that wamh'ieil ihowsily 
liy puipUuj; ehisteis ofthe juiey gnipo. 
Swiugiug uiioii the vine. And now, 'tis here, 
Ami what u change hath passeil upon the face 
OrjCatuiv, wheie tliy waving forests spi'eail, 
T'heu rolled in deepest green '. All through the 

night 
The subtle frost hath plied its niystie art, 
And in the day the golden sun hiith wrought 
True wondei's ; and the wings of morn and even 
Have touched with magic bivath the changing 

leaves. 
And now, ns wnndi'i's the dihiting eye 
Athwait the varied landscape circling far, 
^\'hat gorgeousness, what blazonry, what pomp 
<11 colors, bursts upon the mvished sight ! 
Here, where the maple ivai's its yellow crest, 
A golden glory ; yiuider, where the oak 
Stands nionaivh of the lon>st, and the ash 
Is girt with Hame-like iwiiisite, and broad 
The dog-wood spreads beneath a ivlling field 
Ol'deeiiest crimson ; and alar, where looms 
The gnarlKl gum, a cloud of bloodiest ivd I 

William P. Oall.\chfr. 



INDIAN SrMMER. 

^ViiEN leaves grow seanill things take sombre hue ; 
The wild winds waltz no more the wooilsido 

tlirough. 
And all the faded gi-ass is wet with dew. 

A gjiuzy nebula lihns the jx'nsive sky, 

The golden bee supinely buzzes by. 

In silent flocks the bluebii\ls southwanl lly. 

The forest's cheeks are crimsoned o'er witlt shame, 

The cynic frost enlaces every lane. 

The ground witli scarlet blushes is allame ! 

The one we love grows lustrous-eyed and s;id, 
With symjwthy too thoughtful to lie glad. 
While all the colors round are running mad. 

The sunbejuus kiss askant the sombre hill. 
The naked woodbine climbs the window-sill. 
The breaths that noon e.xhales are faint and chill. 

The ripened nuts drop downward day by dsiy. 
Sounding the hollow tocsin of decay. 
And bandit squirrels smuggle them away. 



Vague sighs and scents pervade the atmosphere. 
Sounds of invisible stirrings hum the car. 
The morning's lash levcals u frozen tear. 

The hermit mountains gird themselves with mail. 
Mocking the threshei-s with an echo Mail, 
The while the afternoons grow crisp and pale. 

Inconstant .'^un^ner to the tropics llees. 

Anil, as her rosc-s;»ils catch the amorous bi-eeze, 

Lo ! bare, brown Autumn trembles to her knees ! 

The stealthy nights encroach upon the days, 
The earth with sudden whiteness is ablaze. 
And all her paths are lost in crystal maze ! 

Tivad lightly where the dainty violets blew. 
Where the spring winds their soft eyes o|ien llcw ; 
Safely they sleep the churlish winter through. 

Though all life's portals are indiced with woe, 
And frozen jiearls are all the world can show. 
Feel '. Nature's breath is warm Ik'neath the snow. 

Look up, dear luournei-s ! Still the blue expanse, 
Seivnely tender, bends to catch thy glance ; 
Within thy teai-s sibyllic sunbeams dance! 

With blooms full-sapped ag:iin will smile the 

laud : 
The tall is but the folding of His hand, 

Anoii with fuller glories to expand. 

The dumb heart hid beneath the inilseless tree 
Will throb again : and then the torpid bee 
Upon the ear will drone his drowsy glee. 

So shall the truant bluebirds liackwanl Hy, 
And all loved things that vanish or that die 
licturn to us in some sweet By-and-By. 

A.NONVMOUi 



WINTER SONG. 

St-MMEU joys are o'er ; 

Flowerets bloom no more, 
Wintry winds aiv sweeping'; 
Through the snow-drifts peeping, 

Cheerful evergreen 

Rarely now is seen. 

Now no plumed throng 
Charms the wood with song ; 

Ice-bound trees are glittering ; 

Merry snott-bii\ls, twittering. 
Fondly strive to cheer 
Scenes so cold and drear. 



POEMS OK NATUUK. 



435 



Winter, still I sue 

Muny clianus in tliie, — 
Love thy iliilly gieotin;;, 
Snow-storms licnely licnting, 

And llie dear delights 

Of the long, long nights. 

From the Gernuiii of LUDWIG HOLTY. Trans 
Ulion of CHAKLBS T. BKOOKb. 



NO! 



No sun — no moon ! 

No morn — no noon — 
No dawn — no dust — no proper time of day — 

No sky — no earthly view — 

No ilistance looking blue — 
No road - no street — no "t' other side tl" 
way " — 

No end to any Row — 

No indications where the Crescents go — 

No top to any steeple — 
No recognitions of familiar peojjlo — 

No eourtesies for showing 'em — 

No knowing em ! 
No travelling at all — no locomotion. 
No inkling of the way — no notion — 

" No go " ^by land or ocean — 

No mail — no post — 

No news fiom any foreign coast — 
No park — no ring — no afternoon gentility — 

No company — no nobility — 
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease, 
No comfortable feel in any member — 
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees. 
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds, 
November ! 

THOMAS IIOOU, 



WINTEK MORNING. 

FROM "THE WINTFR MORNING WALK:" 
"Tin-: TASK," KOOK v. 

'T IS morning ; and the sun, with ruddy orb 
Ascemling, fires the hori/on ; while the clouds, 
That crowil away before the driving wind, 
More ardent as the disk emerges more, 
Ucsemblo most some city in a blaze, 
>i en through the leafless wood. His slanting ray 
>lidcs inellVctual down the .snowy vale, 
.\\ii\, tingcing all with his own rosy hue, 
rnim every herb and every spiry lilade 
"-11 etches a length of shadow o'er the field. 
Mine, spindling into longitude immense, 
In spite of gravity, and sagir remark 
That I myself am but a fleeting shade, 
I'l-ovokes me to a sniili'. With eye askance 



I view the muscular proportioned limb 
Transformed to a lean shank. Thesha|H>lcs3 pair. 
As they designed to mock mi', at my side 
Take step for step ; and, as I near ai)priiiich 
The cottage, walk along the jilastercd wall, 
I'lcposteroiis sight ! the legs without the man. 
The verdure of the plain lies buried deep 
Beneath the dazzling deluge ; and the bents, 
And coarser grass, upspcaring o'er the rest, 
Of late unsightly and unseen, now .shine 
Conspicuous, and in bright aiiparcl clad. 
And, Hedged with icy feathers, nod superb. 
The cattle mourn in corners, where the fence 
.Screens them, and seem half petrified to .sleep 
In unrocunibent sadness. There tliey wait 
Their wonted foddi-r ; not, like hungering man, 
Kretfut if unsupplied ; but silent, nii'ck. 
Anil patient of the slow-paced swain's delay. 
He from the stack carves out the accustomed load, 
Deep plunging, and again ileep plunging oft, 
His broad keen knife into the soliil mass : 
.Smooth as a wall the upright remnant stands, 
With such undeviating and even force 
Ho severs it away : no needless care 
Lest storms .should overset the leaning iiile 
Deciduous, or its own unbalanced wciglit. 
Forth goes the woodman, leaving un.'onccrned 
The cheerful haunts of men, — to wield the axe 
And drive the wedge in yonder forest drear. 
From morn to eve his solitary task. 
Shaggy and lean and shrewd with jiointed ears. 
And tail cropjied short, half lurcher and half cur. 
His dog attends him. Close behind his heel 
Now cree|« he slow ; and now, with m.uiy a fi'isk 
Wide-.seanipering, snatches up the drifted snow 
With ivory teeth, or ))loughs it with his snout ; 
Then shakes his jiowdered coat, and barks for joy. 

Now from the roost, or from the neiglibnring pale. 
Where, diligent to catch the first faint gleam 
Of smiling day, they gossiped side by side, 
Come trooping at the housewife's well-known call 
The feathered trilies domestic. Half on wing, 
.And half on fool, they brush the fleecy flood, 
Conscious and fearful of too deep a plunge. 
The sparrows peep, and ([uit the sheltering caves 
To seize the fair occasion. Well they eye 
The .scattered grain, and, thievishly resolved 
To escape the iiupciuliug famine, often scared 
As oft return, a pert voracious kind. 
Clean riddance ijuickly made, one only imic 
Remains to each, the .search of sunny nook, 
Or shed impervious to the blast. Resigned 
To sad necessity, the cock foregoes 
His wonted stmt, and, wading at their heail 
With well-considered steps, seems to resent 
His altered gait and stateliness retrenched. 
How liiiil the Mivri.iils, tfiat ill siinimer cheer 



436 



POEMS or NATI'HIO. 



The hills nnd valleys with their ceaseless songs, 
Due susteniiuci', or where sulwist they now ' 
Kiirth yields them iiaiit,'ht ; the imiuisoneil wnnii 

is safe 
Beneath the IVozen eloii ; nil seeds of heilis 
Lie covered elose ; and berry-bearinj; thorns, 
That feed the thrush (whatever some snjipose), 
Atl'ord the smaller minstrels no supply. 
The long ])rotnu'ted rigor of the year 
Thins all their numerous lloeks. In ehinks and 

holes 
Ten thousand seek an umuolested end. 
As instinct prompts ; self-buried ere they die. 
William CoweuR. 



NEW ENGLAND IN WINTEK. 

FROM "SNOW-BOUND." 

The sun that brief December day 

Uoso cheerless over hills of gray. 

And, darkly einded, gave at noon 

A sadder light than waning moon. 

Slow tracing down the thickening sky 

Its mute «n<l ominous prophecy. 

A portent seeming less than tlireat, 

It sank from siglit before it set. 

A chill no coat, however stout, 

Of homes]>un stulV could quite shut out, 

A hard, dull bitterness of cold, 

That checked, mid-vein, the circling race 

Of life-blood in tlie sharpened face, 

The coming of the snow-storm told. 

The wind blew east ; we heard the roar 

Of t)ccan on his wintry .shore. 

And felt the strong pulse throbbing there 

Ileal with low rhytlim our inliind air. 

Meanwhile we did our nightly chores, — 
Hrouglit in the wood from out of doors, 
I.itlercd the stalhs, and from the mows 
Kaked down the herd's-grass for the cows ; 
Heard the horse whinnying for his corn ; 
And, sharjily cla.shing horn on horn, 
Impatient down the stanchion rows 
The cattle shake their walnut bows ; 
While, peering from his early perch 
Upon the scalfold's iiole of birch, 
The cock his cle^ted helmet bent 
And down his ipierulous challenge sent. 

Unwiirnu'd by any sunset light 
The gray day darkened into night, 
A night made hoary with the swarm 
And whirl-dance of the blinding storm. 
As zig/ag wavering to and fro 
Crossed anil recrossed the win:,'cd snow : 



And ere the early bedtime came 

TIk' white drift piled the window-frame. 
And through the glass the clothes-lino posts 
liOokeil in like tall and sheeted ghosts. 

So all night long the storm roared on : 

The morning liroke without a sun ; 

In tiny spherule traced with lines 

Of Nature's geometric .signs, 

In starry Hake, and pellicle, 

All day the hoary meteor fell ; 

And, wlien the second morning shone. 

We looked upon a world unknown. 

On nothing we could call our own. 

Around the glistening wonder bent 

The blue walls of the lirnniment. 

No (loud above, no earth below, — 

A universi' of sky and snow ! 

'Die (dd familiar sights of ours 

Took marvellous shapes; strange domes and towers 

liose up where sty or corn-crib stood. 

Or ganlen wall, or belt of wood ; 

A smootli white mound the brush-pile showed, 

A fenceless drift wdiat once was road ; 

The bridle-post an old nuin siit 

With loose-Hung coal and high cocked li:it ; 

The well-c\n'b had a Chinese roof ; 

Ami even the long sweep, high aloof, 

In its slant splendor, seemed to tell 

Of I'isa's leaning miracle. 

A prompt, decisive man, no breath 
Our father wasted : " Uoys, a iiath ! " 
Well pleased, (for when did farmer boy 
Count such a summons less ihan joy ?) 
Our buskins on our feet we drew ; 
With mittened hands, and caps diauu low. 
To guard our necks and ears from snow. 
We cut the solid whiteness through. 
And, wdiere the diift was deepest, made 
A tunnel walled and oveilaid 
Willi dazzling crystal : we had read 
Of rare Aladdin's wondrous cave. 
Ami to our own his name we gave, 
With nuiiiy a wish the luck were oui's 
To test his lamp's supernal powers. 
Wo reached the barn with merry din. 
And rouseil the pri.soned brutes within. 
The old horee thrust his long head out. 
And grave with wonder gazed about ; 
The cock his lusty greeting said, 
And forth his speckled harem led ; 
The oxen lashed tlieir tails, and hooked, 
.\ud mild reproach of hunger looked ; 
The horned patriarch of the slieep. 
Like Egypt's Aniun roused from sleep, 
Shook his sage head with gesture mute, 
.\nd emphasized with stamp of foot. 



I'OEMS 1)1'' NATlliH. 



437 



All iliiy till' fjiisty iiorlli-wiiul boic' 

The loosening iliil't its lueutli liefori' ; 

Low riirlinj! louml its soiitlieni zonu, 

The Hiin throu^'li ila//lin<; snnu-uiist shone. 

No clmrcli-liell lent its Christian tone 

To the suviige nil', no soeiul smoke 

i'ufh-tl over wooils ol" snow-hnng ouk. 

A solitiule niiule mole intense 

r.y ilivaiy-voieid elements, 

The shrieking of the miniUess wind, 

The moaning tiee-houghs swaying blind, 

And on the glass the nnnieaning heat 

Of ghostly linger-tips of sleet. 

licyond the eiiele of onr hearth 

No weleonie soniid of toil or mirth 

I'nhound the siiell, and teslilied 

Of linman life and llmught outside. 

We minded that the sharpest ear 

The buried brooklet eould not hear, 

The music of whose liiiuid lip 

Had been to us eonipaidonship, 

And, in our lonely life, had grown 

To have an almost human tone. 

As night drew on, and, from the crest 
Of wooded knolls that ridged the west, 
Tlie sun, a snow-lilown traveller, sank 
From sight beneath the smothering bank, 
\Vc piled, with eare, our nightly stack 
Of wood against the ehimney-back, — 
The oaken log, green, huge, and thick. 
And on its top tiie stout back-stick ; 
The knotty foiestick laid apart, 
.\nd lilled between with curious art 
The mgged brush ; then, hovering near, 
We wati^lied the first red blaze appear. 
Heard the sharp crackle, caught the gleam 
On whitewashed wall and sagging beam. 
Until the old, rudefiirnished room 
Hui-st, llower-like, into rosy bloom ; 
While niiliant with a mimic llanie 
Outside the sparkling drift became, 
.\nd through the baie-ljonghed lilac-treo 
< liir own warm hearth seemed bla/iiig free. 
Tlio craiio and |>en(h'lit trainmi'ls showed ; 
I'lie Turks' lieails on the andirons glowed ; 
While childish fancy, prompt to tell 
The menning of the miracle. 
Whispered the old rhyme : " Under the tree, 
II' lien lire outduors burns iitcrrily. 
There Ihe witches urc makinij tea." 

The moon above tlie eastern wood 
.Shone at its full ; the hill-rangi^ .stood 
Transfigured in the silver Hood, 
Its blown snows (lashing cold and keen, 
Dead white, save whei-e some shall) ravine 
Took shadow, or the sombre green ' 



Of liemlocks turneil to pitchy black 
Against the whiteness at their back. 
Kor such a world and such a night 
Jlost lilting that iinwarming light. 
Which only seemed where'er it fell 
T(j make the coldness visible. 

.Shut ill from all the world without. 
We sat the eleaii-wingcd hearth about. 
Content to let the north-wiml roar 
In battled rago at pane and door. 
While till' red logs before us beat 
The frost-lino back with tropic heat ; 
And ever, when a louder lilast 
.Shook beam and rafter as it passed. 
The merrier up its roaring draught 
Tho great throat of the chimney laughed ; 
The house-dog on his paws outspread 
Laid to the lire his drowsy head. 
The cat's dark silhouette on the wall 
A couchant tiger's .seemed to fall ; 
And, for the winter lireside meet, 
lietweeii the andirons' straddling feet, 
The mug of cider simmeied slow, 
The apples sputtered in a row. 
And, close at hand, the basket stood 
With uuts from brown October's wood. 

John GRELNLaAF whittieb. 



WINTER NOON. 

FROM "THE WINTER WALK AT NOON : • 
"THE TASK." BOOK VI. 

Till', night was winter in his roughest mood, 
The morning .sharp and clear. Hut now at noou 
Upon the soutlierii side of the slant hills, 
And where the wooils fence olf the northern 

blast. 
The .season sinih's, resigning all its rago, 
.\iid has the warmth of May. The vault is blue 
Without a cloud, and white without a siieek 
The dazzling splendor of the scene below. 

Again the harmony comes o'er the vale ; 
And through the trees I view the embattled tower, 
Whence all the iniisic. I again perceive 
The soothing inlluence of the wafted .strains, 
And .si'tllc ill soft musings as I tread 
Tho walk, still verdant, under oaks and elms, 
Whose outspread braiHJies overarch the glade. 

No noise is here, or none that hinders thought. 
Tho redbreast warbles still, but is content 
With slender notes, and more than half sup- 

])ressed : 
Pleased with his solitude, and flitting light 
Kroin spray to sjiray, where'er he rests he .shakes 



43S 



I'OEMS OF NATURE. 



From many a twig the jMudent drops of ice, 
Tliat tinkle in the witheivd leaves helow. 
StiUu^fs, aeeoniiianied with sounds so soft, 
Charms nioi-e than sileuoe. Jleditntion hero 
Hay think down hour's to moments. Here the 

heart 
Hay give a useful lesson to the head, 
And Learning wiser grow without his books. 

W ILLIAM COWPER. 



WINTER. 

The day had been a calm and sunny day. 

And tingi'd with amber was the sky at even ; 
The lleecy ilo\uls at length had rolled away. 

And lay in furrows on the eastern heaven ; — 
The moon arose and shed a glimmering ray, 
And rouml her orb a misty circle lay. 

The hoar-frost glitteivd on the naked heath. 
The i\xir of distant winds was loud and deep. 

The dry leaves rustled in each jwssing bivath. 
And the gay world was lost in iiuiet sleep. 

Such was the time when, on the landscape brown. 

Through a December air the snow came down. 

The morning eame, the dreary morn, at last. 
Anil showed the whitened waste. The shiv- 
ering henl 
Lowed on the hoary meadow -gixiiind, and fiist 

Fell the light flakes upon the earth nnstiri-ed ; 
The forest fn-s with glittering snows o'erlaid 
Stood like hoar priests in rol>es of white arrayed. 
JOH.N Howard Brya.nt. 



WINTER PICTCRES. 

PROM "THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAU" 

Down swept the drill wind from the mountain 
peak. 

From the snow five thousand summers old : 
On open wold and hill-top bleak 

It had g.Uherod all the cold, 
And whirled it like sKvt on the wanderer's cheek : 
It carried a shiver evorywhciv 
From the unleafetl Iniughs and jwstures bare ; 
The little brook heaixl it and built a roof 
'Neath which he could house him, winter-proof; 
All night by the white stai-s' fixisty gleams 
He groineil his aivhes and matdietl his beams ; 
Slender and clear weiv his cr_\-sti»l sjwre 
As the lashes of light that trim the star's : 
He sculptunnl every summer delight 
In his halls and chaniKM's out of sight ; 
Sometimes his tinkling watei-s slipt 
Down through a fiv>st-lcaved forcst-cvyjit. 



Long, sparkling aisles of steel-steninied trees 
Bending to counterfeit a breeze ; 
Sometimes the roof no fretwork knew 

I But silvery mosses that downward grew ; 

j Sometimes it was carved in sharp relief 

j With quaint arabesques of ice-fern leaf ; 

I Sometimes it was simply smooth and clear 
For the gladness of heaven to shine through, and 

here 
He had caught the nodding bidrush-tops 
And hung them thickly with diamond drops. 
Which crystalleil the beams of moon and sun. 
And made a star of every one : 
No mortal builder's most rare device 
Could match this winter-palace of ice ; 
'Twas as if every image that mirrored lay 
In his depths serene through the summer day. 
Each flitting shadow of earth and sky. 
Lest the happy model should he lost. 
Had been mimicked in fairy nuisonry 
By the ellin builders of the frost. 

Within the hall are song and laughter. 

The cheeks of Christmas grow ivd and jolly. 
And sprouting is every corbel and ralter 

With the lightsome green of ivy and holly ; 
Through the deep gulf of the cliinmey wide 
Wallows the Yule-log's roaring tide ; 
The broad flame-pennons droop and flap 

And belly and tug as a flag in the wind ; 
Like a locust shrills the imprisoned sap. 

Hunted to death in its galleiies blind ; 
And swil't little troops of silent sparks, 

Now iMusing, now scattering away as in fear, 
Go threading the soot-foivst's tangled darks 

Like herds of startled deer. 

But the wind without was e.agor and sharp. 
Of Sir Launfal's gray hair it makes a harp, 
And rattles and rings 
The icy strings. 

Singing, in dreary monotone, 

A Christmas carol of its own. 

Whose buixlen still, as he might guess, 1 

Was — "Shelterless, shelterless, shelterless!"" 
Tlie voice of the seneschal HaitHl like a toivh 
As he shouteil the wanderer away from the ixjivh, 
And he sat in the gateway ;iud saw all night 

The givat hall-firo, so cheery and bold, 

Through the window-slits of the castle old. 
Build out its piers of ruddy light 

Against the drift of the cold. 

There was never a leaf on bush or tree. 
The Ivare lioughs rattleil shudderingly : 
The river was dumb and could not sjieak. 
For the weaver Winter its shroud had .sonn : 



POK.MS or NATl UK. 



439 



A single crow on the tree-top bleak 

From liissliiniii}; I'l'tttliersslicil oll'tliei'olil sun 
Afjiiin it WHS inoniiiig, but shrunk ami coKl, 
As if lior veins were sapless and old, 
And she rose up decrepitly 
For a last dim look at cartli and sea. 

James Russull Lowell. 



WINTER SCENES. 

FROM "THE SEASONS: WINTF.R." 

TllK keener tempests rise ; anil funiinf; ihui 
Fioin all the livid east, or piereing nortli, 
Thick elouds aseeiid ; in whose capacious womb 
A vapory deluge lies, to snow congealed. 
Heavy they roll their lleecy world along ; 
.\nd the sky saddens with the gathered st<nni. 
Through the hushed air the whitening shower 

descends 
Al tii-st thin wavering; till at la.st the Hakes 
till hroad and wide and last, iliinming the day 
With a continual How. The cherished lields 
Put on their winter robe of purest white. 
'Tis brightness all; save where the new snow 

melts 
Along tlie mazy current. Low the woods 
Row their hoar head ; and, ere the languiil sun 
F'aint from the west emits his evening ray, 
Earth's universal face, deep hid and chill, 
Is one wide dazzling waste, that buries wide 
The works of man. Drooping, the laborer-ox 
Stands covered o'er with snow, and then dcniands 
The fruit of all his toil. The fowls of heaven. 
Tamed by the cruel sea.snn, crowd around 
The winnowing .store, and claim the littli' boon 
Which Providence assigns thcuL One alone, 
The redbreast, sacred to the household gods. 
Wisely regardful of the embroiling sky. 
In joylevs lields and thorny thiikets leaves 
His shivering mates, and pays to trusted man 
His annual visit. Halfafraiil, he lirst 
Against the window Ix'ats ; then, brisk, alights 
On the warm hearth ; then, hoi)]iing o'er the lloor, 
Eyes all the smiling family askance. 
And pecks, and starts, and w'onders where he is : 
Till, more familiar grown, the table-crumbs 
Attract his slender feet. The foodlcss wilds 
Pour forth their brown iidiabitants. The hare, 
Though timorous of heart, and hard beset 
By death in various forms, dark snares, and dogs. 
And more unpitying man, the garden seeks. 
Urged on by fearless want. The bleating kind 
Eye the bleak heaven, and next the glistening 

earth, 
With looks of dumb despair ; then, .sad dispcrscil. 
Big for the withered herb through heaps of snow. 

James Thomsov. 



WHEN ICICLES HANG BY THE WALL. 

from "love's labor's lost," act v. sc. a. 

When icicles hang by the wall, 

And nick the .shepherd blows his nail, 
And Tom bears logs into the hall. 

And milk comes frozen home in pail, 
When blood is nijiped, and ways be foul. 
Then nightly sings the staring owl, 

To-who ; 
To-whit, to-who, a merry note. 
While greasy Joan doth Ucel the pot. 

When all alouil the wind doth blow. 

Ami <'onghing drowns the parson's saw, 
And birds sit brooding in the snow. 

And Marian's nose looks red and raw. 
When roasted crabs hi.ss in the bowl. 
Thin nightly sings the staring owl, 

To-who ; 
To-whit, to-who, a merry note, 
While greasy .loan doth keel the pot. 

SHAKIZSPUAKE. 



THE SNOW-STORM. 

Annou.noki) by all the trumpets of the sky. 
Arrives the snow ; and, driving o'er the lields, 
.Seems nowhere to alight ; the whited air 
Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven. 
And veils the farm-house at the garden's end. 
The sled and traveller stopped, the (Murier's feet 
Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates 

sit 
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed 
In a tumultuous privacy of storm. 

Come see the north-wind's masonry ! 
Out of an unseen quarry, evermore 
Furnished with tile, the Meree artificer 
('urves his white bastions with projecteil roof 
Round every windward stake or tree or door ; 
S]ieeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work 
So fanciful, so savage ; naught cares he 
For number or proportion. Mockingly, 
On coop or kennel ho hangs Parian wreaths ; 
A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn ; 
Fills up the farmer's lane from wall to wall, 
Maugre the farnu'r's sighs ; and at the gate 
A tapering turret overtops the work. 
And when his hours are numbered, and the world 
Is all his own, retiring as he were not. 
Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art 
To mimic m slow structures, stone by stone, 
Built in an age, the mad wind's night-work. 
The frolic architecture of the snow. 

ralf'h Waldo Hmi-ikson. 



440 



I'DKMS OV NATURE. 



THE SNOW-SHOWER. 

Stand liere by my sUle and turn, I pray, 
On the liikii liolow thy gentle eyes ; 

Till' oUnuls Inuig over it. heavy and gray, 
And (lark and .silent the water lies; 

And out of that I'rozen mist the snow 

In wavering Ihikrs begins to (low ; 

Klake after flake 

Tlu'V sink in tlie ilark and silent lake. 



See how in a living swarm they come 

From the chambers beyond that misty veil ; 

Some hover awliilo in air, and .some 

Rush prone from the sky like summer hail. 

All, dropping swiftly or settling slow. 

Meet, and are still in the depths below ; 
Flake after tiake 

Dissolved in the dark and silent lake. 

Here delicate snow-stars, out of the cloud. 
Come lloating downward in airy play, 

Like spangles dropped from the glistening crowd 
That whiten by niglit the iMilky Way ; 

There broader and burlier masses fall ; 

The sullen water buries them all, — 

Flake aftei' Make, — 

All drowned in the dark ami silent lake. 

And some, as on tender wings they glide 

From their chilly birth-cloud, dim and gray, 

Ave joined in their fall, and, side by side. 
Come clinging along their unsteady way : 

As friend with friend, or husband with wife, 

Jlakes lunui in hand the passage of life ; 
Each mated Hake 

Soon sinks in the dark and silent lake, 

Lo ! while we are gazing, in swifter haste 

Stream down the snows, till the air is white, 
As, myriads liy myriads maiUy chased. 

They lling themselves from their shadowy 
height. 
The fair, frail creatures of middle sky. 
What speed they make, with their grave so nigh ; 

Flake after Hake 
To lie in the dark and silent lake! 

I see in tliy gentle eyes a tear ; 

They turn to nie in sorrowful thought : 
Thou thinkest of friends, tlie good and dear, 

Who were for a time, and now aiv not ; 
Like these fiiir children of aloud and frost. 
That glisten a momeiit and then are lost, — 

Flake after flake, — 
All lost in the dark and silent lake. 



Yet look again, for the clouds divide ; 

A gleam of blue on the water lies ; 
And lar away, on the mountain-side, 

A sunbeam falls iVom the opening skies. 
But the hurrying host that Hew between 
The cloud and the water no more is seen ; 

Flake after Hake 
At rest in the dark and silent lake. 

William CULLtN Brvant. 



SNOW. — A WINTER SKETCH. 

Till', blessed morn has come again ; 

The early gray 
Taps at the slumberer's window-pane. 

And seems to say. 
Break, break from tlie enchanter's chain 

Away, away ! 

'T is winter, yet there is no sound 

Along the air 
Of winds along their battle-ground ; 

But gently there 
The snow is falling, — all around 

How fair, how fair I 

RALPH HO^T. 



SNOW-FLAKES. 

Ol'T of the bosom of the Air, 

t1ut of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken, 
Over the woodlands brown and bare, 
Over the harvest-lields forsaken, 
Silent and soft and slow 
Descends the snow. 

Even as our cloudy fancies take 

Suddenly shape in some divine expression. 
Even as the troubled heart doth make 
In the white conntenance confession, 
The troubled sky reveals 
Tlie grief it feels. 

This is the j)oem of the air, 

Slowly in silent syllables recorded ; 
This is the secret of despair. 

Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded, 
Now wliisiiereil and revealed 
To wood and Held. 

^IE^k^■ wapsworth Lo.ngfellow. 



A SNOW-STORM. 

scene in a \"EkMONT WINTER. 

'T IS a fearful night in the winter time, 

As cold as it ever can be ; 
The roar of the blast is heard like the chime 

Of the waves on an angry sea. 



POEMS 01'' NATlKi:. 



441 



Till' moon is full ; Imt lier silver li^lit 
Tlin stonn (liUihes out with its wiiij^s to-niglit ; 
And over the sky from south to iiortli 
Not a star is seen, as the wind comes forth 
In the strength of a mighty gh'e. 

All day had the snow come clown, — all Jay 

As it never came down hel'ore ; 
And over the hills, at sunset, lay 

Some two or three feet, or more ; 
The fence was lost, and the wall of stone ; 
The windows tilockeil nn<l the well-curlw gone ; 
The haystack hail grown to a mountain lilt. 
And the wood-|>ile looked like a monster drift. 

As it lay hy the farmer's iloor. 

The night sets in on a world of snow, 
While the air grows sharp and chill. 

And the warning roar of a fearful blow 
Is hearil on the distant hill ; 

And the norther, see ! on the mountain peak 

In his breath how the old trees writhe and shriek! 

lie shouts on the plain, ho-ho ! ho-ho ! 

lie drives from his nostrils the hlinding snow, 
And growls with a savage will. 

Such a night as this to he found abroad. 

In the drifts and the freezing air. 
Sits a shivering dog, in the field, by the road. 

With the snow in his shaggy hair. 
He shuts his eyes to the wind and growls ; 
He lifts his head, and moans and howls ; 
Then crouching low, from the cutting sleet, 
His nose is pressed on his quivering feet, — 

Pray, what does the dog do there ? 

A farmer came from the village plain, — 

But he lost the travelled way ; 
And for hours he trod with might and main 

A path for his horse and sleigh ; 
But colder still the cold winds blew. 
And deefier still the deep <lrifts grew, 
An<l his mare, a bi'autiful Morgan brown, 
At last in her struggles floundered down, 

Where a log in a hollow lay. 

in vain, with a neigh and a frenzied snort. 

She plunged in the drifting snow. 
While her master urged, till his breath giew short, 

With a word and a gcntli' blow ; 
But the snow was deep, and the tugs were tight ; 
His hands were numb and had lost their njight ; 
So he wallowed back to his half-lillcd sleigh. 
And strove to shelter himself till day, 

With his coat and the buffalo. 

He has given the last faint jerk of the rein. 

To rouse up his dying stcerl ; 
And the poor dog howls to the bla.st in vain. 

For help in his master's need. 



For a while he strives with a wistful cry 
To (.'atch a glance from his drowsy eye, 
And wags his tail if the rude winds flap 
The skirt of the liull'alo over his lap, 
And whines when he takes no heed. 

The wind goes down and the storm is o'er, — 

*T is the hour of midnight, past ; 
The old trees writhe and bend no more 

In the whirl of the rushing blast. 
The silent moon with her peaceful liglit 
Looks down on the hills with snow all white. 
And the giant shadow of f-'amel's Hunjp, 
The blasted pine and the ghostly stump. 

Afar on the plain are cast. 

But cold and dead by the hidden log 

Are the}' who came from the town, — 
The man in his sleigh, and his faithful dog, 

And his beautiful Morgan brown, — 
In the wide snow-desert, far and grand. 
With his cap on his head and the reins in his 

hand, — 
The dog with his nose on his tna,ster's feet, 
And the njare half seen through the cnisted sleet, 
Wlicje slie lay when she floundered down. 

CHARLES GAMACE EAS'I.MAN. 



WINTER! WILT THOU XEVEU GO? 

i wiNTElt ! wilt thou never, never go ? 
summer ! but I weary for thy coming. 
Longing once more to hear the Luggie flow, 
And frugal bees, laboriously laimniing. 
Now the east-wind diseases the infinn. 
And must croucli in comers from rough weather ; 
Sometimes a winter sunset is a charm, — 
When the fired clouds, compacted, blaze together. 
Anil the laige sun dips red behind the hills. 
I, from my window, can behold this pleasure ; 
And the eternal moon, what time she fills 
Her orb with argent, treading a soft measure. 
With ipieenly motions of a bridal mood. 
Through the white spaces of infinitude. 

DAVir Crav. 



VIEW FROM THE EUGANEAN HILLS,* 
NORTH ITALY. 

Many a green isle needs must be 
It] the deep wide sea of misery, 
Or the mariner, woni and wan, 
Never thus could voyage on 
Day and night, and night and day. 
Drifting on his dreary way, 

* The lonely mountiiinft which surround what wat once the re- 
trcAt. anil K now ihe tepulchre. of Petrarch. 



U2 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



With the solid darkness black 
Closing round his vessel's track ; 
Whilst above, the sunless sky, 
Big with clouds, hangs heavily. 
And behind, the tempest fleet ' 
Hurries on with lightning feet. 
Riving sail and cord and plank 
Till the ship has almost drank 
Death from the o'erbrimniiug deep ; 
And sinks down, down, like that sleep 
When the dreamer seems to be 
Weltering through eternity ; 
And the dim low line before 
Of a dark and distant shore 
Still recedes, as, ever still 
Longing with divided will. 
But no power to seek or shun, 
He is ever drifted on 
O'er the unreposing wave 
To the haven of the grave. 

Ay, many flowering islands lie 

In the waters of wide agony : 

To such a one this morn was led 

My bark, by soft winds piloted. 

— Mid the mountains Euganean 

I stood listening to the pa;an 

With which the legioned rooks did hail 

The sun's uprise majestical : 

Gathering round with wings all hoar. 

Through tlie dewy mist they soar 

I,ike gray shades, till the eastern heaven 

Bursts, and then, as clouds of even, 

Flecked with tire and az\ire, lie 

In the unfathomable sky, 

So their plumes of purple grain. 

Starred with drops of golden rain, 

(ileam above the sunlight woods. 

As in silent multitudes 

On the morning's fitful gale. 

Through the broken mist they sail ; 

And the vapors cloven and gleaming 

Follow, down the dark steep streaming. 

Till all is bright and clear and still 

Kound the solitary hill. 

Beneath is spread like a gi-een sea 
The waveless plain of Lombardy, 
Bounded by the vajiorous air, 
Islanded by cities fair ; 
Underneath day's azure eyes. 
Ocean's nursling, Venice, lies, — 
A peopled labyrinth of walls, 
.\mphitrite's destiiu'd halls. 
Which her hoary sire now paves 
With his blue and beanung waves. 
I.o ! the sunupsprings behind, 
Broad, red, radiant, lialf reclined 



On the level quivering line 
Of the waters crystalline ; 
And before that chasm of light, 
As within a furnace bright. 
Column, tower, and dome, and spire 
Shine like obelisks of fire. 
Pointing with inconstant motion 
From the altar of dark ocean 
To the sapphire-tinted skies ; 
As the flames of sacrifice 
From the marble shrines did rise. 
As to pierce the dome of gold 
Where .Apollo spoke of old. 

Sun-girt city ! thou hast been 

Ocean's child, and then his queen ; 

Now is come a darker day, 

And thou soon nuist be his prey. 

If the power that raised thee here 

Hallow so thy watery bier. 

A less drear ruin then than now. 

With thy conquest-branded brow 

Stooping to the slave of slaves 

From thy throne among the waves. 

Wilt thou be when the sea-mew 

Flies, as once before it flew. 

O'er thine isles depopulate, 

And all is in its ancient state. 

Save where many a palace-gate 

With green sea-flowers overgrown 

Like a rock of ocean's own, 

Topples o'er the abandoned sea 

As the tides change sullenly. 

The fisher on his watery way 

Wandering at the close of day 

Will spread his sail and seize his oar 

Till he pass the gloomy shore. 

Lest thy dead should, from their sleep 

Bursting o'er the starlight deep. 

Lead a rapid mask of death 

O'er the wateis of his path. 

Noon descends around me now ; 
'T is the noon of autumn's glow, 
When a soft and purple mist. 
Like a vaporous amethyst. 
Or an air-dissolved star. 
Mingling light and fragrance, far 
From the curved horizon's bound 
To the point of heaven's profound. 
Fills the overflowing sky ; 
And the plains that silent lie 
Underneath ; the leaves unsodden 
Where the infant frost has trodden 
With his morning-wingkl feet. 
Whose bright print is gleaming yet ; 
And the red and golden vines, 
riercing with their trcUised lines 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



443 



Tile rougli, ilaik-skirtcd wilderness ; 

Tlip iliiii and bladed grass no less, 

I'ointin^; IVdin this hoary tower 

In the windless air ; the (lower 

Glimnicrinf; at my feet ; the line 

0( the olive-sandalled Ajiennino 

In the south dimly islanded ; 

And the Alps, whose snows are si>read 

High between the elouds and sun ; 

And of living things each one ; 

And my spirit, which so long 

Darkened this swift stream of song, — 

Interpenetrated lie 

By the glory of the sky ; 

Be it love, light, harmony. 

Odor, or the soul of all 

Which from heaven like dew doth fall, 

Or the minil which feeds this verse 

Peopling the lone universe. 

Noon descends, and after noon 

Autumn's evening meets me soon, 

Leading the infantine moon 

And that one star, which to her 

Almost seems to minister 

Half the crimson light she brings 

From the sunset's radiant sjuings : 

And the soft dreams of the morn 

(Which like winged winds had borne 

To that silent isle, which lies 

Mid remembered agonies. 

The frail bark of this lone being) 

Pass, to other sufferers fleeing. 

And its ancient pilot. Pain, 

Sits beside the helm again. 

Other tlowering isles must be 
In the sea of life and agony ; 
Other spirits float and flee 
O'er that gulf; even now, perhaps. 
On some rock the wild wave wraps, 
With folding winds they waiting sit 
For my bark, to pilot it 
To some calm and bloonung cove. 
Where for me, and those I love. 
May a windless bower be built. 
Far from passion, pain, and guilt. 
In a dell miil lawny hills, 
Which the wild sea-murmur fills, 
And soft sunshine, and the sound 
Of old forests echoing round. 
And the light and smell divine 
Of all flowers that breathe and shine. 
— We may live so happy there. 
That the spirits of the air, 
F.nvying us, may even entice 
To oui" healing |>aradise 



The polluting nmltitude ; 

But their rage would lie subdued 

By that clime divine and calm, 

And the winds whosc^ wings rain balm 

On the uplifted soul, and leaves 

Under which the bright .sea heaves ; 

While each breathless interval 

In their whisperings musical 

The inspired soul supjilics 

With its own deep niidodies ; 

And the love which heals all strife. 

Circling, like the breath of life, 

AH things in that sweet abode 

With its own mild brotherhood. 

They, not it, would change ; and soon 

Every sprite beneath the moon 

Would reiient its envy vain. 

And the earth grow young again I 

Percv Bvsshe Shelley. 



GRONGAR HILL. 

f The Vale of the Towy embraces, in its winding course of fifteen 
miles, some of tlic loveliest scenery of South Wales. If it be less 
cultivated than the Vale of Usk, its woodland views are more ro- 
mantic and frequent. The neighborhood is historic and poetic 
ground. From Grongar Hill the eye discovers traces of a Roman 
camp : Golden Grove, the home of Jeremy Taylor, is on the oppo. 
site side of the river ; Merlin's chair recalls Spenser ; and a farm- 
house near the foot of Llangumnor Hill brings back the memory 
of its once genial occupant, Richard Steele. Spenser places th« 
cave of Merlin among the dark woods of Dincvawr,] 

Silent nympli, with curious eye, 

Who, the purple even, dost lie 

On the mountain's lonely van, 

Beyoiiil the noise of busy man. 

Painting fair the form of things. 

While the yellow linnet sing.s. 

Or the tuneful nightingale 

Charms the forest with her t.ale, — 

Come, with all thy various hues. 

Come, antl aid thy sister Muse. 

Now, while Phoebns, riding high. 

Gives lustre to tin- land and sky, 

Grongar Hill invites my song, — 

Draw the landscape bright and strong ; 

Grongar, in wdiose mossy cells 

Sweetly musing Quiet dwells ; 

Grongar, in whose silent shade, 

For the modest Muses made. 

So oft I have, the evening still, 

At the fountain of a rill. 

Sat upon a flowi-ry bed, 

With my hand beneath my head. 

While strayed my eyes o'er Towy's flood, 

Over mead and over wood. 

From hou.se to house, from hill to hill, . 

Till Contemplation hail her fill. 

About his ilieikereil sirles 1 wind, 
.And leave his brooks and mtmds behind, 



444 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



And grovos and giottoes wheif I lay, 
And vistas shooting K'ams of day. 
Wide and widor spreads the vaU;, 
As cireles on a smooth canal. 
The mountains round, unhaiipy fate ! 
Sooner or later, of all lieight, 
Withdraw their suniuiits from the skies. 
And lessen as the others rise. 
Still the prospect wider spreads, 
Adds a thousaiul woods and meads ; 
Still it widens, widens still. 
And sinks the newly risen liill. 

Now I gain the mountain's brow ; 
What a landscape lies below ! 
No clouds, no vapors intervene ; 
Uut the gay, tlie open scene 
Does the face of Nature show 
In all the luie.s of heaven's bow ! 
And, swelling to embrace the liglit. 
Spreads around beneath the sight. 

Old castles on the clitVs arise, 
Providly towering in the skies ; 
Rushing from the woods, the spires 
Seem from hence ascending fires ; 
Half his beams Apollo sheds 
On the yellow nicuntain-heads, 
Gilds the lleeces of the Hooks, 
And glitters on tlie broken rocks. 

Below me trees unnumbered rise, 
Beautiful in \arious dyes : 
The gloomy pine, the poplai- blue, 
The yellow beech, the sable yew, 
The slen<ler fn- that taper grows. 
The sturdy oak with broad-siuead boughs ; 
And beyond, the iiurple grove. 
Haunt of riiyllis, iiucen of love ! 
(uiudy as the opening dawn. 
Lies a long and level lawn. 
On which a dark hill, steep and high. 
Holds and charms the wandering eye ; 
Deep are his feet iu Towy's flood ; 
His sides are clothed with waving wood ; 
And ancient towers crown his lirow. 
That cast an awful look below ; 
Whose ragged walls the ivy creeps, 
And with her aims fron\ falling keeps ; 
So both a safety from the wind 
In mutual dependence tind. 
'T is now the raven's bleak abode ; 
'T is now the aiiartnient of the toad ; 
And there the fox securely feeds ; 
And there tlie poisonous adder breeds. 
Concealed iu ruins, moss, and weeds ; 
While, ever and anon, there fall 
•Huge heaps of hoary, mouldered wall. 
Yet Time has seen, — that lifts the low 
And level lays the lofty brow, — 
Has seen this broken ]iile complete. 



Uig with the vanity of state. 

Hnt transient is the smile of Fate ! 

A little rule, a little sway, 

.\ sunbeam in a winter's day. 

Is all the proud and mighty have 

Between the cradle and the grave. 

And see the rivers, how they run 
Through woods and meads, in shade and sun. 
Sometimes swift, sometimes slow, — 
Wave succeeding wave, they go 
A various jouiney to the deep. 
Like human life to endless sleep ! 
Thus is Nature's vesture wrought 
To instruct our wandering thought ; 
Tluis she dresses green and gay 
To disperse our cares away. 

Kver charming, ever new. 
When will the landscaiie tire the view ! 
The fountain's fall, the river's How ; 
The woody valleys, warm ami low ; 
The windy summit, wild ami high, 
Houghly rushing on the sky ; 
The pleasant seat, the ruined tower, 
The naked rock, the shady bower ; 
The town and village, dome and farm, — 
Each gives each a double charm. 
As pearls upon an Kthiop's arm. 

See on the mountain's southern side. 
Where the prospect opens wide. 
Where the evening gilds the tide. 
How close and small the hedges lie ! 
What streaks of meadow cross the eye ! 
A step, luethinks, nuiy pass the stream. 
So little distant dangers .seem ; 
So we mistake the Future's face. 
Eyed through Hope's deluding glass ; 
As yon summits, soft and fair, 
Clad in colors of the air. 
Which, to those who journey near, 
Bairen, brown, and rough appear ; 
Still we tread the sauu^ coarse way, — 
The present 's still a cloudy day. 

0, may I with myself agree, 
And never covet what I see ; 
Content nre with a humble shade. 
My passions tauu'd, my wishes laid ; 
For while our wishes wildly roll, 
We bani.sh c|uiet from the soul. 
'T is thus the bu.sy beat the air. 
And misci's gather wealth and care. 

Now, even now, my joys run high. 
As on the mountain-turf 1 lie ; 
While the wautou Zepliyr sings, 
And in the vale iicrfumes his wings ; 
AVhile the watei-s murmur dee]) ; 
While tlu' sheiiherd charms his sheep • 
While the birds unbounded tly, 
.\nd with music fdl the sky, — 



I'DIOMS OK iNATI l!K 



445 



Now, evi'ii now, my joy.s n\ii high. 

Ho lull, vc courts ; bu gi'eiit who will ; 
Search lor I'racc witli all your skill ; 
Open wide the lolly door, 
Seek her on the nmrhle lloor : 
lu vain you search ; she is not tliere ! 
In vain you searcii the ihinieM of Care ! 
(Irass ami llowers Quiet treads, 
On the nieacls and mountain-heads. 
Along with Pleasure, — close allied, 
Ever hy each other's side, — 
And often, by the murmuring rill. 
Hears the thrush, while all is still 
Within the groves of Orongar Hill. 

John uviiK. 



nriLDINO A HOME. 

PROM "THE ART OF PRP.SRRVING nKAl.TU." 

Meastimk, the moist malignity to shun 
I>f burilened skies, mark where the dry cham- 
paign 
Swells into chccrrul hills ; where luarjorani 
And tliyme, the love (jf bees, perfume the air ; 
And where the cynorrhodon with the rose 
For fragrance vies ; for in the thirsty soil 
Most fragrant breathe the aromatic tribes. 
There bid thy roofs high on the basking aii'i'p 
Ascend, there light thy hospitable lires. 
And let them see the winti'r morn arise. 
The summer evening blushing in the west ; 
While with umbrageous oaks the lidge behiml 
O'erhuiig, defends you from the blustering North, 
And bleak allliction of the peevish Kast. 
O, wliKi the growling winds contend, and all 
The sounding forest lluctiiates in the storm. 
To sink in warm repose, and hear the din 
Howl o'er the steaily battlement.s, delights 
.\bove the luxury of vulgar sleep. 
The murmuring rivulet, and the hoarser strain 
o| waters rushing o'er the slippery rocks, 
Will nightly lull you toambiosial lest. 
To pleasathe fancy is no Hilling good. 
Where health is studied ; for whatever moves 
The niinil with calm delight jiromotes the just 
And natural movements of the harmonious frame. 
IJesid(;s, the sp()rtive brook forever shakes 
The trembling air, that lloats from hill to hill, 
Kroni vale to mountain, with incessant change 
Of puiest element, refreshing still 
Your airy seat, and uninfected gods, 
('hu'lly for this I praise the man who builds 
High on the breezy ridge, whose lofty sides 
The ethcrval deep with endless billow.s chafes. 
His purer nuinsion nor contagious years 
Shall reach, nor deadly putrid airs annoy. 

John Armstrong. 



DOVER CLIFF. 

I'ROM "KING LEAR." ACT Iv. SC. 6. 

Come on, sir; here's the place: staml still! 

How fearfid 
And iliz/y 't is, to cast one's eyes .so low ! 
The crows and choughs that wing the midway air 
Show scan'c .so gross as beetles : half-way diiwn 
Hangs one that gatheis samiihiri', — dreadful 

trade ! 
Methinks ho seems no bigger tlian his head : 
The lishermun, that walk upon the beach. 
Appear like mice ; and yon tall anchoring bark, 
Diminished to her cock ; her cock, a buoy 
Almost too small for sight : the murmuring surge, 
That on the unnunib(!red idle ]iebbles chafes, 
Cannot be heard so high. — 1 'II look no more ; 
Lest my brain turn, anil the delicicnt sight 
To2)plu down headlong. 

SHAKLSPEARK. 



ALPINE HEIGHTS. 

O.v Aliiinu heights the love of God is shed ; 
He paints flat morning red, 
Th(! Ilow-erets while and blue. 
And feeds tliein with his dew. 

On Alpine heights a loving Father dwells. 

On Alpine heights, o'er many a fragrant hcatli. 
The lovidiest bi'cczes breathe ; 
So free and puie the air, 
Jlis breath seems lloating there. 

On Alpine heights a loving Father dwells. 

On Alpine heights, beneath his mild blue eye, 

Still vales and'UKmilows lie ; 

The .soaring glacier's ice 

(ileams like a paiiulise. 
On Alpine heights a loving Father dwells. 

Down Alpine heights the silvery .stieamlets How 1 
Thei-e the bold chamois go ; 
On giddy crags they stand, 
A]id ilrink from his own hanil. 

On Alj>ine heights a loving Father dwells. 

On Al|)ino heights, in troops all white as snow. 
The sheep and wild goals go ; 

hei'c, in the stdilmie. 
He lills their hearts with food. 

On Alpine heights a loving Father dwells. 

On AljiiiK! heights the herdsnuiii tends his herd ; 

Jlis Shepherd is the Lord ; 

For he who feeds the sheep 

Will sure his olfspring keep. 
On Alpine lu'ights a loving Father dwells. 

From the r.cnii.iii of KRUMMACHP.R. Trrin^lii. 
troll of CHAHr.p.s T. UROOKS. 



44i; 



I'Or.MS 01' NATIKE 



THE DESCENT. 

My nitiK' rctivslu'il, liis lu'lls 
.linf;li>l once more, tlif sifjiiiil to ilt'inut, 
Aiul wi' sot out ill tlu' gniy light of ilawii, 
l>fsci>iuliii,n ni|iiiily, — liy wiiti'iralls 
Kiist IVozi'ii, and among luige blocks of ice 
TImt in tlicir long caiiH-i' hail stopt miilway ; 
At loiigtli, iinohci'Ui'il, unlmliU'ii, ho stood still, 
And nil his bolls woro ninttlod. Thon my 

guido, 
Lowering his voioi', addiossod mo : — " Through 

tliis ohasui 
On. and say nothing, — for a word, a bioatli, 
Stilling tho air, iniiy looson and bring down 
A wintor's snow, — onough to ovorwholm 
Tho horso and foot that, night and day, dolilod 
Along this path to oominor at Marongo." 

SAML'liL ROCUKS. 



SONG OK THE HUOOK, 

FROM "Ttlli BROOK: AN IDYL," 

I COME from hiumts of ooot and horn ; 

1 make a siiddon si\lly 
And s[«u'klo out among the fern, 

To bicker down a valley. 

l?y thirty hills 1 liurry down, 
C^r sli|> between the ridges, 

liy twenty thoriis, a little town. 
And half a hundivd bridgo.s. 

Till last by Thiliii's farm 1 How 
To join tho brimming river. 

Foi men may eomo and men may go, 
But 1 go on forevei-. 

1 ehattor over stony ways. 
In little sharps and tivbles, 

1 Inibblo into eddying Ixiys, 
1 Uibblo on the pebbles. 

With nniny a curve my l«nks 1 fret 
l!y many a lield and fallow, 

.\iul miiiiy a fairy foivland set 
With willow-weod and mallow. 

1 chatter, ehattor. as I How 
To join tho brimming river : 

For men may come and men may go, 
But 1 go on forever. 

I wind about, and in and out, 
Witli hero a blossom sailing. 

And heiv and thei* a lusty trout. 
And lioiv and thei-e a grayling, 



And hero and tliei-e a foamy Hake 

I' poll ine, as I travel 
With many a silvery waterbreak 

Above the golden gravel, 

And draw them all along, and How 

To join tlie briimning river ; 
For men may coino and men may go, 

But 1 go on forever. 

I steal by lawns and gi-assy plots : 

1 slide by hazel covers ; 
1 move the sweet forgi-t-ine-nots 

That grow for happy lovers. 

1 sli)!, 1 slide. I gloom, 1 glance, 
-Vniong my skimming swallows ; 

1 make the netted sunlvam dance 
Against my sandy shallows ; 

I niurmur uiulor moon and stare 

In bnimbly wildernesses ; 
I lingi'r by my shingly bars ; 

I loiter round my oresses ; 

And out again 1 curve and tlow 

To join tho briinniing rivi'r ; 
For men may come and men may go. 

But I go on forever. 

ALFRED TENX^•SO^^ 



TllK KHINE. 

FROM "CHILDE HAROLD." CANTO III. • 

TllK. castled crag of Pracheiifols 

Fixnvns o'er the wide and winding Khine, 
Whose bivast of watora bi-oadly swells 

Between the banks which Ivar the vine, 
And hills all rich with blossomed trees. 

And lields which promise corn and wine. 
And scatterod cities civwniiig these. 

Whoso far white walls along them shine. 
Have strewed a scene, which 1 should see 
With double joy, wert thou with me. 

And peasant-girls, with deep-blue eyes, 

.Vnd hands which otter early Howoi-s, 
Walk smiling o'er this paradise ; 

AKne. tho fivnuent feudal towers 
ThiMugh given loaves lift their walls of gi'iy. 

And many a rock which steeply towel's. 
And noble arch in proud decay, 

Look o'er this vale of vintagv^-lKiwors ; 
But one thing want these Iwnks of Ithine, — 
Thy gentle hand to clasp in mine I 



I 



I'OKMS OK NATUKK. 



447 



1 sontl tlu' lilii'a n'*'''" *" """• 

Thcm^li loiif; lu'rnic tliy Imiicl they toiU'h 
1 kmiw that they niusl willii'ivil \u; -- 

Itut yot rrjcit tlmm not lus such ; 
Kill' I Imvo clifiisliiHl tliciu ns diMir, 

lii'causo they yet limy meet thini' eye, 
Ami cuUle thy smil to mine even here, 

Wlieii thou helioM'sl thein ilrdopin}; iii^h, 
Ami knnw'st them ;;iitlieieil hy the lihiiie, 
Ami ollVnvl lioni my heiiit to thine 1 

The river nob!y foams ami (lows, 

The eharni of this enehanteil ground, 
Ami all its thousaml tnins diselose 

Some fiesher iM'anty varying; ronml : 
The haunhtii'st hreiust its wish nii;,'hl lionml 

Tliroujjh life to dwell deli),'hted here ; 
Nor eouUl on earth a spot be found 

To nature and to me so dear, 
I unhl thy dear eyes in followinj; mine 
Still sweeten more these banks of Rhine ! 

UVUON. 



ON TIIK IMIINK. 

T WAS morn, an<l beautiful the monnlain's 

brow — 
lluiif; with the clusters of the liendiiif; vine — 
Shone in the early li({ht, when on the Khine 
We sailed and heard the waters round the [Mow 
In mnrmui-s jiartinjj ; vurying as wi' f^o, 
K.iiks after rocks come forward and retire, 
As some gniy convent wall or sunlit spire 
Starts u|) alou)" the banks, nnfoldiiif,' slow. 
Here castles, like the prisons of despair, 
Krowii us wu pnas ; — there, on the vineyard's 

sido, 
The b\irstinK sunshine jiours its streaminj; tide ; 
While Orief, for;<etful amid sceijcs so fair, 
I "unts not the hours of a lon){ summit's day. 
Nor lieeds how fast the prosjicct winds nway. 
William l.lsLii llowt.i'.s. 



Till'; VAM.K.V 



I'.UOOK. 

wood 



FitKsii from the fountains of the 

A rivulet of the valley came. 
Anil glided on for many a rood. 

Flushed with the morning's ruddy llame. 

The air was fresh and soft ami sweet ; 

The slo[)es in spring's now verilnre lay, 
And wet with dew-drops at my feet 

llloomcd the young violets of May. 



No sound of busy life was heard 
Amid those jiastnres lone ami slill. 

Save the faint chirp of early bini, 
Or bleat of Hocks along the hill. 

1 traced that rivulet's winding way ; 

New scenes of beauty opened round. 
Where meads of brighter verduic lay, 

And lovelier blossoms tinged the ground. 

"Ah, happy valley stream ! " I .said, 
"Calm glides thy wave amid the (lowers. 

Whose fragrance rounil thy path is shed 
Through all the joyous summer hours. 

"0, could my yi'ars, like thine, be passed 
In some remote and silent glen. 

Where I could dwell and sleep ut bust. 
Far from the bustling haunts of men ! 

But what new echoes greet my ear '( 
The village school-boy's merry call ; 

And mid the village hum 1 hear 
Thc^ murmur of the waterfall. 

1 looked ; the widening' veil l)ctiiiyed 
A l>ool that shone like burnislied steel, 

When^ that bright valley stniani was stayed 
To turn the miller's pondei'ous wheel. 

Ah ! why should 1, I thought with shame, 

.Sigh for a life of solitude. 
When even this stream without a name 

Is lalK)ring for the common good. 

No longer let me shun my part 

Amid the busy scenes of life. 
Hut with a warm and generous heart 

Press onward in the glorious .strife. 

John Howard Bryant. 



AFTON WATKH. 

Ki (iw gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes ; 
Flow gently, 1 'II sing thee a song in thy iiraiso ; 
My Mary 's asleep by thy murmuring stream, 
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. 

Thou stock-dove whose echo resounds through 
the glen, 

Yo wilil whistling blackbinls in yon thorny dcii, 

Thou grcen-crcsled lapwing, thy screaming for- 
bear ; 

1 charge you disturb not my slumbering fair. 

How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighboring hills. 
Far marked with the conrsesof clear-winding rills! 
There daily 1 wamlcr as noon rises high. 
My flocks ami my Mary's sweet cot in my eye. 



448 



I'OEMS OK NATUUE. 



How pleasant thy lianks mui green valleys below, I Ketuiiis, tlioiight-laJeii, back with bloom and 



Wheie will! in the woodlands the jiriniroses blow ! 
There oft as niiM evening weeps over the lea, 
'I'he sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me. 

'I'liy erystal stream, Alton, how lovely it glides. 
And winds by the cot where my Mary resides ; 
How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lavo, 
As, gathering sweet llowerets, she stems thy clear 
wave ! 

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes ; 
Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays ; 
My Jlary 's asleep by thy m\irnuiring stream. 
Flow gently, sweot Afton, distui'b not her dream. 

KOUERT BURNS. 



THK SUAHEO ^\■ATER. 

^Whek that my mood is sad, and in the noise 
And bnstle of the crowd 1 feel rebnke, 
I tnrn my footsteps from its hollow joys 

And sit me down beside this little brook ; 
The waters have a niusie to mine ear 
It glads nu= niurh to hear. 

It is a cpuet glen, as you may see, 

Sluit in from all intrusion by the trees. 

That spread their giant branches, broad and free. 
The silent growili of many centuries ; 

And make a hallowed tinn- for hapless moods, 
A sabbath of the woods. 

Few know its (piict slu'lter, — none, like nn>. 
Do seek it out with such a fonil desire. 

Poring in idlessc nuiod o)i llower and tree. 

And listening as the voiceless leaves respire, — 

When the far-travelling bieeze, done wandei'ing, 
Ivests licre his weary wing. 

And all the day, with fancies ever new. 

And sweet companions from their boundless 
store. 
Of merry elves bespangled all with dew. 

Fantastic creatures of the old-time lore, 
Watching their wild but unobtrusive play, 
1 tling the houi-s away. 

A gmcious couch — the root of an old oak 
Whose branches yield it moss and canopy — ■ 

Is mine, and, so it be from woodman's stroke 
Secuiv, shall never be resigned by n\e ; 

It hangs above the stream that idly flies, 
Heedless of any eyes. 

There, with eye sometimes shut, bnt upward bent. 

Sweetly I muse thrtnigh many a ijuiet hour. 
While every sense on earnest mission sent. 



llower 

Pursuing, though rebuked by those who moil, 
A profitable toil. 

And still the waters, tnekling at my feet. 
Wind on their way with gentlest melody. 

Yielding sweet music, which the leaves repeat, 
.\liove them, to the gay breeze gliding by, — 

Yet not so rudely as to send one sound 
Through the thick copse around. 

Sometimes a brighter cloud than all the rest 
Hangs o'er the archway opening through the 
trees, 
Hreaking the spell that, like a slumber, pressed 

On my worn spirit its sweet luxuries, — 
.\nd with awakened vision upward bent, 
1 watch the firmament. 

How like its sure and undisturbed retreat — 
Life's sanctuary at last, secure from storm — 

To the pure waters trickling at my feet 

The bending trees that oversliade my form I 

So far as sweetest things of earth may seem 
Like those of which we dream. 

Such, to my mind, is the philosophy 

The yonngbird teaches,who,with sudden llight, 

.Sails far into the blue that spreads on high. 
Until I lose him from my straining siglit, — 

With a most lofty discontent to Hy 
Upward, from earth to sky. 

WILL1A.M GILMORF. Sl.MHS. 



SONG OF THE KIVER. 

Cleau and cool, clear and cool. 

By laughing shallow and dreaming pool ; 

Cool anil clear, cool and clear. 

By shining shingle and foaming weir ; 

Under the crag where the ouzel sings. 

And the ivied wall where the church-bell rings, 

Undeliled for the undeliled ; 

Play by me, bathe in me, mother and child ! 

Dank and foul, dank and foul, 

By the smoky town in its murky cowl ; 

Foul and dank, foul and dank, 

By wharf, and sewer, and slimy bank ; 

IXirker and darker the further I go. 

Baser and baser the richer I grow ; 

Who dare sport with the sin-deliled ? 

Shrink from me, turn from me, mother and child ! 

Strong and free, strong and free. 
The llood-g!\tcs are open, away to the sea : 
Free and strong, free and strong. 
Cleansing mv streams as 1 hurry along 



POEMS OF iNATl lilO. 



449 



To till) golden sands and thu leapiux bjii-, 

And till,' taintK'ss tide that awaits mo alar, 

As I I0S13 inysult' in Ihu iiilinitu main, 

Like a suul that has sinned and is pardoned again, 

UudelileJ for the iindctiled ; 

Play by uie, liathe in me, mother and ehild 1 

CIIAK1.US KINCSLEV. 



TO SICXECA LAKE. 

(On thy fair bosom, silver lake. 

The wilil swan spreads his snowy sail. 
And round his breast the ripples break. 
As down he l)i'ars before the gale. 

On thy fair bosom, wavele$s stream, 

The dipping' paddle eelioes far, 
.Vnd Hashes m the moonlight gleam. 

And bright rellects the polar star. 

The waves along thy pebbly shore, 

As blows the north-wind, heave their foam, 

And curl around the dashing oai-. 
As late the boatman liies him home. 

How sweet, at set of sun, to vie^v 
Thy golden mirror spreading wide, 

.\nd see the mist of mantling blue 

Float round the distant mountain's side. 

At miilniglit hour, as shines the moon, 

.\ sheet of silver spreads below. 
And swift she euts, at highest noon. 

Light clouds, like wreaths of purest snow. 

I Ml thy fair bosom, silver hike, 

O, 1 eouUl ever sweep the oar. 
When early birds at morning wake, 

And evening tells us toil is o'er ! 

jAMliS OATKS I'ERCIVAL. 



THE BUGLE. 



FROM "THE PRINCKSS." 



The splendor falls on castlo walls 

And snowy summits old in story : 
The long light shakes aeross the lake.s, 
.\nd the wild eataraet leaps in glory. 
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild eehoes Hying, 
Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. 

hark ! hear ! how thin and clear. 
And thinner, clearer, farther going ! 
sweet and far, from elilt'and sear, 
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing ! 
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying : 
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. 



love, they die in yon rich sky. 

They faint on hill or field or river ; 
Our echoes roll from soul to soul, 
And grow forever and forever. 
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild eelioes Hying, 
And answer, eelioes, answer, dying, dying, dying. 

ALFRtU TENNYSON. 



TIIK FALL OF NIAGARA. 

The thoughts are strange that crowd into my 

brain, 
While I look upward to thee. It would seem 
As if Goil poured thee from his liollnw hand. 
And hung his bow ujiou thine awful front. 
And spoke in that loiul voice which seemed to him 
Who dwelt ill I'atmos for his Saviour's sake 
The sound of many waters ; and had bade 
Thy flood to ehrouiele the ages back, 
Ami notch his centuries in the eternal rocks. 

Deep calleth unto di'cp. And what are we. 
That hear the iiucstion of that voice sublime I 
0, what are all the notes that ever rung 
From war's vain trumpet, by thy thundering 

side ? 
Yea, what is all the riot man can make 
In his short life, to thy unceasing i-oar ? 
.\nd yet, bold babbler, what art thou to Him 
Who drowned a world, and heaped the waters far 
Above its loftiest mountains? — a light wave, 
That breaks, and whispers of its Maker's might. 
John GAROrNiiK cai.kins brainaro. 



THE CATARACT OF LODORE. 

DESCRIBED IN RHVMI-.S FOR THE NURSERY. 

" How does the water 
Come down at Lodoro ! " 
My little boy asked 1110 
Thus, once on a time ; 
And moreover he tasked mo 
To tell him in rhyme. 
Anon at the word. 
There first came one daughter, 
And then came another. 
To ^el•oud and tliinl 
The idiuest of their brother, 
And to hear how the water 
Comes down at Lodore, 
With its rush and its roar, 

As many a time 
They had seen it before. 
So I told them in rhyme, 
For of rhymes I had store ; 



450 



POEMS OK KATUUE. 



Ami 't was in luy vocatiou 
For their recveatinii 

Tliat so 1 slunilil sing ; 
Because 1 was Laureate 

To tlieiu aud tlie liing. 

From its sources which well 
In tlio tarn on the fell ; 
From its fountains 
lu the nionuttiins, 
Its rills aud its gills ; 
Through moss aud tlirough lirake, 
It runs aud it creeps 
For a while, till it sleeps 

In its own little lake. 

Aud thence at deimrting, 

AwaUeuing aud startiug, 

It runs through the reeds, 

Aud away it iiroceeds, 

Through meadow aud glade, 

In suu and in shade. 
And through the wood-shelter, 
Among crags in its flurry, 
Helter-skelter, 
Hurry-skurry. 
Here it comes sparkling, 
Aud there it lies darkling ; 
Now smoking and frothing 
Its tunudt ami wrath iu. 
Till, iu this rapid race 
On which it is bent, 
It reairlies the place 
Of its steep descent. 

The cataract strong 
Then plunges along. 
Striking and raging 
As if a war waging 
Its caverns and rocks among ; 
Rising aud leajiiug. 
Sinking aud creeping. 
Swelling and sweeping, 
Showering and siaingiug, 
.►I'lying and Hinging, 
Writliiug aud ringing, 
Eddying and whi.skiug. 
Spouting and frisking, 
Turning and twisting, 
Around aud around 
'With endless rebound : 
Smiting aud fighting, 
A sight to delight in ; 
Confounding, astounding. 
Dizzying and deafening the ear with its sound. 

Collecting, projecting, 

Receding aud speeding. 
And shocking aud rocking, 
And darting and parting. 



And threading aud spreading, 
Aud wliizzing and hissing, 
And dripping and skipping, 
Aud hitting and splitting, 
And .shining aud twining. 
And rattling aud battling, 
Aud shaking aud ipiaking, 
And pouring and roaring. 
And waving and raving. 
And tossing and crossing, 
Aud llowiug and going. 
And running and stunning, 
And foaming and roaming, 
Aud dinning and s[iiuuing, 
Aud drop]iiug and hupping. 
And working and jerking. 
And guggling and struggling. 
And heaving aud cleaving. 
And moaning and groaning ; 

And glittering and frittering, 
Aud gathering ami feathering, 
Aud whitening and brightening, 
Aud quivering aud shivering, 
Aud hurrying and skurrying. 
Anil thundering and lloundcring ; 

Dividing and gliding and sliding, 

Aud falling and brawling and sprawling. 

And driving and riving aud striving, 

And sprinkling and twinkling and wrinkling. 

And .sounding and hounding and rouudiiig. 

And bubbling and trouliliug and doubling, 

And grumbling aud rumbling aud tumbling. 

And clattering aud battering aud shattering ; 

Retreating and beating aud meeting and sheeting. 

Delaying aud straying aud playing ami spraying, 

Advancing and prancing aud glauciug aud dan- 
cing. 

Recoiling, turmoiling and toiling and boiling. 

And gleaming and streaming aud steaming ami 
beaming, 

Aud ru.shiug and tlushiug and brushing and 
gushing, 

Aud Happing aud rapping aud chapping and 
slap[)iug. 

Ami curling and whirling aud purling and twirl- 
iug, 

And thumping aud jilunijiing and bumping and 
jumping. 

And dashing and flashing aud splashing and 
cla.shiug ; 

Aud so never ending, but always descending. 

Sounds and motions for ever aud ever are blend- 
ing 

All at once and all o'er, with a mighty uproar. — 

And this way the water comes down at l.odore. 

KOUERT son III-V, 



PUJiMS OF NATIKE. 



451 



WHAT THE WINDS BKING. 

Which is llio wind that brings tln' itold ? 

Tlic north-wind, Frmldy, and all llii; snow; 
And tlic shoep will KcanipiT into the fold 

When the north begins to blow. 

Wliiih is the wiml that Ijrings the heat 1 
Tlie south-wind, KAty ; anil corn will grow, 

And |ieai.lies redden for you to cat, 
When the south Ijcgins to blow. 

Which is the wind that brings the rain ? 

The east-wind, Arty ; and farmers know 
That lows ronie shivering up the lane 

When the east begins to blow. 

Which is the wind that brings the flowers? 

The west-wind, liessy ; and soft and low 
The Iiinlies sing in the summer hours 

When tlie west begins to blow. 

BDMO.SD CLARGNCe STBDMAN. 



THE DANCING OF THE AIR. 

.\n[> now behold your tender nurse, the air. 
And common neighbor that aye nwis around. 

How many pictures and impressions fair 
Within her empty regions are there found, 
Which to your senses dancing do pro|>ound ! 

For what are brralh, siieech, echoes, music, « inds, 

I'nt dancings of the air in .sundry kinds ? 

I or when you breathe, the air in order moves. 
Now in, now out, in time and measure true ; 

And when you s]K-iik, so well she dancing loves. 
That doubling oft, and oft redoubling new. 
With thousand Tonus she doth licrself endue : 

I or all the words that from your lijw repair, 

.\ri- naught but tricks and turnings of the ^ir. 

Hence is her prattling daughter. Echo, liom. 
That dances to all voices she can hear : 

There is no sound so hainh that slie doth scorn. 
Nor any time wherein she will forbear 
The airy jwveinent with her feet Uy wear : 

Ami yet her hisiring sense is nothing ()uick. 

For after time she endcth every trick. 

And thou, sweet Music, dancing's only life. 

The ear's sole happiness, the air's tiest speech, 
l,'i;idstone of fellowship, chnrming-rod of strife, 
The soft mind's paradis<-, the sick mind's leech. 
With thine own tongue thou trees and stones 
canst teach. 
That, when the air doth dance her finest measure, 
Then art thou l«m, the gods' and men's sweet 
pleasure 



Lastly, where keep the winds their revelry. 
Their violent turnings, and wild whirling linys, 

Hut in the air's translucent gallery. 

Where she lier.self is tnmed a Inindred ways, 
While with these maskers wantonly she plays? 

Yet in this misrule, they such rule embrace. 

As two at on<:e cncumlx:r not the [)lace. 

sik John Davies. 



THE ORIENT. 

FROM "THE BRIDE OP ABYDOS.** 

Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle 
Are emblems of deeds that are done in their 

clime ; 
Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the 

turtle, 
Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime 1 
Know ye the land of the cedar and vine. 
Where the (lowers ever blossom, the beams ever 

shine ; 
Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppressed with 

perfume. 
Wax faint o'er the gardens of Oul in her bloom / 
Where the citron and olive arc fairest of fruit. 
And the voice of the nightingale never is mute ; 
Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of 

the sky. 
In color though varied, in lx;auty may vie, 
And the pui-jdc of ocean is deepest in dye ; 
Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine, 
And all, save the spirit of man, is ilivine ? 
'T is the clime of the East ; 't is the land of the 

Sun, — 
Can he smile on such deeds as his children have 

done ? 
0, wilil as the accents of lover's farewell 
Are the hearts which they bear and the tales 

which they tell ! 

LORD BVRON. 



SYRIA. 



FROM "PARADISE AND THE PERI.' 

Now, upon Syria's land of roses 
Softly the light of eve rejioses. 
And, like a glory, the broad sun 
Hangs over sainted Lebanon, 
Whose head in wintiy grandeur towers. 

And whitens with etenial sleet. 
While summer, in a vale of (lowers. 

Is sleeping rosy at his feet. 

To one who looked from upper air 
O'er all the enchanted regions there, 
How luaiuteous must have bi.en the glow. 
The life, how sparkling from below ! 



452 



I'OIOMS ()!•' NATURE. 



Vniv giinions, Hliiuing stiPiims, with ranks 

Of noUU'ii mi'lmi.s on tlirii' lianUs, 

Moro RoMi'ii whoiv llio siiiiHj^liI fulls ; 

Gay li/llnl.■^, ^liUcrinj,' on tlir wiill.s 

Of riliiiiiil .slii'iiu's, liusy ami liiiglit 

As they wmo all alive with lif^ht ; 

Aiul, yet IiiDle spleinliil, miiiienms llcicUs 

Of pigeons, settlilif? "ii tile riielis, 

With theii' lieh restles-s wings, Ihut fjleam 

Variously in tlie erinison beam 

Of the waini west, — us if inlaid 

With luilliaiits fioni Ihe mine, or iimile 

Of learless ruinltiiws, such as si>aii 

The tineloiuhMl skies of I'erisum ! 

An'.! tlien, the minj;lin}!; siHimls lliiil inme, 

Of shephenl's aneii'ot reed, willi hum 

Of the wild bees of Palestine, 

lliinciuetint; through the llowery vales ; — 
And, JonhiM, those sweet hanks of thine, 

Ami woods, so full of nightingales ! 

THOMAS MooKi:. 



THE VALE OF CASHMEKE. 

I'KoM ■* iMi' i-u;nr oe lua uakim." 

Willi has mil Ilea 11 1 nl' llie Vale of I 'ash mere. 
With its roses the liriglitesi that earth ever 
gave, 
Its lemples, and grottoes, ami fountains us clear 
As the love-lighteil eyes that hang over their 
wave ? 

0, to see it at sunset, when warm o'er the lake 

Its splemlor at parting a suuimer eve throws. 

Like a bride, lull of Mushes, wlieu lingering lo 

take 
A last look of her iiiinor at iiiglil cie she 

goes I - 
When the sliriues tliioiigli the t'oliagt* are gleam- 
ing half shown. 
And each hallows the liour by some rites of its 

own. 
llci'e the music of pi'Mvcr from a minaret swells, 
Here the Magiaii his urn till! of peil'iimc is 

swinging. 
And here, at the altar, n zone of sweet bells 
Itoiind the waist of some fair Indian dancer is 

ringing. 
Or to see it by moouliglit, wlieii iiiellinvly 

shines 
The light o'er its palaces, gardens, and shrinos ; 
Wlien tht< waterfalls gleam like a ijuiek fall of 

stars. 
And the night iugiile's hymn from the Isle of 

Chenai-s 
Is broken by laughs and light echoes of feet 
Eroni the cool shining walks where the young 

people meet. 



Or at morn, when the nuigie of daylight awakes 
A now wonder each minute as slowly it breaks. 
Hills, cupnlius, fountains, i-alled forth every oiio 
Out of darkness, as they were just burn of the 

sun ; 
When the spirit of fragranee is up with the day, 
Vrom his hai'eni of night-flowers stealing away ; 
And the wind, full of waiilunncss, wooes like a 

lover 
The young aspen. trees till they tivmhleiill over ; 
When the east is as warm as the light of first 

liojies. 
And day, witli its banner of radiance uiiluilcil. 
Shines in through the niountaiimus ]ioitMl that 

opes. 
Sublime, from that valley of bliss to the world I 

TlKi.MAS MooKl:. 



A KOIIlvST HYMN'. 

Tin: giiivcs were Ood's lirst temples. Ero 
man learned 
To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave. 
And spread tlui roof abtivc them, — ere he framed 
The lofty vault, to gather and roll hack 
The .sound of anthems ; in the darkling wood, 
.\niidst the cool and silence, he knelt down. 
And oll'ered to the Mightiest solemn thanks 
And supidieation. For his simple heart 
Might not resist the sacred inllueuees 
Which, from the stilly twilight of the place, 
.\iid from the gray old trunks that high in heaven 
Mingled their mossy boughs, and from the .sound 
( >!' the invisible breath that swayed at once 
.\11 their green tops, .stole over him, and bowed 
His spirit with the tluaiglit of liouiidlcss power 
.\nd inaccessible majesty. All, why 
Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect 
Ood's ancient sanctuaries, and adore 
Only among the crowd, and under roofs 
That our frail hands have raised ? Let me, at 

least. 
Here, in the .shadow of this aged wood, 
Olfer one liyniii, — thrice happy if it lind 
Acceptaneo in his car. 

Kalher. thy baud 
j Hath reared these venerable eolnmiis, thou 
I Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look 
1 down 

Upon the naked earth, and forthwith ro.se 
All these fair ranks of trees. They in thy sun 
Hudded, and .shook their green leaves in thy 

lireeze, 
Ami shot towards heaven. The century-living 
ernw, 
I Whose birth was in their tops, grew old ami died 



I'OKMS Ol' NATUKK. 



453 



AlimiiK thiiir liliiiu'liiw, till at, lust tlicy Ntoml, 
As IIDW tlii'V stiiiul, massy anil tall anil ilark, 
Kit shriiii' lor liuinlilr wiiislii|ipei- to Imlil 
('iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii witli Ills Maki'i'. 'riii'siMliiu vaults, 
'I'lii'si- winiliii)( aisles, nl' iiuniaii poiiip iii' juiiln 
l.'fpiilt lii)t. No fantastic i'aiviiij;s show 
'I'lu' boast of onr vain mcu to iliangi' tliu fmin 
Of thy fail- wciik.s. liut tlimi ait lioiu, - thou 

" fiU'st 
'I'lir solituilo. Tlioii all ill the sofl wiiiil.H 
That run aloii^ the suinniit of these tfees 
In inusie : thou art in the eonhir breath 
That from the inmost ilarkness of the plaen 
Comes, si'areely felt; the harky trunks, the 

({rounil, 
The fresh moist ^ronin!, an- ail iiisliiirt wilh tlin;. 
Here is eontiniial worship ; nature, here, 
In the tranipiilllty that thou ilost lovo, 
Knjoys thy piesenee. Noiselessly arounil, 
Krom Jiereh to jiereh, tile solitary hinl 
Passes; ami yon elear spring;, thai, iiiiilst its 

herbs. 
Wells softly forth anil waiiilerin^ stee]is the roots 

• H' half the mi;,'hty forest, tells no tale 

(If all the f;onil it iloes. Thou hast not left 

Thyself without a witness, in these shades, 

I If thy perfeetions. (Iramleur, strength, ami j^raee 

Are here to speak of Ihee. This mij,'hty oak, — - 

liy whose immovahle stem I stanil anil seem 

Almost annihilateil, — not a prince. 

In all that |>rouil olil worlil beyonil the ileep, 

K'er wore his crown as loftily as lie 

Wears the ;(reen coronal of leaves with which 

Thy hainl has j(mcuil him. Nestleil at his root 

Is beauty, such us lilooms not in the glare 

• If the broail sun. That ilelicate forest Mower 
With sccntcil breath, ami look .so like ii HUiilc, 
Sewiiis, I1.H it issues from the shapeless inoulil. 
An emanation of the iiiilwellin;{ l.ife, 

A visible token of the upholiling Lovo, 
That are the soul of this wiilc universe. 

My heart is aweil within me when I think 
f)f the great iiiiracle that still goes on. 
In silence, roiinil inc, - - the perpetual work 
< If thy creation, linishiMl, yel reneweil 
Koiuvcr. Written on thy works I leail 
The leiUKiii of thy own eternity. 
I.o ! all grow old anil ilie ; but st-e again, 
How on the faltering footsteps of decay 
Youth presses, — ever gay and beautiful youth 
In all its beautiful forms. These lofty trees 
Wave not less |iroudly that their ancestors 
.Moulder beiieuth them. O, there is not lost 
tine of Karth's charms ! upon her bosom yet. 
After the [light of untold centuries. 
The fre»lineH8 of her far Is'ginning lies, 
And yet shall lie. Life mocks the idle hate 



Of his arch-enemy Death, - yea, seals himself 
Upon the tyrant's throne, the sepulchre. 
And of the triumjihs of his ghastly foe 
Makes his own nourishment. l''or he came I'm III 
Krom tliiiic own linsoiii, ami shall have no cml. 

There have been holy men who hid themselvcH 
Deep in the woody wilderness, and gave 
Their lives to Ihouglil ami prayer, till' they out- 
lived 
The generation born wilh Ihcni, nor .seemed 
Less aged than the hoary trees and rocks 
Around them ; — and there have liiien holy men 
Who deemed it were not well to pass life Ihu.s. 
I!ut let me often to these solitudes 
Hetire, and in thy presence reaaauro 
My feeble virtue. Here its enemies, 
The pa.ssion.s, at thy plainer I'ootaleps shrink 
And tremble, and are still. O (hid ! when thou 
Dost scare the world with tempests. Hut im lire 
The heavens with falling thunilerbolts, or fill. 
With all the waters of the llrnianicnt, 
The swift dark whirhvind that uproots the woods 
And drowns the villages ; when, at thy call, 
Uprises the great deep, and throws himself 
Uiioii the continent, and overwhelms 
Its cities, — who forgets not, at the sight 
Of these treniendous tokens of thy power, 
His pride, and lays his strifes and follies by ? 
(I, from these sterner asjiccts of thy face 
Spare me and mine, nor let us need the wruth 
Of the mad iinehained elements to tench 
Who rules them, lie it ours to nicilitato, 
In these calm shades, thy milder majesty, 
And to the beautiful order of thy works 
Learn to conl'orin the order of our lives. 

Wll.LlAM CUl.l.I'.N ItKVANT. 



TIIK riilMKVAl, KiiKKST. 

I-KOM rill'. INranOtil IHiN (It ■' lA'ANI.I'I.INl'." 

TiiJM is the forest primeval. The miirniiiring 
pines and the hemlocks, 

licarded with moss, and in garments green, in- 
distinct in the twilight. 

Stand like Druids of eld, with voiiis sad ami 
prophetic, 

.Stand like harper.s lio.ir, with biaiils that rest 
on their bosoms. 

Loud from its rocky caverns, the dee)i-voiccil 
neighboring ocean 

Speaks, and in accents disconsolate aiiBwers thu 
wail of the forest. 

This is the forest primeval ; but where are the 
hearts that Iieneath it 

Leaped like the roe, when he hears in the wood- 
land the voice of the liunt^mnn ! 

IIP.KKV wadswoktii l.nN'r.ri'l.l.OW. 



4:.4 



POEMS OF NATl'RE. 



THE GREENWOOD. 

O, WHEN 't is sunmioi- weather, 

And tlie yellow Ix'c, witli liiiiy soiiml, 

'I'lie waters i-leiir is luiniiiuiig round, 

Ami the cuckoo sings unseen, 

And the leaves are waving green, — 

O, then 'tis sweet. 

In some retreat. 
To hear the niurniuring dove, 
With those wlioni on earth alone wp love. 
And to wind through the greenwood together. 

But when 'tis winter weather, 

And crosses grieve. 

And friends deceive, 

And rain ami sleet 

The lattice beat, — 

0, then 't is sweet 

To sit and sing 
Of the friends witli whom, in the days of spring. 
We roamed through the greenwood togetlier. 

wii.uAM LisLu Bowles. 



THE BRAVE OLD OAK. 

(a song to the oak, the brave old oak, 

Who hath ruled in the greenwood long ; 
Here 's health and renown to his broad green erown. 

And his fifty ai-ms so sti'ong. 
There 's fear in his frown wIumi the sun goes down, 

And the lire in the west fades out ; 
And he showeth his might on a wild midnight, 

AVhen the storms through his branches shout. 

Then here's to the oak, the brave old oak, 
AVho stands in his pride alone ; 

Ami still flourish he, a hale green tree, 
When a hundred years are gone ! 

In the days of old, wlu^n the spring with cold 

Had brightened his branches gray, 
Througli the grass at his feet crept maidens sweet, 

To gather the dew of May. 
Anil on tliat day to the rebeck gay 

They frolicked witli lovesome swains ; 
They are gone, thev are dead, in tlu- churchyard 
laid. 

But the tree it still remains. 
Then here 's, etc. 

He saw tlie rare times when the (^liristnias chimes 

Were a merry sound to hear, 
Wlu'u tlu> sipiire's wide 'hall and the eottjige small 

^\■el•c lilKd witli good Kuglish cheer. 



^ow goUl hath the sway we all obey. 

And a ruthless king is he ; 
But he never shall send our ancient friend 

To be tossed on the stormy sea. 
Then here 's, etc. 

HENKV FOTHCKGILL ClIORLEY. 



THE ARAB TO THE PALM. 

N EXT to thee, fair gazelle, 

Beddowee girl, beloved so well ; 

Next to the fearless Nedjidee, 

Whose fleetuess shall bear me again to thee ; 

Next to ye both, I love the palm, 

With his leaves of beauty, his fruit of balm ; 

Next to ye both, I love the tree 
Whose fluttering shadow wraps us three 
With love and silence and mystery ! 

Our tribe is many, our poets vie 

With any under the Arab sky ; 

Yet none can sing of the jialm but L 

Tlie marble minarets that begem 

Cairo's citadel-diadem 

Are not so light as his slender stem. 

He lifts his leaves in the snnbeam's glance. 
As the Almehs lift their arms in dance, — 

A slumberous motion, a passionate sign. 
That works in the cells of the blood like wine. 

Full of passion and sorrow is he. 
Dreaming where the beloved may be ; 

And when the warm south-winds arise, 
He breathes his longing in fervid sighs, 

Quickening odors, kisses of balm. 

That drop in tlie lap of his cliosen iiahii. 

The sun may llaiiie, and the saiuls may stir, 
But the breath of liis passion reai-hes her. 

O tree ol love, by that love of thine. 
Teach me how 1 shall soften mine ! 

Hive me the secret of the sun. 
Whereby the wooed is ever won ! 

If I were a king, stately tree, 

A likeness, glorious as might be. 

In the court of my palace 1 'd build for thee ; 

With a shaft of silver, burnished bright, 
.\ud leaves of beryl ami malachite ; 



POEMS OF NATURK. 



455 



With s])ikes of goldeu bloom ablaze, 
And fruits of topaz and chrysoprase ; 

Ami there the poets, in thy praise, 

Should ni^ht and nioruini; frame new lays, — 

New measures, suu^; to tunes divine ; 
But none, palm, should eijual mine ! 

Bayard Taylor. 



i 



TlIK I'ALM-TREE. 



Is it the palm, the cocoa-palm. 

On the Indian Sea, by the isles of balm ? 

Or is it a ship in the breezeless calm ? 

A ship whose keel is of palm beneath, 
Whose ribs of palm have a palm-bark sheath. 
And a rudder of iialm it steereth with. 

HraiK-hes of palm are its spars and rails. 

Fibres of palm are its woven sails. 

And the rope is of palm that idly trails ! 

What does the good ship bear so well ? 
The eocoa-nut with its stony shell. 
Anil the milky sap of it.s inner cell. 

What are its jars, so smooth and fine. 

But hollowed nuts, tilled with oil and wine. 

And the cabbage that ripens under the Line ? 

Who smokes liis nargileh, cool and calm ? 

The miuster, whose cunning and skill could charm 

( argo and sliip IVom the bounteous palm. 

In the cabin he sits on a palm-mat soft, 
Krom a beaker of palm his drink is fiualfed, 
And a palm thatch shields from the sun aloft ! 

I lis dress is woven of palmy strands, 

Anil he holds a jialm-leaf scroll in his hands, 
Traced with the Trophet's wise commands ! 

The turban folded about his head 

Was daintily wrought of the palm-leaf braid, 

And the fan that cools him of palm was made. 

or threads of palm was the carpet spun 
Whereon he kneels when the day is done. 
And the foreheads of Islam are bowed as one ! 

To him the palm is a gift divine. 
Wherein all uses of man combine, — 
House and raiment and food and wine ! 

\ I, in the hour of his great release, 

I I !■- need of the palm shall only cea.se 
With the shroud wherein he lieth in peace. 



" Allah il Allah ! " he sings his psalm 
On the Indian Sea, by the isles of balm ; 
" Thanks to Allah, who gives the palm ! " 

JOHN GREENLEAF WIUTTIER. 



THE HOLLY-TUEE. 

HiiADER ! hast thou ever stood to see 

The holly-tree ; 
The eye that contemplates it well perceives 

Its glossy leaves 
Ordered by an intelligence so wise 
As might confound the atheist's sophistries. 

Below, a circling fence, its leaves are seen 

Wrinkled and keen ; 
No grazing cattle, through their prickly round, 

Can reach to wound ; 
But as they grow where nothing is to fear, 
Smooth and unarmed the pointless leaves appeal. 

1 love to view these things with curious eyes, 

And moralize ; 
And in this wisdom of the holly-tree 

Can emblems see 
Wherewith, perchance, to make a pleasant rhyme, 
One which may profit in the after-time. 

Thus, though abroad, ])erchance, I might appear 

Harsh and austere ; 
To those who on my leisure would intrude, 

Reserved and rude ; 
Gentle at home amid my friends I 'd be. 
Like the high leaves upon the holly-tree. 

And should my youth — as youth is apt, I know — 

Some harshness show, 
All vain asperities I, day by day, 

Woidd wear away. 
Till the smooth temper of my age should be 
Like the high leaves upon the holly-tree. 

And as, when all the sumnu'r trees arc seen 

So bright and green. 
The holly-leaves their fadeless hues display 

Less bright than they ; 
But when the bare and wintry woods wo see, 
What then so cheerful as the holly-tree ? 

So, serious should my youth appear among 

The thoughtless throng ; 
So would I seem, amid the young and gay, 

More grave than they ; 
That in my age as cheerful I might be 
As the green winter of the holly-tree. 

Itonr.RT SOUTItEV. 



I 



456 



POEMS 01-' NATUIU;. 



THE SPICE-TREE. 

The spico-tree lives in the garden green ; 

lioside it the tbiintain flows ; 
And a tiiir bird sits the houghs between, 

And sings his melodious woes. 

No greener garden e'er was known 
Within the bounds of an eartlily king ; 

No lovelier skies luive ever shone 
Than those that illumine its eonstant spring. 

That coil-bound stem has branches three ; 

On each a thousand blossoms grow ; 
And, old as aught ol' time can be. 

The root stands last in the roeks below. 

In the spicy shade ne'er seems to tire 
The fount that builds a silvery dome ; 

And flakes of purple and ruby lire 
Gush out, and sparkle amid tho foam. 

The fair white bird of flaming crest, 
And azure wings bedropt with gold, 

Ne'er has he known a pause of rest. 

But slugs tho lament that he framed of old : 

"0 princess bright I how long the night 
Since thou art sunk in the waters clear I 

How sadly they flow from the depth below, — 
How long must 1 slug and thou wilt not hear ? 

"The waters play, and the flowers are gay. 

And the skies are sunny above ; 
I would that all could fade and fall. 

And I, too, cease to mourn my love. 

" 0, nuvny a year, so wakeful and drear, 

1 have sorroweil and watched, beloved, for thee ! 

But there comes no breath from the chambers of 
death. 
While tho lifeless fount gushes under the tree." 

The skies grow dark, and they glare with red ; 

Tho tree shakes ofV its spicy bloom ; 
The waves of the fount in a black pool spread ; 

And in thunder .sounds the ganleu's doom. 

Down springs the bird witli a long shrill cry. 

Into tho sable and angry flood ; 
And the face of the pool, as he falls from high, 

Curdles in circling stains of blood. 

But sudden again iipswells the fount ; 

Higher and higher the watei-s How, — 
In a glittering diamond arch they mount. 

And round it the colore of morning glow. 



Finer and finer the watery mound 
Softens and melts to a thin-spun veil. 

And tones of nuisic circle around, 

And bear to the stars the fountain's tale. 

And swift the eddying rainbow screen 
Falls in dew on the grassy floor ; 

Under the spice-tree the garden's queen 
Sits by her lover, who wails no more. 

JOIl.M STLRLIN'G. 



THE GPvAPE-YINE 8W1XG. 

Lithe and long as the serpent train. 

Springing and clinging from tree to tree, 
Now darting upward, now down again, 

AVith a twist and a twirl that are strange to sec ; 
Never took serpent a deadlier hold. 

Never the cougar a wihler spring. 
Strangling the oak with the boa's fold, 

Spanning the beach with tlie condor's wing. 

Yet no foe that we fear to seek, — 

The boy leaps wild to thy rude embrace ; 
Tliy liulging arms bear as soft a cheek 

As ever on lover's breast found place ; 
On thy waving train is a playful hold 

Thou shalt never to lighter grasp persuade ; 
While a maiden sits in thy drooping fold, 

And swings and sings in the noonday sliade ! 

giaut strange of our Southern woods ! 

1 dream of thee still in the wi-U-known s]iot. 
Though our vessel strains o'er the ocean floods, 
Anil the northern forest beholds thee not ; 

1 think of thee still with a sweet regret, 

As the cordage yields to my playful grasp, — 
Dost thou spring and cling in our wooillands yet ? 
Does the maiden still swing in thy giant clasp ? 
William Cilmoke sim.\is. 



TO BLOSSOMS. 

Fair pledges of a fruitful tree. 
Why do ye fall so fast ? 
Your date is not so past 

But you may stay yet here awhile 
To blush and gently smile. 
And go at last. 

What ! were ye born to be 
An hour or half's delight. 
And .so to bid good-uiglit ? 

'T is pity Nature brought ye forth, 
Merely to show your worth. 
And lose you (piite. 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



457 



But you aif lovely leaves, where we 
May road how soon things have 
Their end, tho\i!,'h ne'er so brave ; 

And alter they Imve shown their pride 
Like you awhile, they glide 
Into the grave. 

ROBERT HBRRICK. 



ALMOND BLOSSOM. 

Blossom of the almond-trees, 

April's gift to April's bees, 

Birtlulay ornament of spring. 

Flora's fairest daughterling ; — 

Coming wlien no llowerets dare 

Trust the cruel outer air. 

When the royal king-cup bold 

Dares not don his coat of gold. 

And the sturdy blackthorn spray 

Keeps his silver for the May ; — 

Coming when no llowerets would. 

Save thy lowly sisterhood, 

Early violets, blue and white. 

Dying for their love of light. 

.Mmond blossom, sent to teach us 

That the spring days soon will reach us. 

Lest, with longing over-trieil. 

We die as the violets died, — 

Blossom, clouding all the tree 

With thy crimson broidery. 

Long before a leaf of green 

On the bravest bough is seen, — 

Ah ! when winter winds are swinging 

All thy red t)ells into ringing. 

With a bee in every bell. 

Almond bloom, we greet thee well ! 

EDWIN ARNOLD. 



TIIIC PLANTING oF THK Al'I'LE-TKEE 

C().MF,, let us plant the apple-tree. 
< li'ave the tough greensward with the spade ; 
Wide let its hollow bed be made ; 
There gently lay the roots, and there 
^ilt the dark mould with kindly care, 

And i)re.s3 it o'er them tenderly, 
.•\s round the sleeping infant's feet 
Wo softly fold the cradle-sheet ; 

So plant we the apple-tree. 

What i>lant we in this apple-tree 7 
lluds, which the breath of summer days 
Shall lengthen into leafy sprays ; 
Boughs where the thrush with crimson breast 
Shall haunt, and sing, and hide her nest ; 



W'c plant, ujiou the sunny lea, 
A shadow for the noontide hour, 
A shelter from the summer shower, 

When we plant the apple-tree. 

What plant we in this apple-tree ? 
Sw(;ets for a hundred Howcry springs 
To load thi' May-wind's restless wings, 
AVhcn, from the orchard I'ow, he pours 
Its fragrance through our o|)eu doors ; 

A world of blossoms for the bee, 
Flowers for the sick girl's silent room, 
F'or the glad infant sprigs of bloom, 

We plant with the apple-tree. 

What plant we in this api>le-tree ! 
Fruits that shall swell in sunny June, 
And redden in the August noon. 
And lirop, when gentle airs come by, 
That fan the blue September sky. 

While children come, with cries of glee, 
And seek them where the fragrant grass 
Betrays their bed to tljose >vho pass. 

At the foot of the apple-tree. 

And when, above this apple-tree. 
The winter stars are quivering blight. 
And winds go howling through the night, 
(iirls, whose young eyes o'erllow with mirth, 
Shall peel its fruit by cottage hearth. 

And guests in prouder homes shall see, 
Heaped with the grape of Cintra's vine 

And golden orange of the Line, 

The fruit of the apple-tree. 

The fruitage of this apple-tree 
Winds and our flag of stripe and star 
Shall bear to coasts that lie afar, 
M'here men shall wonder at the view, 
And ask in what fair groves they grew ; 

And sojournei's beyond the sea 
Shall think of childhood's careless day 
Anil long, long hours of summer pla}'. 

In the shade of the apple-tree. 

Each year shall give this apple-tree 
A broader flush of roseate bloom, 
A deeper maze of verdurous gloom, 
And li)o.sen, when the frost-clouds lower, 
The crisp brown leaves in thicker shower. 

The years shall come and pass, but we 
Shall hear no longer, where we lie. 
Till' summer's songs, the autumn's sigh, 

In the boughs of the apple-tree. 

And time shall waste this apple-tree. 
O, when its aged branches throw 
Thin shadows on the ground below, 
Shall fraud and force and iron will 
Oppress the weak and helpless still ? 



458 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



What shall the tasks of mercy be, 
Amid the toils, the strifes, the tears 
Of those who live when length of years 

Is wasting this apple-tree ? 

"Who planted this old apple-tree ? " 
The children of that distant day 
Thus to some ageil man shall say ; 
And, gazing on its mossy stem. 
The gray-haired man shall answer them : 

" A poet of the land was he. 
Born in the rude bnt good old times ; 
'Tis said he made some quaint old rhymes 

On planting the apple-tree." 

William Cullen Brvant. 



THE MAIZE. 

" That precious seed into the furrow cist 
Earliest in spring-time crowns tile li.nrvest last." 

PHtllBE CARV. 

A SONO for the plant of my own native West, 

Where nature and freedom reside, 
liy plenty still crowned, and by peace ever blest, 

To the corn ! the green corn of her pride ! 
In climes of the East has the olive been sung, 

And the grape liecn the theme of tlieir lays ; 
liut for thee shall a harp of the backwoods be 
strung. 

Thou bright, ever beautiful maize ! 

Afar in the forest the riulc cabins rise, 

And .send up their pillars of smoke. 
And the tops of their columns are lost in the 
skies. 

O'er the heads of the cloml-kissiiig oak ; 
Near the skirt of the grove, where the sturdy 
arm swings 

The axe till the ohl giant sways, 
And echo rc]>eats every blow as it rings. 

Shoots the green and the glorious maize ! 

There buds of the buckeye in siiiiug are the first. 

Anil the willow's gold hair then a])pears. 
Ami snowy the i"U]is of the ilogwood that burst 

By the red bud, with pink-tinted tears. 
Ami stri]iM the bolls which the popjiy holds up 

For the dew, ami the sun's yellow rays. 
And brown is the paw^paw''s shade-blossoming 
Clip, 

In the wood, near the Miii-lnviiig maize ! 

When through the dark soil the bright steel of 
the plough 
Turns the mould fiom its mibroki'ii bed 
The ploughman is cheered by the finch on the 
bough, 
And the blackbird doth follow bis tread. 



And idle, afar on the lamlscapc descried. 
The deep-lowing kiiie slowly graze. 

And nibbling the grass on the sunny hillside 
Are the sheep, hedgeil away from the maize. 

With spring-time and culture, iii martial array 

It waves its green broadswords on high. 
And fights with the gale, in a fluttering fray. 

And the sunbeams, w-hich fall from the sky ; 
It strikes its green blades at the zephyrs at 
noon, 

And at night at tlii^ swift-flying fays. 
Who ride through the darkness the beams of the 
moon. 

Through the spears anil tlii^ Hags of the maize • 

When the summer is fierce still its banners are 
green. 
Each warrior's long beard groweth red, 
His emerald-bright swonl is .shar]>-pointed and 
keen. 
And golden his tassel-plunu'd head. 
As a host of armed knights set a nuuiarcli at 
naught, 
That tlefy the day-goil to his gaze, 
And, revived every morn from the batih- that's 
fought, 
Fresh stand the green ranks of the maize ! 

But brown comes the autumn, and sear grows 
the corn. 

And the woods like a rainbow are dressed, 
And but for the cock ami the noontitle horn 

Old Time wouUl be teinpteil to rest. 
The humming bee funs off a shower of gold 

From the mullein's long roil as it sways. 
And dry grow the leaves wliich protecting infold 

The ears of the well-riiiened maize ! 

At length IiuUan Summer, the lovely, doth come, 

With its blue frosty nights, and days still, 
When distantly clear sounds the waterfall's hum. 

And the sun smokes ablaze on the hill ! 
A dim veil hangs over the landscape ami flooil. 

And the hills are all mellowed in haze. 
While Fall, creeping on like a monk 'iieath his 
hood. 

Plucks the thick-rustling wealth of the maize. 

And the heavy wains creak to the barns large 
and gray. 

Where the treasure securely we hold, 
Houseil safe from the tem]iest, tlry-sheltered away. 

Our blessing more precious than gohi ! 
And long for this manna that springs from the soil 

Shall wi: gratefully give him the praise. 
The source of all bounty, our Father and God, 

Who sent us from heaven the maize ! 

W|LLL\>L w. fosuick. 



POEMS OK N.Vn 1!H. 



4;V.) 



THE PUMPKIN. 

0, UREENLY and fttir in tlio hmiis of the siin. 

The vines of llie gouiil and the rich melon run, 

Ami the roek imd the tree and the cottage en- 
fold, 

With broad leaves all greenness and blossoms 
all gold. 

Like that which o'er Nineveh's prophet once 
grew, 

While lie waited to know tliiit his warning was 
true. 

And longed for the storm-cloud, and listened in 
vain 

For the rush of the whirlwind and red lire-rain. 

On the banks of the Xeuil, the dark Spanish 

maiden 
Comes up with the fruit of the tangleil vine 

ladeu ; 
And tlic Creole of Cuba laughs out to behold 
Through orange-leaves shining the broad spheres 

of gold ; j 

Yet with dearer delight from his home in the 

North, I 

On the fields of his harvest the Yankee looks forth, j 
Where crook-necks are coiling and yellow fruit 

shines, 
And the sun of Septembernieltsdown on his vines. 

Ah ! on Thanksgiving Day, when from East and 

from West, 
From North and from South come the pilgiim 

and guest. 
When the gray-haired New-Englander sees round 

his boaril j 

The old broken links of affection restored, 
When the eare-wearied man seeks his mother 

onee more. 
And the worn matron smiles where the girl smiled [ 

before, I 

What moistens the li[> and what brightens the 

eye? 
What calls back the past, like the rich pumpkin- 
pie ? ! 

C, fruit loved of boyhood ! the old days recalling ; , 
When wood-grapes were purpling and brown nuts 

were falling ! 
When wild, ugly faces we carved in its skin. 
Glaring out through the ilark with a candle 

within ! 
When wc laugheil round the corn-heap, with 

hearts uU in tune, 
Our chair a l)roail pumpkin, our lantern the moon. 
Telling tales of the fairy who travelled like steam 
In a pumpkin-shell eoaeli, with two nits for lii-r 

team ! 



Then thanks for thy present ! — none sweeter or 

better 
E'er smoked from an oven or circled a platter I 
Kaiicr hands never wrought at a [lastry more line, 
Brighter eyes never watihed o'er its baking, than 

thine ! 
And the prayer, which my mouth is too full to 

express. 
Swells my heart that thy shadow may never be 

less. 
That the daysof thy lot may be lengthened below, 
And the fame of thy worth like a pumpkin-vine 

grow, 
And thy life be as sweet, and its last sunset sky 
Golden-tinted and fair as thy own pumpkin-pie I 

JOHN GRBENLaAF WnnTlER. 



HYMN TO TIIK FLOWERS. 

Day-staus ! that ope your frownless eyes to 
twinkle 
From rainbow galaxies of earth's creation, 
And dew-drops on her lonely altars sprinkle 
As a libation. 

Ye matin worshippers ! who bending lowly 
I'efore the uprisen sun, God's lidless eye. 
Throw from your chalices a sweet and holy 
Inceii.se on higli. 

Ye bright mosaics ! that with storied beauty 

The floor of Nature's temple tessellate, 
What numerous emblems of instructive duty 
Your forms create ! 

'Neath cloistered boughs, each floral bell that 
swingiith 
And tolls its perfume on the iiassing air. 
Makes Sabbath in the fields, and ever ringeth 
A call to prayer. 

Not to the domes where crumbling arch and col- 
umn 
Attest the feebleness of mortal hand. 
But to that fane, most catholic and .solemn, 
Which God hath planned ; 

To that cathedral, boundless as our wonder, 
Whose quenchless lamps the sun ami moon 
suii)ily ; 
Its choir the winds and waves, its organ thunder, 
Its dome the sky. 

There, ns in solitude and sh.ade 1 wander 

Through the gn-en aisles, or stretched upon 
the sod. 
Awed by the silence, reverently poiuli-r 
The ways of (iod, 



460 



POEMS OF NATIKK. 



Your voiceless lips, Howei's ! are living preach- 
ers, 
Each cup a puliiit, every leaf a liook, 
Suppljing to my fancy numerous tciu'Uers 
From loiu'liest nook. 

Floral apostles ! that in ilewy splendor 

"Weep without woe, and lilnsh without a 
crime," 
0, may I deeply learn, and ne'er surrender 
Your lore sublime ! 

"Thou wert not, Solomon, in all tliy glory, 

Arrayed," the lilies cry, " in robes like ours ! 
How vain your grandeur ! ah, how transitory 
Are human flowers !" 

In the sweet-scented pictures, heaveidy artist, 
With which thou paintest Nature's wide-spread 
hall. 
What a delightful lesson thou impartest 
Of love to all ! 

Not useless are ye, (lowers ! though made for 
pleasure ; 
Blooming o'er field and wave, by day and 
night. 
From every source your sanction bids me treasure 
Harmless delight. 

Ephemeral sages ! what instructors hoary 

For such a world of thought could furnish 
scope ? 
Each fading calyx a memento mori, 
Yet fount of hope. 

Posthumous glories ! angel-like collection ! 

Upraised from seed or bulb interred in earth. 
Ye are to me a type of resurrection 
And second birth. 

Were I in churchless solitudes remaining. 

Far from all voice of teachers and divines. 
My soul would find, in flowers of God's ordaining. 
Priests, .sermons, shrines ! 

HoKACE Smith. 



FLOWEHS. 

I WILL not have the mad Clytie, 

Whose head is turned by the sun : 
The tulip is a courtly quean. 

Whom, therefore, I will slum : 
The cowslip is a country wench. 

The violet is a nun ; — 
But I will woo the dainty rose. 

The (lueen of every one. 



The pea is but a wanton witch. 

In too much haste to wed. 
And clasps her rings on every hand ; 

The wolfsbane 1 should dread ; 
Nor will I dreary rosemarye. 

That always mourns the dead ; 
But 1 will woo the dainty rose. 

With her cheeks of tender red. 

The lily is all in white, like a saint. 

And so is no mate for nu^ ; 
And the dai.sy's cheek is ti]iped with a blusli 

Slu' is of such low degree ; 
Jasmine is sweet, and has many loves. 

And the broom 's betrothed to the bee ; — 
But I will plight with the dainty rose, 

For fairest of all is she. 

THOMAS HOOD. 



BETROTHED ANEW. 

The snidight fills the trembling air, 
And balmy days their guerdons bring; 

The Earth again is young and fair. 
And anuu-ous with musky Spring. 

The golden nurslings of the May 

In splendor strew the spangled green, 

And hues of tender beauty l)lay, 
Entanghul where the willows lean. 

Mark how the rippled currents flow ; 

What lustres on the meadows lie ! 
And hark ! the songsters come and go, 

And trill between the earth and sky. 

Who told us that the years had fled. 
Or borne afar our blissful youth '! 

Such joys are all about us spread ; 
We know the wliisjier was not truth. 

The birils that break from grass and grove 
Sing every carol that they sung 

When first our veins were rich with love, 
And May her mantle round us flung. 

fresh-lit dawn ! iunnortal life ! 

Earth's betrothal, sweet and true. 
With whose delights our souls are rife, 

And aye their vernal vows renew ! 

Then, darling, walk with me this morn ; 

Let your brown tresses drink its sheen ; 
These violets, within them worn, 

Of floral fays shall make you (pieen. 

What though there comes a time of pain 
When autumn wimls forebode decay / 

The days of love are horn again ; 
That fd]led tinu' is i'ln aw:iv ' 




A SEPTEMliKR VIOLET. 

For (lays the peaks wore hoods of cloud, 

The sloi)es were veiled in chilly rain ; 
We said : It is the Summer's shroud, 
And with the brooks we moaned aloud, — 
Will sunshine never come again ? 

At last tiie west wind brought us one 
Serene, warm, cloudless, crystal day. 
As though September, having blown 
A blast of tem])est, now had thrown 
A gauntlet to the favored May. 

Backward to spring our fancies Hew, 
And, careless of the course of time. 

The bloomy days began anew. 

Then, as a happy dream comes true, 
Or, as a poet finds his rhyme — 

Half wondered at, half unbelieved — 

I found thee, friendliest of the flowers. 
Then Summer's joys came back, green-leaved, 
And its doomed dead, awhile reprieved, 
First learned how truly they were ours. 

Dear violet! Did the Autumn bring 
The vernal dreams, till thou, like me. 

Didst climb to thy imagining? 

Or was it that the thoughtful Spring 
Did come again, in search of thee? 



Robert Underwood Johnson. 







' ^^^^i- 



THE JOYS OF THE ROAD. 
To R. H. 

Now the joys of the road are chiefly these: 

A crimson touch on the hard-wood trees ; 
A vagrant's morning wide and blue. 
In early fall, when the wind walks, too; 
A shadowy highway cool and brown. 
Alluring up and enticing down 
From rippled water to dappled swamp, 
The outward eye, the quiet will. 
From purple glory to scarlet pomp ; 
And the striding heart from hill to hill; 
The tempter apple over the fence ; 
I'he cobweb bloom on the yellow quince; 
The palish asters along the wood, — 
A lyric touch of the solitude; 

An open hand, an easy shoe. 

And a hope to make the day go through, — 

Another to sleep with, and a third 

To wake me up at the voice of a bird; 

The resonant, far-listening morn. 

And the hoarse whisper of the corn; 

The crickets mourning their comrades lost. 

In the night's retreat from the gathering frost; 

(Or is it their slogan, plaintive and shrill. 

As they beat on their cor.-elets, valiant still?) 

A hunger fit for the kings of the sea. 
And a loaf of bread for Dickon and me ; 
A thirst like that of th;- Thirsty Sword, 
And a jug of cider on the board; 
An idle noon, a bubbling spring. 
The sea in the pine-tops murmuring; 



A scrap of gossip at the ferry ; 

A comrade neither glum nor merry. 

Asking nothing, revealing naught, 

But minting his words from a fund of thought, 

A keeper of silence eloquent. 

Needy, yet royally well content. 

Of the mettled breed, yet abhorring strife. 

And full of the mellow juice of life, 

.\ taster of wine, with an eye for a maid. 

Never too bold and never afraid, 

Never heart-whole, never heart-sick 

(These are the things I worship in Dick), 

No fidget and no reformer, just 

A calm observer of ought and must, 

A lover of books, but a reader of man. 

No C)Tiic and no charlatan, 

Wlio never defers and never demands, 

But, smihng, takes the world in his hands, — 

Seeing it good as when God first saw 

.\nd gave it the weight of his will for law. 

And oh the joy that is never won. 

But follows and follows the journeying sun. 

By marsh and tide, by meadow and stream, 

A \vill-o'-the-wind, a light-o'-dream, 

Helusion afar, delight anear. 

From morrow to morrow, from year to year, 

A jack-o'-lantern, a liiiry fire, 

A dare, a bliss, and a desire! 

The racy smell of the forest loam. 
When the stealthy, sad-heart leaves go home; 
(O leaves, O leaves, I am one with you. 
Of the mould and the sun, and the wind and 

the dewl) 
The broad gold wake of the afternoon; 
Tiie silent fleck of the cold new moon: 
The sound of the hollow sea's release 
From stormy tumult to starry peace; 
With only another league to wend, 
.•\nd two brown .arms at the journey's end: 

These are the joys of the open road — 
For him who travels without a load. 



Bliss C.4RMan'. 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



461 



Aiid iiL'ver seenicil the land so lair 
As now, nor liinls such notes to sing, 

Since tii'st witliin your shining hair 
I wove the blossoms of the spring. 

EUMUNU CLAKhNCK STF.DMAN. 



THE EARLY PRIMROSE. 

M I LD olTspring of a dark and suUeu sire .' 
Whose modest form, so delicately fine, 

Was nursed in whirling storms 

And cradled in the winds. 

Thee, when young Spring first iiuestioned Win- 
ter's sway, 
And dared the sturdy blusterer to the fight. 

Thee on this bank he threw 

To mark his victory. 

In this low vale the promise of the year. 
Serene, thou openest to the nipping gale, 

Unnoticed and alone, 

Thy tender elegance. 

So Virtue blooms, brought forth amid the storms 
Of chill adversity ; in some lone walk 

Of life she rears her head, 

Obscure and unobserved ; 

While every bleaching breeze that on her blows 
Chastens her spotless purity of breast. 

And hanlens her to bear 

Serene the ills of life. 

He.nry Kirke White 



VIOLETS. 

Welcome, maids of honor ! 

You doe bring 

In the Spring, 
And wait upon her. 

She has virgins many, 

Fresh and faire ; 

Yet you are 
More sweet than any. 

Y' are the maiden Posies, 

And, sograc't, 

To be plac't 
'Fore damask roses. 

Yet thougli thus respected, 

I5y ami by 

Ye doe lie, 
Poors girles ! neglected. 

Robert Herrick. 



THE RHODORA. 

LINES ON BEING ASKED, WHENCE IS THE FLOWER; 

I.v May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes, 
1 found the fresh rhodom in the woods. 
Spreading its leaHe.ss blooms in a damp nook, 
To plea,se the desert and the sluggish brook ; 
The purple petals falliMi in the pool 

Made the black waters with their beauty gay, — 
Here might the red-bird come his plumes to cool. 

And court the llower that cheapens his anay. 
Hhodoni I if the sages ask thee why 
This charm is wasted on the marsh and sky. 
Dear, tell them, that if eyes were made for seeing^ 
Then beauty is its ow^n excuse for being. 

Why thou wert there, O rival of the rose I 
I never thought to ask ; I never knew, 

But in my simple ignorance suppose 

The sel f-same Power that brough t me there brought 

you. 

Ralph waluo Emerson. 



THE VIOLET. 

FAINT, delicious, spring-time violet ! 

Thine odor, like a key. 
Turns noiselessly in memory's wards to let 

A thought of sorrow free. 

The breath of distant fields upon my brow 
Blows througli that open door 

The sound of wind-borne bells, more sweet and low, 
And sadder than of yore. 

It comes afar, from that belovM place, 

And that beloved hour. 
When life hung ri])eiiing in love's golden grace. 

Like gi-apes above a bower. 

A spring goes singing through its reedy glass ; 

The lark sings o'er my head. 
Drowned in the sky — 0, pass, ye visions, pass ! 

I would that I were dead ! — 

Why hast thou opened that forbidden door. 

From which 1 ever Hee ? 
vanished joy ! love, that art no more. 

Let my ve.\ed spirit be ! 

violet ! thy odor through my brain 

Hath searched, and stung to grief 

This sunny day, as if a curse did stain 

Thy velvet leaf. 

William Wetmore story. 



462 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



THE DAISY. 

FROM THE '■ LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN." 

Of all the fioures in the meilf, 
Thiiulove 1 most these tloures white and rede, 
Souh that men calleu daisies in our town; 
To hem I have so great affection, 
As I said erst, whan comen is the May, 
That in my bedde there daweth me no day 
That I nam * up and walking in the niede, 
To scene this flour ayenst the Sunne sprede, 
Whan it up riseth early by the morrow. 
That blissful sight softeneth all my sorrow, 
So glad am I, whan that I have the presence 
Of it, to done it all reverence. 
And ever I love it, and ever ylike newe. 
And ever shall, till that mine herte die 
All swere I not, of this I will not lie. 

My busie gost, that thursteth alway newe, 
To seen this flour so yong, so fresh of hew. 
Constrained me, with so greedy ilesire, 
That in my herte I fele yet the fire. 
That made me lise ere it were day. 
And this was now the first morow of May, 
With dreadful t herte, and glad devotion 
For to been at the resurrection 
Of this ttoure, whan that it should unclose 
Againe the Sunne, that rose as redde as rose. 
And doune on knees aiiou right I me sette, 
And as I could, this fresh floure I grette, 
Kneeling alway, till it unclosed was. 
Upon the small, soft, swete gras. 
That was with floures swete erabrouded all. 
Of such swetenesse, and such odour overall 
That for to speke of gomme, herbe, or tree, 
Comparison may not ymaked be, 
For it surmountetli plainly all odoures. 
And of rich beaute of floures. 
And Zephirus, and Flora gentelly, 
Yave to these floures soft and tenderly, 
Hir swotej breth, and made hem for to spredc 
As god and goddesse of tlie Hourie niede. 
In which me thoughte 1 might day by day, 
Dwellen ,ilway, the joly month of May, 
Withouten slepe, withouten meat or drinke : 
Adoune full softly I gan to sinke. 
Ami leaning on my elbow and my side, 
The long day I shope me for to abide. 
For nothing els, and I shall nal lie. 
But for to looke upon the daisie. 
That well by reason men it call may 
The daisie, or els the eye of the day. 
The empress and floure of floures all, 
I pray to God that faire mote she fall, 
And all that loveu fiouies for lier sake. 



TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY, 

ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOUGH. IN APRIL. 178U 

Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower. 
Thou 's met me in an evil hour. 
For I maun crush amang tlie stoure 

Thy slender stem ; 
To spare thee now is past my power. 

Thou bonny gem. 

Alas ! it 's no thy neebor sweet. 
The bonnie lark, companion meet, 
Bending thee niaiig the dewy weet, 

Wi' sjireckled breast. 
When upward sj)ringing, blitlie to greet 

The purpling east. 

Cauld blew the bitter-biting north 
Upon thy early, humble birtli : 
Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth 

Amid the storm. 
Scarce reared above the parent earth 

Thy tender form. 

The flaunting flowers our gardens yield 
High sheltering woods and wa's maun shield ; 
But thou beneath the random bield 

0' clod or stane. 
Adorns the histie stihble-tield, 

Unseen, alane. 

There, in thy scanty mantle clad, 
Thy snawie bosom sunward spread. 
Thou lifts thy unassuming head 

In humble guise ; 
But now the sliare uptears thy bed. 

And low thou lies ! 



.Such is the fate of artless maid, 
Sweet floweret of the rural shade ! 
By love's simplicity betrayed. 

And guileless trust, 
Till she, like thee, all soiled, is laid 

Low i' the dust. 

Such is the fate of simple bard. 

On life's rough ocean luckless starred ! 

Unskilful he to note the card 

Of prudent lore. 
Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, 

And whelm him o'er I 

Such fate to sufVering worth is given. 
Who long with wants and woes has striven, 
By hnniau jiride or cunning driven 

To miseiy's brink. 
Till, wrenched of every stay but Heaven, 

He, ruined, sink ' 



I'OEMS i)V NATLKE. 



4ba 



Kveii thou who mourn 'st the daisy's fiitu, 
Tlmt fatu is thine, — no ilistuiit (late : 
Stern liuin's plonghsliare drives, elatu, 

Full on thy lilooni. 
Till crushed beneath the furrow's weight 

Shall bo tliy doom ! 

ROBERT Burns. 



THE DAISY. 

.Stai; of the nie.id ! sweet daughter of the day, 
Whose opening (lower invites the morning ray, 
From the moist eheek and bosom's ehilly fold 
To kiss the teare of eve, the dew-drops uold I 
Sweet dai.sy, flower of love ! when birds are 

Jiaired, 
'T is sweet to .see thee, with thy bosom bared, 
Smiling in virgin innoeence serene. 
Thy pearly erown above thy vest of green. 
The lark with sparkling eye and rustling wing 
Rejoins his widowed mate in early spring. 
And, as he prunes his plumes of russet hue, 
.Sweai-s on thy maiden blossom to lie true. 
Oft have I watched thy closing buds at eve. 
Which for the parting sunbeams seemed to 

grieve ; 
.\nd when gay morning gilt the dew-bright 

plain, 
■Seen tliem unclasj) their folded leaves again ; 
Nor he who sung "The daisy is so sweet ! " 
ilore dearly loved thy jiearly form to greet. 
When on his scarf the knight the daisy bound, 
And dames to tourneys shone with daisies 

crowned, 
And fays forsook the purer lields above, 
To hail the daisy, flower of faithful love. 

John Levden. 



THE DAISY. 

TiiKFiK is a flower, a little flower 
With silver cre.st and golden eye, 

That welcomes every changing hour, 
And weathers every sky. 

The prouder beauties of the field 
In gay but quick succession shine ; 

£ace after race tl»ir honors yield. 
They flourish and decline. 

But this small flower, to Nature dear. 
While moons and stars their courses run, 

Inwreathes the circle of the year; 
C'oni]>auioD of the sun. 

It smiles upon the lap of May, 
To sultiy August spreads its charm. 

Lights jmle October on his way, 
And twines December's arm. 



The purple heath and golden broom 
On mooi'y mountains catch the gale ; 

O'er lawns the lily sheds perfume, 
The violet in the vale. 

But this bolil llowiivt climbs the hill, 
lliiles in the l'n|■e.■^t, haunts the glen. 

Plays on the margin of the rill, 
Tecjis round the fox's den. 

AVithin the garden's cultured round 
It shares the sweet carnation's bed ; 

And blooms on consecrated ground 
In honor of the dead. 

The lamlikin crops its crimson gem ; 

The wild bee murmurs on its breast ; 
The blue-fly bends its pensile stem 

Light o'er the skylark's nest. 

'T is Flora's page, — in every place, 
In every season, fresh and fair ; 

It opens with perennial giacc. 
And blossoms everywhere. 

On waste and woodland, rock and plain, 
Its humlile buds unheeded rise ; 

The rose has but a summer reign ; 
The daisy never dies I 

James Montgomery, 



DAFFODILS. 

I WANDKiiEn lonely as a cloud 

That floats on high o'er vales and hills, 
When all at once I saw a crowd, — 

A host of golden daffodils 
lieside the lake, beneath the trees. 
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. 

Continuous as the .stars that shine 
And twinkle on the Milky Way, 

They stretcheil in never-ending line 
Along the margin pf a bay : 

Ten thousand saw I, at a glance. 

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. 

The waves beside them danced, but they 
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee ; 

A poet couM not but be gay 
In such a jocund comjiauy ; 

I gazed — and gaze<l — liut little thought 

What wealth the shinv In nu' had biought 



464 



I'OKMS OK NATURE. 



For oft, wlien on my couch I lie, 
In vacant or in pensive niooil, 

Tlicy flush uium that inwaiil eye 
Which is the bliss of solitiule ; 

And then my heart with pleasure lills, 

And dances with the dafl'odils. 

William Wordsworth. 



DAFFODILS. 

Faire dafladills, we weep to see 

You haste away so soone ; 
As yet the early-rising sun 

Has not attained his noone. 
Stay, stay. 

Until the hastening day 
Has run 

But to the even-song ; 
And, having prayed together, we 

Will goe with you along. 

We have short time to stay as you, 

We have as short a sluing ; 
As quick a growth, to n.eet decay, 

As you or anything. 
We die. 

As your hours doe, and drio 
Away, 

Like to the summer's rainc. 
Or as the pearles of morning's dew. 

Ne'er to be found agnine. 

ROBERT HERKICK. 



THE ROSE. 

FROM " HASSAN BEN KHALED." 

Then took the generous host 
A basket filled with roses. Kvery guest 
Cried, " Give ine roses ! " and he thus addressed 
His wonis to all : '• He who e.\alts them most 
In song, he only shall the roses wear." 
Then sang a guest : " The rose's cheeks are fair; 
It erowns the purple Iwwl, and no one knows 
If the rose coloi-s it, or it the rose." 
And sang another : " Crimson is its hue, 
And on its bi'east the morning's crystal dew 
Is changed to rubies. " Then a thiiii roplied : 
" It blushes in the sun's enamored sight. 
As a young virgin on her wedding night. 
When from her face the bridegroom lilts the veil." 
When all had sung their songs, 1, Massjin, tried. 
" The rose," I sang, " is either led or pale. 
Like maidens whom the tlauu' of ]i:ission burns. 
And love or jealousy controls, by turns. 
Its buds are lips prejwring for a kiss : 
Its open llowei's aro like the blush of bliss 



On lovers' cheeks ; the thorns its armor are, 
And in its centre shines a golden star, 
As on a favorite's cheek a se(iuin glows ; — 
And thus the garden's favorite is the rose." 
The master from his open basket shook 
The roses on my head. 

B.\VARD TA\'L0R. 



THE ROSE. 

The rose had been washed, just washed in a 
shower. 

Which Mary to Anna conveyed, 
The plentiful moisture encumbered the (lower. 

And weighed down its beautiful head. 

The cup was all filled, and the leaves were all wet, 

And it seemed, to a fanciful view-. 
To weep for the buds it had left with regret. 

On the nourishing bush where it grew. 

I hastily seized it, unfit as it was 

Kor a nosegay, so ilripping and drowneil. 

And swinging it rudely, too rudely, alas ! 
I snapped it, it fell to the ground. 

And such, I exclaimed, is the pitiless part 

Some act by the delicate miiul. 
Keg!vrdless of wringing and breaking a heart 

Already to sorrow resigned. 

This elegant rose, had I shaken it less, 

iilight have bloomed with its owner awhile ; 

And the tear that is wiped with a little address, 
i\Iay be followed perhaps by a smile. 

WlLLL\M COWPER. 



THE MOSS ROSE. 

The angel of the Howei-s, one day. 
Beneath a i-ose-tree sleeping lay, — 
That spirit to whose charge 't is given 
To bathe young buds in dews of heaven. 
Awaking from his light repose, 
The angel whispered to the rose : 
"O fondest object of my care. 
Still fairest found, where all are fair ; 
For the sweet shade thou giv'st to me 
xVsk what thou wilt, 't is granted thee." 
"Then," said the rose, with deepened glow, 
"On me another gnice bestow." 
The spirit paused, in silent thought, 
AVhnt gi-ace was there that tlower had not ? 
'T was but a moment, — o'er the rose 
A veil of moss the angel throws. 
And. robed in nature's simplest weed, 
Could theie a flower that rose e.\ceod .' 

Ftoill Ihc Gcriii.-i<i of KRUMMACMER. 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



465 



TIS THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMICK. 

FROM •■IRISH MELODir.S." 

'T 18 the last rose of summer, 

Left bloomiiif! nUme ; 
All her lovely loinimiiions 

Are faded uiid giiiie ; 
No llnwer of her kindred, 

No rosebud, is iii;,'li 
To reflect back her blushes, 

Or give sigh for sigh ! 

1 'II not leave thee, thou lone one ! 

To jiine on the stem ; 
Since the lovely are sleeping;, 

Go, sleep tliou with them ; 
Thus kindly I scatter 

Thy leaves o'er the bed 
Where thy mates of the garden 

Lie scentless and dead. 

So soon may / follow. 

When frieiidshiiw decay. 
And from love's shining circle 

The gems droj) away ! 
When true hearts lie withered, 

And fond ones are flown, 
0, who would inhabit 

This bleak world alone ? 

Thomas Moore. 



TO THE FRINGED GENTIAN. 

Thou blossom, bright with autumn dew. 
And colored with tlie heaven's own blue. 
That ojienest when the quiet light 
Succeeds the keen ami frosty night ; 

Thou comest not when violets lean 
O'er wandering brooks and springs unseen, 
Or columbines, in purple dressed. 
Nod o'er the ground-liinl's hidden nest. 

Thou waitest late, and coni'st alone, 
Wlicn woods are bare ami birds are flown, 
And frosts and shortening days portend 
The aged Year is near his end. 

Then doth tliy sweet and quiet eye 
JyOok through its fringes to the sky, 
Blue — blue — as if that .sky let fall 
A flower from its cerulean wall. 

I would that tlius, when I shall see 
The hour of death draw near to me, 
Ho|)e, blossoming within my heart. 
May look to heaven as 1 depart. 

William cullbn Bryant. 



THE VOICE OF THE GRASS. 

Hekk I come creeping, creeping everywhere ; 

15y the dusty niiidside, 

On the sunny hillside, 

(.'lo.se by the noisy brook. 

In every shudy nook, 
I come creeping, creeping everywhere. 

Here I come creeping, smiling everywhere ; 

All round the open door. 

Where sit the aged poor ; 

Here where the eliililren play. 

In the bright and merry May, 
I come creeiiing, creeping everywhere. 

Here I come creeping, creeping everywhere ; 

In the noisy city street 

My ph'asant face you 'II meet, 

t.'heering the sick at heart 

Toiling his busy part, — 
Silently creeping, creeping everywhere. 

Here I come creeping, creeping everywhere ; 
You cannot .see me coming. 
Nor hear my low sweet humming; 
Kor in the starry night. 
And the glad moridng light, 

I come ipiietly creeping everywhere. 

Hero I come creeping, creejiing everywhere ; 
More welcome than tlu' flowers 
In summer's pleasant hours ; 
The gentle cow is glad. 
And the merry bird not sad. 

To see me creeping, creeping everywhere. 

Here I come creeping, creeping everywhere; 
When you're numl)ered with the dead 
In your still and narrow bed. 
In the happy .sjiring 1 'II come 
And deck your silent home, — 

Creeping, silently eree]iing everywhere. 

Here I conu! creeping, creeping everywhere ; 

My luinjlih^ song of praise 

Mo.st joyfully I fai.se 

To Ilini at whose command 

I beautify the land. 
Creeping, silently creeping everywhere. 

Sakah Roberts. 



THE IVY GREEN. 

0, A DAINTY plant is the ivy green, 

That creepeth o'er ruins old I 
Of right choice food are his meals, 1 weeu, 

In his cell so lone and cold. 



466 



POEMS OK NATURE. 



Tli6 walls must be crumbled, the stones decayed, 

To pleasure his dainty wliim ; 
And tlie mouUlering dust tliat years have made, 
Is a merry meal lor him. 

Creeping where no life is seen, 
A rare old plant is the Ivy green. 

Fast he stealeth on, though he wears no wings. 

And a stauncli old heai-t has he ! 
How closely he twinetli, liow tight he clings 

To his friend, the liuge oak-tree I 
Ana slyly he trailctli along the ground. 

And his leaves he gently waves, 
And he joyously twines and hugs around 

The rich mould of dead men's graves. 
Creeping where grim death has been , 
A rare old plant is the Ivy green. 

Whole ages have fled, and their works decayed, 

And nations liave scattered been ; 
But the stout old ivy shall never fade 

From its hale and hearty green. 
The brave old plant in its lonely days 

Shall fatten upon the past ; 
For the stateliest building man can raise 
Is the ivy's food at last. 

Creeping on where Time has been, 
A rare old plant is the Ivy green. 

Chari.es dickens. 



THE DEATH OF THE FLOWEKS. 

The melancholy days are come, the saddest of 
the year, 

Of w ailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows 
brown and sear. 

Heaped in tlie hullows of tlie grove, the autumn 
leaves lie dead ; 

They rustle to the eddying gust, and to tlie rab- 
bit's tread. 

Tlie lobin and the wren are llown, and from the 
shrubs the jay. 

And from the wood-top calls the crow through 
all the gloomy day. 

Where are the liowers, the fair young flowers, 

that lately sprang and stood 
111 brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous 

sisterhood ' 
Alas ! they all are in tlieir graves ; tlie gentle 

race of flowers 
Are lying in their lowly beds with the fair and 

good of ours. 
The rain is falling where they lie ; but the cold 

November rain 
Calls i.ot from out the gloomy earth the lovely 

ones again. 



The wind-flower and the violet, they perished 
long ago. 

And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the 
summer glow ; 

But on the hill the golden-rod, and the aster in 
the wood. 

And the yellow sunflower by the brook in au- 
tumn beauty stood. 

Till fell the frost from the clear cold heaven, as 
foils the plague on men. 

And the brightness of their smile was gone from 
upland, glade, and glen. 

And now, when comes the calm mild day, as 

still such days will come. 
To call the squirrel and the bee from out their 

winter liome ; 
When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, 

though all the trees are still. 
And twinkle in the smokv light the waters of 

the rill ; 
The south-wind searches for the flowers whose 

fragrance late he bore. 
And sighs to lind them in the wood and by the 

stream no more. 

Ami then I think of one who in her youthful 

beauty died. 
The fair meek blossom that grew up and faded 

by my side. 
In the colli moist earth we laid her, when the 

forests cast the leaf. 
And we wejit that one so lovely should lun-e a 

life so brief ; 

i Yet not unmeet it was that one, like that vouiig 

I friend of ours. 

So gentle and so beautiful, should perish with 

the flowers. 

William cullen Brvant. 



THE USE OF FLOWERS. 

Gon might have bade the earth bring forth 

Enough for great and small, 
The oak-tree and the cedar-tree, 

Without a flower at all. 
We might have had enough, enough 

For every want of ours. 
For lu.Miry, medicine, and toil, 
■ And yet have had no liowers. 

Then wherefore, wherefore were they made, 

All dyed with rainbow light. 
All fashioned with supremest grace, 

Uii.springing day and night : • — 
.Springing in valleys green and low. 

And on the mountains high, 
And in the silent wilderness 

Where no man pas.ses liy ? 



I'OEMS OF XAlTKi;. 






Onr outward life requires them not, - 

Then wherefore liiul they lurtli ? — 
To minister ilelif^ht to niiin, 

To beautify the earth ; 
To eomfort man, — to whisper linpe, 

Whene'er his faith is dim. 
For who so earetli I'or tlie (lowers 

Will care much more for him ! 

Mary howitt. 



THE LION'S RIDK. 

'itiK lion is the desert's king; through liis do- 
main so wide 

Right swiftly and right royally this night he 
means to ride. 

By the sedgy brink, where the v;ild herds drink, 
close couches the grim chief ; 

The trenihling sycamore above whispers with 
every leaf. 

At evening, on the Table Mount, when ye can 

see no more 
The ihangcful play of signals gay ; when tin' 

gloom is speckled o'er 
With kraal fires ; when the Calfre wends honn- 

through the lone karroo ; 
When the boshbok in the thicket sleeps, and by 

the stream the gnu ; 

Then bend your gaze across the waste, — what 

see yc ? The giraffe. 
Majestic, stalks towards the lagoon, the turbid 

lymph to ([ualf; 
With outstretched neck and tongue adust, he 

kneels him down to cool 
His hot thirst with a welcome draught from the 

foul and brackish pool. 

A rustling sound, a roar, abound, — the lion sits 

a.stride 
t'[ion his giant courser's back. Did ever king so 

ride? 
Ha<l ever king a steed .so rare, caparisons of state 
To match the dappled skin whereon '.bat rider 

sits elate I 

In the muscles of the neck his teeth are plunged 

with ravenous greed ; 
His tawny mane is tossing round the withers of 

the steed. 
Up leaping with a hollow yell of anguish and 

surfirise, 
Away, away, in wild dismay, the caraeleopard 

Hies. 



His feet have wings ; see ht)w he springs across 
the -iionidit plain I 

As from their sockets they would burst, his 
glaring eyeballs strain ; 

In thick black streams of purling blood, full fast 
his life is fleeting ; 

The stillness of the desert hears his heart's tu- 
multuous beating. 

Like the cloud that, through t\v wildcrni-...:., the 

path of Isi'acl trai'cd, — 
Like an airy phantom, dull and wan, a sjurit of 

the waste, — • 
From the sandy sea uprising, as the water-.spout 

from ociMU, 
A whirling cloud of dust keeps pace with the 

courser's fiery motion. 

Croaking companion of their flight, the vulture 

whirs on high ; 
I'elow, the teri'or of the fold, the panther fierce 

and sly. 
And hyenas foul, round graves that prowl, join 

in the horrid race ; 
I'y the footprints wet with f(ore and sweat, their 

mcinarch's course they trace. 

Tliey see him on his living throne, and quake 

with fear, the while 
With claws of steel he tears piecemealhiscushion's 

jiainted pile. 
Oil I on I no pause, no rest, giraffe, while life and 

strength remain ! 
'fill' steed by such a rider backed may madly 

plunge in vain. 

Reeling u]ioii the desert's verge, he falls, and 

breathes his last ; 
The courser, stained with dust and foam, is the 

rider's fell repast. 
O'er Madaga.scar, eastward far, a faint Hush is 

descried : — 
Thus nightly, o'er his broad ilnniain, the king of 

beasts doth ride. 

From the Gcriiiaii of FERDINAND FREILICRATH. 



THE I5I.00D HORSE. 

Oama[;ra is a dainty steed. 

Strong, black, and of a noble breed, 

Full of fire, and full of lione, 

AVith all his line of fathers known ; 

Fine his nose, his nostrils thin, 

IJut blown abroad by the pride within ! 



468 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



His mane is like a river flowing, 
And liis eyes like embers glowing 
In tlie darkness of tlie night. 
And his pace as swift as light. 

Look, — how round his straining throat 

Grace and shifting beavity thiat ; 

Sinewy strengtli is in his reins, 

And the red bhmd gallops through his veins : 

Richer, redder, never ran 

Tlirongh the boasting heart of man. 

He can trace his lineage higlier 

Than tlie Bourbon dare aspire, — ■ 

Douglas, Guzman, or the Guel])h, 

Or O'Brien's blood itself ! 

lie, who hath no peer, was born 

Here, upon a red March morn. 

But his famous fathers dead 

Were Arabs all, and Arab-bred, 

And the last of that great line 

Trod like one of a race divine ! 

And yet, — he was but friend to one 

Who fed him at the set of sun 

By some lone fountain fringed with green ; 

With him, a roving Bedouin, 

He lived (none else would he obey 

Throngli all the hot .\rabian day). 

And died untamed upon the sands 

Where Balkh anndst the desert stands. 

Br\a\ W. Procter (fi.lrry Cortiwn//), 



Tiger ! Tiger ! burning bright, 
In the forests of the night. 
What immortal hand or eye 
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry < 

WILLIAM BLAKE. 



THE TIG Kit. 

Tiger ! Tiger ! burning bright. 
In the forests of the night ; 
What immortal hand or eye 
Could frame thy fearful symmetry ! 

In what distant deeps or skies 
Burned the fire of thine eyes ? 
On what wings dare he aspire ? 
What the hand daiT seize the fire ? 

And what shoulder, and what art, 
Conld twist the sinews of thine heart ? 
And when thy heart began to beat, 
What dread hand I and what dread feet ? 

■What the hammer, what the chain ? 
In what furnace was thy laain ? 
What the anvil ? what dread grasji 
Dare its deadly terroi-s clasp > 

When the stars threw down their spcai-s, 
And wateiwl heaven with their tears. 
Dill he smile his work to see ? 
Did He, who nu^dc the Lamb, make thee ! 



TO A MOUSE; 

ON TURNMNC. IIFR UP IN HER NF.ST WITH HIE PLOUCU. 
NOVEMBER. 1785. 

Wee, sleekit, cowerin', timorous beastio, 
O, what a panic 's in thy breastie ! 
Thou needna stai't awa sac hasty, 

Wi' bickering brattle ! 
I Wild be laith to rin an' chase thee, 

Wi' niuixlering pattle '. 

I 'm truly sorry man's dominion 
Has broken nature's social union, 
An' justifies that ill opinion 

Which makes thee startle 
At me, thy poor earth-born conipauion, 

An' I'cUow-mortal 1 

I doubtna, whylcs, but thou may thieve ; 
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live ! 
A daimcn-icker* in a thrave t 

'S a sma' reipiest ; 
I '11 get a blessin' wi' the lave, . 

And never miss 't ! 

Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin ! 
Its silly wa's the win's are strew-in' ! 
An' naething now to big a new ane 

O' foggage green ! 
An' bleak December's winds ensnin", 

Baith snell and keen ! 

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste. 
An' weary winter coniin' fast. 
An' cozie here, beneath the blast. 

Thou thought to dwell, 
Till, crash! the cruel coulter past 

Out through thy cell. 

That wee bit hea]> o' leaves an" stibble 
Has cost thee niony a weary nibble ! 
Now thou's turned out, for a' thy trouble. 

But house or hald, 
To thole tlie winter's sleety dribble, 

An' eranreueh * cauld ! 

But, Monsie, thou art no thy lane. 
In proving foresight nniy be vain : 
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men 

Gang aft a-gley. 
An' lea'e us naught but grief and pain. 

For promised joy. 



.\il Mr of corn. 
Hoar-frObt. 



t Twenly-four >he.ive&. 



POEMS OV NATURE. 



469 



Still thou art blest, conipnreil wi' mc ! 
The present only tomheth thee : 
But, oehl I backwiird eiist my e'e 

On jirospects drear ; 
An' forward, thouf;!! I canna see, 

I guess an' fear. 

ROBERT BL'RNS. 



LAMBS AT PI.AY. 

Say, yc that know, ye wlio have felt and seen 
Spring's morning smiles, and soul-enliveniiig 

green, — 
Say, did you give the thrilling transport way. 
Did your eye brighten, when young lanilis at play 
Leaped o'er your path with animated pride, 
Or gazed in merry clustei's by your side ? 
Ye wlio can smib — to wisdom no disgrace ^ 
At tlie arch meaning of a kitten's face ; 
If spotless innocence and infant mirth 
Excites to praise, or gives reflection birth ; 
In shades like these pursue your favoiite joy, 
.Midst nature's revels, sjiorts that never cloy. 
A few begin a short but vigorous race. 
And indolence, abashed, soon Hies the place : 
Thus challenged forth, see thither, one by one, 
From every side assembling playmates run ; 
A thousand wily antics mark their stay, 
A starting crowd, impatient of diday ; 
Like the foml dove from fearful )]rison freed. 
Each seems to say, " t'onu', let us try our speed ; " 
.Away they scour, impetuous, ardent, strong, 
The green turf tremliling as they bound along 
Adown the slo[ie, then up the hillock climb. 
Where every mole-hill is a bed of thyme. 
Then, panting, stop ; yet scarcely can I'efrain, — 
A bird, a leaf, will set them otf again : 
Or, if a gale with strength unusual blow, 
.Scattering the wild-brier roses into snow, 
Their little limbs increasing elforts try ; 
Like the torn Hower, the fair assemblage tly. 
Ah, fallen rose ! sad emblem of their doom ; 
Frail as thyself, they perish while they bloom ! 

RouKKr BLUOMFIELD. 



FOLDIXi; TIIK KLOCK-S. 

SllErtlKuns all, and maidens fair. 
Fold your Hocks up ; for the air 
'Gins to thicken, and the sun 
Already his great course hath run. 
See the dew-drops, how they kiss 
Every little (lower that is ; 
Hanging on their velvet heads, 
Like a string of crystal beads. 
Sec the heavy clouds low falling 
And bright Hesperus down calling 



The dead night from underground ; 

At whose rising, mists unsound. 

Damps and vapors, Hy ajiace, 

And hover o'er the smiling lace 

Of these pastures ; where they come. 

Striking dead both bud and bloom. 

Therefore from such danger lock 

Every one his loved Hock ; 

And let your dogs lie loose without, 

Lest the wolf come as a scout 

From the mountain, and ere day, 

Bear a lamb oi' kid away ; 

Or the crafty, thievish fox. 

Break upon your simple (locks. 

To sei'ure yourself from these, 

Be not too secure in ease ; 

So shall you good shepherds prove. 

Anil deserve your master's love. 

Now, good night ! may sweetest slumbers 

And soft silence fall in numbers 

On your eyelids. So farewell : 

Thus I end my evening knell. 

BKAUMONT and FLETCHER. 



THE SONGSTERS. 



FROM " THE SEASONS : SPRING." 



Up springs the lark, 

Sin-ill-voiced and loud, the messenger of morn. 

Ere yet the shiidows fly, he mounted sings 

Amid the ilawning clouds, and from their haunts 

Calls uji the tuneful nations. Every copse 

Deep-tiinglcd, tree ii'regular, and bush 

Bending with dewy moisture, o'er the heads 

Of the coy ciuiristers that lodge within. 

Are proiligal of harmony. The thrush 

And woodlark, o'er the kind-contemling throng 

Superior heard, run through the sweetest length 

Of notes ; when listening Philomela deigns 

To let them joy, and purposes, in thought 

El.ate, to make her night e.\ccl their day. 

The blackbird whisth's from the thorny brake ; 

The mellow bulKinch answers from the grove ; 

Nor are the linnets, o'er the (lowering furze 

Poured out profusely, silent ; joined to these, 

Innumerons songsters, in the fresheidng shade 

Of new-sprung leaves, their modulations mix 

MelliHuous. The jay, the rook, the daw. 

And each harsh pipe, disconlant heard alone. 

Aid the full concert ; while the stockdove breathes 

A melancholy murmur thniugh the whole. 

'T is love creates their nudody, and all 

This waste of music is the voice of love ; 

That even to birds and beasts the tender arts 

Of pleasing teaches. 

James Thomson. 



470 



POEMS OK NATURE. 



DOMESTIC BIRDS. 

PROM "THE SEASONS: sl'klNG." 

Till-; i':ireful hen 
Calls all her chirping family arouiul, 
Fed ami deleniled by the tearless cock, 
Whose breast with ardor llames, as on he walks, 
Graceful, and crows detiance. In the pond 
The finely checkered duck before her train 
Rows garrulous. The stately-sailing swan 
Gives out her snowy plumage to the gale ; 
And, arching proud his neck, with oary feet 
Bears forward fierce, and guards his osier-isle, 
Protective of his young. The turkey nigh. 
Load-threatening, reddens ; while the peacock 

spreads 
His every-colored glory to the sun. 
And swims in radiant majesty along. 
O'er the whole liomely scene, the cooing dove 
Flies thick in amorous chase, and wanton rolls 
The glancing eye, and turns the changeful neck. 

JAMES Thomson. 



BIRDS. 

FROM "THE PELICAN ISLAND." 

— Birds, the free tenants of land, air, and ocean, 
Their forms all synnnetry, their motions grace ; 
In plumage, delicate and beautiful, 

Tliick without burden, close as fislies' scales, 

Or loose as full-blown poppies to the breeze ; 

With wings that might have had a soul within 
tliem, 

They bore their ownei-s by such sweet enchant- 
ment, 

— Birds, small and great, of endless shapes and 

colors. 
Here flew and perched, there swam and dived at 

pleasure ; 
Watchful and agile, uttering voices wild 
And harsh, yet in accordance with the waves 
Upon the beach, the winds in caverns moaning. 
Or winds and waves abroad upon the water. 
Some sought their food among the tinny slioals, 
Swift darting from the clouds, emerging soon 
Witli slender captives glittering in their beaks ; 
These in recesses of steep crags constructed 
Their eyries inaccessible, and trained 
Their hardy hrooils to forage in all weathers : 
Others, more gorgeously apparelled, dwelt 
Among the woods, on nature's dainties feeding. 
Herbs, seeds, and roots ; or, ever on the wing. 
Pursuing insects through the boundless air : 
In hollow trees or thickets these concealed 
Their exciuisitely woven nests ; where lay 
Their callow otfsiiring, ouiet as the ilown 



On their own breasts, till from her search the 

dam 
With laden bill returned, and shared the meal 
Among her clamorous suppliants, all agape ; 
Then, cowering o'er them with expanded wings, 
Slie felt how sweet it is to be a mother. 
Of these, a few, with melody untaught. 
Turned all the air to mu.sic within hearing, 
Themselves unseen ; while bolder quiristers 
On loftiest branches strained their clarion-pipes, 
And made the forest echo to their screams 
Discordant, — yet there was no discord there. 
But tempered harmony ; all tjmcs combining. 
In the rich confluence of ten thousand tongues, 
To tell of joy and to insiiire it. Who 
Could hear such concert, and not join in chorus '. 

lAMES MONTGOMERV. 



THE MOCKING-BIRD. 

FROM "OUT OF THE CRADLE ENDLESSLY ROCKING." 

Onoe, Paumanok, 

When the snows had melted, and the Fifth- 
month grass was growing, 

Up this sea-shore, in some bi'iers. 

Two guests from Alabama, — two together, 

And their nest, and four light-green eggs, sjiotted 
with brown. 

And every day the he-bird, to and fro, near at 
hand. 

And every day the she-bird, crouched on her 
nest, silent, with bright eyes. 

And every day I, a curious boy, never too close, 
never disturbing them. 

Cautiously peering, absorbing, translating. 

" Shine ! shine ! shine ! 
Pour down your warmth, great Sun ! 
While we bask — we two together. 

" Two togethei' I 
Winds blow south, or winds blow nortli. 
Day come white, or night come black, 
Home, or rivers and mountains from home. 
Singing all time, minding no time. 
If we two but keep tugctlier." 

Till, of a .sudden. 
Maybe killed, unknown to her mate. 
One forenoon the she-biril crouched not on the 

nest. 
Nor returned that afternoon, noi' the next, 
Nor ever appeared again. 

Ami thenceforward, all summer, in the sound 
of tlie sea. 
And at night, under the full of the moon, in 
calui'M- weather. 



I'UEMS OF NATIKIO. 



471 



Over tlie hoarse siirgiiif; of the sea. 

Or Hitting IVoiii liiier to brier liy day, 

I »aw, 1 Leant at intervals, the renmining one, 

the he-hiril. 
The solitary guest from Alabama. 

" lilow ! blow ! blow I 
Blow up, sea-winils, along I'aumanok's shore ! 
1 wait and I wait, till you blow my mate to me." 

Yes, when the stars glistened, 
All night long, on the prong of a moss-scalloped 

stake, 
Down, almost amid the slapi)ing waves, 
Sat the lone singer, wonderful, causing tears. 

He called on his mate ; 
He poured forth the meanings which 1, of all 
men, know. 

"Soothe ! soothe ! soothe! 
Close on its wave soothes the wave behind. 
And again another behind, embracing and lap- 
ping, every one close, 
But my love soothes not me, not me. 

" Low hangs the moon — it rose late. 
0, it is lagging — 0, I think it is heavy with 
love, with love. 

" 0, madly the sea pushes, pushes upon the 
land. 
With love — with love. 

"0 night ! do I not see my love fluttering out 
there among the breakers ? 
What is that little black thing I see there in the 
white ? 

" Loud ! loud ! loud ! 
Loud I call to you, my love ! 
High and clear I shoot my voice over the waves ; 
.Surely you nnist know who is here, is here • 
Viiu mu^t know wlio 1 :ini, my love! 

" Low-hanging moon ! 
What is that dusky spot in your brown yellow ? 
0, it is the shape, the shaj)!: of my mate ! 
O raoon, do not keep her from me any longer. 

" Land I land ! land ! , 
Whichever way I turn, 0, I think you couM give 

me my mat"! back again, if you only would; 
For I am almost sure I see her dimly whichever 

way I look. 

"0 rising stars ! 
Perhaps the one I want so much will rise, will 
rise with .some of you. 



" O throat ! O trembling throat ! 
Sound clearer througli the atmosphere ! 
Pierce the woods, the earth ; 
Somewhere listening to catch you, must be the 
one I want. 

" Shake out, carols I 
Solitary here — the night's carols ! 
Carols of lonesome love ! Death's carols ! 
Carols under that lagging, yellow, waning moon ! 
0, under that moon, where she droops almost 

down into the sea ! 
reckless, despairing carols ! 

" But soft ! sink low ; 

Soft ! let me just murmur ; 

And do you wait a moment, you husky-noised 
sea ; 

For somewhere I believe I lieard my mate re- 
sponding to me. 

So faint — I must be still, be still to listen ; 

But not altogether still, I'or then she might not 
come immediately to me. 

" Hither, my love ! 
Here I am ! Here ! 
With this just-sustained note I announce myself 

to you ; 
This gentle call is for you, my love, for you. 

' ' Do not be decoyed elsewhere ! 
That is the whistle of the wind — it is not my 

voice ; 
That is the fluttering, the fluttering of the spray ; 
Those ai-e the shadows of leaves. 

"0 darkness ! in vain ! 
0, I am very sick and sorrowful." 

Walt wi{it.\ian. 



TO THE CUCKOO. 

Ham,, beauteous stranger of the grove ! 

Thou messenger of s|)ring ! 
Now Heaven repairs thy niral seat, 

And woods thy welcome sing. 

What time the daisy decks the green, 

Thy certain voice we hear. 
Hast thou a star to guide thy piith. 

Or mark the rolling year ' 

Dcliglitful visitant ! with thee 

I hail the time of (lowers, 
And hear the sound of music sweet 

From birds among the bowers. 



472 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



Tho scliool-boy, wandering through the wood 

To \m\\ the i>iimiose giiy, 
Stints, tho now voioo of Spring to hear, 

And iniitatos thy lay. 

Wliat time tho jiea imts on tho bloom, 

Thou lliost thy vocal vnlo, 
An amiiial guost in other lands, 

Another .sprinj; to hail. 

Swoot bird ! thy Innver is over _L;roen, 

Thy sky is ever clear ; 
Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, 

No winter in thy year ! 

O, could I tiy, I 'd ily with thee ! 

We 'd make, with joylul wing, 

Our annual visit o'oi- the globe, 

Companions of the Spring. 

John looa\. 



TO THE OrCKOO. 

O HL1TUE new-comer ! I have heanl, 

I hear thee and rejoice. 
O cuekoo ! shall I eall thee bird, 

Or but a wandering voice .' 

While I am lying on the grass 

Thy twofold shout I hear ; 
From hill to hill it seems to jviss, 

At once far oil' and near. 

Though babbling only to tho vale 
Of sunshine and of flowers, 

Thou bringost unto me a tale 
Of visionary horn's. 

Thrice welcome, darling of the spring ! 

Even yet thou art to me 
No biiil, but an invisible thing, 

A voice, a mystery ; 

Tho same whom in my school-boy d.iys 

I listened to ; that cry 
AVhioh made nu' look a thousand ways, 

In bush and tree and sky. 

To seek theo did I often rove 

Thi-ough woods aiul on the given ; 

And thou wert still a hope, a love ; 
Still longed for, never .seen. 

And I can listen to tlice yet ; 

fan lie upon the plain 
And listen, till I do beget 

That golden time again. 



O blesskl bin! ! the earth we pace 

Again appears to bo 
An unsubstantial, fairy place ; 

That is tit homo for theo ! 

William Wordsworth. 



THE BELFRY PIGEON. 

On the cross-boam under the Old .'^oufh bell 
The nest of a i>igoon is buildod well. 
In summer and winter that bird is there, 
tint and in with the morning air ; 
1 love to SCO him tnick the street. 
With his wary eye and active feet ; 
And I often wati'h him as he springs, 
Circling the steeple with easy wings, 
Till across tho dial his shade has passed, 
And the belfry edge is gained at last ; 
'T is a liinl 1 love, with its brooding note. 
And tho trembling throb in its mottled throat ; 
There's a human look in its swelling breast. 
And tho gentle curve of its lowly civst ; 
And 1 often stop with the fear I fi^el, — 
Ho runs so close to the rapid wheel. 

Whatever is rung on that noisy bell, — 
t'liimo of the hour, or funeral knell, — 
The dove in tho belfry must hoar it well. 
When tho tongue swings out to the inMnight 

moon, 
Wlu'U the sexton choorly lings for noon. 
When tho clock strikes clear at morning I'glit, 
When tho child is waked with "nine at niKht," 
When tho chimos play soft in the Sabbatt air. 
Filling the spirit with tones of prayer, — 
Whatever tale in the bell is heard. 
Ho broods on his folded feet unstirred. 
Or, rising half in his ronndod nest, 
He takes the time to .smooth his breast. 
Then droiis again, with lilir.i'd eyes. 
And sleeps as the bust viliration dies. 

Swoot bii\l ! I would that 1 could bo 
.\ hermit in the crowd like thee ! 
With wings to Ily to wood and glen. 
Thy lot, like mine, is oast with men ; 
And daily, with unwilling loot, 
I tread, like thee, tho crowded street, 
Uut, unlike mo, when day is o'er, 
Tliou canst dismiss the world, and soar: 
Or, at a half-felt wish for rest, 
Canst smooth the I'oathoi-s on thy breasl. 
And drop, forgetful, to thy nest. 

1 would that in such wings of gold 
1 could my weary heart upfold ; 
I would I could look down unniovod 
(rnlovingas 1 am unloved), 
Aiul while the world throngs on beneath, 
Sinootli down mv caivs and calinlv bi-eathe : 



I'UEMS OF NATLRli. 



473 



AnJ novel' sail willi iillieis' hiuIiichs, 
And ucvfr gluil witli otln'is' jjludni'SH, 
l.istrn, un.slinvil, to knell or I'liinie, 
And, lap|iud in ipiiit, biile my time. 

NATIlANIhL I'AKKLK WILLIS. 



TIIK SKYI.AKK. 



^. 



(^inn of tlie wildoiiK'Ss, 

Blitliesonu! imd (:uml)erli'.ss, 
Sweet be tliy niiitin o'er moorliunl :iiid leu ! 

Kniblem of liiiii|iiness, 

Ulest is lliy dwellinf;-plii(;e, — 
0, to abide in the desert with thee ! 

Wild is thy lay and limd 

Far in the downy elond, 
Lovo ^ives it energy, love gave it birtli. 

Where, on tliy dewy wing, 

Wliere art thou journeying ! 
Thy lay is in hi^iven, thy loV(^ is on eiirtli. 

O'or fell ami fountain shei'ii. 

O'er moor and mountain green. 
O'er the red streannr that heralds the day, 

Over the cloudlet dim, 

Over the rainbow's rim, 
Musieiil ehenili, soar, singing, away ! 

Then, when the gloaming <'omes. 

Low in the heather blooms 
Sweet will thy wehonn' and bed of love be ! 

Emblem of happiness, 

Blest is thy d\velling-]>la(:e, — 
0, to abide in the desert with thee ! 

jAMIiS HUCG. 



TO TIIK SKYLARK. 

'Hafi, to tliee, blithe spirit I 

Hird thou never wert. 
That I'rom heaven, or near it, 
I'ourest tliy full lu'art 
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. 

Higher still anil higher 

From the I'arth thou springest, 
Like a I'loud of lire ; 

The blue deep thou wingest, 
And singing still dost s(«ir, and soaring ever 
singest. 

In tho golden lightning 

Of the setting sun, 
O'er which clouds arc brightening, 

Thou dost float and run ; 
Like an unboiiied Joy whose race is just begun. 



'I'lie [pale purple even 

Welts around thy llight ; 
Like a stai' of heaven, 

In the broad daylight 
Thou art uiisi'eii, liiit yet 1 liear thy shrill <lelight 

Kcc'n as are thi! arrows 

Of that silver sphere, 
Whose inteii.se lamp narrows 

In the white dawn clear, 
Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there. 

All tile earth and air 

With thy voic-c is loud, 
A.s, when night is bare, 
From one lonely cloud 
The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is 
overflowed. 

What thou alt we know not ; 

What is most iiki; thee > 
From raiiiliow clouds there. How not 

Drops so bright to .see, 
As from thy iHcseiiee showers a rain of melody. 

Like a ]>cii t hidden 

In the light of thought. 
Singing liyiiiiis unliidileii. 

Till, the worM is wrought 
To sympathy with liojies and fears it lieeded not ; 

Like a high-born maiden 

In a palace tower. 
Soothing her lovedadon 
Soul in .secret hour 
With iuu.sic sweet us love, which overflows her 
bovver ; 

Like a glow-worm golden. 

In a dell of di'W, 
Scattering unbeholden 
Its aerial hue 
Among the flowers and grass which screen it 
from the view ; 

Like a rose embowered 

In its own green leaves, 
liy warm winds dellowered. 
Till the scent it gives 
Makes faint with too mm h sweet these heavy- 
wingM thieves. 

.Sound of vernal showers 

On the twinkling grass, 
Uain-awakened llowers, 

All tliat ever was 
Joyous and fre.sh and clear thy music doth sur- 

JHLSS. 



474 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



Teacli us, sprite or bird, 

What sweet thoughts are thine ; 

I have never heard 
Praise of love or wine 
That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine. 

Chorus hymeneal. 

Or triumphant chant. 
Matched with thine, would be all 
But an empty vaunt, — 
A thing wherein we feel there is some hiddeu 
want. 

What objects are the fountains 

Of thy happy strain ? 
What fields, or waves, or mountains ? 
What shapes of sky or plain ? 
What love of thine own kind ? What ignorance 
of pain ? 

With thy clear, keen joyance 

Languor cannot be : 
Shadow of annoyance 

Never come near thee : 
Thou lovest ; but ne'er knew love's sad satiety. 

Waking or asleep, 

Thou of death must deem 
Things more true and deep 
Than we mortals dream, 
Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal 
stream ? 

We look before and after. 

And pine for what is not ; 
Our sincerest laughter 

With some pain is fraught ; 
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest 
thought. 

Yet if we could scorn 

Hate and pride and fear, 
If we were things born 

Not to shed a tear, 
I know not how thy joy we ever should come near. 

Better than all measures 

Of delightful soun<l, 
Better than all treasures 
That in books are found, 
Thv skill to poet were, thou scorner of the 
ground ! 

Teach lue half the gladness 

That thy brain must know, 
Such harmonious madness 
From my lips would flow, 
The world should listen then, as I am listening 
now, 

ESUCV BVSSIIE SHtLLEV. 



HARK, HARK! THE LARK. 

FROM " CVMBELINE," ACT II. SC. 3. 

H.iitK, hark ! the lark at heaven's gate sings, 

And Phcebus 'gins arise. 
His steeds to water at those springs 

On chaliced flowers that lies ; 
And winking Mary-buds begin 

To ope their golden eyes ; 
With everything that pretty bin, 

My lady sweet, arise ; 
Arise, arise I 

SHAKESPEARE. 



TO THE SKYLARK. 

Ethereal minstrel ! pilgrim of the sky ! 

Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound ? 
Or, wliile the wings aspire, are lieart and eye 

Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground ? 
Thy nest, which thou canst drop into at will. 
Those quivering wings composed, that music still ! 

To the last point of vision, and beyond. 

Mount, daring warbler ! — that love-prompted 
strain, 

'Twixt thee and thine a never-failing bond. 
Thrills not the less the bosom of the plain ; 

Yet mightst thou seem, proud privilege ! to sing 

All Independent of the leafy spring. 

Leave to the nightingale her shady wood ; 

A privacy of glorious light is thine. 
Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood 

Of liarijiony, with instinct more divine ; 
Type of the wise, who soar, but never roam, — 
True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home ! 

WILLIAM WOKDSU'uKTH. 



ANSWER TO A CHILD'S QUESTION. 

Do you ask what the birds say ? The sparrow, 

the dove. 
The linnet, and thrush say "I love, and 1 

love !" 
In the winter they 're silent, the wind is so 

strong ; 
What it says I don't know, but it sings a loud 

song. 
But green leaves, and blossoms, and sunny 

warm weather. 
And singing and loving — all come back to- 

getlier. 
But the lark is so brimful of gladness and love, 
Tile green fields below him, the blue sky above, 
Tli;it lie sings, and he sings, and forever sings he, 
'■ I love my Love, and my Love loves ine." 

SAMUEL Taylor r ouRincE, 



POEMS OF NAiriu:. 



47r. 



THE ENGLISH R013IX. 

See yon robin on the spray ; 

Look ye how liis tiny I'orni 
Swells, as when his merry lay 

Gushes forth amid the storm. 

riiough the snow is falling fast, 
Sjieoking o'er his coat with white, — 

Though loud roars the chilly blast. 
And the evening 's lost in night, — 

Yet from out the darkness dreary 
toineth still that cheerful note ; 

Praisefvd aye, and nevei' weary. 
Is that little warbling throat. 

Tlinnk him for his lesson's sake, 
Thank God's gentle minstrel there, 

Who, when storms make others c|uake. 
Sings of days that brighter were. 

Harrison Weir. 



THE BOBOLINK. 

Bobolink ! that in the meadow. 
Or beneath the orchard's shadow, 
Keepest up a constant rattle 
Joyous as my children's piattle, 
Welcome to the north again ! 
Welcome to mine ear thy strain, 
Welcome to mine eye the sight 
Of thy buff, thy black and white ! 
Brighter plumes may greet the sun 
By tlie banks of Amazon ; 
Sweeter tones may weave the spell 
Of enchanting Philomel ; 
But the tropic bird would fail, 
An<l the KnjjUsli nightingale. 
If we should coni|iare their worth 
With thine endless, gushing mirth. 

When the ides of May are past, 
.lune and suujnier Hearing fast. 
While from depths of blue above 
<-'omes the mighty breath of love. 
Calling out each bud ami (lower 
With resistless, secret power, — 
■Waking hope and fond desire. 
Kindling the erotic tire, — 
Filling youths' ami maidens' dreams 
With mysterious, pleasing themes ; 
Then, amid the sunlight clear, 
Floating in the fragrant air. 
Thou dost fill each heart with pleasure 
By thy glad ecstatic measure. 



A single note, so sweet and low. 
Like a full heart's overflow, 
Kiirms the prelude ; but the strain 
tiives us no such tone again ; 
For the wild and saucy song 
Leaps iuid skips the notes among, 
With such riuick and sportive play. 
Ne'er was madder, merrier lay. 

Gayest songster of the spring ! 
Thy melodies before me bring 
Visions of some dream-built land. 
Where, by constant zephyrs fanned, 
I might walk the livelong day. 
Embosomed in perpetual May. 
Nor care nor fear tliy bosom knows ; 
For thee a teni()est never blows ; 
But when our northern summer 's o'er, 
By Delaware's or .Schuylkill's shore 
Tlie wild rice lifts its airy head, 
And royal fea.sts for thee are spread. 
And when the winter threatens there, 
Thy tireless wings yet own no fear. 
But bear thee to more southern coasts, 
Far beyond the reach of frosts. 

Bobolink ! still may thy gladness 
Take from me all taints of sadness ; 
Fill my soul with trust unshaken 
In that Being who has taken 
Care for every living thing, 

summer, winter, fall, and spring. 

THOMAS HILL. 



THE O'LINCOLN FAMILY. 

A FLOCK of merry singing-birds were sporting in 
the grove : 

Some were warbling cheerily, and some were 
making love : 

There were Bobolincon, Wadolincon, W^inter- 
seeble, Conquedle, — 

A livelier set was never led by tnbor, pipe, or 
fiddle, — 

Crying, " Phew, shew, Wadolincon, see, see, 
Bobolincon, 

Down among the tickletops, hiding in the but- 
tercups ! 

I know the saucy chap, I see his shining cap 

Bobliing in the clover there, — see, see, see ! " 

Up flies Bobolincon, perching on an apple-tree. 
Startled by his rival's song, quickened by his 

raillery ; 
Soon he spies the rogue afloat, curvetting in tlie 

air. 
Ami merrily he turns about, and warns him In 

beware ! 



476 



rOEMS Ol- NAll KK. 



" 'T is you timt wo\iKl ii-\vooing go, down among 

the rushes O ! 
But wait a week, till tUnvers are cheery, — wait 

rt week, and, ei-e you many. 
Be sure of a house wherein to tarry ! 
Wadoiink, Whiskodink, Tom IViiny, wait, wait, 

wait ! " 

Every one 's a funny fellow ; every one 's a little 

mellow ; 
Follow, follow, follow, I'ollow, o'er the hill and 

in the hollow ! 
Merrily, merrily, there they hie ; now they rise 

and now they lly ; 
They eivss and turn, and in and ont, and down 

in the miildle, and wheel about, — 
With n " Phew, shew, Wadolineou ! listen to 

me, IVdiolineon I — 
Happy "s the wooing that 's speedily doing, that 's 

speedily doing, 
That 's merry and over with the lilooni of the 

elover ! 

Bobolineon, Wadolineon, Winterseelile, follow, 

follow me ! 

Wilson Fu\v;o. 



TIIK TKl.l.TAl.E. 

OscK, ou a golden afternoon, 

With radiant faees and hearts in tune, 

Two fond lovers in divaming mood 

Threaded a rnr;il solitude. 
Wholly happy, they only knew 
That the earth was bright and the sky was blue, 

That light and beauty and joy ami song 

Charmed tin* way as they passetl along : 
The air was lingnmt with woodland scents ; 
The sipiiritd fiisked ou the ivadside fence ; 

And hovering near them, "Chee, ehec, 
chink !" 

Queried the curious iHilndink, 
Pausing and jwering with sidelong head. 
As saucily questioning all they sjiid ; 

While the ox-eye danced on its slender 
stem. 

And all glad natuit? rejoiced with them. 
l")ver the odorous lieUls weiv strowu 
Wilting w indrows of gi-ass new-mown. 

And rosy billows of elover bloom 

Surged in the sunshine and breathed per- 
fume. 
Swinging low on a slender limb. 
The sjvirrow warbled his wedding hymn. 

And, luilancing on a blacklxriy-brier. 

The bolxiliuk sung with his heart on liiv, — 
" Chink > If you wish to kiss her. do ! 
Po it, do it ! Yon eowanl, you I 

Ki.ss her ! Kiss, kiss her ! Who will sec ' 

Only we three ! we three ! we thn-e I " 



Umler pirlands of drooping vines, 
Through dim vistas of sweet-breathed pines, 
Past wide meadow-tields, lately mowed, 
Wandeivd the indolent country road. 
The lovei's followed it, listening still, 
Aud, loitering slowly, as lovers will, 

Kntered a low-roofed briilge that lay. 
Dusky aud cool, in their pleasant way. 
Under its aivh a snuioth, brown stream 
Silently glided, with glint and gleam. 
Shaded by graceful ilms that spreail 
Their venlnrovis lauopy overhead, — 
The stream so narrow, the bonghs so wide. 
They nu>t and mingled across the tide. 
Alders kned it, and seemed to keep 
Patient watch as it lay asleep, 
Jlirroriug clearly the trees and sky 
Aud the Hitting form of the dragon-lly. 

Save wheiv the swift-winged swallow played 
In and out in the sun and shade. 
And darting ami circling in merry chase, 
nipped, and diui)ilcd its clear dark lace. 

Fluttering lightly from brink to brink 

Followed the garrulous bobolink, 

liallying loudly, with mirthful din, 
The pair who lingered unseen within. 

Ami when tivm the friendly bridge at last 

Into the road beyoiul they passed, 

Agiiu beside them the tcm|itci' went. 
Keeping the thread of his argument ; — 

'• Kiss her 1 kiss her ! chink-a-chee-chee ! 

I '11 not mention it ! Kou't mind me ! 
1 '11 be sentinel — I can see 
All around from this tall birch-tree ! " 

Uut ah ! they noted — nor decuu'd it stnuige — 

In his rollicking chorus a trilling change ; 
" Uo it ! do it I " with might and main 
Warbled the telltale — " l>o it again ! " 

ANOXV-MOUS. 

— ' » 
HOBKliT OK I.INCOLX. 

MKi;i;tl.Y swinging on brier and weed, 
Near to the nest of his little dame, 
liver the mountain-side or mead, 

Kobert of Lincoln is telling his name : 
nobo'-link, btib-o'-link, 
Spink, sjwnk, spink ; 
Snug and side is that nest of ours. 
Hidden among the snuHuer How-el's. 

Chee, chee, chec. 

liobert of Lincoln is gixyly divssed. 

Wearing a bright black wedding coat ; 
White aiv his shouldei-s ami white his crest, 
Hear him call in his merry note : 
I5ob-o'-liuk, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, spank, spink ; 



POKMS Ol' NATURE. 



477 



Look, wliat a nice new cont is niini% 
Suiv there wiu never a bird su lint'. 

Clice, cliee, tlico. 

Hubert of I.imuln'a Quiilior wife, 

Pivtty ami ciuiet, witli pliiiii brown wings, 
i'lussin^' at liona' a [Kitient life, 

lirooils in tln^ grass whilu liur liusband sings: 
lidb-o'-liiik, bob-o'4ink, 
.Spink, s|iank, spiuk ; 
Uroml, kind creature ; you need not fear 
Tliievcs and robbera wliile 1 am liero. 
Clice, cliue, cliee. 

Modest and sliyas a nun is slic, 

One weak cliirp is her only note, 
liraggart and priin'c of braggarts is he, 
I'ouring boasts from his little throat : 
Hob-o'-link, bob-o"-link, 
Spink, spank, spink ; 
Never was I afraid of man ; 
Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can. 
Chee, chee, chee. 

Six white eggs on a lied of hay. 

Flecked with ]iurple, a pretty sight ! 
There as the mother sits all ilay, 

Hobert is singing with all his might : 
Hob-o'.link, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, spank, spink ; 
Nice good wife, that never goes out. 
Keeping house while 1 frolic about. 

Chee, chee, chee. 

Soon as the little ones chip the shell 

Si.x wide mouths ari' open for fiunl ; 
Itobeit of Lincoln bestirs him well, 
(lathering seed for the hungry broo<l. 
Hob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, spank, sjiink ; 
This new life is likely to be 
llai-d for a gay young fellow like me. 
t'hee, chee, dice. 

Kobcrt of Lincoln at length is made 

Sober with work, and silent with care ; 
(.•If is his holiday garment laid. 
Half forgotten that merry air, 
Hob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, Hpank, spink ; 
Nobody knows but my mate and I 
Where our nest and our nestlings lie. 
f'hce, chee, chee. 

Summer wanes ; the children are grown ; 

Fun and frolic no more he knows ; 
Kobert of Lincoln's a humdrum crone ; 

Oir he flies, and we sing a» he goes : 



Hob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, 
.Spink, spank, spink ; 
When you can pipe that merry old strain, 
Robert of Lincoln, come back again, 
(-'hee, chee, chee. 
William cullen Bryant. 



THE HEATH-COCK. 

Ooiiii morrow to thy sable beak 
And glossy plumage dark and sleek. 
Thy crimson moon and azure eye. 
Cock of the heath, so wildly shy : 
I see thee slyly cowering through 
Thai wiry web of silvery dew. 
That twinkles in the morning air, 
Like casements of my lady fair. 

A maid there is in yonder tower. 
Who, |ieeping from her eaily bower. 
Half shows, like thee, her simple wile, 
Her braided hair and morning smile. 
Th(> rarest things, with waywiii-d will, 
Beneath the covert hide them still ; 
The rarest things to break of day 
Look shortly forth, and shrink away. 

A lli'i'ting iiiiimcnt of delight 
1 suuni'il me in her cheering sight; 
As short, I ween, the time will be 
That 1 shall ]mrley hold with (hee. 
Tlirough .Snow<lon's mist red bcanrs the day, 
The climbing herd-boy chants his lay. 
The gnat-llies dance their sunny ring, — 
Thou art already on the wing. 

J(M.\.\A DAILLta. 



PEHSLVEUANCE. 

A SWALLOW in the spring 
Came to our granary, and 'ni'ath the eaves 
Essayed to make a nest, and there did bring 

Wi't earth and straw ami leaves. 

IJay after day she toiled 
With patient art, but ere herwork was crowned. 
Some .sad mishap the tiny fabriL' spoiled. 

Anil dashed it to the ground. 

.She fiMiiid the iiiiii wrought, 
Hut, not cast down, forth from the place she Hew, 
.\ud with herniate fresh i-artli and grasses brought 

Ami built her- m-st arii-w. 

Hut scarcely had .shi^ plaited 
The last soft feather on its ample lloor. 
When wicked hand, or chance, again laid waste 

And wrought the ruin o'er. 



478 



rOEMS OK NATIKE. 



l!iil still lior lio:iit slu' Uopt, 
Ami toiled iijjaiii. — iiiul lust iii,i;lit, lu'iuiiii; imUs, 
1 looUi'il, ami lo I thi'W littli' swiiUdws slrjit 

Witliiii tlu' iMiili-inaiU' walls. 

Wlial tnitli is Iumv, (> lunii ! 
Uatli hiipt' luH'ii smitten ill its eaily ilawii ' 
Have elmiils o'ereast tliy iiiu|iose, trust, or plan / 

Have liiitb, luul struggle on ! 

K. s. s. Anuko--. 



THE WINGEO \voi!si;irrKHs. 

[.\d\)r«&sed lo twi> swallows lliat llcw imo tl»c Cliaiincy I'l.u. 
Churcll iturillg divil\e servicc.l 

Oay, guiltless ]>i\ir. 
What seek ye I'liun the lieUls of lieiiven ( 

Ye have no lu'ed of luayer ; 
Ye have no sins to be I'oigiven. 

Why pervli ye here. 
Whoix> mortiils to theii- Maker lieiiil ! 

Can yovir puix- spirits IV'ar 
The (lOil ye never eonhl otl'eml ' 

Ye never knew 
Tlie eriines for wliieh we eonte to weep. 

Penanee is not for you, 
Blessed wamleivrs of the ii/i/vr (/<r/). 

To yon 't is given 
To wake sweet Naluri''s nntaiight hij-s ; 

Ueneath the aivh of heaven 
To ehirp away a life of jiniise. 

Then sim-ad oaeh wing 
Far, far above, o'er hikes and hinds, 

And join the elioirs that sing 
In yon bine dome not ivaivd with hands. 

Or. if ye stay, 
To note the eonseeniled boiir, 

Ti'aeh me the airy way. 
And let nie try your enviinl iKuvor. 

AKive the eivwd 
On upwai\l wings eouUl I but lly. 

I "d Imlhe in yon bright eloud. 
And seek the stars that gem the sky. 

'T weiv heaven indeed 
Thixmgh tields of tmekless light to s«U', 

On N'atuiv's eharnis to IVhiI, 
And Natui\<"s own givat Ooil «doix>. 

CHAKt.i^s srKAC.rn. 



•run sw.u.i.ow. 

TlIK gorso is yellow on the heath, 

'Phe Imnks with speedwell Ihnvers are gay, 
The oaks arc budding ; and beneath, 
The hawthorn soon will bear the wreath, 
The silver wreath of May. 

The weleome guest of .settled spring. 
The swallow too is eome at last ; 

•hist at. sunset, when thrushes sing, 

1 saw her ihisli with nipid wing. 
And hailed her as she passed. 

Come, siiininer visitant, attaeh 

To my ived-ixiof thy nest of elay. 
And let my ear thy iiuisie eateli. 
Low twittering underneath the lliateh. 
At the gray dawn of day. 

As fables tell, an Indian sage. 

The Hindustani woods among, 
Could in his desert hermitage. 
As if 't weiv marked in written [lagi?. 

Translate the wild biixi's song. 

I wish 1 did his power (-vossess. 

That 1 might learn, lleet biixl, from thee, 
What our vain systems only guess. 
And know trom what wild wilderness 

Thou earnest o'er the sea. 

ClUKLOTIli SMITH. 



THE DErAKTUHE OK THE SWALLOW. 

AjJli is the swallow gone ? 

Who In-held it ! 

Whieli way sjiiletl it t 
Faivwell Ivide it none .' 



No mortal saw it go ; — 

Hut who doth hear 

Its summer elieer 
As it tlitteth to and fixi ? 

So the freed spirit Hies ! 

Fivm its snrrxnmding clay 

It steals away 
Like the swallow fivm the skies. 

Whither t wlieirfoiv iloth it go f 

Tis all unknown ; 

We feel alone 
That a voi>l is left Iwlow. 

WlLl.l.\M IIOWIT 



rOKMS OK NATi:iu;. 



471) 



TO A NIGHTINGALE. 

SwF.F.T bird I that sing'st nway tho nirly linnis 
Of winters past or <'iiiiiiiig, void of onn: ; 
Well pleaseil with di'liglits wliiidi piescnt aio, 
I'liir seasons, l)iiddiiig sjimys, sweet-sinelliiig 

iUiwers ; 
To loeks, to spring's, to lills, fioTii leafy bowers 
Tlioii thy Creator's goodness dost declare, 
And what dear gifts on thee he did not simre, 
A stain to lunnan sense in sin that lowers. 
AVhat soul ean he so siek wliieh by thy songs 
(.\ttired in sweetness) sweetly is not driven 
yuito toforgetearth'sturnioils, spiles, and wrongs, 
And lift a reverent eye and thought to IwMiven ? 
Sweet, artless songster ! thou my niiinl dost raise 
To airs of spheres, —yes, an<l to angels' lays. 
William urummono. 



TIIK N'lCHTlNGALK. 

The rose looks out in the valley, 

And thither will I go ! 
To the rosy vale, where the nightingale 

Sings his song of woe. 

The virgin in on the riverside. 

Culling the lemons pale : 
Thither, — yes ! thither will 1 go, 

To the rosy vale, where the nightingale 
Sings his song of woe. 

The fairest fruit her hand hath eulleil, 

'T is for her lover all : 
Thither, — yes ! thither will I go, 

To the rosy vale, where the nightingale 
Sings his song of woe. 

In her hat of straw, for her gentle swain, 
Shu has placed the lemons pale : 

Thither, — yes! thither will I go, 

To the rosy vale, where the nightingale 
Sings his song of woe. 

From the Por(U(fuc -■ of GIL VlCF.NTn. 
Traiijilation of Jon.N BOWkrNG. 



THK NIGHTIXGALE. 

PllIZF, thou the nightingale. 
Who soothes tliee with his tale. 
And wakes the woods around ; 
A singing feather lie, — a winged and wandering 
.sound ; 

Whose tender carolling 
Sets ttll ears listening 
Unto that living lyre, 
Whence flow the airy notes his ecstasies inspire ; 



Whoso shrill, capricious song 
lireathes like a flute aloni;, 
Willi many a careless tone, -- 
Music: of thousand tongues, formed liy one tongue 
alone. 

() clmrniiiig creature rare ! 
('an iiught with thee compare '( 
Tliou art all .song, — thy breast 
Thi'ills for one month o' the year, — is trani|uil 
all the rest. 

Thee wondrous we may call, — 
Most wondrous this of all, 
That such a tiny throat 
Should wake so loud a sound, and pour so loud 
a note. 

From the Dutch of MARIA TliSSHLSCHADP. VISSCIIER. 
Tninblnlion of John Bowrinc. 



PHILOMKLA. 

IIahk ! ah, the nightingale ! 
The tawny-throated ! 

Hark ! from that moonlit cedar what a burst '. 
What triumph ! hark, — what pain ! 
O wanderer from a Grecian shore. 
Still, — after many year.s, in distant lands, — 
Still nourishing in thy bewildered brain 
That wild, uiii|iicnclieil, deep-sunken, (IM-World 
pain, — 

Say, will it never heal ? 
And can this fragrant lawn. 
With its cool trees, and night. 
And the sweet, tranipiil Thames, 
And moonshine, and the dew, 
To thy ra(d<(!d heart and brain 

Allbrd no balm ? 

Dost thou to-night behold, 
Here, tlirough the moonlight on this English 

grass, 
The iiiirriendly palace ill the Thracian wild ( 

Dost thou again peruse, 
With hot cheeks and seared eyes, 
The too clear web, and thy dumb sister's shame? 

Dost thou once more essay 
Thy flight ; and feel come over thee, 
I'oor fugitive ! the feathery change 
Once more ; and once more make resound. 
With love and hate, triiimpli ami agony, 
1/one Daulis, and the high I ephisian vale ? 
Listen, Eugenia, — 
How thick the bursts come crowding through 

the leaves ! 
Again — thou licnrest I 
Eternal |>assion I 
Eternal pain ! 

MATTIieW ARNOLD. 



480 



I'OEMS OF NATinUv 



TO THE NUniTlXGALIC. 

As it fell upon a day, 

111 the ineri'y month of May, 

Sitting ill a jilpasant shailo 

Which a grove of myitlos iniule, 

Beasts dill leais and birds ilid sing, 

Trees did grow, and [ihints did spring ; 

Everything did liaiiish moan, 

Save the nightingale alone. 

She, poor bird, as all forlorn. 

Leaned her breast np-till a thorn ; 

And there sung the doleful'st ditty 

That to hear it was great pity. 

Fie, fie, fie ! now would she cry ; 

Teru, tern, by and by ; 

That, to hear her so complain. 

Scarce I could from tears refrain ; 

For her griefs, so lively shown, 

Ma<le me think upon mine own. 

Ah ! (thought 1) thou mourn'st in vain ; 

None takes pity on thy pain ; 

Senseless trees, they cannot hear thee ; 

Ruthless bears, they will not cheer thee ; 

King Paiidioii, he is dead ; 

All thy friends are lapped in lead : 

All thy fellow-birds do sing. 

Careless of thy sorrowing ! 

Whilst as fickle I'ortuiio smiled, 

Thou and I were both beguiled, 

Every one that (hitters thee 

Is no friend in misery. 

Words are easy, like the wind ; 

Faithful friends are hard to find. 

Every man will be tliy friend 

Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend ; 

But, if stoies of crowns be scant, 

No man will supply thy want. 

If that one be prodigal. 

Bountiful they will him call ; 

And, with such-like llattering, 

" rity but he were a king." 

If he be addict to vice, 

Quickly him they will entice ; 

lint if Fortune once do frown, 

Then farewell his great renown : 

Tliey that fawned on him before, 

Use his company no more. 

He that is thy friend indeed. 

He will help thee in thy need ; 

If thou sorrow, he will weep, 

If thou wake, he cannot sleep. 

Thus, of every grief in heart. 

He with thee doth bear a part. 

These are certain signs to know 

Faithful friend from llattering foo. 

Richard Barnfield. 



THE PELICAN. 



TROM "THE PELICAN ISLAND." 



At early dawn I marked them in the sky. 
Catching tlie morning colors on their plumes ; — 
Not in voluptuous pastime revelling there. 
Among the rosy clouds, while orient heaven 
Flamed like the opening gates of Paradise, 
Whence issued forth the angel of the sun, 
And gladdened nature with returning day : 
— Eager tor food, their searching eyes they fixed 
On ocean's unrolled volume, from a height 
That brought iinnu'ii.sity within their .scope ; 
Yet with such power of vision looked they down, 
As tliougli they w^atched the shell-fish slowly 

gliding 
O'er sunken rocks, or climbing trees of coral. 
On indefatigable wing upheld. 
Breath, pulse, existence, seemed suspended in 

them : 
They were as jiictures painted (ui the sky ; 
Till suddenly, aslant, away they shot. 
Like meteors changed from stars to gleams of 

lightning, 
And struck upon the deep, where, in wild play. 
Their quarry fioundered, unsn.specting harm ; 
With terrilile voracity, they plunged 
Their heads among the atl'righted shoals, ami beat 
A tempest on the surges with their wings. 
Till fiashing idouds of foam and spray concealed 

thciii. 
Nimbly they seized and secreted their prey. 
Alive and wriggling in the elastic net, 
Which Nature luiiig beneath theirgrasping beaks, 
Till, swollen with captures, the unwieldy burden 
Clogged their slow llight, as heavily to land 
These mighty hunters of the deep returned. 
There on the crjigged dilfs they perched at case, 
l^orging their hapless victims one by one ; 
Then, full and weary, side by side they slept, 
Till evening roused them to the chase again. 

Love found that lonely couple on their isle. 
And soon surrounded them with blithe compan- 
ions. 
The noble birds, with skill spontaiieous, framed 
A nest of reeds among the giant-.grass. 
That waved in lights and shadows o'er the soil. 
There, in sweet thraldom, yet niiweening why. 
The i>aticnt dam, who ne'er till now had known 
Parental instinct, brooded o'er her eggs, 
Long ere she found the curious secret out. 
That life was hatching in their brittle shells. 
Then, from a wild rapacious bird of prey. 
Tamed by the kindly process, she became 
That gentlest of all living things, — a mother ; 
Gentlest while yearning o'er her naked youn.g, 
Kiercest when stirred by anger to defend tlieui. 



POEMS OK NA'l'UHK 



481 



Hi'i nmtc liimself the softpiiing power confessed, 
Forgot lii.s blotli, ri'stniirii'il liis uiipotitf, 
And ranged the sky luiil lisli<'d llio streuiii lor licr. 
Or, wlien o'trwearied Nature forced lier olf 
To shake lier torpid feathers in the l)reeze, 
And hathe her liosoni in tlie cooling Hood, 
He took her phice, and felt through every nerve, 
AVhilc the phini[> nestlings throbbed against his 

heart. 
The tenderness that makes the vulture mild ; 
Yea, half unwillingly his post resigned, 
AVhen, homesick with the absence of an hour, 
She hurried back, and <lrove him from her seat 
With iwcking bill and cry of fond distress. 
Answered by him with mnrniurs of delight, 
Whose gutturals harsh to her were love's own 

music. 
Then, settling down, like foam upon the wave. 
White, tlickering, ell'erves('ent, soon subsiding, 
Her ruffled ]iinions smootlily she composed ; 
And, while beneath the comfort of her wings. 
Her crowded jaogeny ipiite tilled the nest, 
The halcyon sleeps not sounder, when the wind 
Is breathless, and the sea without a curl, 
— Nor dreams the haleyon of serener days, 
Or nights more beautiful with silent stars. 
Than in that hour, the mother ]ieliean, 
Wlien the warm tumults of afl'ection sunk 
Into calm sleep, and drejinisof what they were, — 
Dreams more delicious than reality. 
He sentinel beside her stood, anil watched 
With jealous eye the raven in the clouds. 
And the rank sea-mews wheeling round the clilfs. 
Woe to the reptile then that ventured nigh ! 
The snap of his tremendous bill was like 
I'eath's scytlie, down-cutting everything it 

struck. 
The hecdles.' lizard, in his gambols, ]ieepcd 
Upon the guarded nest, from onl the llowers. 
Hut paid the instant forfeit of his life ; 
Nor could the serpent's subtlety elndi' 
Capture, when gliiling by, noi in defence 
Might his malignant fangs and venom save him. 

Erelong the thriving brooil outgrew their 
cradle. 
Ran through thegntss, and dabljkd in the pools ; 
No sooner denizens of earth than made 
Free both of air and water ; ilay by day. 
New lesson.s, exercises, and amusements 
Kniployed the old to teach, the young to learn. 
Now lloating on the blue lagoon beh(jlil them ; 
The sire and dam in swan-like benuty steering, 
Their cygnets following through the loamy wake, 
I'icking the leaves of plants, pursuing insects, 
<Jr catching at the bubbles as they broke : 
Till on some minor fry, in rceily shallows, 
AVith fla[iping pinions and unsparing beaks. 



The well-taught scholars pliiul their double art, 
To fish in troubled waters, and si'cure 
The petty captives in their maiden jiouches ; 
Then hurried with their bani|Uet to the shore, 
With fi'ct, wings, breast, half swimming and 

half Hying. 
IJut when their pens gri'W strong to light the 

storm, 

AikI bulfct with the breakers on the reef. 

The [larents put them to severer proof: 

I )n beetling rocks the little ones weie marshalled; 

There, by en<leannents, strijies, exami)le, urged 

To try the voiil convexrty of heaven. 

And plough the ocean's horizontal Held. 

Tiuiorcjus at first they fluttered rouml the verge, 

lialanced and furled their hesitating wings, 

Then put them forth again with steadier aim ; 

Nnw, gaining courage as they felt the wind 

Dilate their feathers, fill their airy frames 

With buoyancy that bore them fnun their foot, 

Tliey yielded all their burden to the breeze, 

And .sailed and soa red wliei e'er their guardians led; 

Ascending, hovering, wheeling, or alighting, 

They searched the deep in ijuest of nobler game 

Than yet their iuexpericuice had encountered ; 

With these they battled in that element, 

Where wings or lins were equally at home. 

Till, conc|Uerors in many a desperate strife, 

They dragged their spoils to land, and gorged at 

leisure. 

James Montoomerv. 



TO A WATKRFOWL. 

WiiiTHKK, midst falling dew. 
While glow the heavens with the last steps of 

day, 
Far, through their rosy depths, dost Ihou iiiirsuc 

Thy solitary way ? 

Vainly the fowler's eye 
Might mark thy ilistant flight to do thee wrong, 
A.S, darkly painted on the crimson sky. 

Thy figure floats along. 

Si^ek'st thou the jihishy brink 
Of weedy laki', or niaigc of river wide. 
Or where the loeUiiig billows rise and sink 

On the chafed ocean-side I 

There is a Power whoso caro 
Teaches thy way along that pathless coast, — 
The de.sert and illimitable air, — 

Lone wandering, but not lost. 

All day thy wings have fanned. 
At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, 
Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome laud, 

Though the dark night is near. 



482 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



And soon that toil sliall end ; 
Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest, 
And scream among tliy fellows ; reeds sliall bend, 

Soon, o'er thy sheltered nest. 

Thou 'rt gone, the abyss of heaven 
Hath swallowed up thy form ; yet, on my heart 
Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given. 

And shall not soon depart : 

He who, from zone to zone. 
Guides through the boundless sky thy certain 

flight. 
In the long way that I must tread alone. 
Will lead my steps aright. 

William Cullen Bryant. 



TO A BIRD 

THAT HAU.NTED THE WATERS OF LAAKE.M LV THE WINTER. 

MELANCHOLY bird, a winter's day 

Thou standest by the margin of the pool, 
And, taught by God, dost thy whole being 
school 

To patience, which all evil can allay. 

God has appointed thee the tish thy prey, 
And given thyself a lesson to the fool 
Unthrifty, to submit to moral rule. 

And his unthinking course by thee to weigh. 
There need not schools nor the professor's cliair. 

Though tliese be good, true wisdom to impart ; 
He who has not enough for these to spare. 

Of time or gold, may yet amend his lieart, 
And teach his soul by brooks and rivers fair, — 

Nature is always wis in every part. 

EDWARD HOVEL, LORD THUKLOW. 



THE SANDPIPER. 

Across the narrow beach we flit, 

One little sandpiper and I ; 
And fast I gather, bit by bit, 

The scattered driftwood bleached and dry. 
The wild waves reach their hands for it. 

The wild wind raves, the tide runs high. 
As up and down the beach we Hit, — 

One little sandpiper and I. 

Above our heads the sullen clouds 

Scud black and swift across the sky : 
Like sdent ghosts in misty shrouds 

Stand out the white light-houses high. 
Almost as far as eye can reach 

I see the close-reefed vessels fly, 
As fast we flit along the beach, — 

One little sandpiper and I. 



I watch him as he skims along. 

Uttering his sweet and mournful cry ; 
He starts not at my fitful song. 

Or flash of fluttering drapery ; 
He has no thought of any wrong. 

He scans me with a fearless eye. 
Stanch friends are we, well tried and strong, 

The little sandpiper and I. 

Comrade, where wilt thou be to-night 

When the loosed storm breaks furiou. 'v ? 
My driftwood-fire will burn so bright .' 

To wluit waini shelter canst thou fly ! 
I do not fear for thee, though wroth 

The tempest rushes through the sky : 
For are we not God's children both. 

Thou, little sandpiper, and I ? 

Celia Thaxter. 



THE LITTLE BEACH BIRD. 

Thou little bird, thou dweller by the sea, 
Why takest thou its melancholy voice ? 
Why with that boding cry 
O'er the waves dost thou fly ? 
0, rathei', liird, with me 
Through the fair land rejoice ! 

Thy flitting form comes ghostly din, and pale. 
As driven by a beating storm at sea ; 
Thy cry is weak and scared. 
As if thy mates had shared 
The doom of us. Thy wail — 
What does it bring to me ? 

Thou call'st along the sand, and haunt' st the surge. 
Restless and sad ; as if, in strange accord 
With motion and with roar 
Of waves that drive to shore. 
One spirit did ye urge — 
The Mystery — the Word. 

Of thousands thou both sepulchre and pall, 
Old ocean, art ! A requiem o'er the dead. 
From out thy gloomy cells, 
A tale of mouining tells, — 
Tells of man's woe and fall, 
His sinless glory Hed. 

Then turn thee, little bird, and take thy flight 
Where the CQmpUuuing .sea shall sadness bring 
Thy spirit nevennoie. 
Come, qiut with me the shore. 
For gladness and the light, 
Where birds of summer sing. 

Richard henry Owa 



POEMS OF NATl.Ri;. 



483 



THE STOKXIY PETREL. 

\^A THorsAND miles from land are we, 
Tossing about on the stormy sea, — 
From billow to bouniliny billow cast. 
Like fleecy snow on the stormy blast. 
The sails are scattered abroad like weeds ; 
The strong masts shake like quivering reeds ; 
The mighty cables anil iron chains, 
The hull, which all earthly strength disdains, — 
They strain and they crack ; and hearts like stone 
Their natural, hard, proud strength disown. 

Up and down ! — up and down ! 

From the base of the wave to the billow's crown. 

And amidst the flashing and feathery foam 

The stormy petrel finds a home, — 

A home, if such a place may be 

For her who lives on the wide, wide sea, 

On the craggy ice, in the fiozen air. 

And only seeketh her rocky lair 

To warm her young, an<l to teach them to spring 

At once o'er the waves on their stormy wing ! 

O'er the deep ! — o'er the deep ! 
Where the whale and the shark and the sword- 
fish sleep, — 
Outflying the blast and the driving rain, 
The petrel telletli her tale — in vain ; 
For the mariner curseth the warning bird 
Which bringeth him news of the storm unheard ! 
Ah ! thus does the prophet of good or ill 
Meet hate from the creatures he serveth still ; 
Yet he ne'er falters, — so, petrel, spring 
Once more o'er the waves on thy stormy wing ! 
Bryan w. Procter [Barry Cortt-waii). 



LINES TO THE STORMY PETREL. 

(The lark sings for joy in her own loved land. 
In the furrowed field, by the breezes fanned ; 

And so revel we 

In the furroweil sea, 
As joyous and ghul as the lark can be. 

On the placid breast of the inland lake 
The wild duck delights her pa.stinic to take ; 

But tlie petrel braves 

The Willi ocean waves. 
His wing in the foaming billow he laves. 

The halcyon loves in tlie noontide beam 
To follow his siKjrt on the tranquil stream : 

He fishes at ease 

In the sunnner breeze, 
Rut we go angling in stormiest sea-s. 



No song-note have we but a piping cry, 

That blends with the storm when the wind is liigli. 

When the land-birds wail 

We sport in the gale. 
And merrily over the ocean we sail. 

ANONYMOUS. 



THE EAGLE. 



A FRAGMKNT. 



He clasps the crag with hooked hands ; 
Close to the sun in lonely lands, 
Ringed with the azure world, he stands. 

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls ; 
He watches from his mountain walls, 
And like a thunderbolt he falls. 

ALFRED TENNYSON. 



THE OWL. 

In the hollow tree, in the old gray tower, 

The spectral owl doth dwell ; 
Dull, hated, despised, in the sunshine hour, 

But at dusk he 's abroad and well ! 
Not a bird of the forest e'er mates with him ; 

All mock him outright by day ; 
But at night, when the woods grow still and dim. 

The boldest will shrink away ! 

C, when the 7iiffht falls, and roosfs tfic foivl, 
Then, Own, is the reign of tlie hornid owl I 

And the owl hath a bride, who is fond and bold. 

And loveth the wood's deep gloom ; 
And, with eyes like the shine of the moonstone 
cold. 
She awaiteth her ghastly groom ; 
Not a feather she moves, not a carol she sings, 

As she waits in her tree so still ; 
But when her heart heareth his flapping wings, 
She hoots out her welcome shrill ! 

0, when the moon shines, and dogs do howl. 
Then, then, is the joy of the hornid owl .' 

Mourn not for the owl, nor his gloomy plight ! 

The owl hath his share of good : 
If a prisoner he be in the broad daylight. 

He is lord in the dark greenwood ! 
Nor lonely the bird, nor his ghastly mate, 

They are each unto each a piide ; 
Thrice fonder, perhaps, since a strange, dark fate 
Hath rent them from all beside ! 

So, when the nig/U fulls, and dogs do howl. 
Sing, ho I for llie reign of the Iwrnid owl I 
We know not alway 
Who are Icings by day. 
But the king of the night isthe bold brown owl! 

BRYAN W. Proctrr {Barry CeymvaU). 



'484 



POEMS OF NATIUE. 



TO THE HUJIBLEBEE. 

BuKi,y, dozing liumblebee ! 
Where thou art is clime I'oi- me ; 
Let tliem sail ibr Porto Ri(iue, 
Far-otr liciits througli seas to seek, 
I will follow thee alone, 
Thou animated torrid zone ! 
Zigzag steerer, desert cheerer, 
Let me chase thy waving lines ; 
Keep me nearer, me thy hearer, 
Singing over shrubs and vines. 

Insect lover of the sun, 
Joy of thy dominion ! 
Sailor of the atmosphere ; 
Swimmer through tlie waves of air. 
Voyager of light and noon. 
Epicurean of June ! 
Wait, I prithee, till I come 
Within earshot of thy huni, — 
All without is martyrdom. 

When the south-wind, in May days. 
With a net of shining haze 
Silvers the liorizon wall ; 
And, with softness touching all, 
Tints the human countenance 
With the I'olor of romance ; 
And infusing subtle heats 
Turns the sod to violets, — 
Thou in sunny solitudes, 
Rover of the underwoods, 
The green silence dost displace 
With thy mellow breezy bass. 

Hot midsunnner's petted crone. 
Sweet to me thy di'owsy tone 
Tells of countless sunny hours. 
Long days, and solid banks of flowers ; 
Of gulfs of sweetness without bound, 
In liuliau wildernesses found ; 
Of Syrian jieace, immortal leisui'e. 
Firmest cheer, and birdlike pleasure. 

Aught unsavory or unclean 
Hath my insect never seen ; 
But violets, and bilberry bells. 
Maple saji, and dalfodels. 
Grass with greeu flag half-mast high, 
Succory to match the sky. 
Columbine witli horn of honey. 
Scented fern, and agrimony. 
Clover, catchfly, adder's-tongue, 
And brier-roses, dwelt among : 
All beside was unknown waste, 
All was picture as he jiassed. 
Wiser far than human seer, 
Yellow-breeched philosopher. 



Seeing only what is fair. 
Sipping only what is sweet. 

Thou dost mock at fate and care. 
Leave the chaff and take the wheat. 

When the fierce northwestern blast 

Cools sea and land so far and fast, — 

Thou already slumberest deep ; 

Woe and want thou canst outsleep ; 

Want and woe, which torture us. 

Thy sleep makes ridiculous. 

Ralph Waldo emeusov. 



A SOLILOQUY: 

OCCASIONED BY THE CUIRPl.VG OF A CRASSHOPPEK. 

H.\ri>Y insect ! ever blest 
With a more than mortal rest, 
liosy dews the leaves among, 
Humble joys, and gentle song ! 
Wretched poet ! ever curst 
With a life of lives the worst, 
Sad despondence, restless fears, 
Endless jealousies and tears. 

Ill tlie burning summer thou 
Warblest on the verdant bough, 
Meditating cheerful play, 
Mindless of the piercing ray ; 
Scorched in Cupid's fervors, I 
Ever weep and ever die. 

Proud to gratify thy will, 
Ready Nature waits thee still ; 
Balmy wines to thee she pours, 
Weeping through the dewy flowers, 
Rich as those by Hebe given 
To the thirsty sons of heaven. 

Yet, alas, we both agree. 
Miserable thou like me ! 
Each, alike, in youth rehearses 
Gentle strains and tender verses ; 
Ever wandering far from home, 
Mindless of the days to come 
(Such as aged Winter brings 
Tremliling on his icy wings), 
Both alike at last we die ; 
Thou art starved, and so am I ! 

Walter Harte 



THE GRASSHOPPER. 

Happy insect ! what can be 
In happiness compared to thee ? 
Fed witli nourishment divine. 
The dewy morning's gentle wine I 
Nature waits upon thee still, 
And thy verdant cup does fill ; 
'T is filled wherever thou dost ti'ead, 
Nature's self's thy Ganymede. 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



485 



Tliou (lost drink mid dance niiil sing, 

Hnppier tlmn tlio happiest king ! 

All the liuMs wbiuli thon <li)st see, 

All the plants belong to thee ; 

All the sunnner hours produce, 

Kirtile made with early juice. 

Man for thee does sow and plough, 

Farmer he, and landlord thou ! 

Thou dost innocently joy. 

Nor does thy luxury destroy. 

The shepherd ghully hcareth thee, 

More harmonious tlian he. 

Thee country hinds with gladness hear. 

Prophet oV the ripened yeai' I 

Thee Pluebus loves, and does inspire ; 

Phiebus is himself thy sire. 

To theo, of all things upon earth, 

Life is no longer than thy mirth. 

Happy in.sect ! hajipy thou 

Dost neither age nor winter know ; 

But when thou 'st drunk ami ilanced and sung 

Thy till, the llowery leaves among, 

(Voluptuous and wise withal, 

Kpicurean animal !) 

Sated with thy summer feast. 

Thou retir'st to endless rest. 

From llie Greek of ANACRKON. Trans- 
Ijition of AUKAHAM COWLEV. 



sweet and tiny cousins, that belong, 
One to the lields, the other to the hearth, 
liotli have your sunshine ; both, though small, 

arc strong ' 
At your clear hearts ; ami both seem given to 

earth 
To sing in thoughtful ears tliis natural song, — 
lu doors and out, suninicr and winter, mirth. 

Leigh Hu.nt. 



THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET. 

The poetry of earth is never dead ; 

When all the birds are faint with tlie hot sun 

And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run 

From hedge to hedge alx)ut the new-mown mead. 

That is the grasshopper's, — he takes the lead 

In summer luxury, — he has never done 

With his delights ; for, when tired out with fun. 

He rests at ease beneath .some pleasant weed. 

The poetry of earth is ceasing never. 

On a lone winter evening, when the frost 

Has wrought a silence, from the stove there 

shrills 
The cricket's song, in warmth increasing ever. 
And seems, to one in drowsiness half lost, 
The grasshopi>er's among some grassy hills. 

John Kbats. 
• 

TO THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET. 

Green' little vaulter in the sunny grass. 
Catching your heart up at the fed of June, — 
Sole voice that's heard anii<lst the lazy noon, 
When even the bees lag at the .summoning brass ; 
And you, warm little housekeeper, who class 
With those who think the candles come too soon. 
Loving tlie lire, and with your tricksome tune 
Nick the glad silent moments as they pa-ss ! 



THE CRICKET. 

Little inmate, full of mirth. 
Chirping on my kitchen hearth, 
Wheresoe'er be thine aljodo 
Always harliinger of good. 
Pay me for thy warm retreat 
With a song more soft and sweet ; 
In return thou shalt receive 
Such a strain as I can give. 

Thus thy praise shall be expressed, 
Inolfensive, welcome guest ! 
While the rat is on the scout, 
And tile mouse with curious snout, 
With what vermin else infest 
Every dish, and spoil the best ; 
Frisking thus before the fire. 
Thou hast all thy heart's desire. 

Though in voice and shape they be 
Formed as if akin to thee. 
Thou surpassest, haiijiier far, 
Hap]iiest gra.sslioppers that are ; 
Theirs is but a sunnner's song, — 
Thine endures the winter long, 
Unimi)aired and shrill and clear, 
Melody throughout the year. 

Neither night nor d.awn of day 
Puts a period to thy play : 
Sing then — and extend thy span 
Far beyond the date of man. 
Wretched man, whose years are spent 
In repining discontent. 
Lives not, aged though he be. 
Half a span, compared with thee. 

WILLIAM COWPLR. 



TO AN INSECT. 

I i.ovF. to hear thine earnest voice. 

Wherever thou art hid. 
Thou testy little dogm.atist, 

Thou pretty Katydid ! 
Thou mindest me of gentlefolks, — 

Old gentlefolks are they, — 
Thou say'st an undisputed thing 

In such a solemn way. 



48G 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



Tliou art a female, Katydiil ! 

I know it by tin- trill 
That (luivci's tliroiigli thy pioiving notes, 

So iit'tuh\nt ;inil shi'ill. 
1 think tlu'iv is ii knot of you 

IWni'iitli tho hollow tieo, — 
A knot of siiinsti'i- IvalyiliJs, — 

l\i KiityiliiU ilrink tea ? 

O, tell nil' whoii" did Kiily live, 

And what did Knty do '. 
And w:is slie very fair and yonng. 

And yet so wieked too ? 
Dill Katy love a nanglity man, 

Or kiss more eliei'k.'- than one ? 
I warrant Katy did no more 

Than many a Ivate has done. 

tni\l-R WENDELL HOLMES. 



TO A LOUSE, 

ON SEEING ONE ON A l.ADVS UONNKT AT CHURCH, 

Ha ! whare ye gi\nn, ye erawlin' forlio? 
Your impudence protei'ts you sairly ; 
1 canna say Init ye strunt raivly 

Owre gauze an' lace ; 
Though, faith ! 1 I'ear ye dine but sparely 

On sie a place. 

Ye ugly, ereepiu', blastit wonner, 
Detested, shunned by saunt an' sinner. 
How dare you .set your lit upon her, 

Sae fine a lady ? 
Gae somewhere else, and seek your dinner 

On some poor body. 

Swith, in some beggar's hall'et .squattle ; 
Theiv ye may creep and spniwl ami sprattle 
Wi' ither kindred. Jumping cattle. 

In shoals and nations : 
Whai"e horn nor kme ne'er daur unsettle 

Your thick plantations. 

Now ha\nl you there, ye 're out o' sight, 
Helow the fatt'rels, snug an' tight ; 
Na, faith ye yet ! ye "11 no lie right 

Till ye'vc got on it. 
The Tery tapmost tow'riug height 

0' Miss's bonnet. 

Jly sooth ; right bauld ye set your noso out. 
As plump and gniy as oiiy grozet j 

for some rank, nn>rcnri;il rozet, 

Or fell, red smedduni ! 

1 'd gie yon sic a hearty .dose o't, 

\Vad dress vour droddum ! 



I wad na been surprised to spy 
You on an auld wife's Hauneu toy ; 
Or aiblins some bit duddie boy, 

t1ii 's wyliecoat ; 
But Jliss's lino l.unardi, lie ! 

How daur ye do 't ? 

.lenny, dinua toss your head, 
An' set yom- beauties a' abivad ! 
Ye little ken what cursed speed 

The lihustie 's makin' ! 
Thao winks and tinger-ends, I dread, 

Are notice takin' ! 

O wad some power the giftie gie us 

To see oui'sd's as ithers see us ! 

It wad fiac uumie a blunder free us. 

And foolish notion : 
\Vliat airs in dress aH'g;iit wad Ica'e us. 

And ev'n devotion I 

KouuRr ncRNS. 



REMOX.STKANCE WITH TllK SNAILS. 

Ye little smvils, 
With slippery tails. 
Who iu>ise!e.ssly travel 
Along this gravel. 
By a silvery path of slinu- unsiglitly, 
I learn that you \'isit my pea-rows nightly. 
Kelonious your visit, I guess ! 
And 1 gi\e you this warning, 
That, e\'ery uuHiiing, 

I '11 strictly examine the pods ; 
.\nd if one 1 hit on. 
With slaver or spit on, 

Your next meal will be with the gods. 

I own you 're a very ancient race. 

And Givece and Babylon were amid ; 
You have tenanted nuiuy a royal dome. 

And dwelt in tlu' oldest pyramid ; 
The source of the Nile ! — 0, you have been there ! 

In the ark was your lloodless bed ; 
On the moonless night of Marathon 

You crawled o'er the mighty dead ; 

Bntslill, though 1 reverence your ancestries, 
I don't see why you should nibble my peas. 

The meadows are yours, — the hidgcrow and 
brook. 

You may bathe in their dews at morn ; 
By the aged sea you may sound your shcth. 

On the mountains erect your horn ; 
The fruits and the llowers areyour rightful dowel's, 

Then why — in the name of wonder — 
Should my six pea-rows be the only cause 

To excite your niidniglit phiudcr ! 



I'DKMS Ol'' NATCIIK. 



487 



1 Imvo never ilistnibi'il ymir slundur Bhells ; 

Yon liaVL' liiing imind my agcil walk ; 
Ami t'ltcli might liuvr siit, till liii iliuJ in his fitl, 

HcMiruth his own I'lililmnc-slulk : 
l!ut niiwyou mnst lly frum thi! .suildrydiiisiix'H ; 

Thi'n pnt on yoiii' liveliest cmwl, 
And think ul' your poor littlr sniiilH at liumc, 

Now orphans ur uniigrant8 all. 

UtomiiU domestic and livil ami sm-ial 
I give you an cvruing to jMuk np ; 
I'liit it till' moon III' thix night dnos not I'lxi; on 
yonr llight, 
To-nionow I 'II hang each man Jack up. 
Yon 'II think of my peiLS and your thievish 

trii'ks, 
With tears of slinm, wlien crossing the Slijx. 

Anonvmoos. 



T}IK IIOUSEKKEI'ER. 

The frngnl snail, with lorocast of repose, 
Carrie.H his house with him whene'er he goes ; 
I'eeps out, — and if there eomes a shower of 

rain, 
IJetreats to his stnall doniii'ile again. 
Touch hut u tip of him, a horn, — 't is well, — 
III' curls up in his sanctuary shell, 
lie 's his own landlord, his own tenant ; stay 
Long as he will, he dreads no Quarter Day. 
llimselt' he iKtards and lodges ; both inviti^s 
And feasts himself ; sleejis with himself o' nights. 
ilc spares the upholsterer trouble to procure 
Chattels ; himself is his own furniture, 
And his sole riches. Wheresoe'er he roam, — 
Knock when you will, — he's sure to be at 

home. 

CilAui.es Lamu. 



TO A MOSQUITO. 

Kami insect, that, with thrciddike legs spread 
out. 
And blood-c.xtraetiug bill, and filmy wing. 
Dost niurninr, as thon slowly sail'st alunt, 

In pitiless ears, full many a plaintive thing. 
And tell'st how little onr large veins should 

bleed. 
Would we but yield tlicni freely iji thy need ; 

1 call thee stranger, for the town, I ween, 
lIuH not the honor of so proud a birth ; 

I'liou eom'st from Jersey meadows, broad and 
green, 
The offspring of the gods, though lx)rn on earth. 



At length thy pinions lluttcred in Broadway, — 
Ah, there were fairy steps, and white nocks 
kissed 
By wanton airs, and eyes whose killing ray 
Shone through the snowy veils like stars 
through mist ! 
And, fresh as morn, on nniny a cheek and chin- 
Ulooniod the bright blood through the transjiar- 
ent skin. 

O, these weie sights to touch an anchorite ! — 
What, do I hear thy slender voice complain ? 

Thou wailest, when I talk of lieaiity's light, 
As if it brought the memory of pain ; 

Thou art a wayward being, - well, come near. 

And pour thy tale of .sorrow in my ear. 

What say'st thou, slanderer '! " Kiiuge makes 
thee sick. 
And China bloom at best is sorry food ; 
And Rowland's Kalydor, if laid on thick, 

I'oisous the thirsty wretch that bores for 
blood " ? 
flo, 'twas a just reward that met thy crime, — 
But shun the sacrilege another tinn;. 

Tlmt bloom was made to look at, not to toucli, 
To worshi]!, not approach, that radiant white ; 

And well might sudden vengeance light on such 
As daied, like thee, most impiously to bite. 

Thou shonhlst have gazed at distance, and ad- 
mired, 

Murmured thy adoration, iirid retired. 

Thou 'rt welr'omc to the town ; but why come here 
To bleed a brothel' poet, gaunt liki' thiM' J 

Alas ! the little blood I have is dear. 

And thin will bi^ the baiii|uet drawn from nie. 

hook round, - the pale-eyed sisters, in my cell. 
Thy old aci|iiaintii?ii'e. Song and Kiiniine, dwell. 

Try some plump alderman : and suck the blood 
Knriched with generous wine and costly meat ; 

In well-lilli'd skins, soft as thy native mud, 
Kix thy light pump, and raise thy freckled feet. 

Oo to the men for whom, in ocean's halls. 

The oyster breeds, and the green turtle sjirawls. 

There corks are drawn, and the red vintage Hows, 
To fill the swelling veins for thee ; and now 

The ruddy cheek, and now the ruddier nose. 
Shall tempt thee as thou llittest round the 
brow ; 

And when the hour of sleep its ipiiet brings. 

No angry hand shall rise to brush thy wings. 

Wn.l.IAM C'UM-T'.N IlkVANT. 



488 



POEMS OK NATURE. 



PAN IN LOVE. 

Nay ! if you will not .sit uimn my knee, 
Lie on that bank, and listt-n wliili' 1 [ilay 
A sylvan song ii|ion thes« ri-edy iPipes. 
In tliB full niuonrise as I lay last night 
Under the alders on Peneus' hanks, 
Dabhling my hoofs in the eool stream that welled 
Wine-dark with gleaniy rijujles round their roots, 
I made the song tlie while 1 shaped the [lipes. 
'T is all of you and love, as you shall hear. 
The drooping lilies, as I sang it, heaved 
Upon their broad green leaves, and umlerneatli, 
Swift silvery lishes, poised on quivering lins, 
Hung motionless to listen ; in the grass 
Tlie eriekets ee.ised to shrill their tiny bells ; 
And even the nightingale, that all the eve, 
Hid in the grove's deep green, had throbbed and 

thrilled. 
Paused in his strain of love to list to mine. 
liaeehus is handsome, but such songs as this 
He cannot shape, and bettor loves the clash 
Of brazen cymbals than my reedy pijies. 
Fair as he is without, he 's coarse within, — 
Gross in his natuie, loving noise and wine. 
And, tipsy, half the time goes reeling round 
Leaning on old .Silenus' shoulders fat. 
But 1 have scores of songs that no one knows, 
Not even Apollo, no, nor Mercury, — 
Their strings can never sing like my sweet 

pipes, — 
Some, that will make fierce tigers rub their fur 
Against the oak-trunks for delight, or stretch 
Their plump sides for my pillow on the sward. 
Some, that will make the satyrs' clattering hoofs 
Leap when they hear, and from their noonday 

dreams 
Start up to stamp a wild and frolic dance 
In the green shadows. Ay ! and better songs, 
Made for the delieato nice ears of nymphs, 
Whii'h while 1 sing my pipes shall imitate 
The droning bass of honey-seeking bees. 
The tinkling tenor of clear pebbly streams, 
Tlie breezy alto of the ahler's sighs, 
And all the airy sounds that hill the grove 
When noon liills fast asleep among the hills, 
^or only these, — for I can pipe to you 
Songs that will make the sli|ipery vipers jiause, 
And stay the stags to gaze with their givat eyes ; 
Such songs — and you shall hear them if you 

will — 
That Bacchus' self would give his hide to hear. 
If you '11 but love me every day, I '11 bring 
The coyest flowers, such as you never saw. 
To deck you with. I know- their secret nooks, — 
They cannot hide themselves aw.ay from Pan. 
And you shall have rare garlands ; and your bed 
Of fragrant mosses shall be sjuinkled o'er 



With violets like your eyes, — just for a kiss. 
Love me, and you shall ilo whate'er you like. 
And shall be tended wheresoe'er you go. 
And not a beast sliall hurt you, — not a toad 
But at your bidding give his jewel uji. 
The speckled sliinijig snakes shall never sting. 
But twist like bracelets round your rosy arms, 
And keep your bosom cool in the hot noon. 
You shall have berries ripe of every kind, 
And luscious peaches, and wild nectarines. 
And sun-llecked apricots, and honeyed dates, 
And wine from bcc-stung grapes, drunk with the 

sun 
(Such wine as Bacchus never tasted yet). 
And not a poisonous plant shall have the power 
To tetter your white tlesh, if you '11 love Pan. 
And then 1 '11 tell j'ou tales that no one knows ; 
Of what the pines talk in the summer nights. 
When far above you hear them niunnuring. 
As they sway whispering to the lilting breeze ; 
And what the storm shrieks to the -struggling 

oaks 
As it flies through them Inirrying to the sea 
From mountain crags and elifls. t)i', wlien you 're 

sad, 
I '11 tell you tales that solenm cypresses 
Have whispered to me. There 's not anything 
Mid in the woods and dales and dark ravines, 
.Shadowed in dripping caves, or by the shore. 
Slipping from sight, but I can tell to you. 
Plump, dull-eared Bacchus, thinking of himself, 
Never can catch a syllable of this ; 
But with my shaggy ear against the grass 
1 hear the secrets hidden underground. 
And know how in the inner forge of Earth, 
The pulse-like hammers of creation beat. 
Old Pan is ugly, rough, and rude to see. 
But no one knows such .secrets as old Pan. 

William Wetmore sroRV. 



GOD EVERYWHERE IN NATURE. 

How desolate were nature, and how void 
Of every charm, how like a naked waste 
Of Africa, were not a [U'esent Goil 
Beheld employing, in its various scenes. 
His active might to animate and adorn ! 
Whart life and beauty, when, in all that breathes. 
Or moves, or grows, his hand is viewed at w^ork ! 
When it is vieweil unfolding every bud. 
Each blossom tingeing, shaping every leaf. 
Wafting each cloud that passes o'er the sky, 
Rolling each billow, moving every wing 
That fans the air, and every warbling throat 
Heard in the tuneful woodlands ! In the least 
As well as in the greatest of his works 



FRAGMENTS. 



489 



Is ever nmiiircst his presence kiiici ; 
As well ill swiiniis of glittering insects, seen 
Quick to nud fro within ii foot of air, 
Dancing a merry Iiour, then seen no more, 
As in the systems of resplendent worlds, 
Through time revolving in unbounded space. 
His eye, while comprehending in one view 
The whole creation, (ixes full on me ; 
As on me shines the sun with his full blaze, 
While o'er the hemisphere he spreads the same. 
His hand, while liolding oceans in its palm. 
And compassing the skies, surrounds my life, 
Guards the poor rushlight from the blast of death. 

Carlos Wilcox. 



FRAGMENTS. 

God and Nature. 
Nature, the vicar of the almightie Lord. 

Atitmbly 0/ FouUi. CHAUCER. 

'T is elder Scripture, writ by God's own hand : 
Scripture authentic ! uncorrupt by man. 

Nteht Thoughts, \i^hl ix. DR. E. YOUNG. 

To the solid ground 
Of nature tnists the Mind that builds for aye. 

MticelUtneout Somuri. . WORDSWORTH. 

The course of nature is the art of God. 

A'lr-A/ Thoughts, \ighl Ix. DR. E. VouNC. 

For Art may err, but Nature cannot miss. 

The Cock tttid Fox. Drvden. 

Who can paint 
Like Nature ? Can imagination boast, 
Amid its gay creation, hues like hers ? 

The Seasons : Sprtng, THOMSON. 

All nature is but .art, unknown to thee ; 

All chance, direction, which thou canst not see ; 

All discord, harmony not undei-stood ; 

All partial evil, universal good ; 

And sjjito of pride, in erring rea-son's spite. 

Olio truth is clear. Whatever is, is riglit. 

Fstay on Man, Epistle I. POPE. 

What more felicitie can fall to creature 
Than to enjoy deliglit with libertie. 
And to be lord of all the workes of Nature, 
To raine in th' aire from earth to highest skie. 
To feed on flowres and weeds of glorious feature. 

The Fate of the Butterfly, SPENSER. 

Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze, 
Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees. 

Lisay on Man, Eftstle I. I'OPE. 



The meanest floweret of the vale. 
The simplest note that swells tlie gale, 
The common sun, the air, the skies, 
To him are opening paradi.se. 

Ode: On the Pleasure arising from VtcissitutU. T. GRAY. 

All are but parts of one stupendous whole. 
Whose body Nature is, and God the soul. 

Essay on Man, Epistle t. I'OPE. 



Country Life. 

But on and up, where Nature's heart 
Beats strong amid the hills. 

Tragedy o/ the Lac (U Gaube. LORD HOUGHTON. 

Far from gay cities and the ways of men. 

Odyssey, Book lAV, Translation 0/ PoVZ, HOMER. 

I care not. Fortune, what you me deny : 
You cannot rob mo of free Nature's grace. 

The Castle of Indolence, Cant. ii. THOMSON. 

for a seat in some poetic nook, 

Just hid with trees and sparkling with a brook. 

Politics and Poetics. LEIGH HUNT. 

And this our life, exempt from public haunt. 
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running 

brooks. 
Sermons in stones, and good in everything. 

As Vou Like It, Act il. Sc. i. SHAKESPEARE. 

As in the eye of Nature he has lived, 
So in the eye of Nature let him die ! 



The Old Cumberland Beggar, 



WORDSWORTH. 



Fair Exchange no RonnEiiY. 

I 'II example you with thievery : 
The sun 's a thief, and with his great attraction 
Kobs the vast sea ; the moon 's an arrant tliief. 
And her Jiale fire she snatches from the sun : 
The sea 's a thief, whoso licpiid surge resolves 
The moon into salt tears : the earth 's a thief. 
That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen 
From general excrement : each thing 's a thief. 

Timon of Athens, Act iv. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE. 



Light and the Sky. 

Sweet Pliosjihor, bring the day ; 
Light will repay 
The wrongs of night ; 

Sweet J'hosphor, bring the day ! 

Emblems, Book i. F. QUARL&S. 

But soft ! methinks I scent the morning air. 

Hamlet. Act i. Sc, 5. SHAKESPP.ARE. 



4<)0 



I'OEMS OF NATUHlv 



Night wanes, — the vapors round the mountains 

eurleil 
Melt into morn, and light awakes the world. 

Lara. BVRON. 

So sinks the day-star in the ocean-bed, 

And yet anon repairs his drooping head. 

And ti'ieks his beams, and with new-spangled ore 

p'lanies in the forehead of the morning sky. 

Lyciiias. MlLTON. 

But yonder eomes the powerfid King of Day 
Rejoicing in the east. 

Tlu SrasMis ; Summfr. THOMSON. 

Night's candles are burnt out, and jocnnd day 
Stands tiptoe on the misty mouutain-tops. 

Rtrntoanityulirl, .•/</ iii. if. s- SUAKESPEARE. 

Clothing the palpable and familiar 
With golden exhalations of the dawn. 

Tttt Death i^/ Ifalteuiltiu, Aai.Sc.l. S. T. COLERIDGE. 

Oh ! "darkly, deeply, heautifuUy blue," 
As some one somewhere sings about the sky. 

Don yuan. Cant. iv. BVRON. 

The soft blue sky did never melt 
Into his heart ; he never felt 
The witchery of the soft blue sky ! 

Peter Bell. WORDSWORTH. 

One of those heavenly days that cannot die. 

Nitttin£, WORDSWORTH. 

By day or star light thus from my fii-st dawn 
Of childhood didst tliou intertwine fur me 
The passions that build up our human soul. 



The Encursien : Th^ Prelueie. 



WORDSWORTH. 



Jlor.MNG. 

The glow-worm shows the matin to be near, 
And 'gins to pale liis uneffectual fire. 

Hamlet. Act i. Se. 5. SHAKESPEARE. 

Fled 
Murmuring, and with him fled the shades of night. 

rara.lise Lest. B>\yJt iv. MILTON. 

Till morning fair 
Came forth with pilgrim stejis in amice gray. 

Paradist Re^at>te.i. AVv* iv. MILTON. 

Jlorn, 
Waked by the circling hours, with rosy hand 
Unbarred the gates of light. 

Para.^ise Li>s.. H^v^vu ' MiLTON. 

Under tlie opening eyelids of the morn. 

LynJai. MILTON. 



The sun had long since in the lap 
Of Thetis taken out his naji. 
And, like a lobster boiled, the morn 
From black to red began to turn. 

Hudiliras, Part II. Cant. \\. DR. S. BUTLER. 

Now morn, her rosy steps in the eastern clime 
Advancing, sowed tlie eartli with orient pearl, 
When Adam waked, so customed, for his sleep 
Was aery-light, from pure digestion bred. 

Paradise Lost. Baai v. MI I. TON, 

Up rose the sonne, and up rose Emelie. 

CanUrtrury Tales ; The Knightes Tale. ClIACCER. 

The meek-eyed Morn appears, mother of dews. 

The Setuons : Summer. THOMSON. 

Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet 
With charm of earliest birds ; pleasant the sun, 
When first on this dcliglitfiil land he .spreads 
His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and llower, 
Glistering with ilew. 

Paradise Lost. BiMiXv. MILTON. 

No tears 
Dim the sweet look that Nature wears. 

Sunrise on the Hills. LONGFELLOW. 

This morning, like flic spirit of a youth 
That means to he of note, begins betimes. 

Antony and Cleopatra. Act iv. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE, 

Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive, 
But to bo young was very Heaven ! 

Tht Prelude, Book j\. Wordsworth. 



Evening. 

Behold him setting in his western skies. 
The sliadows lengthening as the vapors rise. 

Absalom and ..tchitofhel. Part I. DRVDEN. 

Now sunk the snn ; the closing hour of day 
Came onward, mantled o'er with sober gray ; 
Nature in silence bid the world repose. 

The Hermit. T. PaRNELL. 

Parting day 
Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues 
Willi a new color as it gasps away. 
The last still loveliest, till — 't is gone — and al! 
is gray. 

Chtlde Har,M. Cant. iv. B^•RO^. 

The day is ilone, and the darkness 

Falls from the wings of Niglit, 
As a feather is wafted downward 

Fron\ an eagle in his (light. 

The Day ts Done. LONGFELLOW. 



I'KAGMKNTS. 



491 



Meek Nature's cvi'iiing conimelit on tliu shows 
Tliiil for oblivion take their Jaily hirth 
Fruin all the fuming vanities of earth. 

ikyPrsiftcl/rom Iht flam of Frantt. WoRDSWnKTH. 

Swec!t the noniin;; on 
Of grateful evening milil ; then silent nij;ht 
With tliis hui' solenni bird unci this I'liir moon, 
And these the gems of heaven, her starry train. 

r,iratttsi Lait, hook'w. Ml LI ON. 

The star that bids the shepherd fold. 

Comus. MILTuN. 

The dews of the evening most carefully shun. 
Those tears of the sky for the loss of the sun. 



Advict to a Lady in .■iittuinn. 



tnuSTERFIELO. 



It is the hour when from the boughs 
The nightingale's high note is heard 

1 1 is the hour when lovers' vows 
Seem sweet in every whbpereJ word. 



Now spurs the latcd traveller apace, 
To gain the timely inn. 



Ma€Mh, A(l iii. Sf. 3. 



SHAKESPHAREi, 



Night. 

How beautiful is night ! 
A dewy freshness tills the silent air ; 
Ko mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor 
stain, 
Breaks the serene of heaven : 
In full-orbed glory, yonder moon divine 
Kolls through the dark-blue depths. 
Beneath her steady ray 
The desert-circle spreads, 
Like the round ocean, girdled with the .sky. 
How beautiful is night ! 

Jliataba. SOUTHtV. 

I'his sacred shade and solitude, what is it ? 
T is the felt pi-esence of the Deity. 

By night an atheist half believes a God. 

.Wtgkl Thaughls, Night w. DH. E. YOUNG. 

Night, sable goddess ! from her ebon throne, 
In raylcss majesty, now stretches forth 
Her leaden sceptre o'er a sliunbering world. 

I^ifht Tkotightt, StgMV OH. E. VOUNC. 

All is gentle ; naught 
itirs rudely ; but, congenial with the night, 
iVhatever walks is gliding like a spirit. 
/V4'< 0/ Vmitt. Byron. 



In the dead vast and middle of the night. 

Hainltl, Act I. Sc. a. SHAKHSI'P.ARB. 

'T is now tlio very witching time of night. 
When churchyards yawn, and Hell itself 

breathes out 
Contagion to this world. 

Hamltl, Act lil. Sc. a. SIIAKHSI'UARB. 

Ham. The air bites shrewdly ; it is very cold. 
Holt. It is a nipping and an eager air. 

HamUI. AcH.Sc.t. SHAKESPHAKE 



TuE Moon. 
There does a sable cloud 
Turn forth her silver lining on the night, 
And cast a gleam over this tufted grove. 

U/<iuj. Milton. 

The dews of summer nights did fall. 
The moon, sweet regent of the sky, 

Silvered the walls of Cuiiinor Hall 
And many an oak that grew thereby. 

Cuilliior Hall. W. J, MICKLE. 

Faery elves, 

Whose midnight revels, by a forest-side, 
Or fountain, some belated peasant sees, 
Or dreams he sees, while overhead the moon 
Sits arbitress, and nearer to the earth 
Wheels her pale course. 

p.,r.,.iiic Ust Boot I. Milton. 

1 see them on their winiling way, 
Above their ranks the moonbeams play. 

And waving arms and banners bright 
Are glancing in the mellow light. 

Liiici wrMcn It a March. BISHOP HEBER. 

The moon looks 

On many brooks, 

"The brook can .see no moon but this." 

lyhile gatinti on liu mooni tight. MooRP,. 

Insatiate archer ! could not one sulfice ? 

Thy shaft Hew thrice : and thrice ray peace was 

slain ; 
And thrice, ere thrice yon moon had (illed her 

horn. 

Nighl Ihoughli. Sight I. DR. E. YOUNG. 



The Staks. 

That full star that ushers in the even. 

SoitnticY.YXii. Shakespeare. 

Her blue eyes sought the west afar. 
For lovers love the western star. 

Liiy ^./Ihr Last Minstrel, Cant. itt. SCOTT. 



492 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



And fast by, Iiaiigiiig in u golJeu chain 
This jiendeiit world, in bigness as a star 
Of smallest nmgnitude close by the moon. 

paradise Lost, Eaak a. MILTON. 

An host 
Innumerable as the stars of night, 
Or stars of morning, dew-drops, which the sun 
Impearls on every leaf and every flower. 

Pamdut Lest, Boot v. MILTON. 

Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of 
the angels. 

l-vaitgeiine. Part I. LONGFELLOW. 

But I am constant as the northern star. 
Of wdioso true-lixed and resting quality 
There is no fellow in the finnament. 

yulius Catar. Act m. Se. I. SHAKESPEARE. 

Devotion ! daugliter of astronomy ! 
An undevout astronomer is mad. 

Night Tkouslits, Atghl n. DR. E. YOUNG. 



TUE Se.\sons. 

So issued forth the seasons of the year ; 
First lusty Sjiring, all diglit in leaves of flowers 
That freshly budded, and new blossoms did bear. 
In which a thousand birds had built their bowers, 
That sweetly sung to call forth paramours ; 
And in his hand a javelin he did bear. 
And on his head (as fit for warlike stores) 
A gilt engraven morion he did wear. 
That, as some did him love, so othei-s did him 
fear. 

Faeru Qufeiie, Book vii. SPENSER. 

The stormy March has come at last. 

With winds and clouds and changing skies ; 

I liear the rushing of the blast 

That through the suowy valley flies. 

March. W. C. BRYANT. 

When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim. 
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything. 



soiiHi! xcnij. 



SHAKlisPEARH. 



0, how this spring of love resembleth 
The uncertain glory of an .April day ! 

Thf Tempest, Act., Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE. 

As it fell ujion a day 

In the merry month of May. 



7 he Passionate Pi/grtm. 



SHAKESPEARE. 



For Jlay wol have no slogavdie a-night. 
The seson prikcth eveiy gentil lierte. 
And maketh him out of his slope to sterte. 

Cattlrrliury Tales: The K'nt^hces TWf. CHAUCER. 



In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts 
Bring sad thoughts to the mind. 

Lines wrillcn iti harty Spring. WORDSWORTH. 



Come, gentle Sprini: 

The Seasons : Spring. 



! ethereal Mildness ! come. 

THOMSON. 



Then came the jolly Summer, being dight 
In a thin silken cassock colored green, 
That was unlined, all to be more light, 
And on his head a garland well beseene. 

P'aerie Queene, Boob vii. SPENSER. 

Joy rises in me, like a summer's morn. 

W Christmas Carot. S. T. COLERIDGE. 



Still as night 



Or summer's noontide air. 

Paraetse Lost, Book ii. 



This bud of lovely Summer's ripening breath. 
May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. 

Komeo and Juliet, Act ii. Sc. 2. SHAKEbPEARE. 

Then came the Autumne, all in yellow idad, 
As though he joyed in his plenteous store. 
Laden with fruits that made him laugh, lull glad 
That he had banished hunger, which to-fore 
Had by the belly oft him jiinched sore ; 
Upon his head a wreath, that was enrold 
With eai'S of corne of every sort, he bore, 
.\nd in his hand a sickle he did holde. 
To rcape the ripened fruit the which the earth 
had yold. 

Faerie Qneene, Book vii. SPENSER. 

Autunni nodding o'er the yellow plain. 

The Seasons: Autumn. THOMSON. 

And the ripe harvest of the new-mown hay 
Gives it a sweet and wholesome odor. 

Rich.ird III. {AUered). Act v. .Si. 3. COLLEY ClBIiER. 

Lastly came Winter, cloatlied all in frize. 
Chattering his teeth for cold that did him chill ; 
Whilst on his hoary beard his breath did freeze, 
And the dull drops that lioni his |iurple bill 
.\s from a limbeck did ailown distill ; 
In his right hand a tipped stalf he held ^ 
With which his feeble steps he st.ayed still. 
For he was faint with cold and weak with eld. 
That scarce his loosed limbs he able was to weld. 

Faerie Qiteene, Book vii. SPENSER. 

Winter, ruler of the inverted year. 

1 love thee, all unlovely .is thou seem'st, 
And dreaded as thou art ! 

The Task: ll'inter l:-..rn:ntr COVVPER. 



FRAGMENTS. 



493 



Chaste as the icicle, 
That 's curded by the frost from purest snow, 
And hangs on Diim's temple : dear Valeria ! 

Ceria:aniu. Act v. St. 3. SHAKESPliARE. 

Silently as a dream the fabric rose. 
No sound of hammer or of saw was there. 
Ice upon ice, the well-adjusted parts 
Were soon conjoined. 

The Talk: tt^inur Morttin^ l^^iU. COWPER. 



Sounds of Nature. 
Nor rural sights alone, but raral sounds, 
Exliilarate the spirit, and restore 
The tone of languid nature. 

THr Task : The So/a. COWPER. 

See where it smokes along the sounding plain, 
Blown all aslant, a driving, dashing rain ; 
Peal upon peal, redoubling all arounil, 
Shakes it again and faster to the ground. 

Truth. Cowi'ER. 

In winter when the dismal rain 

Came down in slanting lines. 
And Wind, that grand old harper, smote 

His thunder-harp of pines. 

A Life Drama. A. SMITH. 

Under the yaller-pines I house. 

When sunshine makes 'em all sweet-scented. 
An' hear among their furry boughs 

The baskin" west-wind jjurr contented. 

BigtiTW Pnfiers. Stcoiut Series, A'o. X. J. K. LOWELL. 

The current, that with gentle murmur glides, 
Thou know'st, being stopped, impatiently doth 

rage ; 
But, when his fair course is not hinderkl, 
He makes sweet music with the enamelled stones. 
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge 
He overtaketh in his pilgrimage. 

Tvei Gentlemen 0/ Verona, Ait ii. Sc. 7. SHAKESPEARE. 

Every sound is sweet ; 
Myriads of rivulets hurrying through the lawn, 
The moan of doves in immemorial elms. 
And murmuring of innumerable bees. 

The Princess. Cant. vii. TENNVSON. 



The MoirsTAixs. 
Over the hills and far away. 

The Btesar'i Opera, Act 1. Sc. i. J. CAV. 

Two voices are there ; one is of the sea, 
One of the mountains ; each a mighty Voice. 

Thought of a Briton on the Subjugation 0/ Swilserland, 

Wordsworth. 



Who first beholds those everlasting clouds. 
Seedtime and harvest, morning, noon, and night, 
Still where they were, steadfast, immovable ; 
Who first beholds the Alps — that mighty chain 
Of mountains, stretching on from east to west, 
So ma.ssive, yet so shadowy, so ethereal. 
As to belong rather to heaven than earth — 
But instantly receives into his soul 
A sense, a feeling that he loses not, 
A something that informs him 't is a moment 
Whence he may date henceforward and forever ! 
Italy. Rogers. 

Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains ; 

They crowned him long ago 
On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, 

With a diadem of snow. 

Manfred, Act i. Sc. i. BYRON. 

1 live not in myself, but I become 
Portion of that around me ; anil to me 
High mountains are a feeling, but the hum 
Of liuman cities torture. 

Chttdc Harold, Cant. iii. BYRON. 



Water. 

Mine be the breezy hill that skirts the down ; 
Where a green grassy turf is all I crave, 
With here and there a violet bestrewn, 
Fast by a brook or fountain's murnuuing wave ; 
And many an evening sun shine sweetly on my 
grave. 

The Minstrel. Book ii. J. BEATTIE. 

With spots of sunny openings, and with nooks 
To lie and read in, sloping into bi'ooks. 

The story of Rimini. L. HUNT. 

Under the cooling shadow of a stately elm. 
Close sat I by a goodly river's side. 

Where gliding streams the rocks did overwhelm ; 
A lonely jjlace, with pleasuies dignified. 

I, that once loved the shady woods so well. 
Now thought the rivers did the trees excel, 

And if the sun would ever shine, there would I 
dwell. 

Contemplations . ANNE BRADSTREET. 

Let beeves ami home-bred kine partake 

The .sweets of Burn-mill meadow ; 
The swan on still St. Mary's Lake 

Float double, swan and shadow ! 

Varroiu Unvisited. WORDSWORTH. 

Ill habits gather by unseen degrees, 

.\s brooks make rivers, rivers run to seas. 

Metamorphoses, Book w. Translation of URVDV.N. OVID, 



494 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



By Imppy chance we sjiw 
A twofold imnge ; on a gnissy Imnk 
A snow-white nun, and in tlie cnstal tlood 
Another and the same ! 

TSt Ewursii^N, /iiv> ix. Wordsworth. 

Along thy wild and willowed shore ; 
Where'er thon wind'st, by dale or hill, 
All, all is peacel'ul, all is still. 

Lay ./ tMe lasl Mins.'rei, C.i/ll. iv. SCOTT. 

The torivnt's smoothness, ere it dash Iwlow ! 

Cfrtrudt. Part m* T. C.\MeBELL. 



Bain and Stokm. 

The lowering element 
Scowls o"er the darkened landscape. 

PitriiJijt LMf, £.v.* ii. 

The hooded clouds, like friars. 
Tell their beads in drops of rain. 



MijH^ffMi .lAij-x. 



LONCFKLLOW. 



The thii-sty earth soaks up the rain. 
And drinks and gapes for drink again ; 
The plants suck in the earth, and are 
Witli constant drinking fresh and fair. 

^nacrcifMU^Hts. A. COWLEV. 

When that I was and a little tiny Iwy, 
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, 

A foolish thing was but a toy, 
Kor the rain it raineth every day. 

Twt(/t* .Vd'Mt. .<•■/>. iV. I. Shakbspbar?. 

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks ! rage ! 
Wow ! 

AVili' LMr, .<(t iii. J». . i, SHAKESPEARE. 

Poor naked wretches wheivsoe'er you ar<>. 
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm. 
How shall your houseless heads ami unfed sides. 
Your looped lUid windovveil raggedness, defend 

you 
From seasons such as these f 

A'lfV Ltar, Art iii. Sc. 4. SHAKBSPBAKE. 

From cloud to cloud the rending lightnings rage, 
Till, in the furions elemental war 
Dissolved, the whole precipitated nia.<s 
Unbroken floods and solid torrents pour. 

Tk* St>»S\*HS : Snm'Hfr, THOMSON. 



Tkees. 

One impulse from a vernal wood 
May teach you more of man. 
Of moral evil and of good, 
Than all the sages can. 

The 7\tf-;es THmrJ. WORDSWORTy. 

Those green-robed senators of mighty woods, 
Tall o.iks, brancll•cllarm^d by the earnest stars, 
Dmim, and so dream all night without a stii-. 

«>Ani.«, Bi>i>i I. K EA 1 s. 

A brotherhood of venerable Trees. 

SjlHft (VM«/.W^.]/ CaslU. WOROSWORTH. 

Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks 
In Vallonibrosii, where the Etrurian shades 
Higli overarched imbower. 

ParaJisf LmI, B^vi i. MILTON, 

But 'neath yon crimson tree, 
Lover to listening maid might breathe his flame. 
Nor mark, within its loseate canopy. 

Her blush of maiden shame. 

AKtumm ;r.v\.'j. w. C. Brvaxt. 

Flowers. 
No daintie flowrc or herbe that growes on grownd, 
Noarlwretl with painted blossoms drest 
And smelling sweete, but there it miglit be fownd 
To bud out faiiv, and throwe her sweete smels 
al arownd. 

FafHe Cnfc»f. B<vi ii. (\tHf. vi. SPENSER. 

Ye valleys low, wheri' the mild whispei-s use 
Ofsliades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks 
l")n whose fivsh lap the swart-star sjiaivly looks; 
Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes. 
That on the green tuif suck the honied showers, 
-Vnd (lurple all the giound with vernal flowera. 
Hring the rathe primrose that foi^aken dies, 
The tufteil crow-toe, and jwle jessamine, 
The white pink, and the pan.sy fivaked with jet. 
The glowing violet. 

The musk-rose, ami the well-attired woodbine, 
Witli cowslijis wan that hang the pensive head. 
And every flower that &ul embroideiy weai-s. 
IjnJas, Milton. 

Spake full well, in language quaint and olden. 
One who dwelleth by the castled Khine, 

When he called the flowei-s, so blue and golden. 
Stars, that in earth's flrmament do shine. 

f/.'atrrj. LONGFELLOW, 



Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky, 
When storms prcpare to jwrt ; 

1 ask not proud I'hilo.sophy 
To teiich me what thou art. 



With coronet of fressh and fragrant flowers ; 
; The same dew, which sometimes on the buds 
I Was wont to swell, like round and orient pearls, 
, Stood now within the prctty flow'rets' eyes, 
j Like teai-s that did their own disgrace bewail. 

T. CaMPPEII. .Vi.isMrHmer .Vi^ht-t lyrram, Air ir. Si. t. SHAKESPEARB. 



r^'-~::TT-^ 



To the wall of the old green ganlrn 

A initteifly quivering came; 
His wings on the somber lichens 

Played like a yellow llame. 

He looked at the gray geraniums, 

And the slee|)y four-o'-clocks, 
He looked at the low lanes honlered 

With the glossy growing box. 

He longed for the pence and the silence 
And the shadows that lengthened there, 

And his wild wee heart was weary 
Of skimming the endless air. 

And now in the old green garden, — 

I know not how it came, — 
A single pansy is blooming, 

Hright as a yellow flame. 

And whenever a gay gust pa.sses, 

It i|uivers as if with ];ain, 
For the butterfly soul within it 

Longs for the winds again. 



Hiii.KN (jKav Conk. 









' ' f 









-— ■siajg' 




TO AN ORIOLE. 

How falls it, oriole, thou hast come to fly 
111 tropic spiciKio!' throuL;']i our Xortlicrii sky? 

At some glad moment was it nature's choice 
To dower a scrap of sunset with a voice ? 

Or did some oraiiqe tulip, flaked with black, 
In some forgotten garden, ages back, 

Yearning toward IleaN^en until its wish was heard. 
Desire unspeakably to be a bird ? 



Edgar Fawcett. 



KKAOMENTS. 



4'J5 



Witli littl' here to ilo or sco 

Of tilings th:it ill llie greut wnrlil be, 

Sweet daisy I oft I talk to tlieo. 

For thou art worthy, 
Tlioii iiiiiutsiiiiiiiir; I'oiiiiiioiiplace 
• 11 iiiituri', with that iKiiiiely face. 
Anil yet with sonit'thiiig of a grace 

Which love makes for thuu ! 

TottiiDiUiy, WORDSWOHTII. 

Myiiaiis of (Inigies havefihono forth in (lower 
Near the lark's nest, ami in their natural hour 
Have \iasseil away ; lex-s ha|i|iy than the one 
Thai, l>y the unwilling iiloughshare, ilieil to 

prove 
The tender chanii of poetry and love. 

PMtnj fompoittt in tht Summer 0/ \ii-i. WORDSWORTH. 

We meet thee, like a jilcasant thought, 
When such arc wanted. 

TotfuVaiiy. WORDSWORTH. 

Dear common flower, that grow'st hcside tlii' 
way, 
Fringing the du-sty road with hannlcHS goM, 

First pledge of hlilhesonie May, 
Which iliildreii pluck, and, full of [jride, iipholil, 
Highhearled liiiceaneers, o'erjoyc-d that tln-y 
An Kl llorado in the grass have found, 

Whiihliot the rich carth'.s ainphr round 
May niateh in wealth — thou art more dear to me 
Than all the prouder sumnier-blooins may be. 

Tetht DandthoH. J. K. LOWHLI.. 

Proscri)iiia ! 
For the dowers now, that, frighted, thou let'st fall 
From Dis'.s wagon ! daffodils. 
That come before the swallow dari's, and take 
The winds of .Manth with beauty ; violets, dim, 
l!ut sweeter than the lids of .liiiio'scyes, 
Or Cytherea's breath ; pale primroses, 
That die uniiiarried ere they can behold 
liright I'hobus in his strength — . 

bold oxlips, and 

The crown iiii[ierial ; lilies of all kind.s. 

TS* Iftnfei^i Tall. Acl\\. Sc. \ SliAKHSPIlARE. 

A primrose by a river's brim 
\ yellow primrow! was to him, 
And it was nothing more. 
frftr litti. Wordsworth. 

I know a bank where the wild thyme blows. 
Where ox-lips and the nodding violet grows ; 
Quite over-canopied with lii.scious woodbine, 
With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine. 

Miaiumtner Xifhrt Driam. Acti\.^c, i. SHAKr-seuARB. 

Desert caves. 
With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown. 

/.Vrtrffli. mh.ton. 



There '» rosemary, that 'a for remembraiieo ; 
pray you, love, leiiiembcr : — and there is pansies, 
that 's for thoughts. 



Ihtmltt, .Utiv. He. 5. 



SHAKItSI'RARR. 



Gentle 

As zephyrs, blowing bi'low the violet, 
Not wagging his sweet head. 

Cymbeiiue, Act Iv. At. a. SHAKl'.srHARB. 

Mut earthlier hapjiy is the rose distilled, 

Than that which, withering on the virgin thorn, 

(irows, lives, and dies, in single bh;ssi;diiess. 

Midsummtr Ntght't Drtam, Atl\. Sc i. SHAKI'.SPIiAHR. 

Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose, 
With whn.so sweet smell the air shall be per- 
fumed. 

Kini; llriiry yi.. Pari II. Art I. Sc.i SHAKBS^EAKa. 

The Frenchman's darling.* 

Ilir Task : ll'inUr livcniNH. COWI'ER. 

And 't is my faith that every flower 
Enjoys the air it breathes. 

I.itiet wrillin tn harly Sfiriitt:. WORDSWORTH. 



Animatk Natukr. 

I shall not ask .lean .)a(|ucs Housseau 
If birds confabulate or no. 
'T is clear tlia-t they were always able 
To hold di.scourso — at least in fable. 

I'airiilj^ Thltt /Inlicifiateit. COWPHR. 

Ki.se with the lark, and with the lark to bed. 

The yillai:f Curate, J. HURP'S. 

Call for the robin-redbreast anil the wren. 
Since o'er shady groves they hover, 
And with leaves and flowers do cover 
The friendless bodies of unburied men. 

The IVHite Uevil, Act v. Sc. t. ). Wp.HSTER. 

What bird so sing.s, yet so does wail ? 
0, 't is the ravished nightingale — 
•'"Kl j"g> .i"f!' .i"" — tereu — she cries. 
And still her woes at midnight rise. 
Brave prick-song ! who is 't now we hear ? 
None but the lark so shrill and clear. 
Now at heaven's gate she daps her wings, 
The mom not waking till she sings. 
Hark, hark ! but what a pretty note, 
Poor Robin-redbreast tunes his throat ; 
Hark, how the jolly cuckoos sing 
"Cuckoo !" to welcome in the spring. 

Alexander and Campcttpe, Ait .1. Sex. JnllN I.YLV 

• Hnrtlett viy*. " It was Cowpcr vvlm ;:.ivc tlii'. now common name 
to the Ml>{noncttc." 



496 



POEMS OF NATURE. 



O nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray 

Warblcst at eve, when all the woods are still ; 
Thou witli fresh hope tlie lover's heart ilost fill 

While the jolly Hours lead on pro|jitious May. 

Thy liquid notes, that close the eye of day, 

Portend success in love. 

Ti} t>n Xighciiigitie. MILTON. 

The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark 
When neither is attended ; and I tliink 
The nightingale, it' she should sing by day. 
When every goose is cackling, would be thought 
No better a nuisician than the wreu. 
How many things by season seasoned are 
To their right praise and true perfection. 

Merchant <if fenice. Act v. Sc. i. SHAKESPEARE. 

So, naturalists observe, a flea 
Has smaller fleas that on him prey ; 
And these have smaller still to bite 'em ; 
And so proceed ad iujinilum. 

Foelry, a Rhapsody, SWIFT. 



A harmless necessary cat. 

Merchant 0/ Ventce, Aa it. Sc. i 



Shakespeare. 



The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine ! 
Feels at each thread, and lives along the line. 

Essay OH Man, Efisitt /. FOi _ 

A poor sequestered stag, 
That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt, 
Did come to languish ; . . . 

and the big round tears 
Coursed one another down his innocent nose 
In piteous chase. 

As Yiiu Li/!e It, Act ii. Sc. i. SHAKESPEARE. 

The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day, 
Had he thy reason, would he skip and jihiy ? 
Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food, 
And licks the lumd just raised to shed his blood. 

EssayoHMan,Efisiicl. POPE. 

Now half appeared 
The tawny lion,* pawing to get free 
His hinder parts, then springs as broke from 

bonds, 
And rampant shakes his brinded mane. 

Paradise Last, Bock \\\. MILTON 

• See Mr. Bryant's Introduction, p«j;e 32. 




POEMS OF PEACE AND WAR. 




POEMS OF PEACE AND WAR. 



WAR. 



WAR FOR THE SAKE OF PEACE. 

FROM " BRITANNIA." 

O FIRST of human blessings, and supreme ! 
Fair Peace ! how lovely, how delightful thou ! 
By whose wide tie the kindred sons of men 
Like brothers \ive, in amity combined 
And unsuspicious faith ; while honest toil 
(Jives every joy, and to those joys a right 
Whiih idle, barbarous rapine but usurps. 
Pure is thy reign. 

What would not. Peace ! the patriot bear for 
thee? 
What painful patience ! What incessant care ? 
What mixed anxiety ? What sleepless toil ? 
E'en from the rash protected, what reproach ? 
For he thy value knows ; thy friendship he 
To human nature : but the better thou. 
The richer of delight, sometimes the more 
Inevitable war, — when ruffian force 
Awakes the fury of an injured state. 
E'en the good patient man whom reason rules. 
Roused by bold insult and injurious rage. 
With sharp and sudden check the astonished sons 
Of violence confounds ; firm as his cause 
His bolder heart : in awful justice clad ; 
His eyes efTulging a [leculiar fire : 
.Vnd, as he charges through the prostrate war, 
His keen arm teaches faithless men no more 
To dare the sacred vengeance of the just. 

Then ardent rise ! 0, great in vengeance rise ! 
O'ertum tlie proud, teach rapine to restore ; 
.Vnd, as you ride sublimely round the world. 
Make every vessel stoop, make every state 
.Vt once their welfare and their duty know. 

JA.MES THOMSON. 



WAR. 



Ah ! whence yon glare. 
That fires the arch of heaven ? — that dark-red 

smoke 
Ulotting the silver moon ? The stars are quenched 



In darkness, and pure and spangling snow 
Gleams faintly through the gloom that gathers 

round I 
Hark to that roar, whose swift and deafening 

peals 
In countless echoes through the mountains ring, 
Startling pale midnight on her starry throne ! 
Now swells the intermingling din ; the jar 
Freiiuent and frightful of the bursting bomb ; 
The falling beam, the shriek, tlie groan, the 

shout, 
The ceaseless clangor, and the rush of men 
Inebriate with rage ; — loud, and more loud 
The discord grows ; till pale death shuts the 

scene, 
And o'er the conqueror and the conquered draws 
His cold and bloody shroud. — Of all the men 
Wliom day's departing beam saw blooming there, 
In proud and vigorous health ; of all the hearts 
That beat with anxious life at sunset there, 
How few survive, how few are beating now ! 
All is deep silence, like the fearful calm 
That slumbers in the storm's portentous pause ; 
Save when the frantic wail of widowed love 
Oomes shuddering on the blast, or the fiiint moan 
With which some soul bursts from the frame of 

clay 
Wrapt round its struggling powers. 

The gray morn 
Dawns on the mournful scene ; the sulphurous 

smoke 
Before the icy wind slow rolls away. 
And the bright beams of frosty morning dance 
Along the spangling snow. Tliere tracks of blood 
Even to the forest's depth, and scattered anu.s, 
And lifeless warriors, whose hard lineaments 
Death's self could change not, mark the dreadful 

path 
Of the outsallying victors ; far behind. 
Black ashes note where their proud city stood. 
Within yon forest is a gloomy glen, — 
Each tree which guards its darkness from the 

day 
Waves o'er n warrior's tomb. 



500 



POEMS OF PEACE AND WAR, 



War is the statesman's game, the priest's delight, 
The lawyer's jest, the hired assassiu's trade. 
And to those royal muiderei-s whose mean thrones 
Are bought by crimes of treacheiy and gore, 
The bread they eat, the staff on which tliey lean. 
Guards, garbed in blood-red livery, surround 
Their palaces, participate the crimes 
That force defends, and from a nation's rage 
Secure the crown, which all the curses reach 
That famine, frenzy, woe, and penury breathe. 
These are the hired bravos who defend 
The tyi'ant's thioue. 

PERCY BVSSHE SHELLEY. 



BATTLE OF THE AXGELS. 

FROM " PARADISE LOST," BOOK VL 
THE ARRAY. 

Now went forth the morn, 
Such as in highest heaven, arrayed in gold 
Emp^'real ; from before her vanished night, 
Shot through with orient beams ; when all the 

plain 
Covered with thick embattled squadrons bright, 
( 'hariots, and flaming arms, and fiery steeds, 
Reflecting blaze on blaze, first met his view. 

The apostate in his sun-bright chariot sat. 

Idol of majesty divine, enclosed 

With flaming cherubim, and golden shields ; 

Then lighted from his gorgeous thi'one, for now 

'Twixt host and host but narrow space was left, 

A dreadful interval, and front to front 

Presented stood in terrible array 

Of hideous length : before the cloudy van. 

On the rough edge of battle ere it joined, 

Satan, with vast and haughty strides advanced. 

Came towering, armed in adamant and gold. 

THE COXKLICT. 

Michael bid sound 
The archangel trumpet ; through the vast of 

heaven 
It sounded, and the faithful armies rung 
Hosanna to the Highest : nor stood at gaze 
The adverse legions, nor less hideous joined 
The horrid shock. Xow storming fury rose, 
And clamor, such as heard in heaven till now 
Was never ; arms on armor clashing brayed 
Horrible discord, and the mailding wheels 
Of brazen chariots raged ; dire was the noise 
Of conflict ; overhead the dismal hiss 
Of fiery dai'ts in flaming volleys flew. 
And flying vaulted either host with fire. 
So under fiery cope together ruslicd 
Both battles main, with ruinous assault 



And inextinguishable rage. All heaven 
Resounded ; and had earth been then, all earth 
Had to her centre shook. 

Deeds of eternal fame 
Were done, but infinite : for wide was spread 
That war, and various; sometimes on firm ground 
A standing fight, then, soaring on main wing. 
Tormented all the air ; all air seemed then 
Conflicting fire. 

Forthwith (behold the excellence, the power 

Which God hath iu his mighty angels placed 1) 

Their arms away they threw, and to the hills 

(For earth hath this variety from heaven. 

Of pleasure situate in hill and dale). 

Light as the lightning glimpse they ran, they 

flew. 
From their foundations loosening to and fro. 
They plucked the seated hills, with all their load. 
Rocks, waters, woods, and by the shaggy tops 
Uplifting bore tliem in their hands : amaze. 
Be sure, and terror, seized the rebel host, 
When coming towards them so dread they saw 
The bottom of the mountains upward turned, 

and on their heads 
JIain promontories flung, which in the air 
Came shadowing, and oppressed whole legions 

armed ; 
Their armor heljied their harm, crushed in and 

bruised 
Into their substance Jient, which wrought them 

pain 
Implacable, and many a dolorous groan ; 
Long struggling underneath, ere they could wind 
Out of such prison, though spirits of purest light. 
Purest at first, now gross by sinning grown. 
The rest, in imitation, to like arms 
Betook them, and the neighboring hills uptore : 
So hills amid the air encountered hills. 
Hurled to and fro with jaculation dire. 
That undergi'ound they fought in dismal shade ; 
Infernal noise ! war seemed a civil g-ame 
To this uproar ; horrid confusion heaped 
Upon confusion rose. 



THE VICTOR. 

So spake the Son, and into teiTor changed 
His countenance too severe to be beheld. 
And full of wrath beut on his enemies. 
At once the four spread out their starry wings 
With dreadful shade contiguous, and the orbs 
Of his fierce chariot rolled, as with the sound 
Of torrent floods, or of a numerous host. 
He on his impious foes right onward drove. 
Gloomy as niglit : under his burning wheels 
The steadfast empyi-ean sliook throughout. 



WAR. 



uUl 



AU but the tliioiie it-self of IJoil. P'lill soon 
Ainoii^ thi'in he arrived ; in his right hand 
Onisping ten tliousiind thunilers, whieh he sent 
IWfore him, suoli iis in tl\eir souls inlixed 
Plagues : they, astonished, all resistance lost, 
All courage ; down their idle weapons dropt ; 
O'er shields, and helms, and helmed heads he 

rode 
Of thrones and mighty seraphim piostnite, 
That wished the mountains now might be again 
Thrown on them, as a shelter from his ire. 
Nor less on either side tempestuous fell 
His arrows, from the fourfold- visaged Four 
Distinct with eyes, and from the living wheels 
Distinct alike with multitude of eyes ; 
One spirit in them ruled ; and every eye 
Glared lightning, and shot forth pernicious fire 
Among the accursed, that withered all their 

strength. 
Ami of their wonted vigor left them drained, 
Kxhausted, spiritless, afflicted, fallen. 
Yet half his strength he put not forth, but 

checked 
His thunder in mid volley ; for he meant 
Not to destroy, but root them out of heaven : 
The overthrown he raised, and as a herd 
Of goats or timorous flock together thionged. 
Drove them before him thunderstr\ick, pursued 
With terrors and with furies, to the bounds 
And crystal wall of heaven ; which, opening wide, 
KoUed inward, and a spacious gap disclosed 
Into the wasteful deep : the monstrous sight 
Struck them with horror backward, hut far worse 
Urged them behind : headlong themselves they 

threw 
^own fiom the verge of heaven ; eternal wrath 
Burnt after them to the bottomless pit. 



THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB. 

FROM "HEBREW MELODIES." 

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the 

fold, 
And liis cohorts were gleaming in ]auple and 

gold ; 
And the sheeu of their spears was like stars on 

the sea. 
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep 

Galilee. 

Like the leaves of the forest when summer is ' 
green, I 

That host with their bannei-s at sunset were seen : i 

!,ikc the leaves of the forest when autumn hiith 
blown. 

That host on the morrow lay withered and 
strown. ' 



For the Angel of Death sjireud his wings on the 

blast. 
And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed; 
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and 

chill. 
And their hearts but once heaved, and forever 

grew still ! 

And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, 
But through it there rolled not the breath of his 

pride : 
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the 

turf. 
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. 

An<l there lay the lidor distorted and pale. 
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his 

mail ; 
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone. 
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. 

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, 
And tlie idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; 
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the 

sword, 
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord ! 

Lord bvron. 



CATILINE TO THE KOMAN ARMY. 

FROM "CATILINE." ACT V. SC. 3. 

Sound all to arms I (A flonrish of trumpets.) 
Call in the captains, — (To an officer.) 

I would speak with them ! 
( The officer goes. ) 
Now, Hope ! away, — and welcome gallant 

Death ! 
Welcome the clanging shield, the trumpet's 
yell, - 

Welcome the fever of the mounting blood, 
That makes wounds light, and battle's crimson 

toil 
Seem but a sport, — and welcome the cold bed, 
Where soldiers with their upturned faces lie, — 
And welcome wolf's and vulture's hungry throats. 
That make their sepulchres ! We light to-night. 

(The soldiery enter.) 
Centurions ! all is ruined ! 1 disdain 
To hide the truth from yon. The die is thrown ! 
And now, let each that wishes ibr long life 
I'ut up his sword, and kneel for peace to Rome. 
Ye all are free to go. What ! no man stirs ! 
Not one ! a soldier's spirit in you all ? 
Give me your hands ! (This moisture in my eye? 
Is womanish, — 't will pass. ) Jly noble hearts ! 
Well have you chosen to die ! For, in my mind. 
The grave is better than o'erburdened life ; 



502 



POEMS OF PEACE AND WAR. 



Better the quick release of glorious wounds, 
Than the eternal taunts of galling tongues ; 
Better the spear-head quivering in the heart, 
Than daily struggle against fortune's curse ; 
Better, in manhood's niusrle and high blood. 
To leap the gulf, than totter to its edge 
In poverty, dull ])ain, and base decay. 
Once more, I say, — are ye resolved ! 

(The soUlkrs shout, " All ! All ! ") 
Then, each man to his tent, and take the arms 
That he would love to die in, — for, this hour. 
We storm the Consul's camp. A last farewell ! 

[He takes their hands.) 
■When next we meet, — we 'U have no time to look. 
How parting clouds a soldier's countenance. 
Few as we are, we '11 rouse them with a peal 
That shall shake Rome ! 
Now to your cohorts' heads ; — the word 's — 

Revenge ! 

George Crolv. 



THE BALLAD OF AGINCOUET. 

Fair stood the wind for France, 
When we our sails advance, 
Nor now to prove our chance 

Longer will tarry ; 
But putting to the main, 
At Kause, the mouth of Seine, 
With all his martial train. 

Lauded King Harry, 

Ami taking many a fort. 
Furnished in warlike sort, 
Marched towards Agincourt 

In happy hour, — 
Skirmishing day by day 
With those that stopped his way, 
Wliere the French general lay 

With all his jiower, 

Which in his height of pride, 
King Henry to deride, 
His ransom to provide 

To the king .sending ; 
Wliich he neglects the while, 
As from a nation vile. 
Yet, witli an angry smile. 

Their fall portending. 

And turning to his men. 
Quoth our brave Henry then : 
Though they to one be ten. 

Be not amazed ; 
Yet have we well begun. 
Battles so bravely won 
Have ever to the sun 

By fame been raised. 



And for myself, i|Uoth ln', 
Tliis my full rest shall b..' ; 
England ne'er mourn for ujc, 

Nor more esteem me, 
Victor 1 will remain, 
Or on this earth lie slain ; 
Never shall she sustain 

Loss to redeem me. 

Poitiers and Cressy tell. 

When most their lu'ide did .swell, 

Under our swords they fell; 

No less our skill is 
Than when our grandsire great, 
Claiming the regal seat, 
By many a warlike feat 

Lopped the French lilies. 

The Duke of York so dread 
The eager vaward led ; 
With the main Henry sped. 

Amongst liis henchmeu, 
Excester had the rear, — 
A braver man not there ; 
Lord ! how hot they were 

On the false Frenchmen ! 

They now to tight are gone ; 

Armor on armor shone ; 

Drum now to drum did groan, — 

To hear was wonder ; 
That with the cries they make 
The very eailh did shake ; 
Trumpet to trumpet spake, 

Thunder to thunder. 

Well it thine age became, 
noble Erpingham ! 
Which did the signal aim 

To our hid forces ; 
When, from a meadow by. 
Like a storm, suddenly. 
The English archery 

Struck the French horses 

With Spanish yew so strong, 
Arrows a cloth -yard long. 
That like to serpents stung. 

Piercing the weather ; 
None from his fellow starts, 
But playing manly jiarts. 
And, like true Euglish hearts. 

Stuck close together. 

When down their bows they threw, 
And forth their bilboes drew. 
And on the French they flew, 
Not one was tardy ; 



WAR. 



503 



Anns were from shouldei's sent ; 
Soaljis to the teeth were rent ; 
Down the French peasants went ; 
Our men were hardy. 

Tliis while onr noble king, 
His broadsword brandishing, 
Down tlie Frenuli host did ding, 

As to o'erwhelm it ; 
And many a deep wound lent, 
His anus with blood bcspreul, 
And many a eruel dent 

Bruised his helmet. 

Glo'ster, that duke so good, 
Next of the royal Ijlood, 
For famous England stood 

With his brave brother, 
Clarence, in steel so bright, 
Though but a maiden knight. 
Yet in that furious fight 

Scarce such another. 

Warwick in blood did wade ; 
O.vford the foe invade. 
And cruel slaughter made. 

Still as they ran up. 
Suffolk his a.\e did ply ; 
Beaumont and Willoughby 
Bare them right doughtily, 

Ferrers and Fanhope. 

Upon St. Crispin's day 
Fought was this noble fray. 
Which fame did not delay 

To England to carry ; 
0, when shall Englishmen 
With such acts fill a pen. 
Or England breed again 

Such a King Harry ? 

MICHAEL DRAYTON. 



THE KING TO HIS SOLDIERS BEFORE 
HARFLEUR. 

FROM "KING HENRY V.." ACT III. SC. I. 

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, 
once more ; 
Or elose the wall up with our English dead ! 
In |)cace, there's nothing so liecomes a man, 
As mo<lest stillness, and humility : 
But whi'H the bla-st of war blows in our eai-s. 
Then imitate the action of the tiger ; 
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood. 
Disguise fair nature with hard-favored rage : 
Then leml the eye a terrible a.spect ; 
Let it pry through the jiortage of the head. 



Like the brass cannon ; let the brow o'erwhelm it. 
As fearfully as doth a galled rock 
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, 
Swilled with the wild and wasteful ocean. 
Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide ; 
Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit 
To his full height! — On, on, you noblest 

English, 
Whose blood is let from fathers of war-proof ! 
Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders, 
Have, in these parts, from morn till even fought. 
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument. 
Dishonor not your mothers ; now attest, 
That those whom you called fathers, did beget 

you! 
Be copy now to men of grosser blood, 
And teach them how to war ! — And you, good 

yeomen, 
Whose limbs were made in England, show us 

here 
The mettle of your pasture ; let us swear 
That you are worth your breeding : which I 

doubt not ; 
For there is none of you so mean and base, 
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. 
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, 
Straining upon the start. The game 's afoot ; 
Follow your spirit : and, upon this charge, 
Cry — God for Harry ! England ! and Saint 

George ! 

SHAKESPEARE. 



OF THE WARRES IN IRELAND. 

FROM "EPIGRAMS," BOOK IV. EP. 6. 

I PRAISED the speech, but cannot now abide it. 
That warre is sweet to those that have not try'd it,- 
For I have proved it now and plainly see't. 
It is so sweet, it maketh all things sweet. 
Athome Canaric wines and Greek grow lothsome; 
Here milk is nectar, water tasteth toothsome. 
There without baked, rost, boyl'd, it is no cheere ; 
Bisket we like, and Bonny Clabo here. 
There we complains of one wan rested chick ; 
Here meat worse oookt ne're makes us sick. 
At home in silken sparrers, beds of Down, 
We scant can rest, but still tosse up and down ; 
Here we can sleep, a saddle to our jiillow, 
A hedge the Cuiiaine, Canopy a Willow. 
There if a child but cry, what a spite ! 
Here we can brook three larums in one night. 
There homely rooms must be perfumed with 

Roses ; 
Here match and powder ne're offend our noses. 
There from a storm of lain we run like Pullets ; 
Here we stand fast against a showre of bullets. 



50-i 



POEMS Ol-' PEACE AND WAR. 



Lo, then liow greiitly their opiinons cn-e, 
That think there is uo great deUgl-.t in warre ; 
But yet for this, sweet warre, I!i! be tliy debtor, 
I shall l'ore"''r love my home the better. 

SlU JCHN HARRl.NGTOX. 



THE HEART OF THE BRUCE. 

It was upon an April morn, 

While yet the frost lay lioar, 
We heard Lord James's bugle-horn 

Sound by the rocky shore. 

Then down we went, a hundred knights. 

All in our dark array. 
And Hung our armor in the ships 

That rode within the bay. 

We sjwke not as the shove grew less, 

But gazed in silence back, 
Where the long billows swept away 

The foam behind our track. 

And aye the purple hues decayed 

Upon the fading hill. 
And but one heart in all that ship 

Was tranquil, cold, and still. 

Tlie good Lord Douglas paced the deck. 

And 0, his face was wan ! 
I'nlike the flush it used to wear 

When in the battle-van. — 

*' Come hither, come hither, my trusty knight. 

Sir Simon of the Lee ; 
There is a freit lies near my soul 

I fain wculd tell to thee. 

" Thou know'st the words King Robert spoke 

Upon his dying day : 
How he bade take his noble heart 

And carry it far away ; 

" And lay it in the holy soil 

Where once the Saviour trod. 
Since he might not bear the blessM Cross, 

Nor strike one blow for God. 

" Last night as in my bed I lay, 

1 dreamed a dreary dream : — 
Jlethought 1 saw a Pilgrim stand 

In the mooulight's quivering beam. 

"His robe was of the azure dye, 

Snow-white his scattered hail's, 
And even such a cross he bore 

As good St. Andrew heats. 



" 'Why go ye forth. Lord James,' he said, 
' With spear and liclted brand ? 

Wliy do you take its dearest jiledge 
From this our Scottish land ? 

" ' The sultry breeze of Galilee 
Creeps through its gi'oves of palm. 

The olives on the Holy Mount 
Stand glittering in the calm. 

" ' But 't is not there that Scotland's heart 

SliiUI rest, liy God's decree. 
Till tlie great angel calls the dead 

To rise from earth and sea ! 

" ' Lord James of Douglas, mark my rede 1 
That heart sliall pass once more 

In fiery fight against the foe. 
As it was wont of yore. 

'"And it shall pass beneath the Cross, 
And save King Robert's vow ; 

But other hands shall bear it back. 
Not, James of Douglas, thou ! ' 

" Now, by thy knightly faith, I pray. 

Sir Simon of the Lee, — 
For truer friend had never man 

Than thou hast been to me, — 

" If ne'er upon the Holy Land 

'T is mine in life to tread. 
Bear thou to Scotland's kindly earth 

The relics of her dead." 

The tear was in Sir Simon's eye 
As he wrung tlie warrior's hand, - 

" Betide nie weal, betide me woe, 
I '11 hold by thy command. 

" But if in battle-front. Lord James, 

'T is ours once more to ride. 
Nor force of man, nor craft of fiend, 

Shall cleave me from thy side ! " 

And aye we sailed and aye we sailed 

Across the weary sea. 
Until one morn the co:ist of Spain 

Rose grimly on our lee. 

And as we rounded to the port. 
Beneath the watch-tower's wall. 

We heard the clash of the atabals. 
And tlie trumpet's wavering call. 

"Why sounds yon Eastern music here 

So wantonly and long, 
And whose the crowd of armed men 

That round yon standard throng ? " 



WAR. 



"The Moors have come from Africa 

To spoil ami waste ami slay, 
And Kiiij; Aloiizo of Castile 

Must fight with thcin to-day." 

" Xow shame it were," cried good Lord James, 

*' Shall never be said of nie 
That I and mine have turned aside 

From the Cross in jeopardie 1 

" Have down, have down, my menv men all, — 

Have down unto the plain ; 
W'c '11 let the Scottish lion loose 

Within the fields of Spain ! " 

" Now welcome to me, noble lord. 

Thou and thy stalwart power ; 
Dear is the sight of a Christian knight, 

Who comes in such an hour ! 

" Is it for bond or faith you come, 

Or yet for golden fee ? 
Or bring ye France's lilies here. 

Or the flower of Burgundie ? " 

" God greet thee well, thou valiant king. 

Thee and thy belted peers, — 
Sir James of Douglas am 1 called. 

And these are Scottish spears. 

" We do not fight for bond or plight. 

Nor yet for golden fee ; 
But for the sake of our blessed Lord, 

Who died upon the tree. 

"We bring our great King Robert's heart 

Across the weltering wave, 
To lay it in the holy soil 

Hard by the Saviour's grave. 

"Trae pilgrims we, by land or sea. 

Where danger bars the way ; 
And therefore are we here. Lord King, 

To ride with thee this day ! " 

The King has bent his stately head. 
And the teare were in his eyne, — 

" God's blessing on thee, noble knight. 
For this brave thought of thine '. 

" I know thy name full well, Lord .lames ; 

And lionored may 1 be. 
That those who fought beside the Bruce 

Should fight this day for nie ! 

"Take thou the leading of the van. 

And charge the Moors amain ; 
There is not such a lance as thine 

In all the host uf Spain I " 



The Douglas turneil towards us then, 

0, but his glance was high ! — 
"There is not one of all my men 

But is as bold as I. 

" There is not one of all my knights 

But bears as true a spear, — 
Then onward, Scottish gentlemen, 

And think King Robert 's here 1 " 

The trumpets blew, the cross-bolts flew. 

The arrows flashed like flame, 
As spur in side, and spear in rest. 

Against the foe we came. 

And many a bearded Saracen 

Went down, both horse and man ; 

For through their ranks we rode like corn. 
So furiously we ran ! 

But in behind our path they dosed. 

Though fain to let us through, 
For they were forty thousand men. 

And we were wondrous few. 

We might not see a lance's length, 

So dense was their array, 
But the long fell sweep of the Scottish blade 

Still held them hard at bay. 

" JIake in ! make in ! " Lord Douglas cried — 

" Make in, my brethren dear ! 
Sir William of St. Clair is down ; 

We may not leave him here ! " 

But thicker, thicker grew the swarm. 

And sharper shot the rain, 
And the horses reared amid the press. 

But they would not charge again. 

" Now Jesu help thee," said Lord James, 

" Thou kind and true St. Clair ! 
An' if I may not bring thee olf, 

I '11 die beside thee there ! " 

Then in his stirrups up he stood. 

So lion-like and bold. 
And held the precious heart aloft, 

All in its case of gold. 

He flung it from him, far ahead. 

And never sjiake he more. 
But — "Pass thou first, thou dauntless heart, 

As thou wert wont of yore ! " 

The roar of fight rose fiercer yet. 

And heavier still the stour, 
Till the si)ears of Spain came shivering in, 

And swept away the Moor. 



50C) 



POlOiMS OF I'EACK AND WAK. 



"Now praised be God, the day is won ! 

Tliey fly, o'ei' Hood ttiid fell, -- 
Why dost thou draw the rein so liiird. 

Good knight, that fought so well ? " 

" 0, ride ye on, Lord King ! " ho said, 

" And leave the dead to me, 
For I must Iceeji the dreariest wateh 

That ever 1 shall dree ! 

"Tliere lies, above his master's heart. 
The Douglas, stark and grim ; 

And woe is me I should be here. 
Not side by side witli him ! 

" The world grows cold, my arm is old. 

And thin my lyart hair. 
And all that I loved best on earth 

Is stretched before me there. 

" Hothwell banks, that bloom so bright 

Beneatli the sun of May ! 
The heaviest cloud that ever blew 

Is bound for you this day. 

" And Scotland ! thou niayst veil thy head 

In sorrow and in pain 
The sorest stroke \i|ii)n tliy brow 

Hath fallen this day in Spain ! 

" We '11 bear them back unto our sldp. 

We '11 bear tliem o'er the sea. 
And lay tliein in the hallowed earth 

Witliiu our own countrie. 

" And be thou strong of heart, Lord King, 

For this I tell thee sure. 
The sod tliat drank the Douglas' blood 

Shall never bear the Moor ! " 

The King he lighted from his horse, 

He flung his lirand away, 
And took the Douglas by the haiui, 

So stately as he lay. 

" God give thee rest, thou valiant soul ! 

That fought so well for Spam ; 
1 'd rather half my land were gone, 

So thou wert here again ! " 

\Vc liore the good Lord .lames away. 
And tlie priceless heart we bore. 

And heavily we steered our ship 
Towards the Scottish sliore. 

No welcome greeted our return, 

Nor clang of martial tread, 
Uiit all were dumb and hushed as death 

Before the mighty 4^ad. 



We laid our chief in Douglas Kirk, 

The heart in fair Melrose ; 
And woful men were we that day, — 

God grant their souls repose ! 

^\'ll. 1,1AM ED.MUNDSTONE A\'T0UN. 



HOTSPUR'S DESCUIPTION OF A FOP. 

FROM ■■ KING HENRY IV.." PART 1. ACT I. SC. 3. 

But I remember, when the fight was done. 

When 1 was dry witli rage and e.Ntreme toil, 

Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword. 

Came there a eertain lord, neat, trimly dressed. 

Fresh as a bridegroom ; and his chin, new reaped. 

Showed like a stubble-land at harvest-home ; 

He was perfumed like a milliner ; 

And 'twixt liis linger and his tlnimb he held 

A pouncet-bo.\ which ever and anon 

He gave his nose, aiul took 't away again ; — 

Who, therewith angry, when it next came there. 

Took it in snuff: — and still he snnlcd and talked ; 

And, as the soldii'rs bore dead bodies by. 

He called them untaught knaves, unmannerly, 

To bring a slovenly unhiind.sonie corse 

Betwixt the wind aiul liis nobility. 

With nuiiiy holiilay and lady terms 

He cpiestioned lue : among the rest, demanded 

My prisoners in ycnir majesty's behalf. 

I tlien, all smarting, with my wounds being cold, 

To be so pestered with a jiopinjay, 

Out of my grief and my imiiatience, 

Answered negleetingly, I know not what, — 

He should, or he .should luit ; for he made me mad 

To see him shine so brisk, and smoll so sweet, 

And talk so like a waiting gentlewoman. 

Of guns, and drums, and womuls, — God save 

the nuirk ! — 
And telling me, the sovereign'.st thing on earth 
Was )ianuaceti for an inward bruise ; 
And that it was great pity, so it was. 
That villanous saltpetre should be digged 
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth. 
Which many a gooil tall fellow had destroyed 
So cowardly, and, but for these vile guus. 
He woulil himself have been a soldier. 

SIIAKESPHARE. 



HUDIBIIAS' SWORD AND DAGGER. 

FRO.M ■' UUDlliRAS," PARI I. 

His iiuissaut sword unto his side 
Near his undaunted heart was tied. 
With basket hilt that would hold broti 
And serve for fight and dinner both. 
Ill it he melted lead for bullets 
To .shoot at foes, and sometimes pullets,- 



WAR. 



507 



To whom 111! boro so fell a gnitili 
lit' ne'er giivr c|iiuili'i' to any smli. 
The trenihimt liliule, Toledo tiu.sty, 
For wiint uf lighting was grown msty, 
And lite ililu itsell', lor Imk 
Of somelKidy to hew and Iiuek. 
The ]ieae('fiil scabliaril, where it ilwelt, 
The raiiior of its edge had felt ; 
For of the lower end two handful 
It had devoured, it was so manful ; 
And so iiiueli seorned to lurk in case, 
As if it tlur-.t not sliow its faee. 

This sword a daf;;ier had, his Jiage, 

That was but little for his age, 

And tlierefoie waited on him so 

As dwarfs unto knight-errants do. 

It was a servieeaMe dudgeon, 

Kither for lighting or for drudging. 

When it had stabbed or broke a head. 

It would serape treneliers or chip breatl, 

Toast ebee.se or baeon, though it were 

To bait a mouse-trap 'twould not care ; 

'T would make elean shoes, and in the earth 

Set leeks and onions, and .so forth : 

It had been 'prentice to a brewer, 

Where this and more it did endure ; 

But left the trade, as many more 

Have lately done on the same score. 

ur. Samubl butlbk. 



THE LOUD OK HUTIiAOO. 

PROM THG SPANISH. 

" Youit liorse is faint, my King, my Lord ! your 

gallant horse is .sick, . — 
His limbs are torn, his brea.st is gored, on his 

eye the tilm is thick ; 
Mount, mount on mine, O, mount apace, I pray 

thee, mount and tly ! 
Or in my arms I'll lift your Grace, — their 

trampling hoofs are nigh ! 

" My King, my King ! you're wounded sore, — 

the blood runs from your feet ; 
I'lUt only lay a hand before, and I '11 lilt you to 

your seat ; 
.Mount, .luaii, for they gather fiust ! — 1 hear 

their coining cry, — 
.Mount, mount, and ride for jeopaiily, — 1 '11 save 

you though I die ! 

".Stand, noble steed I this hour of neeil, — be 

gentle as a lamb ; 
I'll ki."ui tlie foam from olf thy mouth, — thy 

niOKter dear I am, — 



Mount, Juan, mount; whato'er bcti<lo, away the 

bridle lling. 
And plunge l]tr. rowels in his side. — My horse 

shall save my King ! 

" Nay, never speak ; my sires, Lord King, re- 
ceived their land from yours. 

Anil joyfully their blood shall spring, so bo it 
thine .secures ; 

If I should lly, and thou, my King, be finiml 
uinoiig the dead. 

How could I stand 'nioiig gentlemen, such scorn 
on my gray head > 

"I'astile's proud dannw shall never point the 

hnger of disdain. 
And say there 's one that ran away when our 

good lords were slain ! 
I leave Diego in your care, — you'll fill his 

father's iilaeo ; 
.Strike, strike the spur, and never spare, — God's 

blessing on your Grace ! " 

.So spake the brave Moiitafiez, liutnigo's loid was 
he; 

And turned him to the coming host in steadfast- 
ness and glee ; 

lie Hung himself among them, as thoy came down 
the hill, - 

He died, God wot ! but not before his .sword had 
drunk its fill. 

Tr-inslution of JuUN GlliSON LOCKIIAKT. 



FLODDEN FIELD. 

FROM " MARMION." CANTO Vt. 

(Tlie battle w.is fo(i);)it in September. i5n. between tlie forces of 
Mn^'land and Scotland. Tile latter were worsted, and Kin); James 
slain witli ei^flit tiiousand of Ills men. Lord Surrey commanded tlie 
iinfjlistl troops.] 

A MOMENr then Lord Marmioii stayed. 
And breatheil his steed, his men arrayed, 

Then forward nioveil his band. 
Until, Lord .Surrey's rear-guard won. 
He lialtijd by a cross of stone, 
That, on a hillock standing lone, 

Did all the field command. 

Hence might they see the full array 

Of either host for deadly fray ; 

Their marshalled lilies stretched east and west, 

Anil fronted north and south. 
And distant Kalutalion past 

From the loud eannon ■mouth ; 
Not in the close successive rattle 
That breathes the voice of modern battle, 

I!ut slow and far between. — 



508 



roi:Ms ov ['V.WK wu wak. 



Tlu< hillock gniiuHl, Lor»l Miiniiioii stayed : 
" lloiv, by this I'lxiss," ho j'liilly ^iiiiil, 

" Vou \\A\ may viow tho sooiu' ; 
HiM'o shall tlioii taiTy, Uivcly rlivw : 
■>, think of Maniiiiiii in thy piiiyo." ! — 
'riiou will not .' — well, — no less n\y ci\re 
Slmll, wiitihliil, lor thy wi'iil jni'iiaiv. — 
Yon, liKnmt ami Knstai'o, ait> hoi' gniml. 

With tin pickinl aivhci-s of my train ; 
With Knj;lanil if I ho day go hiuil, 

I'o lioiwiok .<.[ioo(l amain, -- 
Hut, ir wo oiuinnoi', oruol maiil. 
My s|ioils shall at yonr loot ho laid, 

Whon lioiv wo moot again," 
llo waitoil not lor answoi- thoiv. 
And would not n\aik tho maid's dosjwir. 

Nor hood tho disoontontod look 
FixMn oithor sijuiro ; but si>nrroil amain, 
Anil, dashing thivngh tho battloplain. 

His way to Surrey took. 

Ulount and l'iti:-F.uslai'o ivstod still 
AVith Lady t^laiv ujion tho hill ; 
On whioh (lor far tlio day was spont^ 
Tho wostorn sunlvanis now woiv bout. 
Tlu< ory thoy hoaixl, its moanini; know, 
(.'ould plain thoir distant oonirados view t 
Sadly to lUonnt did Kustaoo say, 
" I'nworthy ollioo hoiv to stay ! 
No lu>i»> of gildod sjiui's to-day. — 
Unt, soo ! look up, — on Floddon Knit 
Tho Soottish loo lias liivd his tont." — 

And suddon, as ho spoko, 
Krom tho sharp rid^gi's of tho hill. 
All dowiuvanl to tho Iwnks of Till 

Was wivathod in sablo snioko. 
Volnmod and vast, and idling far, 
Tho olond onvoloiH'd Sootland's war, 

As down tho hill thoy bi\>ko ; 
Nor martial shout, nor minstivl tone, 
Announood thoir maivh ; thoir tivad alone. 
At timos thoir warning trnmiiet blown, 

At timos a stillod hum. 
Told Kngland, fi\im his mountain-tlii'ono 

King .lamos did rushing oomo. — 
Seaiw oonld thoy hoar or soo thoir loos, 
I'ntil at woa|H>n-iHnnt thoy olivso. — 
Thoy oloso in olouds of smoko and dust. 
With swoixl-sway and with lanoo's thrust ; 

And suoh a yoll wa.-i thoiv. 
t^f suddon and portentous birth. 
As if uion fought upon tho oarth 

And lionds in upporair : 
0, lifo and doalh woiv in tho shout, 
Rivoil and rally, ohai'gi" and ivut. 

And triumph and dosjvur. 
Long lookod tho iin.\ious snuiii-s ; thoir eye 
Could in tho darkness naiuiht dosorv. 



At longth the freshening wostern blast 

Asido tho shroud of battlo oast ; 

And, lii-st, tho vidgii of niinglod spoara 

Abovo tho brightoning olond appoars ; 

And in tho smoko tho jionnons W^w, 

As in the storm tho w hilo soa-mow, 
' Thou niarkoil thoy, dashing bivad an 1 far, 

Tho Invkon billows of tho war. 

And plunl^d iiosts of ohioftains bravo 

Floating liko loam upon tho wave ; 
But naught distinot thoy soe ; 
I \Vido ragi'd tho Imttlo on llio plain ; 
I Sjioai-s shook, and falohions Hashed anuiin ; 
I Fell Kngland's arunv-llight liko rain ; 

t'rests ivso, and stoopod, and roso again. 

Wild and disoiilorly. 
' Amid Ihosoono of tumult, high 
i Thoy saw Loixl Marmion's faloon lly : 
I .\nd stainloss Tnnstnll's Kinnor white, 
I And Kdniuud llovvaiil's lion bright, 

Still boar thou\ bravoly in tho light ; 
Although agsiinst thoni oomo 

Of gallant Oonlons nniuy a one. 

And many a stubborn llighlandman. 

And n\any a rjiggod lionlor olan, 
M'ith lluntloy and with Homo. 

Far on tho loft, unsoon tho while, 
8tauloy luvko l.onnox and Argylo ; 
Though thoiv tho wostorn mountainoor 
Kushod with luiiv bosom on tho sjioar. 
And Hung tho fwhlo targo aside. 
And with both hands tho bivadsword pliod, 
T was vain : — lUit Fortuno, on the right, 
WitJi lioklo smilo, ohooivd Soot land's light. 
Then loll that spotloss hinuer white. 

The llowanl'slion foil ; 
Yet still l.oul Marmion's faloon How 
With wavoring llight, whilo lioiver givw 

Areund tho Uittlo-yoll. 
The 15oi\lor slogan ivnt tho sky ! 
A Home ! a lioiilou ! was the ory : 
Loud wore the olanging blows ; 
Adxiiuocd, — foix'inl Kiok, — now low, now hig(,. 

The iHinnon sunk and ivso ; 
As IhmuIs tho liark's mast in tho g;do, 
Whon ivnt are rigging, shivuds, and .-mil. 

It wnvoiiHl mid tho foos. 
No loug»'r Ulount tho viow oould War ; — 
" By hoaveu and all its saints, 1 swoar, 

I will not jioo it hvst ! 
Fitjt-F.ustaoo, you with Uuly Olare 
May bid your bwids, and patter prayor, — 

1 gallop to tlio hi>st." 
And to the fray he nxlo amain, 
Followtnl by all tho arehor train. 
Tho liory youth, with dosin-rato ohai'gv", 
Madv, for » spaoo, an ojioning lai-gi-, - 



WAU. 



309 



Tlie rescued banner rose, 
Hill durkly I'loaeiJ tliu wiir iiround, 
Like piiiftici', rooted from tlio ground, 

It sunk auuiuj; tliu foes. 
Tlicn Eustine nioUMlcd too ; — yul Htuyed, 
As loiitli to leave tln' liilpless niuiil, 

AVhcu, fiust lis slial't can lly, 
Bloodsliot liis eyes, liis nostrils spread. 
The loose rein dangling from his head. 
Housing! ami saddle bloody red. 

Lord Marniion's steeil rushed Ijy ; 
And l:Iustaee, madilcning at the sight, 

A look and sign to Clara cast. 

To mark he would return in haste, 
Then jilunged into the light. 

Ask me not what the maiilen feels, 
Left in that dreailful hour alone : 

Perchance her reason stoops or reels ; 
Perchance a courage, not her own. 
Braces her minil to desperati' tone. — 

The scattered van of Kngland wheels ; — 
She only said, as loud in air 
The tumult roared, " Ls Wilton there !" — 
They lly, or, nniddcncd by despair, 
Fight but to ilie, — " Is Wilton there ?" 

With that, straight up the hill there rode 
Two horsemen drenched with gore. 

And in their arms, a helpless load, 
A wounded knight they bore. 

Jlis hand still strained the broken binnd ; 

His arms were smeared with blooil and sand. 

Dragged from among the horses' foet, 

With dinteil shield, ami helmet beat, 

The falcon-crest and pluniage gone, 

Can that be haughty .Manrjion ! . . . . 

Young iilount his armor diil unlace, 

And, gazing on his ghastly face. 

Said, — " Hy .St. (Jeorge, he 's gone ! 

That spear-wound has our master sped, — 

And see the deep cut on his head ! 
Good night to Marmion." — 

" t'nnnitured IMount ! thy brawling reuse ; 

He opes his eyes," said Eustace ; " peace ! " 

Whin, doffed his ensqne, he felt free air, 
Aiound 'gan Marmion wildly stare : — 
" Where 's Harry Iilount / Fitz-Eustace where ? 
Linger ye here, ye hearts of hare ! 
liedeein my pennon, — charge again I 
• 'ry — ' ,\IannIon to the rescue ! ' — vain ! 
Last ot my race, on battle-plaiu 
That shont shall nc-'er be heanl again ! — 
Vet my last thought is England's ; — lly. 
To Dacre Ik-ar my signet-ring : 
Tell him his srpiailrons up to bring : — 
Fitz-Eustacc, to Lord .Surrey hie ; 



Tunstall lies dead upon the fielij. 
His lilVi-iilooil stains the sjiotless shield : 
Edmund is down ; — my life is reft ; — 
The .\diuiral alone is left. 
Let .Stanley charge with spur of lire, — 
With ( 'hester charge, and Lancashire, 
Full upon Scotland's central host, 
Or victory and England 's lost. — 
Must I bid twice ? -- hence, varlets ! lly I 
Leave Marmion here alone — to die." 
They parted, and alone he lay : 
Clare drew her from the sight away. 
Till pain wrung forth a lowly moan, 
And half he murmured, — " Is there none, 

Of all my halls havi! nurst. 
Page, sijuire, or groom, oim cup to bring, 
Of blessed water from the spring. 
To slake my dying thirst ! " 

woman ! in our hours of ease, 
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please. 
And variable as the shaile 
liy the light (piivi!ring aspen made ; 
When pain and anguish wring the brow, 
A ministering angel thou ! — 
Scarce were the piteous accents said, 
When, with the liaron's casiiue, the maid 

To the nigh streandet ran ; 
Forgot were hatred, wrongs, and fears j 
The plaintive voice alone she hears. 

Sees but the dying man. 
She stooped her by the runnel's side. 

But in abhorrcme backward drew ; 
For, oozing from the mountain's side. 
Where rageil the war, a dark-red tide 

Was curdling in the streamlet blue. 
Where shall she turn 1 — behold lu'r mark 

A little fountain cell. 
Where water, clear as diamond-spark. 

In a stone basin fell. 
Alinve, some lirdf-worn letters say, 

Brinlt- tocaro- oilgrim- firink- ntiti- prag- 
Jar- tht- kinB- soul- of- Siibil- ffiicij- 

J2il)o- built- tliis- cross- nnB- torll- 
She lilled the- hc-lni, arj.l li,ick she hied. 
Ami with surprise and joy espied 

A monk supporting Mannion's head ; 
A pious man whom duty brought 
To dubious verge of battle fought, 

To shrive the dying, bless the dead. 

Deep drank LonI Mamiion of the wave. 
And, as she stoopeii his brow to lave, — 
" Is it th(! hanil of Clare," he said, 
"Or injured Constance, bathes my head ? " 

Then, as remembrance rose, — 
"Speak not to me of shrift or prayer I 

I must redress her woes. 



uo 



POEMS OK PEACE AND WAI! 



Short space, few words, are mine to spare ; 
Foj'give and listen, gentle Clare ! " — 

"Alas ! " she said, "the while, — 
0, think of your ininiortal weal ! 
In vain for Constauee is your zeal ; 

She — died at Holy Isle." — 
Lord Marrnion started from the ground. 
As light as if he felt no wound ; 
Though in the aetion burst the tide 
In torrents from his wounded side. 
" Then it was truth 1 " he said, — "I knew 
That the dark presage must be true. — 
I would the Fiend, to whom belongs 
The vengeance due to all her wrongs, 

Would spare mo but a day ! 
For wasting tire, and dying groan, 
And priests slain on the altai' stone, 

Might bribe him for delay. 
It may not be ! — tliis dizzy trance, — 
Curse on yon base marauder's lance, 
And doubly cursed my failing brand ! 
A sinful heart makes feeble hand." 
Then, fainting, <lown on earth he sunk, 
Supported by the trembling monk. 

With fruitless Inbor, Clara bound, 

And strove to stanch the gushing wound : 

The monk, with unavailing cares, 

Exhausted all the Church's ]irayers. 

Ever, he said, tluit, close and near, 

A lady's voice was in his ear. 

And that the priest he could not hear, 

For that she ever sung, 
"1)1 the lost battle, Ionic doinii hj the flying, 
JVhcrc mingles war's rattle, with groans of tJu 
dying ! " 

So the notes rung : — 
"Avoid thee. Fiend ! — with cruel hand, 
Shake not the dying sinner's sand ! — 
0, look, my son, upon yon sign 
Cif the Kedeemer's grace divine : 

0, think on faith and bliss ! — 
By many a death-bed I have been, 
And many a sinner's parting seen, 

But never aught like this." 

The war. tliat for a space did fail. 

Now trebly thundering swelled the gale. 

And — Sl'AiNLEY ! was the cry : — 
A light on Marmion's visage spread, 

And lired his glazing eye : 
With dying hand above his head 
He shook the fragnuMit of his blade, 

And shouted " Victory ! — 
Cliarge, Chester, charge ! On, Stanley, on ! " 
Were the last words of Marrnion. 

Sir ^\"AI trr Scott. 



BEAL' AN DHUINE. 

FROM -'THE LADY OF THE LAKE." CANTO VI. 

THElif. is no breeze upon the fern. 

No ripple on the lake. 
Upon her eyrie nods the erne, 

The <leer has sought the brake ; 
The small birds will not sing aloud. 

The springing trout lies still. 
So darkly glooms yon thunder-cloud, 
That swathes, as with a purple shroud, 

Benledi's distant hill. 
Is it the thuiuler's .solemn sound 

That mutters deeji and dread, 
Or echoes from the groaning ground 

The warrior's measured tread ? 
Is it the lightning's iiuivcring glance 

That on the thicket streams. 
Or do they Hash on spear and lance 

The sun's retiring beams? 
I see the dagger crest of Mar, 

I see the Moray's silver star 
Wave o'er the cloud of Saxon war. 

That up the lake comes winding far ! 
To hero boiind for battle strife, 

Or bard of martial lay, 
'T were worth ten years of peaceful life. 

One glance at their arrav ! 



Their light-armed archers far and near 

Surveyed the tangled ground, 
Their centre ranks, with pike and spear, 

A twilight forest frowned, 
Theii' barbed luir.semen, in the rear. 

The stern battaba crowned. 
No cymbal clashed, no clarion rang. 

Still were the piiie ami drum ; 
Save heavy tread, and armor's clang, 

The sullen march was dumb. 
There breatheil no wind their crests to shake. 

Or wave their flags abroad ; 
Scarce the flail asjien seemed to quake, 

That shadowed o'er 'their road. 
Their vaw'ard scouts no tidings bring, 

Can rouse no lurking foe, 
Nor siiy a tnice of living thing, 

Save when they stirred the roe ; 
The host moves like a dee]) sea wave, 
WHiere rise no rocks its pride to brave. 

High swelling, dark, and slow. 
The lake is passed, and now they g;uu 
A narrow and a broken jjlain. 
Before the Trosach's rugged jaws ; 
And here the hoise and spearmen pause. 
While, to ex|)lore the dangerous glen. 
Dive through the pass the archer men. 



WAR. 



511 



At once there rose so wild a yell 
Within tli:it (lark ami imirovv liell, 
As nil tliu licnds, IVoni liciivi'ii tlmt fell, 
Hml peali'd the bniiiier cry of hell ! 
Forth from the piuss in tumult driven, 
Like ihiitV before the wind of heaven, 

The urcliery appear : 
For life ! for life ! their lliglit they ply — 
And shriek, and shout, and battle-cry. 
Anil plaiils and bonnets wavin;^ high, 
And luoadswords llashiiif; to the sky. 

Are niadilenini; in the rear. 
Onward they drive, in dreadful race, 

I'ur.suers and pursued ; 
Before that tide of flight and chase. 
How shall it keep its rooted place. 

The spearmen's twilight wood ? 
— "Down, down, "cried Jlar, " your lancea down ! 

Bear back both friend an<l foe ! " 
Like ree<ls before the tempest's frown. 
That serried giove of lances brown 

At once lay levelled low ; 
And closely shouldering side to side. 
The bristling ranks the onset bide. — 
— " We'll (piell the savage mountaineer, 

As their Tinchel • cows the game ; 
They come as fleet as forest deer, 

We'll drive them back as tame." 

Bearing before them, in their course, 
The relics of the archer force. 
Like wave with crest of sparkling foam. 
Right onward did Clan-Alpine come. 
Above the tide, each broadsword bright 
Was brandisliing like beam of light, 

Kach targe was dark below ; 
And svitli the ocean's mighty swing. 
When heaving to the tempest's wing, 

They hurled them on the foe. 
I heard the lance's shivering crash, 
As when the whirlwind rend.s the ash ; 
I heard the broadsword's deadly clang, 
As if a hundied anvils lang ! 
But Moray wheeleil his rearward rank 
Of horsemen on Clan-.\liiine's flank — 

" My bnnnerman, advance ! 
1 sec," he cried, " their columns shake. 
Now, gallants I for your ladie-s' sake, 

Upon tliem with the lance ! " 
Tlie horsemen dashed among the rout, 

As deer break through the broom ; 
Their steeds are stout, their swoids are out, 

They soon make lightsome room. 
Clan-Alpine's Iwst are backward borne — 

Where, where was Roderick then ? 
One blast upon his bugle-horn 

Were worth a thousand men ! 

• A cUcIc of sportsmen, surroundint; the deer. 



And refluent through the pass of fear 

The battle's tide was ]»inred ; 
Vanished the Saxon's struggling spear. 

Vanished the mountain sword. 
As Bracklinn's chasm, so black and steep. 

Receives her roaring linn, 
As the dark caverns of the 'deep 

Suck the wild whirlpool in, 
So did the deep and <larksome pass 
Devour tlie battle's mingled mass ; 
None linger now upon the plain. 
Save those who ne'er shall fight again. 

Sir Walter Scott. 



WATERLOO. 

FRO,1* •■CHILDP. HAROLD." CANTO HI. 

TllKRK was a sound of revelry by night. 
And Belgium's capital had gathered then 
Her beauty and her chivalry, and briglit 
The lamps shone o'er lair women and brave 

men ; 
A thousand hearts beat happily ; and when 
Music arose with its voluiituous swell, 
Softey'es looked love to eyes which spake again. 
And all went merry as a marriage-bell ; 
But hush ! hark ! a deep sound strikes like a 

rising knell ! 

Did ye not hear it ? — No ; 't was but the 

wind. 
Or the car rattling o'er the stony street ; 
On with the dance ! let joy be uiiconfined ! 
No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure 

meet 
To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet, — 
But, hark ! — that heavy sound breaks in once 

more. 
As if the clouds its echo would repeat ; 
And nearer, clearer, <leadlier than before ! 
Arm ! arm ! it is — it is — the cannon's opening 

roar ! 

Within a windowed niclie of that high hall 
Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain ; he did hear 
Tliat sound the first amidst tlie festival. 
And caught its tone with Death's inophetic 

ear ; 
And when they smiled because he deemed it 

near. 
His heart more truly knew that peal too well 
Which stretched his father on a bloody bier, 
And roused the vengeance blood alone could 

ipiell : 
He rushed into the field, and, forcmosi Ogliting, 

fell. 



512 



I'OKMS OF I'KAt'E AND WAi; 



Ah ! then niul there was hurrying to ami (nt. 
Ami ^atherius; tears, and IreniMimi^s ol' ilis- 

t ress. 
Ami iheeks all jiahi which hut an liour ago 
Bhislieil at tile [miise of their own loveliness ; 
Ami there were suihleu partings, sueh as press 
The life t'roui out young hearts, ami ehoking 

sighs 
Whieh ne'er might be reiieateil ; who wnuhl 

guess 
If evermore shouhl meet those nuitual eyes 
Since upon night so sweet such awl'ul morn eouhl 

rise ! 

Ami theiv was mounting in hot haste : the 

steed, 
The musteringsquadrou, and the clattering car, 
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, 
And sniltly forming in the ranks of war ; 
And the deep thunder peal on peal afiir ; 
And near, tlie beat of the alarming drnm 
Roused up the soldier ere the morning star ; 
While thronged the citi;^ens with termr dumb. 
Or whispering with white lips, — " The foe ! they 

come ! they eome ! " 

And wild and higli tlu' '• ('an\erou'sgnthoring" 

rose. 
The war-note of Lochiel, which Alhyn's hills 
llaveheaixl, — and heard, too, have her Saxon 

foes ; 
How in the noon of night that pibiveh thrills 
Savage and shrill 1 But with the breath whieh 

tills 
Their mountain pipe, so till the nuiuntaineers 
With the tieree native daring which instills 
The stirring memory of a thousand yeai-s. 
And Evan's, Donald's fanre, rings in each elans- 
man's eai's ! 

And Ardennes waves above them her given 

leaves, 
Oewy with nature's tear-droi«, as they l«ss, 
Orieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, 
Over the umvturning bnive, — alas ! 
Imy evening to be trodden like the gniss 
Which now Ix'ueath them, but above shall grow 
In its next veulnre, when this tiery nniss 
Of living valor, ivlling on the foe. 
And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold 

and low. 

Last noon beheld them lull of lusty life, 
Ijist eve in Beauty's eiivle proudly guy. 
The miilnight brought the signal sound of 

strife. 
The morn the marslialling in arms, — the day 
liiittle's magnifteently stern army ! 



The th\indor-clouds close o'er it, which wheK 

rent 
The earth is eovercil thick with other clay. 
Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and 

pent. 
Rider and horse, — friend, foe, — iu one red 

burial blent ! 

Their pnUM' is liynincd by loftier harps thiin 

mine ; 
Yet one 1 would select from that pnuul throng. 
Partly because they blend nu' with his line. 
And partly that I did his siiv some wrong, 
And partly that bright uanu's will hallowsoug! 
And his was of the bravest, and when showered 
The death-bolts deadliest the thinned tiles 

along. 
Even where the thickest of war's temjicst 

lowered, 
They reached no nobler breast than thine, young, 

gallant Howard I 

Then' have bei'u tears and breaking hearts for 

thee. 
And mine were nothing, had I sneh to give ; 
1 hit when 1 stood beneath the fresh green tree, 
Whieh living waves where thou didst cease to 

live. 
And saw around me the wide field revive 
With fruitsaml fertile promise, and the Spring 
l'onu> forth her wurk of gladness to contrive, 
With all her reckless biixls upon the wing, 
1 turned fiiuu all she buiught to those she eould 

not bring. 

I turned to thee, to thousands, of whom each 
And one as all a ghastly gap did nmke 
In his own kind ami kindivd, whom to teach 
Koi'getfuluess were nu'ivy for their sake ; 
The Aivhaugi'l's trump, not glory's, must 

awake 
Those whom they thii'st for ; though the so\>nd 

of Fame 
May for a monuuit .soothe, it cannot slake 
The fever of vain longing, and the nanu> 
So hoiioivd but assumesa stronger, bitterer claim. 

They mourn, Init smile at length ; and, smil- 
ing, mourn ; 

Tlie tree will wither long befoii' it fall ; 

The hull drives on, though mast and sail W torn ; 

The waif-ti-ec sinks, but mouldei^ on the hall 

hi mas.sy luuiriness ; the ruined wall 

Stands when its wind-worn liattlemeiits are 
gone ; 

The Wi's survive the captive they enthrall ; 

The day drags through though storms keep out 
the sun ; 
And thus the heart will break, yet Urokeuly live on ; 



WAR. 



613 



Even as a broken mirror, wliich the glass 
In every I'riigiiient miiltiiilies, and makes 
A thouMiiil images of ouo that was 
The same, and still the more, the more it 

breaks ; 
And thus tlie heart will do whiih not for- 
sakes, 
Living in shattered guise, and still, and cold, 
And bloodless, with its sleepless sorrow aches. 
Yet withers on till all witliout is old. 
Showing nu visible sign, lor such things are 
untold. 

LORD OVRON. 



HOHENLINDEN. 

On Linden, when the sun was low. 
All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, 
And dark as winter was the How 
Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 

Hut Linden saw another .sight 
When the drum beat, at dead of night. 
Commanding (ires of <leath to light 
The darkness of hur scenery. 

By torch and trumpet fast arrayed, 
Jjich horseman drew his battle-blade. 
Anil lurious every charger neighed. 
To join the dreadful revelry. 

Then shook the hills with thunder riven. 
Then rushed the steed to battle driven. 
And louder than the bolts of heaven 
Far Hashed the red artillery. 

But redder yet that light shall glow 
On Linilen's hills of stained snow. 
And bloodier yet the torrent How 
Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 

'T is morn, but scarce yon level sun 
Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun. 
Where furious Frank and fiery Hun 
Shout in their sulphurous canopy. 

The combat deepens. On, ye brave. 
Who rush to glory, or the gi'avo ! 
Wave, Munich I all thy banners wave. 
And charge with all thy chivalry ! 

Few, few shall j>art where many meet I 
The snow shall be their winding-sheet. 
And every turf beneath their feet 
Shall be a soldier's sepulchre. 

Thowas Campsell. 



INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP. 

You know we French stormed Katisbon : 

A mile or so away, 
On a little mound,- Napoleon 

Stood on our storming-day ; 
With ni'c:k ont-tlirust, you fancy how. 

Legs wide, arms locked hi^hind. 
As if to balance the prone brow. 

Oppressive with its mind. 

Just as perhaps he mused, " My plans 

That soar, to earth may fall. 
Let once my army-leader Lannes 

Waver at yonder wall," — 
Out 'twi.\t the buttery-smokes there flew 

A rider, bound on bound 
Full-galloping ; nor bridle drew 

Until he reached the mound. 

Then ofT there flung in smiling joy, 

And held himself erect 
By just his lior.se's mane, a boy : 

You hardly could suspect 
(So tight he ki^it his li|is compressed, 

Scarce any blood came through). 
You looked twice ere you saw his breast 

Was all but shot in two. 

" Well," cried he, " Emperor, by God's grace 

We've got you Katisljon ! 
The marshal 's in the market-place. 

And you 'II lie there anon 
To see your Hag-bird Ha]) his vans 

Where I, to heart's desire, 
Perched him ! " The chief's eye Hashed ; Ids plans 

Soared up again like lire. 

The chief's eye flashed ; but presently 

Softened itself, as sheathes 
A film the mother-eagle's eye 

When her bruised eaglet breathes ; 
" You 're wounded ! " " Nay," his soldier's pride 

Touched to the ipiick, he said : 

" I 'ni killed, sire I " And, his chief beside, 

Smiling, the boy fell dead. 

KonERT Browning, 



HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS 
FROM GHENT TO AIX. 

I .si'KANO to the stirrup, and .Toris and he ; 

I gallopeil, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three ; 

" Good speed ! " cried the watch as the gate- 
bolts undrew, 

" Speed ! " cidioe<l the wall to us galloping 
through. 

Behind shut the postern, tJie li;;hts sank to rest, 

And into the miilnight we gallr)]ii'd abreast. 



514 



POEMS OF PEACE AND WAR, 



Not a word to eacli other ; we kept the great 

pace, — 
Neck by neck, stride by stride, iie\-er changing 

our place ; 
I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight, 
Then shortened each stirrup and set the pique 

right, 
Rebuckled the check-strap, chained slacker the 

bit, 
Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit. 

'T was a moonset at starting ; but while we drew 

near 
Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned 

clear ; 
At Boom a great yellow star came out to see ; 
At Diill'eld 't was morning as plain as could be ; 
And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the 

half-chime, — 
So Joris broke silence with " Yet there is time ! " 

At Aerschot up leaped of a sudden the sun, 
And against him the cattle stood black every one, 
To stare through the mist at us galloping past ; 
And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last. 
With resolute shoulders, each butting away 
The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray ; 

And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear 

bent back 
For my voice, and the other pricked out on his 

track ; 
And one eye's black intelligence, — ever that 

glance 
O'er its white edge at me, his own master, 

askance ; 
And the thick heavy spume-flakes, which aye 

and anon 
His fierce lips shook upward in galloping on. 

By Hasselt, Dirck groaned ; and (Tied Joris, 
" Stay s)iur ! 

Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in 
her ; 

We'll remember at Ai.\," — for one heard the 
quick wheeze 

Of her chest, saw the stretched neck, and stag- 
gering knee.s, 

And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank, 

As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank. 

So we were left galloping, ,Toris and I, 
Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky ; 
The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh ; 
'Neath our feet broke the brittle, bright stubble 

like chafT ; 
Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang wliite, 
And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Ai.x is in 

sight ! " 



" How they 'II greet us ! " — and all in a moment 

his roan 
Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone-. 
And there was my Roland to bear the whole 

weight 
Of the news which alone could save Aix from 

her fiite, 
AVith his nostrils like pits full of blood to the 

brim. 
And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim. 

Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each hoUter let 

fall. 
Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all. 
Stood up in tlie stirrup, leaned, patted his ear, 
Called my Roland his pet name, my horse with- 
out peer, — 
Clapped my hands, laughed and sung, any noise, 

bad or good. 
Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood. 

And all I remember is, friends flocking round, 
As I sate with his head 'twixt my knees on the 

grouml ; 
And no voice but was praising this Roland of 

mine. 
As I poured down his throat our last measure r.f 

wine. 

Which (the burgesses voted by common consent) 

Was no more than his due who brought good 

news from Ghent. 

Robert browning. 



THE PRIVATE OF THE BUFFS;* OK, 
THE BRITISH SOLDIER IN CHINA. 

[" Some Seiks. and a private of the BufTb. tiaving remained behind 
with the grog-carts, fell into the handb of the Chinese. On the next 
day they were brouijlit before the authorities and ordered to pet- 
(onn Kotou, The Seiks obeye<l. but Moyse, the English soldier, 
declared he would not ijrostrate himself before any Chinaman alive, 
and was inunediately knocked upon the head, and his body thrown 
upon a dunghill." — Chum Correspondent of tin London Times. ] 

La.st night, among his fellow roughs, 

He jested, quafl'ed, and swore ; 
A drunken ])rivatc of the Buffs, 

AVho never looked before. 
To-day, beneath the foeman's frown. 

He stands in Elgin's place. 
Ambassador from Britain's crown, 

And type of all her race. 

Poor, reckless, rude, low-born, untaught. 

Bewildered, and alone, 
A heart, witli English instinct fraught, 

He yet can call his own. 
Ay, teai- his body limb from limb. 

Bring cord or axe or flame. 
He only knows that not through him 

Shall England come to .shame. 

• The ■• Bulfs" ate the East Kent regiment. 



WAR. 



515 



Far Kentish hop-fields round him seemed, 

Like drenvns, to come and go ; 
Briglit leagues of oherry-blossom gleamed, 

One sheet ol' living snow ; 
The smoke above his liitlier's door 

In gi'ay soft eddyings hung; 
Must he then watch it rise no more. 

Doomed by himself so young ? 

Yes, honor calls ! — with strength like steel 

He put the vision by; 
Let dusky Indians whine and kneel. 

An Knglish lad must die. 
And thus, with eyes that would not shrink. 

With knee to man unbent. 
Unfaltering on its dreadfid brink. 

To his red grave he went. 

Vain mightiest fleets of iron framed. 

Vain those all-shattering guns. 
Unless proud England keep untamed 

The strong heart of her sons ; 
So let liis name througli Europe ring, — 

A man of mean estate. 
Who died, as firm as Sparta's king. 

Because his soul was great. 

SIR FRANCIS HASTI.\CS DOVLE. 



THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW. 

0, THAT last day in Lucknow fort ! 

We knew that it was the last ; 
That the enemy's lines crept surely on, 

Anil the end was coming fast. 

To yield to that foe meant worse than death ; 

And the men and we all worked on ; 
It was one day more of smoke anil roar. 

And then it would all be done. 

There was one of us, a corpoml's wife, 

A fair, young, gentle thing, 
Wacted with fever m the siege. 

And her mind was wandering. 

She lay on the ground, in hei- Scottish plaid, 
And 1 took her head on my knee ; 

" When my father comes lianie frae the pleugh," 
slie said, 
"Oh I then please waukeu me." 

She slept like a child on her father's floor. 
In the flecking of woodbine-shade, 

AVhen the house-dog sprawls by the open door. 
And the mother's wheel is stayed. 



It was smoke and roar an.l powder-stencli. 

And hopeless waiting for death ; 
And the soldier's wife, like a full-tired child, 

Seemed scarce to draw her breath. 

1 sank to .sleep ; and ■ had my dream 

Of an English village-lane. 
And wall and garden ; — but one wild scream 

Brought me back to the roar again. 

There Jessie Brown stood listening 

Till a .sudden gladness broke 
All over her face ; and she caught my hand 

And drew me near as she spoke : — 

"The Hielanders ! 0, dinna ye hear 

The slogan far awa ? 
The McGregor's, — 0, I ken it weel ; 

It's the grandest o' them a' ! 

" God bless the bonny Hielanders ! 

We 're saved ! we 're saved ! " she cried ; 
And fell on her knees ; and thanks to God 

Flowed forth like a full Hood-tide. 

Along the battery-line her cry 

Had fallen among the men. 
And they started back ; — they were there to die ; 

But was life so near them, then ? 

They listened for life ; the rattling fire 

Far off, and the far-ofl' roar, 
Were all ; and the colonel shook his head. 

And they turned to their guns once more 

But Jessie said, " The slogan 's done ; 

But winua ye hear it noo. 
The Campbells are comin ? It 's no a dream ; 

Our succors hae broken through ! " 

We heard the roar and the rattle afar. 

But the pipes we could not hear ; 
So the men plied their work of hopeless war 

And knew that the end was near. 

It was not long ere it made its way, — 

A thrilling, ceaseless sound : 
It was no noise from the strife afai-. 

Or the sajipers under ground. 

It was the pipes of the Highlanders ! 

And now they played Auhl Lang Syne 
It came to our men like the voice of God, 

And they shouted along the line. 

And they wept, and shook one another s hands. 
And the women sobbed in a crowd ; 

And every one knelt down where he stood. 
And we all thanked God aloud. 



616 



I'OE.MS 01' PEACE AND WAR. 



Tliat happy time, wlien we welconu'i! tlnni, 

Our iiiL'ii put Jessie lii'st ; 
And the goui'iiil save her liia hanil, ami cheers 

Like a storm from the soldiers burst. 

And the pipers' vihlions and tartan streamed, 
Maroliiug round and round our lino ; 

And our joyful cheers were broken with tears, 
As the pipes played Auld Lamj Syne. 

ROliGKr T. S, LOWELL. 



BY THE ALMA lilVER. 

Willie, fold your little hands ; 

Let it drop, — that " soldier " toy ; 
Look where father's picture stands, — 

Father, that hero kissed his boy 
Not a month since, — fatlier kind, 
Who this night may (never mind 
Jlother's sob, my Willie dear) 
Cry out loud that Ho may hear 
AVho is Ood of battles, — cry, 
"God keep father safe this day 
By the AUna Kiver ! " 

Ask no more, child. Never heed 
Eithei' Russ, or Frank, or Turk ; 

Riglit of nations, trampled creed, 

Chance-poised victoiy's bloody work ; 

Any flag i' the wind may roll 

On thy heights, Sevastopol ! 

Willie, all to you and me 

Is that spot, whnte'er it be. 

Where he stands — no other word — 

Stands — God sure the child's prayera heard 
Near the Alma Kiver. 

Willie, listen to the bells 

Kinging in the town to-day ; 
That 's for victory. No knell swells 

For the many swept away, — 
Hundreds, thousands. Let ns weep, 
We, who need not, — just to keep 
Rm-sou clear in thought and brain 
Till the morning comes again ; 
Till the thiixl dread n>orning tell 
Who they were that fought and — fell 
By the Alma Ki\cr. 

Come, we '11 lay us down, my child ; 

Poor the bed is, — poor and hard ; 
But thy father, far e.\iled, 

Sleejis upon the open sward. 
Dreaming of ns two at home ; 
Or, beneath the starry dome. 



Digs out trenches in the dark, 
Where he buries — Willie, mark ! — 
Where he buries those who died 
Fighting — lighting at his side — 
By the Alma Kiver. 

Willie, Willie, go to sleep ; 

God will help us, my boy ! 
He will make the dull hours creep 

Faster, ami .send news of joy ; 
When I need not shrink to meet 
Those great ]ilaeards in the street, 
Tluit for weeks will ghastly stare 
In some eyes — child, say that prayer 
Once again, — a ilill'erent one, — 
Say, " God ! Thy will be dono 
By the Alma River." 

Dinah Maria Ml'lock Craik. 



BALAKLAVA. 

THE charge at Balaklava ! 

that rash and fatal charge ! 

Never was a fiercer, braver, 

Than that charge at Balaklava, 
On the battle's blooiiy marge ! 

All the day the Kussian columns. 

Fortress huge, and blazing banks. 

Poured their dread destructive volumes 
On the French and English ranks, — 
On the gallant allied ranks ! 

Earth ami sky seemed rent asunder 

By the loud incessant thunder ! 

When a strange but stern command — 

Needless, heedless, rash eomnumd — 

Came to Lucan's little band, — 

Scarce six hundreil men and horses 

Of those vast contending forces : — 

" England 's lost unless you save her ! 

Charge the [lass at Balaklava ! " 

that rash and fatal charge, 
On the battle's bloody marge I 

Far away the Russian Eagles 

Soar o'er snuiking hill and dell, _ 

And their hordes, like howling beagles, 

Dense and countless, round them yell ! 

Tlinndcring cannon, deadly mortar. 

Sweep the lield in every quarter ! 

Never, since the days of Jesus, 

Treiublcd so the Chersonesus ! 

Hero behold the t<allic Lilies — 
Stout St. Louis' golden Lilies — 
Float as erst at old Ramillies ! 
And Vieside them, lo ! the Lion ! 
With her trophied Cross, is (lying ! 

Glorious standanls ! — shall they waver 

On the lield of ISalaklava ? 



WAR. 



517 



No, by Heavens ! at tlmt comiiiaiij — 
Sudden, i^ush, but stern eoninmud — 
Clinrges Lucnn's little band ! 

Bnive Six Hundred ! lo ! they charge, 
On the battle's bloody marge ! 

Down yon deep nn<l skirted valley, 

Where the erowded eannun Jilay, — 
Wliere the Czar's fierce cohorts rally, 
Cossack, C'alniuck, savage Kalli, — 

Down that gorge they swept away I 
Down that new Therino]iylie, 
Flashing swonis and helnieta see ! 
Uudeineath the iron shower. 

To the brazen cannon's jaws, 
Heedless of their deadly jiower. 

Press they without fear or ]iause, — 

To the very cannon's jaws ! 
Gallant Nolan, brave as Kohind 

At the field of Koncesvalles, 

Dashes down the fatal valley. 
Dashes on the bolt of death. 
Shouting with his latest breath, 
"Charge, then, gallants ! do not waver. 
Charge the pass at Balaklava ! " 

that rash and fatal chaige, 
On the battle's bloody marge I 

Now the bolts of volleyed thunder 
Rend that little band asunder, 
Steed and rider wildly screaming. 

Screaming wildly, sink away; 
Late so proudly, jiroudly gleaming. 

Now but lifeless clods of clay, — 

Now but bleeding clods of clay I 
Never, since the days of Jesus, 
Saw such sight the C'hcrsonesus ! 
Yet your remnant, brave Six Hundred, 
Presses onward, onward, onward. 

Till they storm the bloody pass, — 

Till, like brave Leonidas, 

They storm the deailly ]iass. 
Sabring ( 'ossack, Cahnuck, Kalli, 
In that wild shot-renderl valley, ^ 
Drenched with fire and blood, like lava, 
Awful pass at Balaklava ! 

that rash and fatal charge. 
On the battle's bloody marge ! 

For now Russia's rallied forces, 
Swarming hordes of Cossack horses. 
Trampling o'er the reeking corses. 

Drive the thinned assailants back, 

Drive the feeble remnant back, 

O'er their late heroic track ! 
Vain, alas ! now rent and sundered, 
Vain your struggles, brave Two Hundred ! 

Thrice yo\ir number lie asleep. 

In that valley dark and deep. 



Weak an<l wounded you retire 
From that hurricane of fire, — 
That teniiiestuous storm of fire, — 
But no soldiers, firmer, braver. 

Ever trod the field of fame. 
Than the Knights of Balaklava, — 

Honor to each hei'o's name ! 
Yet their country long shall mourn 
For her rank so rashly shorn, — 
So gallantly, but madly shorn 

In that fierce and fatal charge. 
On the battle's bloody marge. 

ALhXANDtk liUAUFOKr MEOK. 



CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE. 

Half a league, half a league, 

Half a league onward. 
All in the valley of Death 

Rode the six hundred. 
" Forward, tlie Light Brigade ! 
(Charge for the guns ! " he said ; 
Into the valley of Death 

Rode the six hundred. 

" Forward, the Light Brigade I " 
Was there a man dismayed ? 
Not thougli the soldier knew 

Some one liad blundered : 
Theirs not to make reply, 
Theirs not to reason why. 
Theirs but to do and die : 
Into the valley of Death 

Rode the six hundred. 

Cannon to right of them, 
Cannon to left of them, 
Cannon in front of tliem 

Volleyed and thundered ; 
Stoniied at with shot ami shell. 
Boldly tliey rode and well ; 
Into the jaws of Death, 
Into the mouth of Hell, 

Rode the six hundred. 

Fla.shed all their sabres bare. 
Flashed as they turned in air, 
Sabring the gunners there. 
Charging an army, while 

All the world wondere<l : 
Plungi'd in the battery-smoke. 
Right through the line they broke : 
Cossack and Russian 
Reeled fiom the sabre-stroke. 

Shattered and sundered. 
Then they rode back, but not — 

Not the six hundied. 



518 



roEMS 01' rivvcE and wai;. 



Cnunon to light of them, 
Cniinou to left of thoni, 
Camiou liohiiiil tlicm 

Volloyoil :iih1 tluiiuloivd : 
Stonuoii lit with sliot ami slioll, 
VVliilc hoi'-so ami lu'io IVll, 
Tliey tliut liiul louglit so well 
Oiinie through the jaws of Deatli 
Back IVoiu the month of Hell, — 
All tliat was left ol' them. 

Left of six luuulroil. 

When eaii their glory faiio ? 
O the wild charge they made ! 

All tile world wondered. 
Honor the eliarge tliey made ! 
Honor the Light Hrigade, 

Noble six luuidred ! 

ALFRED Tennyson. 



CAVALRY SONG. 

FROM "ALICR OF MONMOUTH." 

OiiR good steeds snnlf the evening air. 

Our pulses with their purpose tingle ; 
The foeman's tires are twinkling tliere ; 
He leaps to hear our sabres jingle ! 

HAi.r ! 
Each carbine send its whizzing ball : 
Now, cling ! dang I forward all. 
Into the light ! 

Dash on tieneath tho smoking dome : 

Through level lightnings gallop nearer ! 
One look to Heaven ! No thoughts of home : 
The guidons that we bear are dearer. 

CiiAKc.i;! 
Cling ! clang ! forwanl all ! 
Heaven liclp those whose horses fall : 
Cut left and right ! 

They flee before our fieivo attack ! 

They fall ! they spread in broken surges. 
Now, comrades, bear our wounded back, 
Ajid leave the foenian to his dirges. 

WllKKl. ! 
The bugles sound the swift recall : 
Cling ! clang ! backwanl all ! 
Home, and guod night ! 

lillMCMl CLARENCn STEDMAN. 



PIBROCH OF DON'UIL DHU.* 

rinuocii of Doiuiil Dim, 

ribroch of Douuil, 
Wake thy wild voice anew, 

Summon tJian Conuil. 

CalIn:rim;-son^- of I VivtU the DI.ick. 



Come away, come away. 

Hark to the summons ! 
Come in your war array, 

Gentles and commons. 

Come from deep glen, and 

From mountains so rocky ; 
The war-iiipe and peiinou 

Are at Imerloehy. 
Come every hill-plaid, and 

True heart that wears one. 
Come every steel blade, and 

Strong liauil that bcai-s one. 

Leave niitended the herd, 

The tiock without shelter ; 
Leave the corpse uninterred. 

The bride at the altar ; 
Leave the deer, leave the steer, 

Leave nets and barges ; 
Come with your fighting gear, 

Broadswords and targes. 

Come as the winds come, when 

Forests are rcndcd ; 
Come as the waves come, when 

Navies arc stranded ; 
Faster come, faster come, 

Faster and faster. 
Chief, vassal, page and groom, 

Tenant and master. 

Fast they come, fast they come ; 

See how they gather ! 
Wide waves the eagle plume 

Blended with heather. 
Cast your plaids, draw your blades, . 

Forwanl each man set ! 
Pibroch of Donuil Dliu, 

Knell for the onset ! 

SIR WALTER SCOTT. 



THE TKOOPER'S DEATH. 

The weary night is o'er at last ! 
We ride so still, we ride so fiist ! 
We ride wlieiv Death is lying. 
Tlie morning wind doth coldly pass, 
Laiidlonl ! we '11 take another glass. 
Ere dying. 

Thou, springing grass, that art so green, 
Shalt soon be rosy red, 1 ween, 
My blood the hue siip))lying I 
1 drink the fii-st glass, swonl in hand. 
To him who for the Fatherland 
l.ie^ dying ! 



WAR. 



r,i9 



Now i|HickIy cgiiR's the second diaiiglit, 
Ami tliat sliuU be to I'leoiloiil ciiiiilfuil 

While fic'<'<lom's foes are Hying 1 
Tlio rest, I) laiiil, our 1io|K! and I'aitli ! 
We 'd drink to tliee with latest bieath, 
Though dying ! 

My darling ! — ah, the glass is out ! 
The bullets ring, the riders shout — 

No time for wine or sighiiig ! 
There ! bring my love the shattered gloss — 
Charge ! on the foe ! no joys surpass 
Such dying ! 

rroiu Ihc German. Translation of 
k. w. Raymond. 



SONG OF CLAN-ALPINE. 

FROM "TMli LADV OF THE LAKH." CANTO [I. 

Ham, to the Chief who in triumph advances ! 

Honored and blessed be the evergreen I'iue ! 
Long may the tree, in his banner that glances, 
Flourish, the shelter and gmce of our line ! 

Heaven send it hap])y dew, 

Karth lend it sap anew, 
Gayly to bourgeon, and broadly to grow, 

While every Highland glen 

Sends our shout back again, 
" Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, bo ! icroe ! " 

Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain, 

IJlooniing at Beltane, in winter to fade ; 
Wheu the whirlwind has stripped every leaf on 
the mountain. 
The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade. 
Moored in the rifted rock, 
Proof to the temi>est's shock, 
Finner he roots him the ruder it blow ; 
ileuti'ith and lireadalbane, then, 
Kcho his imiise iigain, 
" Koderigh Vieh Alpine dim, ho ! ieroe ! " 

Proudly our pibroch has thrilh'd in Glen Fruin, 
And Bannaehar's groans to our slogan replied ; 
Glen Lussand i!oss-dhu, they are smoking in ruin, 
And the best of Loch-Lonion<l lie dead on her 
side. 
Widow and .Saxon maid 
Long shall lament our raid. 
Think of t'lun-Alpinewilh fear and with woe ; 
Lennox and Leven-glen 
Shake when they hear again, 
" lioilerigh Vieh Alpine dhu, ho ! leroe ! " 

Kow, vassals, row, for the pride .of the H iglilands ! 

Stretch to your oars for the evergreen Pine ! 
O that the rosebud that graces yon islan<ls 

Were wreathed in a garland around liim to 
twine ! 



O that some seedling gem, 

Worthy such noble stem. 
Honored and blessed in theirshadow might grow! 

Loud should Clan-Alpine then 

Ring from her deepmost glen, 
" Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho I ieroe ! " 

SIK WAI.IER SCOTT. 



THK l!ATTLi:-.S()N(; OK GUSTAVUS 
AliOI.I'HU.S. 

Fkai: not, n lillle ilui-k ! the foe 
Who madly seeks your overthrow, 

Dreail not his rage and jiower ; 
What though your cMiuragc .sometimes faiuts? 
His seeming triumph o'er (iod's saints 

Lasts but a little hour. 

Be of good cheer ; your cause belongs 
To him who can avenge your wrongs, 

Leave it to him, our Lord. 
Though hidden now from all our eyesi 
He .sees the Gideon who shall rise 

To save us, and his word. 

As true a.s God's own word is true. 
Not earth or bell with all their crew 

Against us shall prevail. 
A jest and by-word are tliey grown ; 
God is with us, we are his own, 

Our victory cannot fail. 

Amen, Lord .lesus ; grant our prayer ! 
Great Captain, now thine arm make bare ■ 

Fight for us once again ! 
So shall the saints and martyrs raise 
A mighty chorus to tliy praise. 

World without end ! Amen. 

l-rnin the Gorman of MICHAEL ALTENBURG. 



SWORD SONG. 

[Charles Theodore KOrncr was a younif German soldier, scholar, 
poet, .111(1 patriot. He was born at Dresden in the autumn or 1791, 
and Icll in battle for his country at the early atjeof iwciity-two. The 
"Sword Song," so called, was written in his pockel-hook only two 
hours Ijcforc he fell, during; a halt in a wood previous to the engaife- 
nient. and was read by him to a comrade Ju»t as the siunal was 
given for battle. This bold sonj; represents the soldier chidinjf his 
sword, which, under the ima{;e of his Iron bride, ih impatient 10 
come forth from her chamber, the scabbard, and be wedded to him 
OP. the field of battle, where each soldier shall press the blade to his 
liph. 

KOrncrfcll in an en^ijeinent with superior number* near a thicket 
in the neijthborhood of Roscnburg. He had advanced m pur'.uil 
of the flyiun loe too far beyond his comndcs. They buried him 
under an nid oak on i)k site of the battle, and carved his name on 
the trunk-} 

SwoKD, on my left nide glenininj?, 
What means t!iy "bright eye's beaming ? 
It makes my spiiit dance 
To SCI- tliy friendly glaiicf. 
Huiniii ! 



520 



POEMS OF PEACE AND WAR. 



"A valiant rider boars iiio ; 
A froe-boru (.Jerinmi weni-s mo : 
Tliat makes my eye so bright ; 
That is the sword's delight." 
Hurrah ! 

Yes, good sword, I am free, 
And love thee heartily, 
And clasp thee to my side, 
E'en as a plighted bride. 
Hurrah ! 

"And I to thee, by Heaven, 
My light steel lite have given ; 
When shall the knot be tied > 
When wilt thou tako thy bride ?" 
Hurrali ! 

The trumpet's solemn warning 
Shall hail the bridal morning. 
When eaunon-thunders wake 
Then my true-love I take. 
Hurmh ! 

"0 Wessfed, Messed meeting ! 
My heart is wildly beating : 
t'ome, bridegroom, eome for me ; 
My garland waiteth thee." 
Hurrah ! 

Why in the seabbard iiittle, 
So wild, so fieree for battle i 
What means this ivstless glow ' 
My swoiil, why elatter so ( 
Hiurah ! 

"Well may thy prisoner mttlo ; 
My spirit yearns for Iwttle. 
Rider, 't is war's wild glow 
That makes mo tremble so." 
Hurrah ! 

Stay in thy ehamber near. 
My love ; what wilt thou here ? 
Still in thy ehamWr bide ; 
Soon, soon I take my bride. 
Hurnili I 

" Let me not longer wait : 
Love's g)ii\len blooms in state. 
With roses bloody-red. 
And many a bright ileatli-beil." 
Hurrah ! 

Now, then, eome fortli, my bride I 
Oonie forth, thou rider's pride ! 
Come o\it, my good swoi\l, eome ! 
Forth to thy fath«r's home I 
Hurrah ! 



"O, in the field to prance 
The glorious wedding ilance ! 
How, in the s\in's bright Iwams, 
Bride-like tho clear steel gleams ! " 
Hurrah ! 

Then forwaril, x'aliant fighters ! 
And forward, German ridel's ! 
And when the heart grows cold, 
Let each his love infold. 
Hurrah ! 

Onue on the left it hung. 
And stolen glances Hung ; 
Now clearly on your right 
Doth God each fond bride plight. 
Hurrah ! 

Then let your hot lips feel 
That virgin cheek of steel ; 
One kiss, — and woe lietide 
Him who forsakes the bride. 
Hurrah ! 

Now let the loved one sing ; 
Now let the clear blade ring. 
Till the bright sparks shalftly. 
Heralds of victory ! 
Hurrah"! 

For, hark ! the trninpefs warning 
rixiclaiins the marriage morning ; 
It dawns in festal pride ; 
Hurrah, thou Iron Bride ! 
Hurmh ! 

FromtheGcmianof Charlks Theodore KSrnbr. 
Tnm&latiou of CHAKLUS T. BROOKS. 



THE NOBLEMAN AND THE PENSIONER. 

"Old miui, God bless you ' does your pipe taste 
sweetly ? 

A beauty, by my soul I 
A red-day llower-pot. rimmed with gold so neatly > 

What ask you for the bowl ! " 

"0 sir, that bowl for worlds I would not part 
with ; 
A brave man gave it me, 
Wlio won it — now what think you ? — of a lia- 
shaw 
At Belgrade's victory. 

" There, sir, ah ! theiv was booty worth the 
I showing, ^ 

Long life to Prince Eugene ! 
I Like after-grass you might have seen us mowing 
I The Turkish ranks down clean. ' 



WAK. 



" Another time I '11 lionr your story ; — 

I'omc, old iiiiui, bo no Tool ; 
Tiiko those two ilucnts, — gold lor glory, — 

And lot nio havo tho bowl ! " 

" I 'm ft poor churl, us you mny say, sir ; 

My i>i'nsiiin 's all I 'ni worth : 
Yot 1 '<1 not give that bowl away, sir, 

Kor all thu gold on earth. 

■".lust hoar now ! Once, as wo hussars, all nierrj', 

Hartl on tho foe's rear presse<l, 
A bhinderiuf; rascal ol" a janizary 

Sliot through our captain's breast. 

" At once across my horso I hovu him, — 
Tho same would he lun'o dtiiie, - - 

And from the smoke and tumult drove him 
Safe to a noblennui. 

" I nursed him, and, before his end, becpieatliing 

His money and this liowl 
To nie, ho pressed my hand, just ceased his 
breathing, 

And so he dieil, brave soul ! 

■" The money thou must give mine host, — so 
thought 1, — 

Three plunderings sulfered ho : 
And, in remembrance of my old friend, brought I 

Tho pipe away with me. 

" Henceforth in all campaigns with nic I Ixire it. 

In Might or in pursuit ; 
1 1 was a holy thing, sir, and I wore it 

Safe-sheltered in my boot. 

"This very limb, I lost it by a shot, .sir. 

Under the walls of I'rague : 
First at my jirecious pipe, be sure, 1 caught, sir. 

And then picked up my leg." 

" You move me even to tears, old siro : 
What was thi^ brave man's name ? 

Tell me, that I, too, may admire, 
And venerate his fauio." 

" They called him only the brave Walter ; 

Mis farm lay near the Rhine." — 
" Ciod bless your old eyes I 't was my father. 

And that same farm is mine. 

"Come, friend, you've seen some .stormy weather, 

With me is now your bed ; 
We' U ilrink of Walter's grapes together, 

.Vnd cat of Walter's bread." 



" Now, — done ! I march in, then, to-morrow ; 

You 're liis true heir, I .see ; 
And when I dio, your thanks, kind master, 

The Turkish pipe shall be." 

From t!ie German of PFnFFEL. Trans- 
lation ofCHAHLRS T. UKUOKS. 



HINGEN ON THE RHINE. 

A .soLniEii of tho Legion lay dying in Algiers, 
There was lack of woman's nursing, there was 

dearth ol woman's tears ; 
But a comrade stood beside him, while his life- 
blood ebbed away. 
And bent, with pitying glances, to hear what ho 

might say. 
The dying .soldier faltered, and he took that 

conu'ade's hand. 
And ho said, "I nevermore shall see my own, 

my native land ; 
Take a message, and a token, to some distant 

friends of mine, 
For I wa.s born at liingen, — at Bingen on the 

Rhine. 

"Tell my brothers and companions, when they 

meet and crowii around. 
To liear my mournful story, in tho pleasant 

vineyard ground. 
That we fought the battle bravcdy, and when the 

day was done. 
Full many a corse lay ghastly pale beneath tho 

setting sun ; 
And, mid the dead and dying, wore some grown 

old in wars, — 
Tho death-wound on their gallant breasts, tho 

last of many scars ; 
And some wore young, and suddenly behold life's 

morn decline, — 
And one had come from Bingen, — fair Bingen 

on tho Rhino. 

" Tell my mother tliat hor other son shall com- 
fort her old ago ; 

For I was still a truant bird, that thought his 
honn^ a cage. 

For my father was a soldier, and even as a child 

My heart leaped forth to hear hini tell of strug- 
gles fiorce and wild ; 

And when ho died, and left us to diviile his 
scanty hoard, 

I let them take wliate'er they would, — but kept 
my fathei-'s sword ; 

And with boyish love I hung it where tho bright 
light used to shine. 

On tho cottage wall at Bmgen, — calm Bingen 
on the Rhine. 



fi'lO 



ri^EMS OF rKACE AMI WAi;. 



"Toll my siatpr not to weep for me, and sob 

witli (iroopiu;; lioail, 
Wlicn tlio ti'oojis (.'OHIO innri'liiiig lunuo agiiin 

witli j;l:ul iiiiil giillaiit liwul, 
liiil to look iipoii Ihcm inomllv, willi a oalm and 

steadfast oyo, 
For her brother was a soldier too, and not alniid 

to dii> : 
And if a conirado seek her lovo, 1 ask licr in my 

name 
To listiMi to liiiii kindly, witliont iVi;ri>l or sliame, 
And to lianj; the old sword in its [ilarc ^niy fath- 
er's sword and mine) 
P'or tlie honor of old Uingen, — dear liingeu on 

the IvUine. 

"There 's another, — not a sister ; in tl;e liappy 

days gone by 
You 'd have known her by the merriment that 

sparkled in her eye ; 
Too innoeenl lor coquetry, — too fond for idle 

seorning, — 

friend ! 1 fear the lightest heart makes some- 

times heaviest mourning I 
Tell her the last night of my life (for, ere the 

moon be risen, 
Jly body will lie out of [wiin, my soul be out of 

prison), — 

1 di-winied 1 stood with her, and saw the yellow 

sunlight shine 
On the vine-clad hills of Bingen, — fair Hingen 
on the l\hine. 

" 1 saw the blue Rhino sweep along, — I heard, 

or seemed to hear, 
The German songs we used to sing, in chorus 

sweet and dear ; 
And down the pleasant river, ami up the slant- 
ing hill, 
The echoing chorus sounded, through the evening 

calm and still : 
And her glad blue eyes weiv on me, as we jwssed, 

with friendly talk, 
Pown many a path beloved of yolv, and well- 

rementbered walk ! 
And her little hand lay lightly, conliilingly in 

mine, — 
But We 'II meet no more at Hingen, — loved 

ningi-n on the Khine." 

His tivmbling voice givw faint and hoarse, — 

his grsisp was childish weak, — 
His eyes put on a dying look, — he sighed and 

ceased to speak ; 
His eomriule Iwnt to lift him, bnt the spark of 

life had lied, — 
The soldier of the Legion in a foi'eigu land is 

dead ! 



And the soft moon rose tip slowly, and calmly 

she looked down 
On the red sand of the liatllc licld, with bloody 

corses strewn ; 
Yes, calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light 

seen\ed to shine. 
As it shone on distant Bingen, — fair Bingen on 

the IJhine. 

Caroline Elizaukth Sarah Norton. 



MY WIKE AND tlUl.l).* 

The tattoo boats, — the lights ai-e gone, 
The camp around in sluntber lies. 

The niglit with solemn jvice moves on, 
The shadows thicken o'er the skies ; 

But sleep my weary eyes hath lUnvn, 
And sad, uneasy thoughts arise. 

I think of thee, darling one. 

Whose love my early life hath blest — 
Of thee ami him — our baby son — 

Who slumbers on thy gentle breast. 
God of the tender,_frail, and lone, 

0, guard the tender sleeper's rest ! 

.\nd hover gently, hover near 

To her whose watchf\il eye is wet, — 

To nuither, wife, — the ilonl>ly dear, 
In whose young heart have freshly niet 

Two streams of love so deep and clear, 
And cheer licr drooping spirits yet 

Now, while she kneels before thy tliixme, 
0, teach her, Huler of the skies. 

That, while by thy behest alone 

Earth's mightiest powers fall or rise, 

No tear is wept to thee unknown. 
No hair is lost, mv sparrow dies ! 

That thou canst slay the ruthless hands 
Of dark disease, and soothe its pain ; 

That only by thy stern connnands 
The Iwttle's lost, the soldier's slain ; 

That from the distant sea or land 

Thou bring'st the wamiercr home ag;iin. 

And when upon her pillow lone 

Her tear-wet cheek is s;ully pressed, 

Jlay happier visions beam upon 

The brightening eurivnt of her bi'east. 

No frowning look or atigry tone 
Disturb the Sablath of her i«st ! 



• Written in tlie year iS^d. in Mc\ica tijc author l>einf; at lliat 
lin»c Colonel of tlic ist Kcginient C.con;iA Volunteers. 



WAIl. 



523 



WlmtcviT lull' tlicw foniiH limy sliow, 
Lov«i| with II [>u!<Hiiiii aliiiiiHt wild, 

liy (lay, by night, in joy or woe, 
lly fi.MiiH o|pjireHNuil, or liopiw licgiiilod, 

From I'Vuy iluiiger, uvury fi"', 
(Jod, protect my wil'u and rliild I 

lliiNHY U. Jackson. 



MONTERKY. 

Wk were not many, — wk wlio stood 

Bi'lori! the iron sleet that ilay ; 
Yiit many a gallant M|iirit would 
Give half IiIh years it liiit In- i tould 

Have been with uh at Monterey. 

Now here, now there, the Hliot it hailed 

In deadly drills of liery siiriiy. 
Yet not a single soldier iiiiailed 
When wounileil eoiiiriuii-» round them wailed 

Their dying shout at Monterey. 

And on, still on our eoliimn kept. 

Through walls of llaiiie, its williering way ; 
Where fell the ileiul, the living stept. 
Still eliarging on the guns whieh swept 
The slippery streets of Monterey. 

The foe himwdf recoiled aghast. 

When, striking where he strongest lay. 
We swiKiped his Hanking batteries past, 
And, brnviiig full tlieir murderniis blaitt, 
St'jrnied home the towei-s of .Monterey. 

Our Imnnem on those turrets wave. 

And there our evening bugles play ; 
Where orange Iwnghs above their grave, 
Keep green the memory of the brave 
Who fought and fell at Monterey. 

We are not many, — we who luesscd 

Hesiile the brave who fidl that day ; 
Hut who of us has not confessed 
He d rather share their warrior rest 
Than not have beitn at ijontcrey ? 

cwXtLBji FBNNo Huffman. 



IN STATE. 
I. 

KRF.l'P.tt of the .Sacred Key, 

And the Great .Seal of Destiny, 

Whose eye is the blue canopy, 

IxMik down u[ion the warring world, and tell us 

what the end will be. 



" I/O, through the wintry alniosphere. 
On the wliili! bosom of the sphere, 
A cluster of live lakes apjiear ; 
And nil the laud looks like a couch, or warrior's 
shiitld, or slieelisl bier. 

"And on that vast and hollow Held, 
With both lips closed and lioth eyes sealed, 
A iijiglily FigiMi: is revealed, - - 
Stridched at full length, and stilf and stark, as 
in the hollow of a shield. 

"The winds have tied the drifted snow 
Around the face uml chin ; anil lo, 
Tlie sceiitred Giants come and go, 
And shako their shadowy crowns and say ; ' Wo 
always feared it would be so I ' 

"She came of an heroic race : 
A giant's strength, a maiden's grace, 
Ijikc! two in om^ seem to embrace. 
Anil match, and blend, and thorough-bleiid, in 
her colossal form and faci;. 

" Where can her dazzling falidiion Is: I 
One lianil is rallcn in the sea ; 
The (iiilf Stream drifts it far ond free ; 
And in that hand her shining brand gleams from 
the depths respleiidently. 

" And by the other, in it« rest, 
The stany banner of the West 
Is claM|ied forever to her brea«t ; 
And of hei silver helmet, lo, a soaring eagle ia 

the ciCHt. 

" And on her brow, a softened light. 
As of a star concealed from sight 
F'y some thin veil of fleecy whit<% 
Or of the rising moon behind the raining vapon) 
of the night. 

" The Sisterhood that was so sweet. 
The Starry System sphered complete. 
Which the mazed Orient useil to greet. 
The Fonr-and-Tliirty fallen .Stars glimmer and 
glitter at her feet. 

" And over her, — and over all. 
For panoply and coronal, — 
The mighty Immemorial, 
And everlasting ','anopy and Starry Arch and 
ShieM of All. 

tl. 
"Three cold, bright nioons havo marched and 

wheeled ; 
And the white cerement that revealed 
A Figure stretched upon a Shield, 
l» turned to verdure ; and the I^and is now one 
mighty IJottlc-lield. 



i24 



POEMS 01' PEACE AND WAR. 



"And lo, tlie children which sho brod, 
And more than all else cherished, 
To make them true in heart and head, 
Stand face to face, as mortal foes, with their 
swords crossed above the dead. 

" Each hath a mighty stroke and stride : 
One true, — the more that he is tried ; 
The other ilark and evil-eyed ; — 
And by the liand of one of them. Ids own dear 
mother surely died ! 

" A stealthy step, a gleam of hell, — 
It is the shnplo truth to tell, — 
The Sou stablied and the Mother fell : 
And so slie lies, all mute and pale, and pure and 
irreproachable ! 

" And then the battle-trumpet blew ; 
And the true brother sprang and drew 
His blade to smite the traitor through ; 
And so they clashed above the bier, and the 
Night sweated bloody dew. 

"And all their children, far and wide. 
That are so greatly multiplied, 
Kise up in frenzy and divide ; 
And choosing, each whom he will serve, un- 
sheathe the sword and take their side. 

"And in the low sun's bloodshot rays. 
Portentous of the coming days, 
The Two great Oceans blush and blaze. 
With the emergent continent between them, 
wrapt in crimson haze. 

" Now whichsoever stand or fall. 
As God is great, and man is small. 
The Truth shall triumph over all : 
Forever and forevermore, the Truth shall triumph 
over all ! 



"I see the champion sword-strokes flash ; 
I see tlieni fall and hear them clash ; 
I hear the murderuus engines crash ; 
I see a brother stoop to loose a foeman-brother's 
bloody sash. 

" I see the torn and mangled corse, 
The dead and dying heaped in scores, 
The headless rider by his horse. 
The wounded captive bayoneted through and 
through without remorse. 

" 1 hear the dying sufferer cry. 
With his crushed face turned to the sky, 
1 see him crawl in agony 
To the tbul pool, and bow his head into 
bloody slime, and die. 



" I see the assassin crouch and tire, 
I see Ills victim fall, — expire ; 
1 see the murderer creeping nighcr 
To strip tlie dead. He turns the head, — the 
face ! The son beholds his sire ! 

1 hear the curses and the thanks ; 
I see the mad charge on the Hanks, 
The rents, the gaps, the broken ranks. 
The vanquished squadrons driven headlong down 
the river's bridgeless banks. 

" I see the death-gripe on the plain. 
The grappling monsters on the nuiin. 
The tens of thousands that are slain. 
And all the speechless suffering aud agony of 
heart and brain. 

" I see the dark and bloody spots. 
The crowded rooms and crowded cots, 
The bleaching bones, the battle blots, — 
And writ on many a nameless grave, a legend of 
forget-me-nuts. 

" I see the gorged prison-den, 
The dead line and the pent-up pen. 
The thousands ipiartercd iu tlie fen. 
The living-deaths of skin and bone that were the 
goodly shapes of men. 

" And still the bloody Dew must fall ! 
And His great Darkness with the Pall 
Of His dread Judgment cover all. 
Till the Dead Nation rise Transformed by Truth 
to triumph over all ! " 

"Aud Last — and Last I see — The Deed." 
Thus saith the Keeper of the Key, 
And the Great Seal of Destiny, 
Whose eye is the blue canopy, 
Aud leaves the Pall of His great Darkness over 
all the Land and Sea. 

FORCEVTHU WILLSUS. 



THE PICKET-GUAKD. 

"All quiet along the Potomac," they say, 

" Except now and then a stray picket 
Is shot, as he walks on his beat, to and fro, 

Hy a rilleman hid in the thicket. 
'T is nothing : a private or two, now and then. 

Will not count in the news of the battle ; 
Not an officer lost, — only one of the men, 

Moaning out, all alone, the death-rattle." 

All quiet along the Potomac to-night. 

Where the soldiers lie peacefully dreaming : 

Their tents in the rays of the clear autumn moon, 
Or the light of the watch-lires, are "learning. 



WAR. 



525 



A tremulous sigh, as tlie gentle iiiglit-wiml 

Through the foi'L-st k'livea softly is croi'iiing ; 
While still's u\> iibovc, with their glittering eyes, 
. Keep guard, — for the luniy is sleeping. 

There 's only the snuml of the lone sentry's tread 

As he tnuniis from the roek to the fountain, 
And he thinks of the two in the low trundle-bed, 

Far away in the cot on the mountain. 
His musket falls slaek ; his face, dark and grim, 

Grows gentle with memories tendei', 
As he mutters a prayer for the children asleep, 

For their mother, — may Heaven defend her ! 

The moon seems to shine just as brightly as then. 

That night when the lovo yet unspoken 
Leaped upto his lips, — when low, nuumuredvows 

Were pledged to be ever unbroken ; 
Then diawing his sleeve roughly over his eyes. 

He dashes olf tears that are welling, 
And gathei-s his gun closer up to its place. 

As if to keep down the heart-swelling. 

He passes the fountain, the blasted pine-tree, — 

The footstep is lagging and weary ; 
Yet onward he goes, through the broad belt of 
light. 

Toward the shades of the forest so dreaiy. 
Hark ! was it the night-wind that rustled the 
leaves ? 

Was it moonlight so wondrously flashing ? 
It looked like a rifle ; " Ha ! Mary, good-by ! " 

And the life-blood is ebbing and plashing. 

All quiet along the Potomac to-night, — 
No sound save the rush of the river ; 

While soft falls the dew on the face of the dead,— 
Tlio picket 's olf duty forever. 

Ethelin Eliot Becks 



CIVIL WAl!. 

"Rifleman, shoot mc a fancy shot 

.Straight at the heart of yon prowling vidette ; 
Ring mc a ball in the glittering spot 

Tliat shines on his breast like an amulet ! " 

" Ah, captain ! here goes for a fine-drawn bead. 
There "s music around when my barrel "s in 
tunc ! " 

Crack ! went the rifle, the mcs.senger sped. 
And dead from hishorse fell the ringing dragoon. 

" Now, rifleman, steal through the bushes, and 
snatch 
From your victim some trinket to handsel first 
l)lood ; 
A button, a loop, or that luminous patch 

That gleams in the moon like a diamond stud ! " 



" captain ! I staggered, and sunk on my track, 
When I gazed on the face of that fallen vidette. 

For he looked so like you, as he lay on his back, 
That my heart rose upon me, and masters me 
yet. 

" Hut I snatched oH' tlie trinket, — this locket 
of gold ; 

An inch from the centre my lead broke its wayj 
Scarce grazing the picture, so fair to beholdv 

Of a beautiful lady in bridal array," 

" Ha ! rilleman, iling me the locket ! — 't is she. 
My brother's young bride, and the fallen dra- 
goon 
Was her luisband — Hush! soldier, 'twas Heav- 
en's decree. 
We miist bury him tliei'c, by the light of the 
moon ! 

" 13iit, liark ! the far bugles their warnings unite ; 

War is a virtue, — weakness a sin ; 
There 's a lurking and loping around us to-night ; 

Load again, rilleman, keep your hand in ! " 
CHARLts Dawson shanly. 



THE liUIEK-WoulJ PIPE. 

II.\ I bully for me again, when my turn for 
picket is over. 

And now for a smoke as I lie, with the moon- 
light, out in the clover. 

My pipe, it 's only a knot from the root of a 

brier-wood tree, 
But it turns my heart to the Northward — Harry 

gave it to me. 

And I 'm but a rough at best, breil up to the 

row and the riot ; 
But a softness comes over my heart, when all 

are asleep and quiet. 

For, many a time, in the night, strange things 

appear to my eye, 
As the breath from my brier-wood pipe curls up 

between ine and the sky. 

Last night a beautiful spirit arose with the 

wisping smoke ; 
0, I shook, l>ut my heart felt good, as it spread 

out its hands and spoke ; 

Saying, " I am the soul of the brier ; we giew 

at the root of a tree 
Where lovers would come in the twilight, two 

ever, for company. 



526 



POEMS 01' PEACE ANU WAR. 



" Wlioro loviirs wiMilil I'oiiii' in lln' niiMiiiiig — 

ovor but two, togi'thi'V ; 
WluMi llic llinvi'i's wci-c full in lliiir l>l.>\v ; tlic 

liinls, ill llii'ir siiii;^ iiiiii liallirr. 

" W'lioio liiviTS WDuKi t'oiiu' ill llio mmiiliilt', 

loitiii'iun - iiovm- but twn, 
Looking in oiutli olhor'a oyoa, liko iiijji'oii.s tliiil 

kias iinil coo. 

" Anil 0, tlio lionoywl wnnls llml cmiiic wIumi 

tbi' lips wi'iv luu'ti'd, 
.■\iul llir imssion Ibiit f;l(nv('cl in tlio eyes, iiuil llm 

lij;liliiiiij,' looks tbiil iliirti'il ! 

" KiioUf^li ; l.ovi' ilwi'lls ill llii> iM|ii' so I'voi- it 

jjlows Willi liii' ! 
I iini tlio soul of till' Inisli, aiiil tlio spirits iiill 

nu' Swi'i't Uiior. " 

That's wlmt llio biioi-wooil siiiil, iis nijjli iis my 

tonj'no I'liii ti'll, 
Ami tlio words wont striiiolit to my lioiul, liko 

tlio stniko oflho liiv-boll. 

'I'o-uifjlit I lio ill llio ilovor, wiitoliiiio fbo blos- 

soniy smoko ; 
1 'm gliul (lio boys mv aslcop, foi- I nin't in llio 

liuinor lit Joko. 

I lio in I III' lu'l'ly olovci' : up bctwoon mo iiiiil 

till' moon 
Till' smoko of my pipo niisos : my lioiirt will !«• 

iiniot, soon. 



Bfiglit eyes ami cliisping iirius, mnl lips tliiit 

biiilo ns good Imp ; 
And tlio spU'iidid lady wlio j;uvo nio llio liiivolook 

for my cap. 

(>, lip from my piiio-iloud risos, tlioro bctwcon 

me and tlio moon, 
A beautiful wliito-nibod lady ; my lioart will bo 

ipiiot, soon. 

'I'lio lovi'ly jjoldrii liairi'd lady cvor in dri'anis I 

SOI', 

Who gavo mo tlio siiow-wliilo havclook — but 
what (loos slio oiiro for nio ? 

Look at my oiimy fcatiuvs ; momitiiiiis bctwoou 

lis stand : 
1 with my sU'ilgodiaiiiiiur UiimkU's, slio with 

lior jowolli'd hand ! 

What oaro 1 .' — tho day that 's dawning niayseo 

mo, wlion all is ovor, 
Willi tho roil stream of my lito-blood stainini,' 

tho lu'fty olovcr. 

Hark 1 tho rovoilh' soumlino out on tho morning 

air ; 
Hovils aro wo lor tlii' battle - Will there be 

an,i;ols there ? 

Kiss me af;aiii. Sweet I'.rior, the toiieli of your 

lip to mine 
Hiiiigs baek the while-robed lady with Imir liko 

the golden wine ! 

CiiAKi.Lis Dawson shanly. 



WOrNDKl) TO DKA'l'll. 



My tliouglits are baek in the oily, 1 'm evei 

thing 1 've been ; 
1 hour the bell fmiu the tower, I run with the 

swift niaehine, 

Sri'WliY, boys, steady I 
I SOP the i-ed shirts erowding around the engine- j 1'^<'<'1' .vour anus ready, 

house door, t"'d only knows whom we may meet here. 

The foivman's hail thiinigli the Irnnipet eoiiies ' Poii't let me be taken ; 

with a hollow roar, ! 1 '<' rather awaken. 

To-morrow, in - no matter when". 
The i-i'el in the liowery daueo-lionse, the row in Than lie in that foul prison-holo — over tlieix^. 



the beor-.saloon. 
Whore 1 put in my lieks at l!ig Paul, eome be- 
tween me and the moon. 



1 hear the drum and the bugle, the tnnnp of the 

eow-skin boots. 
Wo aiv uiarehingon our nuisele, the Kire-Zouave 

roeruits ! 



Sleji slowly ! 

Sjieak lowly ! 

The.se meks may have life. 

l,ay me down in this hollow ; 
We are out of the strife. 
By heavens ! the foemen nniy liaek me iii blood, 
For this hole in my breast is ontiioiiring a tlood. 
No ! no surgeon for me ; he eaii give me no aid ; 
The surgeon 1 want is piekaxe and .sinule. 
AVhito hniulkpi-ohidt's wave bitoiv me — O, hut What, Morris, a tear? Why. shame on ye, man ! 

the sight is pivtty ' 1 thought yon a hero : but sinee yon began 

On the white marble steps, as wo nuireli through To whimper ami ery like a girl in her teens, 

the heart of the oily? I UyGwrgi'l 1 don't knowwiKiI the devil it means: 



WAK. 



vn 



Well ! well ! I "HI loujjli ; 't in a very roiigli school, 
Tliis lil'u of 11 lioi>|i«r, — but yet 1 'in no fool ! 
I know a bi'uvv man, iind ji frivml from ii foo ; 
Ami, lioys, tliut yon love iiiu i witainly Uimw ; 

I5iit wa.s n't it ;;mnil 
Wlion they rami' ■hnvn tin: lull over sloughing 

iiiiil sanil ! 
lint wi; stooil — iliil we not '. — like iMiiiinvulile 

roek, 
Unheeding their bulls ami ii[Hlliiig their shoek. 

Dill yon mind the lonil ery 

When, as tinning to lly, 
Our ineu Hprang npon them, determineil to die? 

O, was n't it giiind ! 

God help the poor wietehes that fell in that fif;ht ; 
No time was there giviMi for prayer or lor llixht ; 
They fell by the seore, in the c'rash, hand to hand. 
And they mingled their blood with the sloughing 
and sand. 

Ilii/xa! 
Great Heavens I this bnlhtdiole gapes like a 

grave ; 
A eni'so on the aim of the traitorous knave I 
Is there never a one of y« knows how to pmy, 
Or si>ouk for a man as his life ebl>s away ? 
I'ray ! 

Pray ! 

< >nr Father I our Father I . . . why don't ye ]iro- 

cced ? 
Can't you see I am dying ? Great (iod, how I 

bleeil ! 
Kbbing away ! 

Kbbing away ! 

The light of the day 
Is turning to gray. 

Pray ! 

Pray I 
Our Father in f leaven, — Iwys, tell me the rest, 
While I staiieh the hot blood from this hole in 

my breast. 
There '» something about the forgiveness of sin — 
I'lit that in ! put that in ! — and then 
I 11 follow your words and say an amen. 

Here, Mon-is, old fellow, get hold of my hand ; 
Anil, Wilson, my eoinrade — O, was n't it grand 
When they came down the hill like u thniider- 

eharged cloud ! 
Where 's Wilson, my comroilc ? — Here, stoop 

down your head ; 
Can't you say u short prayer for the dying and 

dca/i ! 

"Christ God, who died for sinners all. 
Hear thou this suppliant wanderer's cry ; 

Let not e'en this poor sparrow fall 
rnhecded by thy gmeious eye. 



"Throw wide thy gates to let him in, 
And take him, pleading, to thine arms ; 

Forgive, (J Lord I his lile-long sin, 
And i|uiet all hi.s lleice alarms." 

God bless you, my eomrailc, fur saying that 

liyinii ; 
It is light to my path when my eye has grown 

dim. 
I am dying — Ijcnd down till 1 touch you once 

more — 
Don't forget me, old fellow, — (Joil prosper this 

war ! 
Confusion to traitors I — keep hold of my hand — 
And flout the OLU flao o'er u prosperous land ! 

JulIN \V, VVAISON. 



LEFT ON TIIK I'.ATTI.K-FIELD. 

WiiAT, was it a dream 7 am 1 all alone 

In the dreary night and the drizzling rain I 

Hi.st ! — ah, it was only the river's moan ; 
They have left me behind with the mangled 
slain. 

Yes, now I remember it all too well ! 

We met, from the battling laidis iipart ; 
Together our weupons Hashed and fell, 

And mine was sheathed in his ipiivering heart. 

In the cyjiress gloom, where the deed was done, 
It was all too daik to see his face ; 

Hut 1 heard his death-groans, one by one, 
And he holds me still in a cold embrace. 

He spoke but once, and I could not hear 
The words he said, for the cannon's roar ; 

But my heart grew cold with a deadly fear, — 
God ! 1 had heard that voice before ! 

Had heard it before at our niolhcr's knee, 

When we lisped the words of our evening 
prayer ; 

My brother I would I had died for thee, — 
This burden is more than my soul can bear I 

I pressed my lijis to his deatli-cold check. 

And begged hini to show me, by word or sign, 

Tliat he knew and forgave me : he could not 
, speak, 
But he nestled his poor cold face to mine. 

The blood llowed fast from my wounded aide, 
And then for a while I forgot my pain. 

And over the lakelet we seemed to glide 
In our little boat, two boys agniii. 



528 



I'OEMS OF PEACE ANU \VA1{. 



And then, in my tiiuani, we stood iilono 
On a forest iwtli where the slimlows fell ; 

Aud I heard again the trennilous tone, 
And the tender woi-ds of his last farewell. 

But that parting was yeai-s, long years ago, 
He wandered away to a foreign land ; 

And our dear old mother will never know 
That he died to-night by his brother's hand. 

The soldiers who buried the dead away 

Disturbed not the elasp of that last embrace, 

But laid them to sleep till the judgment-day. 
Heart folded to heart, and face to face. 

Sarah t. Bolton. 



THE DRUMMER-BOY'S BURIAL. 

All day long the stomi of tattle through tlie 

startled valley swept ; 
All night long the stars in heaven o'er the slain 

sad vigils kept. 

0, the ghastly upturned faces gleaming whitely 
through the night ! 

0, the heaps of mangled corses in that dim sepul- 
chral light ! 

One by one the pale stai-s fndod, and at length 

the morning broke ; 
But not one of all the sleepers on that field of 

death awoke. 

Slowly passed the golden honrs of that long 

briglit summer day, 
And upon that lield of carnage still the dend 

unburied lay. 

Lay there stark and cold, but pleading with a 

dumb, unceasing (irayer. 
For a little dust to hiile them from the staring 

sun and air. 

But the foenian held possession of that hanl-won 

battle-plain. 
In unholy wrath denying even burial to our 

slain. 

Once again the night dropped round them, — 

night so holy and so calm 
That tlie moonbeams hushed the spirit, like the 

sound of pniyer or psalm. 

On a couch of trampled grasses, just apart from 

all the rest, 
Lay a fair young boy, wit* small hands meekly 

folded on his breast. 



Death had touched him very gently, and he lay 

as if in sleep ; 
Even his mother scarce had shuddered at tliat 

slumber calm and deep. 

For a smile of wondrous sweetness lent a radi- 
ance to the face. 

And the hand of cunning sculptor could have 
added naught of grace 

To the marble limbs so perfect in their imssion- 

less repose, 
Robbed of all save uiatcliless purity by hard, 

un pitying foes. 

And the broken drum beside him all his life's 

short story told : 
How he did his duty bravely till the death-tide 

o'er him rolled. 

Midnight came with ebon garments and a diadem 

of stars. 
While right upward in the zenith hung the fiery 

]ilanet .Mara. 

Hark ! a sound of stealthy footsteps and of voices 

w"his]iering low, • 
Was it nothing but the young leaves, or tlie 

brooklet's murmuring How .' 

Clinging closely to each other, striving never to 

look round 
As they passed with silent shudder the palo 

corses on the ground, 

Came two little maidens, — sisters, — with a 

light and Inisty tivad. 
And a look ujiou their faces, half of sorrow, half 

of ilread. 

And they did not pause nor falter till, will) 
throbbing hearts, they stood 

Where the drummer-boy was lying in that par- 
tial solitude. 

They had brought some simple garments from 

tlieir wardrobe's scanty store. 
And two heavy iron shovels in their slemler 

hands they bore. 

Then they ijuickly knelt beside him, crushing 

back the jiitying tears. 
For they had no time for weeping, nor for any 

girlish fears. 

And they robed the icy body, while no glow of 

maiden shame 
Changed the pallor of their foreheads to a iU\>h 

of lambent flame. 



WAR. 



52D 



For tlicir saintly hearts yearned o'er it in tliat 
liour of sorest need, 

And they felt that Death was holy, and it sanc- 
tified the deed. 

lUit they smiled and kissed each other when 
their new strange task was o'er, 

And the form tliat lay before them its unwonted 
garments wore. 

Then with slow and weary labor a small grave 

they hollowed out, 
And they lined it with the withered grass and 

leaves that lay a)x)ui. 

liut the day was slowly breaking ere their holy 

work was done. 
And in crimson pomp the morning heraldi-d 

again the sun. 

(lently then those little maidens — they were 
children of our foes — 

Laid the body of our ilrnuimer-boy to undis- 
turbed repose. 



BEFORE SEDAX. 

■ The dead hind clasped a letter" — 5/^f'a/ CorrcsfioixUttf. 

Hei!E in this leafy place, 

Quiet he lies. 
Cold, with his sightless face 

Turned to the skies ; 
'T is but another dead ; — 
All you can say is said. 

Carry his body hence, — 
Kings must have slaves ; 

Kings climb to eminence 
Over men's graves. ' 

So this man's eye is dim ;' — 

Throw the earth over him. 

What was the white you touched, 

There at his side » 
Paper his hand had clutched 

Tight ere he died ; 
Message or wish, may be ; — 
Smooth out the folds and see. 

Hardly the worst of us 

Here could have smiled ! — 

Only the tremulous 
Words of a child : — 

Prattle, that had for stops 

.lust a few nuMy drops. 



Look. She is sad to miss. 

Morning and night, 
His— her dead father's — kiss, 

Tries to be bright. 
Good to mamma, and sweet. 
That is all. "Marguerite." 

Ah, if beside the dead 

Slumbered the pain ! 
Ah, if the hearts that bled 

Slept with the slain ! 
If the grief died ! — But no: — 
Death will not have it so. 

AUSTI.S DOBSON. 



THE SOLDIER'S DREAM. 

Ouit bugles sangtruce, — for the night-cloud had 
lowered. 
And the sentinel stars .set their watch in the 
sky ; 
And thousands had sunk on the ground over- 
powered. 
The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die. 

When reposing that night on my pallet of straw, 
Ijy the wolf-scaring fagot that guarded the 
slain ; 

At the dead of the night a sweet 'vision I saw, 
And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again. 

Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array. 
Far, far I had roamed on a desolate track : 

'T was autumn, — and sunshine arose on the way 
To the home of ray fathers, that welcomed me 
back. 

I Hew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft 
In life's morning march, when my bosom was 
young ; 
I heard my own mountain-goats bhMting aloft. 
And knew the sweet strain that the corn- 
reapers sung. 

Thi^n pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I 
swore. 
From my home and my weeping friends never 
to part ; 
My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er, 
And my wife sobbed aloud in her fulness of 
heart. 

" Staj', stay with us, — rest, thou art weary and 
worn ; " 

And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay ; — 
But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn. 

And the voice in my dreaming eai- melted away. 

Thomas CAlirniiLt- 



530 



I'OEJIS OF PEACE AND W AK. 



WHERE ARE THE MEN? 

Where are the men wlio went forth in the 
morning, 

Hope brightly beaming in every face ? 
Fearing no danger, — the Saxon foe scorning, — 

Little thought they of defeat or disgrace ! 
Fallen is their chieftain — his glory dejiarted — 

Fallen are the heroes who fought by his side ! 
Fatherless children now weep, broken-hearted. 

Mournfully wandering by Khuddlan's dark 
tide ! 

Small was the band that escaped from the 
slaughter. 

Flying for life as the tide 'gan to How ; 
H;ist thou no pity, thou dark rolling water ? 

Jlore cruel still than the merciless foe ! 
Death is behind them, and death is before them ; 

Faster and faster rolls on the dark wave : 
One wailing cry — and the sea closes o'er thcni ; 

Silent and deep is their watery grave. 

From the Welsh of Talhaiarn. Trans- 
lation of THOMAS OLIPHANT. 



THE SOLDIER'S RETURN. 

How sweet it was to breathe that cooler air. 
And take possession of my father's chair ! 
Beneath my elbow, on the solid frame, 
Appeared the rough initials of my name, 
Cut forty years before ! The same old clock 
Struck the same bell, and gave my heart a shock 
I never can forget. A short breeze sprung. 
And while a sigh was trembling on my tongue. 
Caught the old dangling almanacs behind, 
And up they flew like banners in the wind ; 
Then gently, singly, down, down, down they 

went, 
Aiul told of twenty yeai's that 1 had spent 
Far fron; my native land. That instant came 
A i-obin on the threshohl ; though so tame. 
At first he looked distrustful, almost shy, 
Anil cast on me his coal-blai-k steadfast eye, 
And seemed to say, — past friendship to renew, — 
" Ah ha ! old woi-n-out soldier, is it you ! " 
While thus I mused, still gazing, gazing still, 
tin beds of moss that spread the window-sill, 
I deemed no moss my eyes had ever seen 
Had been so lovely, brilliant, fresh, and green, 
And guessed some infant hand had placed it 

there. 
And prized its hue, so exquisite, so rare. 
Veelings on feelings mingling, doubling rose ; 
Jly heart Jeit everything but calm repose ; 
I could not reckon miniftes, horns, nor years. 
But rose at once, and bursted into tears ; 



Then, like a fool, confused, sat down again. 
And thought upon the past with shame and pain ; 
I raved at war and all its horrid cost. 
And glory's quagmire, where the brave are lost. 
On carnage, fire, and ]ilunder long 1 mused. 
And cursed the murdering weapons I had used. 

Two shadows then I saw, two voices heard. 
One bespoke age, and one a child's appeared. 
In stepped my father with convulsive start, 
And in an instant clasped me to his heart. 
Close by him stood a little blue-eyeil nuiid ; 
And stooping to the child, the old man said, 
"Come hither, Nancy, kiss me once again ; 
This is your Uncle Charles, come home from 

Spain." 
The cliihl approached, and with her lingers light 
Stroked my old eyes, almost dejirived of sight. 
But why thus spin my tale, — thus tedious be ? 
Happy old soldier I what 's the world to me ? 
Robert BLOoMFtELD. 



SOLDIER, REST! THY WARFARE O'ER. 

FRO.M "THE LADV OF THE LAKE." CANTO I. 

Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er. 

Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking ; 
Dream of battled fields no more, 

Days of danger, nights of waking. 
In our isle's enchanted hall. 

Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, 
Fairy strains of music fall. 

Every sense in slumber dewing. 
Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er. 
Dream of fighting fields no more ; 
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, 
Jlorn of toil, nor night of waking. 

No rude sound shall reach thine ear. 

Armor's clang, or war-steed champing. 
Trump nor pibroch summon here 

Mustering clan, or sciuadron tramping. 
Yet ihe lark's shrill fife may come 

At the daybreak from the fallow, 
And the bittern sound his drum. 

Booming from the sedgy shallow. 
Ruder sounds shall none be near. 
Guards nor warders challenge here ; 
Here 's no war-steed's neigh and champing, 
Shouting elans or squadrons stamping. 

Huntsman, rest ! thy chase is done. 

While our slumberous spells assail ye. 
Dream not, with the rising sun, 

Bugles here shall sound reveille. 
Sleep ! the deer is in his den ; 

Sleep ! thy hounds are by thee lying ; 
Sleep ! nor dream in yonder glen 

How tuy gallant steed lay dying. 



WAR. 



531 



Huntsiimn, rest ! thy chaso is done ; 
Think not of the rising sun, 
For, at dawning to assail ye, 
Here no bugles sound reveille. 

SIR Walter Scott. 



DRIVING HOiMK THE COWS. 

Out of the clover and blue-eyed grass 
He turned them into the river-lane ; 

One after auotlier he let them ]iuss, 
Then fastened the meadow burs again. 

Undei the willows, ami over the hill, 
He patiently followed their sober pace ; 

The merry whistle for once was still. 

And something shadowed the sunny face. 

Only a boy ! and his father had said 
He never could let his youngest go ; 

Two already were lying dead 

Under the feet of the tr.ampling foe. 

But after the evening work was done, 
.\mi the frogs were loiul in the meadow-swamp, 

Over his shoulder he slung his gun 

And stealthily followed the foot-path damp. 

Across the clover and through the wheat 
With resolute heart and purpose grim. 

Though cold was the dew on his luirrj'ing feet, 
And the blind bat's Hitting startled him. 

Thrice since then had the lanes been white. 
And the orchards sweet with apple-bloom ; 

And now, when the cows came back at night. 
The feeble father drove them home. 

For news had come to the lonely farm 

That tliree were lying where two had lain ; 

And the old num's tremulous, palsied arm 
Could never lean on a son's again. 

The summer day gi-ew cool and late, 

He went for the cows when the work was done ; 
But down the lane, as he openeil the gate, 

Ho saw tliem coming one by one, — 

Brindle, Elx)uy, Siwckle, and Bess, 
.Shaking their horns in the evening wind ; 

Cropping the buttercups out of the grass, — 
liut who was it following close behind ' 

Loosely swung in the idle air 

The empty sleeve of army blue ; 
And corn ami pale, from the crisping hair, 

Loo'kcu out a face that the father knew. 



For Southern prisons will sometimes yawn, 
And yield their dead unto life again ; 

And the day that comes with a cloudy dawn 
In golden glory at last may wane. 

The great tears sprang to their meeting eyes ; 

For the heart must speak when the lips are dumb; 
And under the silent evening skies 

Together they followed the cattle home. 

KA11-. I'UTNAM USGOOD. 



DIRGE FOR A SOLDIER.* 

Close his eyes ; his work is done ! 
What to him is friend or foeman, 
Rise of moon or set of sun. 

Hand of man or kiss of woman ? 
Lay him low, lay hmi low. 
In the clover or the snow ! 
What cares he ? he cannot know ; 
Lay him low ! 

As man may, he fought his fight, 

Proved his truth by his endeavor ; 
Let him sleep in solemn night, 
Sleep forever and forever. 
Lay him low, lay him low. 
In the clover or the snow ! 
What cares he ? he cannot know ; 
Lay him low ! 

Fold him in his country's stars. 

Roll the drum and fire the volley ! 
What to him are all our wars ? — 
What but death-b(-'niocking folly ? 
Lay him low, lay him low. 
In the clover or tlic snow ! 
What cares he ? he cannot know ; 
Lay him low ! 

Leave him to God's watching eye ; 

Trust him to the hand that made him. 
Mortal love weeps idly by ; 
God alone has power to aid him. 
Lay him low, lay him low, 
In the clover or tlie snow ! 
What cares he ? he cannot know ; 
Lay him low ! 

GI^OROK HKNRY BOKBR. 



SOMEBODY'S DARLING. 

FROM "SOUTH SONGS." 

Into a ward of the whitewashed walls 
Where the dead and the dying lay — 

Wounded by bayonets, shells, and balls — 
Somebody's darling was borne one day. 



* M.i)or-rrfnenI Pliilip Kc.inu 
. Sept. I. tdbj. 



J. U. S v., killed at ChaittiUy, 



POE.MS OF PEACE AND WAR. 



Somebody's darling ! so young and so brave, 
Wearing still on his pale, sweet face — 

Soon to be hid by the dust of the gi'ave — 
The lingering light of his boyhood's grace. 

Matted and damp are the curls of gold, 

Kissing the snow of that fair young brow ; 
Pale are the lips of delicate mould — 

Somebody's darling is dying now. 
Back from the beautiful blue-veined face 

Brush every wandering, silken thread ; 
Cross his hands as a sign of grace — 

Somebody's darling is still and dead ! 

Kiss him once for Somebody's sake ; 

Murmur a prayer, soft and low ; 
One bright curl from the cluster take — 

They were Somebody's pride, you know. 
Somebody's hand hath rested there ; 

Was it a mother's, soft and white ? 
And have the lips of a sister fair 

Been baptized in those waves of light ? 

God knows best. He was Someboil)''s love ? 

Somebody's heart enshrined him here ; 
Somebody wafted his name above. 

Night and morn, on the wings of prayer. 
Somebody wept when he marched away, 

Looking so handsome, brave, and grand ; 
Somebody's kiss on his forehead lay ; 

Somebody clung to his parting hand — 

Somebody 's watching and waiting for liim, 

Yearning to hold him again to her heart : 
There lie lies — with the blue eyes dim, 

And smiling, child-like lips apart. 
Tenderly bury the fair young dead, 

Pausing to drop on Ids grave a tear. 
Carve on the wooden slab at his liead, 

" Sonicbudy's darling lies buried liere ! " 

Anonymous. 



SENTINEL SONGS. 

When falls the soldier brave 
Dead — at the feet of wrong, — 

The poet sings, and guards his grave 
With sentinels of song. 

Songs, march ! he gives command, 

Keep faithful watch and true ; 
The living and dead of the Conquered Land 

Have now uo guards save you. 

Grave Ballads ! mark ye well ! 

Thrice holy is your trust ! 
Go ! halt ! by the fieljls where warriors fell, 

Rest arms ! and guard their dust. 



List, Songs ! your watch is long ! 

The soldiers' guard was brief, 
Whilst right is right, and wrong is wrong, 

Ye may not seek relief. 

Go ! wearing the gray of gi-ief ! 

Go ! watch o'er the Dead in Gray ! 
Go guard the [u'ivate and guard the chief, 

And sentinel their clay ! 

And the songs, in stately rhyme, 

And with softly sounding tread, 
Go forth, to watch for a time — a time, 

Where sleep the Deathless Dead. 

And the songs, like funeral dirge. 

In music soft and low. 
Sing round the graves, — whilst hot tears surge 

From hearts that are homes of woe. 

What though no sculptured shaft 

Immortalize each brave ? 
AVhat though no monument epitaphed 

Be built above each grave ? 

AVhen marble wears away. 

And moiniments are dust, — 
The songs that guard our soldiers' clay 

Will still fulfil their trust. 

With lifted head, and steady tread, 

Like stars that guard the skies, 
Go watch each bed, where rest the dead, 

Brave Songs ! w'ith sleepless eyes. 

ABRA.M J. Ryan. 



ODE. 



[Sung on th« occasion of decorating the graves of tlie Confederate 
dead, at Magnolia Cemetery. Charleston. S. C.J 

Sleep sweetly in your humble graves, — 
Sleep, martyrs ol a fallen cause ! 

Though yet no marble column craves 
The iiilgrim here to pause, 

In seeds of laurel in the earth 
The blossom of your fame is blown. 

And somewhere, waiting for its birth. 
The shaft is in the stone ! 

Jleanwliile, behalf the tardy years 
Which kee|) in trust your storied tombs. 

Behold ! your sisters bring their tears. 
And these memorial blooms. 

Small tributes ! but your shades will smile 
More proudly on these wreaths to-day, 

Thau when some cannon-moulded pile 
Shall overlook this bay. 



WAR. 



533 



Stoop, Hiigcb, liitlier from tlic skits ! 

There is uo holier spot of groiuul 
Than wlicre defeated valor lies, 

By mourning beauty crowned ! 

HENRY TIMROD. 



THE BLUE AND THE GRAY. 

IThe women of Columbus, Mississippi, strewed flowers alil<e oti 
llie ijraves of the CoiireLler.itc and the National soldiers. J 

By the How of the inland river, 

Whence the fleets of iron have fled, 
Where the blades of the grave-grass iiuiver, 
Asleep are the ranks of the dead ; ^ 
Under tin; sod and the dew. 

Waiting the judgment-ilay ; — 
Under the one, tlie Blue ; 
Under the other, the Gray. 

These in the robings of glory, 

Those in the gloom of ilefeat, 
All with the battle-blood gory. 
In the dnsk of eternity meet ; — 
Under tlie sod and the dew, 

Waiting the jndgmeiit-day ; — 
Under the laurel, the Blue ; 
Under the willow, the Gray. 

From the silence of soiTowful hours 

The desolate mourners go, 
Lovingly laden with (lowers 

Alike for the friend and the foe, — 
Under the sod and the dew, 

Waiting the juilgment-day ; — 
Under the roses, the Blue ; 
Under the lilies, tlie Gray. 

So with an equal splendor 

The morning sun-rays fall. 
With a touch, iinpaitially teniler. 
On the blossoms blooming for all ; — 
Uiuler the sod and the dew. 

Waiting the judgment-ilay ; — 
'Broidered with gold, the Blue ; 
Mellowed with gold, the Gray. 

So, when the summer calleth, 
On forest and field of giaiu 
With an equal nmnnur falleth 
The cooling tlrip of the rain ; — 
Under the sod and the dew. 

Waiting the judgment-day ; — 
Wet with the ruin, the Blue ; 
Wet with the rain, the Gray. 

Sadly, but not with upbraiiling. 

The generous deetl was tlone ; 
In the storm of the years that are fading. 

No braver battle was won ; — 



Under the sod and the dew. 

Waiting tlie judgment-day ; — 
Under the blossoms, the Blue ; 
Under the garlands, the Gray. 

No more shall the war-cry sever. 
Or the winding rivers be red ; 
They banish our anger forever 

When they laurel the graves of our dead '. 
Under the sod and the dew. 

Waiting the judgment-day ; — 
Love and tears for the Blue, 
Tears and love for tlie Gray. 

Fra.\cis miles Finch. 



PEACE, 



Land, of every land the best, — 
O Land, whose glory sliall increase ■, 

Now in your whitest raiment ilrest 
For the great festival of peace : 

Take from your flag its fold of gleom. 
And let it float undimmed above. 

Till over all our vales shall bloom 
The sacred colors that we love. 

On mountain high, in valley low. 
Set Freedom's living fires to burn ; 

Until the midnight sky shall show 
A redder glory than the morn. 

Welcome, with shouts of joy and pride. 
Your veterans from the war-path's track : 

You gave your boys, untrained, untried ; 
You bring them men and heroes back ! 

And shed no tear, though think you must 
With sorrow of the martyred band ; 

Not even for him whose hallowed dust 
Has made our prairies holy land. 

Though by the places where they fell, 
The places that are sacred ground. 

Death, like a sullen sentinel. 
Paces his everlasting round. 

Yet when they set their country free. 
And gave her traitors fitting doom. 

They left their last great enemy, 
Baftlod, beside an empty tomb. 

Not there, but risen, redeemed, they go 
Where all the paths are sweet with flowers ; 

They fought to give us peace, and lo ! 
They gained a better peace than ours. 

PHiVPI- C.\KV 



534 



POEMS OF I'EAt'E AND WAK. 



PEACE. 



ODE TO PEACE. 

(Daughter of God ! that sitt'st on high 
Amid tho dances of tlie sky, 
And guidest with thy gentle sway 
The phmets on their tnnerul way ; 

Sweet Peace ! shall ne'er again 
The smile of thy most holy face. 
From thine ethereal dwelling-place, 
Rejoice the wretched, weary race 

or discord-breathing men ? 
Too long, O gladness-giving Queen ! 
Thy tarrying ni heaven has been ; 
iToo long o'er this fair blooming world 
^The Hag of blood has been unfurled. 

Polluting God's pure day ; 
Whilst, ;vs each maiUlening people reels, 
War onward drives his scythed wheels. 
And at his hoi'ses' bloody heels 

Shriek Murder aud Dismay. 

Oft have I wept to hear the cry 

Of widow wailing bitterly ; 

To see the parent's silent tear 

For childreu fallen beneath the spear ; 

.\nd I have felt so sole 
The sense of human guilt and woe. 
That I, in Virtue's passioned glow. 
Have cursed (my sonl was wounded so) 

Tho shape of num I bore ! 
Then come from thy scix'ue abode, 
Thou gladness-giving child of God I 
And cease Uie world's ensanguined strife, 
And reconcile my soul to life ; 

For much I long to see. 
Ere I shall to the grave descend. 
Thy hand its blessed branch extend. 
And to the world's ixMnotest end 

Wave Love and Harmony ! 

William tennant. 



TllK BATTl.K-FlKl.n. 

Once this soft turf, this rivulet's sands. 
Were tiamplcd by a hurrying crowd. 

And licry hearts and armed hands 
EncounteixHl in the liattle-cloud. 

Ah ! never shall ll\e land forget 

How gushed the life-blood of her brave, ■ 
Gushed, warm with lio^ and courage yet, 

Ifpon the soil thev fought to save. 



Now all is calm and fresh and still ; 

Alone the chirp of Hitting bird. 
And talk of children on the hill, 

And bell of wandering kine, arc heard. 

No solemn host goes trailing by 

The black-mouthed gnu and staggering wain ; 
Men start not at the battle-cry, — 

0, be it never heard again ! 

Soon rested those who fought ; but thou 
Who minglest in the harder strife 

For truths which men receive not now, 
Thy warfare only ends with life. 

A friendless warfare I lingering long 
Through weary day and weary year ; 

A wild and many-wcaponeii throng 
Hang on thy front aud Hank and rear. 

Yet nerve thy spirit to the proof, 
And blench not at thy chosen lot ; 

The timid good nu>y stand aloof, 

The sage may frawn, — yet faint thou not. 

Nor heed the shaft too surely cast, 
The foul and hissing bolt of scorn ; 

For with thy side shall dwell, at last. 
The victory of endurance born. 

Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again, — 
The eternal years of (iod are hers ; 

But Error, wounded, writhes in pain, 
And dies among his worshippers. 

'Vea, though thou lie upon the dust, 

When they who heliicd thee tlee in fear. 

Die full of hope and manly trust. 
Like those who fell in battle here ! 

Another hand thy sword shall wield, 

.\nothcr hand the standard wave. 
Till from the trumpet's mouth is pealed 

The blast of triumph o'er thy grave. 

W"1LLIAM CULLEN- RkVANT, 



NOT ON THE lUTTLE-FlELD. 

" To fall on the battle-tield fighting (or my dear lountry. — lltat 
would not be hard." — The Xeighi'^rs. 

NO, no, — let me lie 

Not on n field of battle when I die ! 

Let not the iron tread 
Of the mad w;n-horse crush iiiv helmed head ; 



meiULM. .■■K.^a 




I)fttw» hy Harry l-'enn. 




Ihi- Sutist'l Clin. 



u.-."^^'^ 




AT <;iBRAi;rAR. 



ENCLANn, I stand iin tliy imperial grcnind 
Not all a stranger; as tliy bu>;lcs 1)low, 
I feel within nij- blood old battU's flow, — 

The blood whose ancient founts are in thee found 

Still sur-jing dark against the Christian bound 
While Islam presses; well its peoples know 
Thy heights that walch them wandering below : 

I think how Lucknow heard their gathering sound. 

: turn and meet the cruel, turbaned face. 

England! 'tis sweet to be so much ihy son! 
! feel the conqueror in my blood and race; 

Last night Trafalgar awed me, and to-day 
Gibraltar wakened ; hark, thy evening gun 

Startles the desert over Africa. 



Thou art the rcjck of eini)ire set midseas 

Between the East and West, that (jod has bu'JH; 
Advance thy Roman borders where thou wilt, 

While run thy armies true with his decrees; 

Law, justice, liberty, — great gifts are these. 
Watch that they spread where English blood is spilt. 
Lest, mixed and sullied with his country's guilt 

The soldier's life-stream flow, and Heaven displease! 

Two swords there are: one naked, ai)t to smile. 
Thy blade of war ; and, battle-storied, one 

Rejoices in the sheath, and hides from light. 
American I am; would wars were done! 

Now westward, look, my country bids good night,— 
Peace to the world, from ports without a gun ! 



George Edward Woodberry. 




^-vci.- ^ •%=e;^ 






■^^ 



K'f»f'^sS>o-*«--' 




Drawn ^y Edivin For^s. 

AN OLD KATTLE-FIELD. 

The softest \\hisperinL;s of the scented South, 
And rust ami roses in the cannon's mouth ; 

And. wliere the tluiuders of the fight were born, 
The wind's sweet tenor in the standing corn ; 

With song of larks, low-lingering in the loam. 
And blue skies bending o\-er love and home. 

But still the thought: Somewhere, — upon the hills, 
Or where the vales ring with the whip-poor-wills, 

Sad wistful eyes and broken hearts that beat 
For the loved sound of unrcturning feet, 

-Vnd. when the oaks their leafy banners wave. 
Dream of the battle and an unmarked grave ! 



Fk.wk L. St.vntox. 



PEACE. 



535 



Nor let tho reekini; knife, 
That I t.ave drawn aH"""*' " biotlicr's lifi", 

Be in my hand wlien Dcatli 
Thunders nlong, and trani])U's iiie beneath 

His heavy ,si|iiailion's lieels, 
Or gory felloes of his cannon's wheels. 

From such a dying bed, 
Though o'er it float tho .stripes of white and red, 

And the bald eagle )]rings 
The clnstiMid stars n[ion liis wide-spread wings 

To sparkle in tny sight, 
0, never let my spirit take her flight ! 

I know that beauty's eye 
Is all the brighter where gay [lennants fly. 

And tirazen helmets dauee. 
And sunshine Hashes on the lifted lance ; 

1 know that bards have sung. 
And pei)i)le shouted till the welkin rang, 

In honor of the brave 
Who on the batlle-lield have found a grave ; 

! know that o'er their bones 
Have gmteful hands piled monumental stones. 

Some (if those piles 1 've seen : 
The one at Lexington upon the green 

Where the first blood was shed, 
And to my country's independence led ; 

And others, on our shore. 
The " Battle Monument " at Baltimore, 

Anil that on Bunker's Hill. 
Ay, and abroad, a few more famous still ; 

Thy "tomb," Tliemistoeles, 
That looks out yet ujion tlie Grecian seas, 

And which the waters kiss 
That issue from the gulf of .Salainis. 

And thine, too, have I .seen. 
Thy mound jf "arth, I'atioelus, robed in green. 

That, like a natural knoll. 
Sheep climb and nibble over as they stroll, 

Watched by some turbaned boy, 
Upon the nuirgin of the jdain of Troy. 

Such honors grace the bed, 
I know, whereon the warrior lays his head. 

And hears, as life ebbs out, 
The coin|uereil Hying, and the conqueror's shout ; 

But a-s his eye grows dim. 
What is a column or a mound to him ? 

What, to the jiarting soul, 
The mellow note of bugles ? What the roll 

< If drums ! Xo, let me die 
Where the blue heaven bends o'er me lovingly, 

.And the soft summer air, 
As it goes by me, .stirs my thin white hair, 

And from my forehead dries 
The death-damp as it gathers, and the .skies 

Seem waiting to receive 
My soul to their clear depths ! Or let mc leave 



The world when round my bed 
Wife, children, weeping friends are gatheied, 

And the calm voice of prayer 
And holy hymning shall my soul prepare 

To go and be at rest 
With kindred spirits, — spirits who have blessed 

The human brotherhood 
By labors, cares, and counsels for their good. 

JOH.N I'lERPONT. 



MY AUTUMX WALK. 

On woodlands ruddy with autumn 

The amber sunshine lies ; 
I look on the beauty rouiul me. 

And tears come into my eyes. 

For the wind that sweeps the meadows 
Blows out of the far Soutliwest, 

Where our gallant men are fighting. 
And the gallant dead are at rest. 

The golden-iod is leaning. 
And the puiiile aster waves 

In a Ijrecze from tbi! land of battles, 
A breatli from the land of graves. 

Full fast the leaves are dr(jp]iing 
Before that wandering breath ; 

As fast, on the field of battle, 
Our brethren fall in death. 

Beautiful over my pathway 

The forest spoils are shed ; 
They are spotting the giassy hillocks 

With pui-j)le anil gold and red. 

Beautiful is the death-sleep 

Of tho.sc who bravely fight 
In their country's holy quarrel, 

And perish for tlic liight. 

But who shall comfort the liring. 
The light of whose homes is gone : 

The bride that, early widowed, 
Lives broken-hearted on ; 

The matron whose sons are lying 
In graves on a distant shore ; 

The maiden, whose promised husband 
Comes back from the war no more ? 

1 look on the peaceful dwellings 
Whose windows glimmer in sight. 

With croft and garden and orchard 
That ]ay,k in the mellow light; 



536 



I'OEMS OK PKACK AND WAR. 



And 1 know that, when our couriei's 

With news of victory come, 
They will bring a bitter message 

Of hopeless grief to some. 

Again I turn to the woodlands. 

And I shudder as I see 
The mock -grape's • blood-ivd banner 

Hung out on the cedar-tree ; 

And I think of days of slaughter, 
And the night-sky red with tlanies, 

On the Chattahoochee's meadows, 
And the wasted banks of the James. 

O for the fresh spring-season, 

When the groves are in their prime, 

And fiir away in the future 
Is the frosty autumn-time ! 

O for that better season, 

■When the pride of the foe shall yield, 
And the hosts of God and Fi'eedom 

March back from the well-won tickl ; 

Arid the matron shall clasp her first-born 

With teai-s of joy and pride : 
And the scarred and war-worn lover 

Shall claim his promised bride ! 

The leaves are swept from the branches ; 

But the living buds are there, 
AVith folded (lower and foliage. 

To sprout in a kinder air. 

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYA*\T. 



BARCLAY OF URV. 

Up the streets of Abeixleen, 
By the kirk and college green, 

Rode the laiixi of Ury ; 
Close behind him, close beside, 
Foul of mouth and evil-eyed, 

Pi'esseil the mob in fury. 

Flouted liim the drunken churl. 
Jeered at him the serving-girl. 

Prompt to please her master ; 
And the lvg<»ing carlin, late 
Fed and clothed at I'ry's gate. 

Cursed him as he passe<l her. 

Yet with calm and stately mien 
Up the streets of Abenlcen 
Came he slowly riding ; 



* AmMcfns, mock-grape ; 
rr«pcr. 



e botanical name of the \'ir^nia 



And to all ho saw and heanl 
Answering not with bitter word. 
Turning not for chiding. 

Came a troop with broadswords s^vinging. 
Bits and bridles sharply ringing. 

Loose and free and froward : 
Quoth the foremost, " Ride him down I 
Push him ! prick him ! through the town 

Drive the Quaker coward ! " 

But from out the thickening crowd 
Cried a sudden voice ami loud ; 

" Barclay ! Ho ! a Barclay ! " 
And the old man at his side 
Saw a comrade, battle-tried, 

Scarred and sunburned darkly ; 

Who, with ready weapon bare. 
Fronting to the troopers there. 

Cried aloud : " God save us ! 
Call ye cowanl him who stood 
Ankle-deep in Lutzen's blood. 

With the bmve Gustavus ?" 

" Nay, I do not need thy sword. 
Comrade mine," said Ury's lord ; 

" Put it up, I pray thee. 
Passive to liis holy will, 
Trust I in my JIaster still. 

Even though he slay me. 

" Pledges of thy love and faith. 
Proved on many a field of death. 

Not by me are needed." 
JIarvelleil much that henchman bold. 
That his laiitl, so stout of old, 

Now so meekly pleaded. 

"Woe 's the day," he sadly said. 
With a slowly shaking head, 

And a look of pity ; 
" Ury's honest lord reriled. 
Mock of knave and sport of child. 

In his own good city ! 

" Spe.ak the word, and, master mine, 
As we charged on Tilly's line, 

And his Walloon lancei's. 
Smiting through their midst, we "11 teach 
Civil look and ilecent speech 

To these boyish prancere ! " 

" Marvel not, mine ancient friend, — 
Like beginning, like the end ! " 

Quoth the laird of Try ; 
" Is the sinful servant more 
Than his gracious Lord who bore 

Bonds and stripes in ,Iewry ? 



PEACE. 



537 



" Give me joy that in his name 
I can bear, witli patient frame, 

All tliese vain ones otFer ; 
While for them he sulTered long, 
Shall I answer wrong with wrong, 

Scotfing with the scotfiT ! 

" Hapjiier I, with loss of all, — 
Hiinteil, outlawed, held in thrall. 

With few friends to greet me, — 
Than when reeve and snuire were seen 
Riding out from Aberdeen 

With bared heads to meet me ; 

" When each goodwife, o'er and o'er, 
Blessed me as I passed her door ; 

And the snooded daughter, 
Through her casement glancing down, 
Smiled on him who bore renown 

From red fields of slaughter. 

" Hard to feel the stranger's scoff, 
Hard the old friends' falling off. 

Hard to learn forgiving ; 
But the Lord his own rewards. 
And his love with theirs accords 

Warm and fresh and living. 

" Through this dark and stormy night 
Faith beholds a feeble light 

Up the blackness streaking ; 
Knowing God's own time is best. 
In a patient hope I rest 

Foi the full day-breaking ! " 

So the laird of Ury said, 
Turning slow his horse's head 

Towards the Tolbooth prison. 
Where, through iron gates, he heard 
Poor disciples of the Word 

Preach of Christ arisen ! 

Not in vain, confessor old, 
Unto us the tale is told 

Of thy day of trial ! 
Every age on him who strays 
From its broad and beaten ways 

Pours its seven-fold vial. 

Happy he whose inward ear 
Angel comfortings can hear, 

O'er the rabble's laughter ; 
And, while hatred's fagots bum. 
Glimpses through the smoke discern, 

Of the good hereafter. 

Knowing this, — that never yet 
Share of truth was vainly set 
In the world's wicle fallow ; 



After hands shall sow the seed, 

Aft<>r hands from hill and mead 

Reap the harvests yellow. 

Thus, with somewhat of the seer. 
Must the moral pioneer 

From the future borrow, — 
Clothe the waste with dreams of grain, 
And, on midnight's sky of rain. 

Paint the golden morrow ! 

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIEK. 



TUBAL CAIN. 

Oi.D Tubal Cain was a man of might, 

In the days when earth was young ; 
By the fierce red light of his furnace bright. 

The strokes of his hammer rung : 
And he lifted high his brawny hand 

On the iron glowing clear. 
Till the sparks ru.shed out in scarlet showers. 

As he fashioned the sword and the spear. 
And he sang : " Hurrah for my handiwork ! 

Hurrah for the spear and the sword ! 
Hurrah for the hand that .shall wield them well. 

For he shall be king and lord." 

To Tubal Cain came many a one. 

As he wrought by Ids roaring fire. 
And each one prayed for a strong steel blade 

As the crown of his desire : 
And he made them weapons sharp and strong. 

Till they shouted loud for glee, 
And gave him gifts of pearl and gold. 

And spoils of the forest free. 
And they sang : " Hurrah for Tubal Cain, 

Who hath given us strength anew ! 
Hurrali for the smith, hurrah for the fire. 

And hurrah for the metal true ! " 

But a sudden change came o'er his heart, 

Ere the setting of the sun. 
And Tubal Cain was filled with pain 

For the evil he had done ; 
He saw that men, with rage and hate, 

Made war upon tlieir kind. 
That the land was red with the blood they shed. 

In their lust for carnage blind. 
And he said : " Alas ! that ever I made. 

Or that skill of mine should plan. 
The spear and the sword for men whose joy 

Is to slay their fellow-man ! " 

And for many a day old Tubal Cain 

Sat brooding o'er his woe ; 
And his hand forbore to smite the ore. 

And his furnace smouldered low. 



538 



I'OE.MS OF TKACE AND WAR. 



liut he rose at last witli a elieei'l'iil face, 

Ami a bright i'ouraj;eous eye, 
Aiul liaroii his strong riglit arm for work. 

While the iiuiek llames mounteil liigli. 
Ami he sang ; " Hurrah tor my hamliwork !" 

Ami the reil spaiks lit the air ; 
"Nrit alone lor the blade was the bright steol 
made," — 

And ho fivshioned the lirst iiloughshare. 

And miMi, taught wisdom from the past, 

111 fiiendship joined their hands. 
Hung the sword in tile hall, the spear on the wall, 

And jiloughed tile willing lands ; 
And sang ; " Hurrah tor Tubal Cain ! 

Our staiu'h good friend is he ; 
And for the iiloughshare and the plough 

To him our praise sliall be. 
liut while oppression lifts its head. 

Or a tymnt would be loni. 
Though wo may thank him for the plough, 

We '11 not forget the sword I " 

CKARLES MACKAY. 



THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM. 

[The \inttlc of Blenheim in BnvariA was fouglit Aug. 13. 1704. 
iKtvvcen the tr<>o|i». of the Eii|;tish anit Austrians-on tine side, under 
the Duke of M.irlborou^h and Prince Hugene. nnd the Trench and 
Bavarians on the other side, led by Mar^ihal Tallart and the Elec- 
tor of Bavaria. The latter |>arly w.xs defeated, and the schemes of 
Louis NIV. of France were materially checked thereby.! 

It was n summer evening, — 

Ohl Kaspar's work was ilone. 
Ami he befon^ his cottage door 

Was sitting in the sun ; 
And by him sported on the gi-een 
His little grandi'liiUl WillielminB. 

She saw her brother I'eterkin 
Roll something large and round, 

Which he lieside the rivulet. 
In playing then-, had found ; 

He came to ask what he hail found 

That was so large and smooth ami round. 

Old Kn.spnr took it tram the boy, 

Who stood expectant by ; 
Ami then the old man shook his head, 

And, with a natural sigh. — 
" 'T is some poor fellow's skull," said lie, 
" Who fell ill the givat victory. 

" I find them in the ganlen. 

For theiv 's many hereabout : 
Ami often, when I go to plough. 

The ploughshare tnriis them out ; 
For many thousjunjdnen," s;xid he, 
" Were slain in the gi-eat victory." 



" Now tell us what 't was all about," 

Young reterkin he cries ; 
And little Wilhelmine looks up 

With wonder-waiting eyes, — 
" Now tell us all about the war, 
Ami what they fought each other for." 

"It was the English," Ka-sjiar cried, 
" Who put the French to niut ; 

But what tliey fought each other for 
I could not well make out ; 

But everyliody said," iiuoth lie, 

"That 't was a famous victory. 

" My father lived at Blenheim then, 

Yon little stream hard by ; 
They burnt his dwelling to the ground. 

And he was forced to lly ; 
So with his wife and cliild he tied, 
Nor had he where to rest his head. 

" With fire and swoni the country round 

Was wasted far and wide ; 
And many a childing motlior there. 

And new-born baby dieil ; 
But things like that, you know, must be 
At every famous victory. 

" They say it was a shocking sight 
After the field was won, — 
For many thousand boilies here 

Lay ratting in the sun ; 
But things like that, you know, must bo 
After a famous victory. 

"Great praise the Duke of Marlborough won, 

And our good Prince Eugene." 
"Why 't was a very wicked thing !" 

Saitl little Wilhelmine. 
" Nay, nay, my little girl ! " ciuoth he, 
" It was a famous viitory. 

" And everybody praised the duke 

Who this great fight did win." 
" But what good came of it at last?" 

Quoth little reterkin. 
"Why, that I cannot tell," said he ; 
" But 'twas a famous victory." 

ROBKRT SOUTHEY. 



THE KNIGHT'S TOAIB. 

Where is the grave of Sir Arthur O'Kellyn ? 
Whei-c may the gi-ave of that good man be ' — 
By the side of a spring, on the breast of Hel- 

vellyn, 
Under the twigs of a young birch-tree ! 



KUACMENTS. 



539 



Tlio oak that in suniiiicr wa:* sweet to hear, 

Anil rustled ita leaves in the fall of the year, 

Ami whistled and roared in the winter alone, 

Is gone, — and the birch in ita stead is grown. — 

The knight's bones are dust, 

And his good sword rust ; — 

liis soul is with the saints, I trust. 

Samubl Taylor Coleridci£. 



FRAGMENTS. 



AVAItFAItK. 

In every heart 
Are sown the sparks that kindle fiery war ; 
Occasion needs but fan them, and they blaze. 

ThtTask: ll'tnUr Moriting lyatk. COWPER. 

And Ctesar's spirit, ranging for revenge. 

Cry " Havock ! " and let slip the dogs of war. 

•Jutius Casur. All iii. Sc i. SHAKESPEARK. 

My sentence is for open war ; of wiles 
Jlore unexpert I boast not : them li^t those 
Contrive who need, or when they need, not now. 

Paradiit Lull, Boot W. MILTON. 

A weak invention of the enemy. 

Rwhardlll , All. 1. Si. 3. COLLEY ClBBEK. 

All delays are dangerous in war. 

Tyra»niiLtfVe,Atl\.Sli. DRVDEN. 



Danoers of Peace. 

Long peace, I find. 
Hut nurses dangerous humors up to strength, 
License and wanton rage, which war alone 
Can purge away. 

Mutlaflta. li. MALLET. 

They sit them down just where they were before, 
Till for now scenes of woe peace shall their force 
restore. 

CaslU <if iHdoUnu, CaHI. t- J. TKOMSON- 

War its thousands slays, Peace its ten thousands. 

tytalh. U. PORTEUS. 



Plea8URe« of War. 

(> War I thou hast thy fierce delight. 
Thy gleams of joy intensely bright ! 
Such gleams as from thy polished shield 
Fly dazzling o'er the battle-field ! 

LcrJ c/ ilu lihi. SCOTT. 



0, the sight entrancing, 

When morning's beam is glancing 

O'er files arrayed 

With liehii and blade, 
And [jlumcs, in the g.iy wind dancing ! 
When hearts are all higli beating, 
And the trumpet's voice repeating 

That 8(jng, wliosc^ breath 

May lead to deatli, 
Hut never to retreating. 
O, the sight entrancing, 
When morning's beam is glancing 

O'er tiles arrayed 

With helm ami blade. 
And plumes, in the gay wind dancing. 

0,lhe ii£ht iHlrancitii^. T; MOORB. 

The tyrant custom, most gi-avc senators. 
Hath made the fiinty and steel couch of war 
My thrice-driven bed of down. 

Ollutla, All I. Si. 3. SHAKESPEARE, 



The TiiuE Soldier. 

Unbounded courage and compassion joined, 
Teni)iering each other in the victor's mind. 
Alternately proclaim hhn good and great, 
And make the hero and the man complete. 

And, pleased the Almighty's orders to perform. 
Rides in the whirlwind and directs the storm. 

TJte Campaign. AUDISO.N. 

So restless Cromwell could not cease 
In tin; inglorious arts of peace. 

l?ut through ailventurous war 

Urged his active star. 

A Itoritlian Odr : Upon Crotn-wttC 1 Rtlitrn/rom Ireland. 

A. MARVELU 

Wut's words to them whose faith an' truth 
On War's red techstone rang true metal, 

Who ventercd life an' love an' youth 
For the gret prize o' death in battle ? 

Tht Bigfcni' /'.iperi, Sicoitd Serus, No. x. J. R. LOWELL. 

Who, doomed to go in company with Pain, 
And Fear, and Blood.shed, miseralilo train ! 
Turns his necessity to glorious gain. 
In face of these doth (!Xercise a power 
Which is our human nature's highest dower ; 
Controls them ami subdues, transmutes, bereaves 
Of their bad infiucnce, and their good receives. 

Hut who, if he be called upon to face 

Some awful moment to whieli Heaven has joined 

Great issues, good or bad for humankind, 

Is happy as a Lover ; and attired 

With sudden brightness, like a Man inspired ; 



540 



POEMS OF PEACE AND WAli. 



A horse ! a hoi-se ! &ly kiugdom for a horse ! 

Kint JiuAAirvt in^ .-'4-r V. ^V. 4. SHAKESPEARE* 

Tile noigliyiugo of the wnr-liorsc inowde. 

The mwliiige of the drum, 
Tlie chiugor of the trumi>et knvde, 

Be soimdes from heaven that come ; 
And oh! the thundering jiivsse of knightes, 

AVhenas their wnr-eryes swell, 
May tole fixmi heaveu an angel brighte, 

And i-ouse a fiend iroia hell. 

Cavaittr's S>?H£. W. MOTHUKWEU^ 



And, through the heat of eonlliot, kei'ivs the law 
In calmness made, and sees what he foivsaw. 

Who, not eontent that former worth stand fast. 
Looks forward pei'severing to the last 
From we'.l to better, daily self-suriwst ; 

Finds eomfort in himself and iu his eause ; 
And while the mortal mist is gathering, draws 
His breath in confideuee of Heaven's applause. 

CManiam^ tiu Haffy tl'arrii^ WOKUSWOKl'H- 



Challenge and Defi.\nce. 

Under which king, Bezoniau >. speak, or die. 
Kinr Mmwy ly., PartlJ. Acty- Sc- 3. Shakespeare. 

Fly they that need to fly ; 
Wonles feareu liabes. I meane not to thee entixNit 
To jvisse ; but maugiv thee will jrasse or dy. 

F,tfn* \)iu*Mt- SPE.NSER. 

Hang out our banners on the outwai\l walls ; 
The cry is still, T/k-;/ iv»i<'. Our castle's strength 
Will laugh a siege to scorn : here let them lie 
Till fiunine and the ague eat them up. 

JiMMA^^av.St.5- Shakespeare- 



Preparation AND Battle. 

Beware 
Of entrance to a ipiarrel ; but, being in, 
Bear 't that the opposM may beware of thee. 
/iamJfr,jcii,Scy Shakespeare. 

From the tents. 
The armorers, accomplishing the knights. 
With busy hammei-s closing rivets up. 
Give dreadful note of pre(>;ii-ation. 

A'lN*' f^firj, I'., ^tt iv. c"A.*r*<j. SHAKESPEARE. 

Now the storm Ivgins to lower, 
(H;iste, the loom of hell prepare, ) 

Iron sleet of arrowy shower 
Hurtles iu the darkeueil air. 

Glittering lances are the loom. 
Where the dusky warp we strain, 

Weaving many a soldier's doom, 
Orkney's woe, and Kaudoer's bane. 



rv fatat Sijm-f. 



T. CRAV 



That voice . . . heaixl so oft 

In worst extremes, aud on tlie perilous eilge 

Of biittle when it raged. 

f^irttjisf L.Mt. A'.v* i MILTON. 

L;\y on, MacdufT ; 
Aud damned be him that lii-st cries, " Hold, 
enough ! " 

U^etttk^ A<t V. Jr. 7. SHAKESPEARE. 



Defeat. 

What though the field bo lost? 
All is not lost ; the unconnuenible will, 
-Vnii study of revenge, immortal liate, 
And courage" never to submit or yield. 
Aud what is else not to \x overcome. 

Pwntdiit Lut, Bfffi i. Mi LTON, 

At a frown they in their glory die. 
The painful warrior, famoused for light. 
After a tlious:>nd victories once foiled, 
Is from the Iwoks of honor razed ipiite, 
.\nd all the rest foi-got for which he toiled. 

S^-Mfur X.Vy. SHAKESPEARE. 



COURAOE AND FeaK. 

Ho called so loud that all the hollow deep 
Of Hell I'esounded. 

Awake, arise, or bo forever fallen ! 

/^iru.A.(r £iU/, />\vt i. Mil 

.\y me ! what perils do environ 

The man that meddles with cold iron. 



J^nJih'uj. Part t, OihI. iii. 

For he who fights and runs away • 
May live to fight another day ; 
But he who is iu kittle slain 
Can never rise and fight again. 

Tk< Art <:/ Av/rr .*« J .Wlv P^an, 



S. Dl.-TLEa. 



GOLDSMITH. 



• Rinlett, in his Familiar 0»'.v.jft'.»«^. groups with this sMlua 
tkefoUowinj;: — 

He that fights and runs au^y 
May turn AniX light another day ; 
But he that is in tK\ttte slain 
Will ne\-er rise to djjht again. 
Ray's Nisttvv ^:JU KfKi/iifNt /• ^ Bristol. 175* 

That same man, that nmnith Awaie. 
Mate again tight an other daie. 

Erasmus, A/^ftJifems, TniMf. ty Vdall, X54& 

For those that fiy may fight again. 
Which he can never do that 's slain. 

Butler. Hwti^nts. Part III. Cant, > 



FRAGMENTS. 



541 



Never be it said 
Tlmt Kate itself could awe tliu houI of Uicliard. 
Hence, babbliug dreams ; you tlin.-aten here in 

vain ; 
Conscience, avaunt, Ricliard 'b himself again ! 
Hark ! the shrill trumpet sounds. To horse ! 

•way ! 
My soul 's ill arms, and eager for the fray. 

SHattt/eart't Rt<ltartt III. \,Atttrtd^, Act. v. Sc. j. 

COLLEY ClBBEK. 

When Greeks joined Greeks, then was tlie tug 
of war. 

AUx»n44r ttu Grtat. Act Iv. Sc. 3. N. LliE. 

War, war is still the cry, — " war even to the 
knife!" 

CttiUt Harold. Cant, I. BVRO.S. 

By how much unexpected, by so much 
We must awake endeavor for defence, 
For courage mountcth with occasion. 

King ychil. AclW.Sc.l. SHAKESPEARE. 

Blow, wind! come, wrack! 
At least we '11 die with harness on our back. 

Uatittll. All V. St. i SHAKESPEAKIi. 

HoRROKH OF War. 

He is come to ope 
The purple testament of bleeding war ; 
But ere the crown he looks for live in peace. 
Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' sons 
Shall ill become the (lower of Kngland's face, 
Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace 
To scarlet indignation, and bedew 
Her pastures' grass with faithful English blood. 

Kme Kiihard II.. Acl 111. St. J. SHAKESPEARI'.. 

Some undone widow sits upon mine arm, 
And takes away the use of it ; and my sword. 
Glued to my scabbard with wronged orphans' 

tears, 
Will not be drawn. 

A Nrw lyay U fay Old DliU. All v. Sc. i. P. MASSISCER. 

Mark where his carnage and his conquest cease ! 
Ho makes a solitude, and calls it — peace ! 

Thi Bride i^Aiydet, Caol. IL BVRO.N. 

Criminality of War. 

One to destroy is murder by the law ; 
And gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe ; 
To murder thousands takes a siwcious name. 
War's glorious art, and gives immortal fame. 

Lm c/Fami. Salir, «il. DR. E. YOUNC 



Ez fer war, I call it murder, — 

There you hev it plain an' Hat ; 
I don't want to go no furder 

Than my Testyniunt fer that. 

The Blgl(m /'upcri. l-'trsl Sertei. I\lo. 1. J. R, LOWELL. 

One inunli-r made a villain. 
Millions a her(.f. I'rinces were privileged 
To kill, and numbers siinctified the crime. 

Dtalk. 0. I'URTBUS, 

Great princes have great playthings. 

But war 's a game which, were their .subjects wise. 
Kings would not play at. 

The Talk: tVinlcr Marniue Ifalk. COWPBR. 



Peace. 

Take away the sword ; 
States can be saved without it. 

Richtlltu, AclU. Sc. 3. E. BULWER-LVTTON. 

Now is the winter of our discontent 
Made glorious summer by this sun of York, 
And all the clouds that lowereil upon our house 
In the deep Ijosoni of the ocean Ijuried. 
Noware our blows bound with victorious wreaths ; 
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments ; 
Our .stem alarums changed to merry meetings. 
Our dreadful marches to deliglitful nica.sures. 
Griiii-vi.sageil War hath smoothed his wrinkled 

front. 
And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds 
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, 
lie capers nimbly in a lady's chamber, 
To the Ia.scivious pleasing of a lute. 

ATinf Richard III.. Acl I. Sc. i. SHAKESPEARP. 

Ay, but give me worship and quietness ; 
I like it better than a dangerous honor. 

King Henry yi ., Pari III. Acl Iv. Sc. y. SHAKESPEARE. 

Peace ! thou source and soul of social life ; 
Beneath whose calm inspiring influence 
Science his views enlarges. Art refines. 
And swelling Coniniene opens all her ports. 

nnianma. ]■ THOMSON. 

Till each man finds his own in all men's good. 
And all men work in noble brotherhood, 
15reaking their mailed fleets and armed towers. 
And ruling by obeying Nature's powers, 
And gathering all the fruits of peace and crowned 
with all her flowers. 

Odi, tung at the Openitt^ of tht I nitrnaliottal Exhibtlien. 

TE.NNVSON. 



:5^ 



1 



^l' 



N 



^ 



^. 



\ 



v^ 




>. 



:) 






-H I 



^^ 4^ 



h 






V 







3 Nh 



(^I^j4|r-^^ 






POEMS OF TEMPURAXCE AND LABOR. 



(tQ^-f 








ELMWOOD. 

f-OWELI.'s HOMR AT CaMDRIDGP. 



Ant/ out- tail i'/«/. this humiredih year^ 
Doge o/ our iea/y Venice here, 
U'Ao, with an annua/ ring, dot/t tiuu/ 
The /'/««■ Adriatic over/tead. 



Shtido'wSy nvit/i his />a/atia/ mass. 
The deep cana/ o/ Jloxving grass, 
H'here g/ow the dande/ions sparse^ 
For shadoit's o^ Ita/ian stars. 



LOWELL 

TiiK great trees nmnnur ;it the midnight hour ; 

The birds in silence wait: 
A soul is jiassing to the Fount of Power, — 

Llmwood is desolate. 

Lover of nature, lover of his race, 

Learned, and true, and strong: 
Using for others, with surpassing grace, 

The matchless gift of song, — 

W'lun clouds hung darkest in our day of jiain, 

He ])ro]ihesied the light; 
He looked adown the ages for the reign 

Of llrothcrluiod and Right. 

I'rouil of his counlr\', helping to unbind 

'Hie fetters of the slave : 
Two worlds their wreaths of honor ha\e entwineil 

About one ojien grave. 

Cireat in his simple love of flower and bird, 

(Ireat in the statesman's art. 
He has been greatest in his lifting word 

To every human lieart. 

He lived the lesson which Sir Launfal guessed 

Through wandering far and wide ; 
The giver must be given in the quest : 

He ga\e himself, and died. 

Sarah K. P.oi.ton 



Pn//i.</i,-rs: T/iomas I'. Crowflt &^ Co., A",-7|. I 'or* •5>' Rastt'n 



POEMS OF TEMPERANCE AND LABOR. 



TEMPERANCE. 



MORAL COSMETICS. 

Yk who woiiUl luivo your features tlorid, 
I,ilho limbs, brijjlit eyes, uiiwriiikled roruhead, 
From li'^u's devastation horrid, 

Adopt this plan, — 
T will make, in climate cold or torrid, 

A hale old man : 

Avoid in youth luxurious diet, 
Kestniin the passions' lawless riot ; 
Devoted to domestic cpiiet, 

He wisely gay ; 
So shall ye, spite of age's fiat, 

Resist decay. 

Seek not in Mamraoii's worship pleasure, 
But find your richest, dearest tieasure 
In God, his word, his work, not leisure : 

The minil, not sense, 
Is tlie sole scale by which to measure 

Your opulence. 

Tliis is the solace, this tlie science, 
Life's purest, sweetest, best appliance, 
That disapiioiuts not man's reliance, 

Whate'er his state ; 
But challenges, with calm defiance, 

Time, fortune, fate. 

IIORACB SMITH. 



TlIK WATKR-DRINKER. 

O, WATEK for nic ! Bright wiiter for me I 

Give wine to the tremulous debauchee ! 

It cooletli the brow, it eooleth the Inain, 

It iiiaketh the faint one strong again ; 

It conies o'er the .sense like a breeze from the sea, 

All freshnes.s, like infant purity. 

O, water, bilght water, for me, for me ! 

Give wine, give wine to the debauchee ! 

Fill to the hrim ! Fill, fill to the brim ! 
Let the llowing cry.stal kiss the rim ! 



My hand is steady, my eye is true. 

For 1, like the Mowers, drink naught but dew. 

0, watei', bright water 's a mine of wealth, 

And the ores it yieldeth are vigor and health. 

.So water, pure water, for me, forme ! 

And wine for tlio tremulous debaucliee ! 

Fill again to the brim ! again to the brim ! 
For water strengtheneth life ami limb. 
To the days of the aged it aildeth length ; 
To the might of the strong it addeth strength ; 
It freshens the heart, it brightens the sight ; 
'Tis like qualliiig a goblet of morning light. 
So, water, I will drink naught but thee, 
ThoM parent of health and eueigy ! 

IZUWARD JOHNSON. 



THE OLD MAN'S COMFORTS, 

AND HOW HP. CAINUD TIIKM. 

" You are old, Father William," the young mau 
cried ; 

"The few locks whii-h are left you arc gray ; 
You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man; 

Now tell me the reason, I pray." 

" In the days of my youth," Father William 
replied, 

" I rcmcml)cred that youth would lly fast, 
And abused not my lu'alth and my vigor at fir.st, 

That I never might need them at last." 

"You are old, Father William," the young man 
cried, 

" And jileasures with youth pass away ; 
And yet you lament not the days that are gone ; 

Now tell me the reason, I pray." 

"In the days of my youth," Fatlier William 
repliinl, 

" I remembered tliat youth couhl not last ; 
I thought of the future, whatever I did, 

That 1 neviM' might giievi- fur tlie jiast." 



546 



POEMS OF TEMPERANCE AND LABOR. 



" Vou are old, Father William," the yoiui.;,' man 
cried, 

" And lil'o must bi> hastening away ; 
You are checrl'ul, and love to converse upon death ; 

Now tell n\6 the reason, I ja'ay." 

" I as. cheerful, yonng nnm," Fatlicr William 
replied ; 

" Let tlie cause thy attention engage ; 
In the days of my youth I remembered my God ! 

And he hath not forgotten my age." 

KOKLRT SOUTHEV. 



OLD AGE OF TEMPERANCE. 

FROM " AS vou LIKE IT," ACT II. SC. 2. 

Adam. Let mo be your servant ; 
Thougli 1 look old, yet am I strong and lusty : 
For in my youth 1 never did apply 
Hot and relkdlious lii|Uors in my lilood ; 
Nor did not with unliasliful forelicad woo 
The means of weakness and debility. 
Therefoi'e my age is as a lusty winter. 
Frosty, but kindly : let me go with you ; 
I 'U do the service of a yoviugcr nnm 
In all your business and necessities. 

SHAKESPEARE. 



TEMPERANCE, OR THE CHEAP 
PHYSICIAN. 

Go now ! and with some daring drug 

Bait tliy disease ; and, whilst they tug, 

Tliou, to nniintain their precious strife. 

Spend the dear treasures of thy life. 

Go ! tfdce physic — dote niion 

Some big-named composition. 

The oracnlous doctor's mystic bills — 

Certain liard words made into pills ; 

And what at last shalt gain by these ? 

Only a costlier disease. 

That which makes ns have no need 

Of physic, that 's physic indeed. 

Hark, hithci', reader ! wilt thou see 

Nature her own i>hysician be ? 

Wilt see a man all his own wealth. 

His own niusic, his own health ^ 

A man whose sober soul can tell 

How to wear her garments widl — 

Her garments that njion her sit 

As garments should do, close and fit — 

.\ well-clothed soul that 's not ojipressed 

Nor clioked with what she should be dressed - 

A soul sheathed in a crystal shrine, 

Through whidi all her bright features shine ; 

As when a piece of wanton lawn, 

A thin aerial veil, is drawn 



O'er beauty's face, seeming to hide, 

More sweetly shows the blushing bride — 

A soul wlioso intellectual beams 

No mists do mask, no lazy streams — 

A happy soul, that all the wiy 

To heaven hath a summer's day ? 

Wonldst see a man whose well-wamied blood 

Bathes liini in a gennine flood ? — 

A man whose tuned humors be 

A scat of rai-est harmony ? 

Wouldst see blithe looks, fresh cheeks bcguils 

Age '! Wouldst see December smile >. 

Wouldst see nest of new I'oses grow 

In a bed of reverend snow ? 

Warm thoughts, free sjiirits Haltering 

Winter's self into a spring ? — 

In sum, wonldst see a man that can 

Live to be old, and still a man ? 

Whose latest and most leadened hours 

Fall with soft wings, stuck with soft llowera ; 

And when life's sweet fable ends. 

Soul and body part liki' fiicnds — 

No quarrels, murmurs, no delay — 

A kiss, a sigh, and so away ? 

This rare one, reader, wouldst thou see ? 

Hark, hither ! and thyself be he ! 

KICIIAKD CRASIIAW. 



GO, FEEL WHAT I HAVE FELT. 

[By .1 young lady, who «-as told that she w.is a monomaniac in het 
haired of alcoholic liquors.] 

Go, feel what I have felt, 

Go, bear what 1 have tiorne ; 
Sink 'neath a blow a father dealt. 
And the cold, proud world's scorn : 
Thus struggle on from year to year, 
Thy sole relief the scalding tear. 

Go, weep as I have wejit 

O'er a loved father's fall ; 
See every cherislied promise swept. 
Youth's sweetness turned to gall ; 
Hope's faded llowei-s strewed all the way 
That led me up to woman's day. 

Go, kneel as 1 have knelt ; 

Implore, beseech, and ]iray. 
Strive the besotted heart to melt, 
The downward conrse to stay ; 
Be cast with bitter curse aside, — 
Thy prayers bnrlesiiued, thy tears defied. 

Go, stand where I have stood. 

And see the strong man bow ; 
With gnashing teeth, lips bathed in blood. 
And cold and livid brow ; 
Go, eatch his waudci'ing glance, and see 
There mirrored his soul's miserv. 



TEMrEllANCE. 



547 



Gil, lii'ur wlmt I linvo lieard, — 

The sobs of siui ilrsjiiiir, 
As iiicmory's ri'i'ling-roimt hath stirred, 
Aiul its revc'ulings there 
Hiivo toUl liiiM whiit hi; lui^ht hiivc been, 
HimI he tile ilraiikanl's lute foreseen. 

Go to n mother's side, 

And her erushed spirit elieer ; 

TKine own deep anf^iiisli hide, 
Wipe from her elieek tile tear ; 
Mark her ilinimed eye, her furrowed brow, 
The gray that streaks her dark hair now. 
The toil-worn frame, the tieinbliiij; limb, 
And tr.iee the ruin baek to him 
Whose plighted faith, in early youth, 
Promised eternal love and truth. 
Hut who, forsworn, hath yielded up 
This promise to the deadly eup, 
And led her down from lovo and light. 
From all that made her pathway liright. 
And ehained her there mid want anil stril'e. 
That lowly thing, — a ilrunkard's wife ! 
And stamped on c'hildhood's brow, so mild. 
That witliering blight, — a drunkard's child ! 

Go, liear, and see, and feel, and know 

All that my soul hath felt and known. 
Then look within the wiiie-eup's glow ; 
See if its brightness eaii atone ; 
Think if it,s llavor you would try. 
If all proi-laimed, — ' T is driiifc und die. 

Tell me I hate the bowl, — 

Hate is a feeble woril ; 
I loathe, abhor, — my very soul 
Hy strong disgust is stirred 
'Whene'er I see, or hear, or tell 
Of the DARK DEVEKAOB OF HKLL ! 

ANONYMOUS. 



THE VAGABONDS. 

We are two travellers, Roger and I. 

Roger 's my dog : — come here, you scamp ! 
Jump for the gentlemen, — mind your eye ! 

Over the table, — look out for tlie lamp ! — 
Tlie rogui^ is growing a littli! old ; 

Five years we've tramped through winil and 
weather. 
And slept out-doors when nights were cold. 

And ate and drank — and starved together. 

We 've learneil what comfort is, I tell you ! 

A bed on the lloor, n bit of rosin, 
A lire to thaw our thumbs (poor fellow ! 

The i)aw he holds u|) there 's been frozen). 



Plenty of catgut for my fiddle 

(This out-door business is bad for the strings), 
Tlieii a few nice buckwheats hot from the griddle, 

And Roger and I set up for kings ! 

No, thank ye, sir, — I never drink ; 

Roger and 1 are exceedingly moral, — 
Are n't we, Roger ? — sec him wink ! — 

Well, something hot, then ^ we won't quarrel. 
He 's thirsty too, — see him nod his head '( 

What a pity, sir, that dogs can't talk ! 
He understands every word that 's said, — 

And he knows good inilk from water-aiid-chalk. 

The truth is, sir, now I reflect, 

1 'vo been so sadly given to grog, 
I wonder I 've not lost the respect 

( Here 's to you, sir !) even of my dog. 
But he sticks by through thick and thin ; 

And tills old coat, with its empty pockets, 
And rags that smell of tobacco and gin, 

He '11 follow while ho has eyes In his sockets. 

There is n't another creature living 

Would do it, and prove, through every disaster, 
So foud, so faithful, and so forgiving 

To such a miserable, thankless master ! 
No, sir ! — see him wag his tail and grin ! 

By, George ! it makes my old eyes water ! — 
That is, there 's something in this gin 

That chokes a fellow. But no matter ! 

We '11 have some music, if you 're willing. 
And l!t>ger (hem ! what a plague a cough is, 
sir I) 
Shall march a little. Start, you villain ! 

Stand straight ! 'Bout face ! Salute your olli- 
cer ! 
I'ut up that paw ! Dress ! Take your rille ! 
(Some dogs have arms, you see !) Now hold 
your 
Cap while the gentlemen give a trillc, 
To aid a poor old patriot sohiier ! 

March ! Halt ! Now show how the rebel shakes 

When he stands up to hear his sentence. 
Now tell us how many drams it takes 

To honor a jolly new aci|Uaintanco. 
Five yelps, — that 's live ; he 's mighty knowing I 

The night 's before us, fill the glasses ! — 
Quick, sir ! I 'm ill, — my brain is going ! 

Some brandy, — thank you, — • there ! — it 
passes ! 

Why not reform ? That 's easily sai<l. 

But I 'vo gone through such wretched treat- 
ment, 

Sometimes forgetting the taste of bread, 
And scarce remembering what meat mean'-. 



548 



POEMS OK TEMPERANCE AND LABOR. 



That my poor stomach 's past leroim ; 

And there are times when, mad with thinking, 
I 'd sell out heaven for something warm 

To prop a horrible inward sinking. 

Is there a way to forget to think ? 

At your age, sir, home, fortune, friends, 
A dear girl's love, — but 1 took to drink, — 

The same old story ; you know how it ends. 
If you could have seen these classic features, — • 

You need n't laugh, sir ; they were not then 
Sucli a burning libel on God's creatures ; 

I was one of your handsome men ! 

If you had seen her, so fair and young, 

Whose head was happy on this breast ! 
If you could have heard the songs I sung 

When the wine went rounil, you would n't 
have guessed 
That ever I, sir, should be straying 

F'rom door to door, with fiddle and dog. 
Ragged and penniless, and phiying 

To you to-night for a glass of grog ! 

She 's married since, — a parson's wife ; 

'T was better for her that we should part, — • 
Better the soberest, prosiest life 

Than a blasted home and a broken heart. 
I have seen her ? Once : I was weak and spent 

On the dusty road, a carriage stopped ; 
But little she dreamed, as on she went. 

Who kissed tlie coin that her fingers dropped ! 

You 've set nie talking, sir ; I 'm sorry ; 

It makes me wild to think of the change ! 
What do you care for a beggar's story ? 

Is it amusing ? you find it strange ? 
I had a mother so proud of me ! 

'T was well she died before — Do you know 
If the happy spirits in heaven can see 

The ruin and wretchedness here below ? 

Another glass, and strong, to deaden 

This pain ; then Roger and 1 will start. 
I wonder, has he such a lumpisli, leaden, 

Aching thing in jilace of a heart ? 
He is sad sometimes, ami would weep, if he could, 

No doubt, remembering things that were, — 
A virtuous kennel, witli plenty of food. 

And himself a sober, respectable cur. 

I 'm better now ; that glass was warming. 

You rascal ! limber your lazy feet ! 
We must be fiddling and performing 

For supper and bed, or starve in the street. 
Kot a very gay life to lead, you think ? 

But soon we shall go wliere lodgings are free, 
Andthe sleepers need neither victualsnordrink; — 

The sooner the beffer for Roger and me ! 

JOHN Tqw.vsend Trowbridge. 



A FAREWELL TO TOBACCO. 

May the Babylonish curse 
Straight confound my stammering verse, 
If I can a passage see 
In this word-perplexity, 
Or a fit expression find. 
Or a language to my mind 
(Still the phrase is wide or scant). 
To take leave of thee, GKE.^r plant ! 
Or in any terms relate 
Half my love, or half my hate ; 
For 1 hate, yet love, thee so. 
That, whichever tiling I show, 
The plain truth will seem to be 
A constrained hyperbole. 
And the passion to proceed 
More from a mistress than a weed. 

Sooty retainer to the vine ! 
Bacchus' black servant, negro fine ! 
Sorcerer ! that niak'st us dote upon 
Thy begrimed coni]ilexion. 
And, for thy pernicious sake, 
5Iore and greater oaths to break 
Thau reclaimed lovers take 
'Gainst women I Thou thy siege dost lay 
Much, too, in tlie female way. 
While thou suck'st the laboring breath 
Faster than kisses, or than death. 

Thou in such a cloud dost bind us 
That our worst foes cannot find us. 
And ill fortune, that would thwart us. 
Shoots at rovers, shooting at us ; 
While each man, through thy heightening steam. 
Does like a smoking Etna seem ; 
And all about us does express 
(Fancy and wit in richest di'ess) 
A Sicilian fruitfnlness. 

Thou tlirough such a mist dost show tis 
That our best friends do not know us. 
And, for those allowed features 
Due to reirsonable creatures, 
Liken'st us to fell chimeras. 
Monsters, — that who see us, fear us ; 
Worse than Cerberas or Geryoii, 
Or, who first loved a cloud, Ixion. 

Bacchus we know, and we allovr 
His tipsy rites. But w'liat art tlinu. 
That but by reflex canst show 
What his deity can' do, — 
As the false f^gyptian spell 
Aped the true Hebrew miracle ? 
Some few vapors thou niayst raise 
The weak brain may serve to amaxe ; 



TEMPERANCE. 



549 



But to tlio reins and nobler heart 
Cwist nor life nor heat inijiart. 

Brother of Bacchus, later born ! 
The old world was sure forlorn, 
Wanting thee, that aidcst more 
The god's victories than, before, 
AH his panthei-s, and the brawls 
Of his piping Bacchanals. 
These, as stale, we disallow, 
Or judge of thee meant : only thou 
His true Indian coni|Uest art ; 
And, for ivy round his dart, 
The reformed god now weaves 
A finer thyrsus of thy leaves. 

Scent to match thy rich perfume 
I Cluniic art did ne'er presume, 
i Through her quaint alembic strain, 

None so sovereign to the brain. 

Nature, that did in thee excel. 

Framed again no second smell. 

Koses, violets, but toys 

For the smaller sort of boys, 
' Or for gieener ilamsels meant ; 

Thou art the oidy manly scent. 

Stinkingest of the stinking kind ! 
Filth of the mouth and fog of the mind ! 
Africa, that brags her foison, 
Breeds no such prodigious poison ! 
Henbane, nightshade, both together, 
Hemlock, aconite — 

Nay, rather. 
Plant divine, of rarest virtue ; 
Blistei-s on the tongue would hurt you I 
'T was but in a sort I blamed thee ; 
None e'er prospered who defamed thee ; 
Irony all, and feigned abuse. 
Such as perplexed lovers use 
At a need, when, in despair 
To paint forth their fairest fair. 
Or in part but to express 
That exceeding comeliness 
Which their fancies doth so strike, 
They borrow language of dislike ; 
And, instead of dearest Miss, 
Jewel, honey, sweetheart, bliss, 
And those forma of old admiring, 
Call her cockatrice and siren, 



Basilisk, and all that 's evil, 
Witch, hyena, mermaid, devil, 
Ethiop, wench, and blackamoor. 
Monkey, ape, and twenty more ; 
Friendly trait' ress, loving foe, — 
Not that she is truly so. 
But no other way they know, 
A contentment to express 
Borders so upon excess 
That they do not rightly wot 
Whether it be fiom pain or not. 

Or, as men, constrained to part 
With what 's nearest to their heart. 
While their sorrow 's at the height 
Lose discrimination ipiite, 
And their liasty wrath let fall. 
To appease their frantic gall. 
On the darling thing, whatever. 
Whence they feel it death to sever, 
Though it be, as they, perforce. 
Guiltless of the sad divorce. 

For I must (nor let it giieve thee. 
Friendliest of plants, that 1 must) leave thee. 
For thy sake. Tobacco, 1 
Would do anything but die. 
And but seek to extend my days 
Long enough to sing thy praise. 
But, as she who once hath been 
A king's consort is a queen 
Ever after, nor will bate 
Any tittle of her state 
Though a widow, or divorced, 
.So I, from thy converse forced. 
The olil name and style retain, 
A right Katlierine of Spain ; 
And a seat, too, 'mongst the joys 
Of the blest Tobacco Boys ; 
Where, though I, by sour physician. 
Am debarred the full fruition 
Of thy favors, I may catch 
Some collateral sweets, and snatch 
Sidelong odors, that give life 
Like glances from a neighbor's wife ; 
And still live in the by-places 
And the suburbs of thy graces ; 
And in thy borders take delight. 
An unconquered Canaanite. 

CHARLES Lamb. 



550 



I'OEMS OV TEMPERANCE AND LABOR. 



LABOR. 



THE iiArrv hkaut. 

PROM "rAl'IllNT t.lilSSlil.L." ACT I. SC. I. 

(Art thou poor, yot liast tlioii golden shinibors ? 

swoi't oonti'iit ! 
All tluni rioli, yet is tliy iniiid [icriilcxocl ? 

O )>uiiislini<'iit ! 
Dost Hum liuijjh lu see liow fools aio voxed 
To add to goldoii numbi'i's, gcddcii iiumbors ' 
swoot content ! () sweet, () swoet content ! 

Woi'k a|iace, ajtace, apace, apai'O ; 

Honest laboi' bears a lovely lace ; 
Then hey nonny nonny, hey iioiiny nonny ! 
Canat drink the waters of the erispiid spring ? 

sweet content ! 
Swinun'st thou in wealth, yot sink'st in thine 
own tears '! 
O punishment ! 
Then he that jiatiently want's burden bears 
No burden bears, but is a king, a king ! 
sweet content ! sweet, sweet content ! 
Work apace, apace, apace, ajiaco ; 
Honest labor bears a lovely face ; 
Then hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny ! 

riioMAs nrKKr.R. 



THK VILLAGE ULAtncsMlTIl. 

U.Nniiit a spreading chestnut-tree 

The village smithy stands ; 
The snuth, a mighty nnm is he, 

With large and siiunvy hands ; 
And the muscles of his brawny arms 

Are strong as iron bands. 

His hair is crisp and black and long ; 

His face is like the tan ; 
His brow is wet with honest sweat, — 

He earns whate'er he can. 
And looks the whole world in the face, 

Kor he owes not any man. 

Week in, week out, from morn till niglil. 
You can hear his bellows blow ; 

You can hear him .swing his heavy slodge, 
With luea.sured beat and slow, 

Like a sexton ringing the village bell, 
When the evening snn is low. 

.\nd children coming homo from school, 

Look in nt the open door ; 
They love to see tl|f tlaniing forge, 

.\ud Ileal' tlie bellows roar. 



And catch tlie burning siiarks that lly 
Like chair from the threshiiig-lloor. 

Ho goes on Sunday to the church, 

And sits among his boys ; 
He hears the parson pray and preach ; 

He hears his daughter's voice, 
Singing ill the village choir. 

And it makes his heart rejoice. 

It sounds to him like her mother's voice. 

Singing in raradise ! 
He needs must think of her once more, 

How ill the grave she lies ; 
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes 

A tear out of his eyes. 

Toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing. 

Onward through life he goes ; 
Each morning sees some task begin. 

Each evening sees it close ; 
Something attempted, something done, 

Has earned a night's repose. 

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, 
For the lesson thou hast taught ! 

Thus at the llaming forge of life 
Our fortunes must be wrought ; 

Thus on its .soumling anvil shajied 
Each burning deed and thought ! 

IlKNKV WADSVVOKTH LONCFELLOW. 



TO THE HAliVEST MOON. 

( Plkasino 'tis, O modest Moon ! 
Now the night is at her noon, 
'Neath thy sway to musing lie, 
While around the zephyrs sigh, 
Fauning soft the sun-tanned wheat, 
liipencd by the suniiner's heat ; 
ri.'turing all the rustic's joy 
When boundless plenty greets his eye. 

And thinking soon, 

modest Moon ! 
How many a female eye will roam 

Along the road, 

To see the load. 
The last dear load of harvest home. 

Storms and tempests, floods and rains, 
Stern despoilers of tlu' plains, 



LA HO 11. 



551 



Hence, awny, the gossoii (\lv, 

Foos to lifjlit-licnit jollity ! 

Mfiy 110 wiiul.s curfcriiig liigli 

Drive the clomls iiloii); thu sky, 
I'liit mny all Nntiiii' siiiilo with iispi'ct hooii, 
Wh":! ill the heiivi'iis thou show'st thy fact', <) 
hiirvt'st Moon ! 

"Nenth yon lowly roof he lios. 
The liiishundnmn, with sh'ep-si'iilcii eyes : 
llo (Ireanis of irowileil burns, and round 
I The yard ho hears the flail resound ; 
0, may no hurrieanu destroy 
Ilis visionary views of joy ! 
<iod of the winds ! (), hear his humble prayer, 
And while the Moon of Harvest shines, thy blus- 
tering whirlwind spare ! 

Sons of luxury, to you 

l,cave 1 Sleep's dull jiowor to woo ; 

Tress ye still the downy bed, 

While feverish dreams surround your head ; 

I will seek the woodland glade, 

Penetrate the thii'ki'st shade, 

Wrappeil in ConteTiiplation's dmams, 

Musing high on holy themes, 

While on the gale 

Shall softly sail 
The nightingale's enehanting tune, 

And oft my eyes 

Shall grateful rise 
To thee, the modest Harvest Moon 1 

Henry kirke wnirn. 



THE USEFUL PLOUGH. 

A COfXTUY life is sweet ! 
In moderate cold and heat, 

To walk in the air how plca.sant and fair ! 
In every held of wheat. 

The fairest of (lowers adorning the bowers. 
And every meadow's brow ; 

So that I say, no courtier may 

Compare with them who clothe in gray, 
And follow tho useful plough. 

They rise with the morning lark, 
And labor till almost dark, 

Then, fohling their sheep, they hasten to 
sleep 
While every pleasant jmrk 

Next morning Is ringing with birds th;it arc 
.singing 
On each grccu, tender bough. 

With what content and merriment 

Their days are spent, whose minds aie bent 
To follow the useful |ilongh. 

ANO.WICOUS. 



THE PLOUGHMAN. 

Clear the brown path to meet his coulter's 

gleam ! 
Lo ! on he comes, behiiul his smoking team. 
With toil's bright dew-drops on his smjliurat 

blow. 
The lord of earth, tlir hero of llii^ pl.iugli ! 

Kirst ill thi^ field before the redilening sun, 
Last ill the shadows when the day is done, 
Line after line, along the bursting ,sod, 
Marks the broad acres where his feet have trod. 
Still where lii^ treads the stubborn clods divide, 
Tho smooth, fresh furrow opens deep and wide ; 
Matted and dense tho tangled turf upheaves, 
Midlow and dark the ridgy cornlield cleaves ; 
Up the steep hillside, where the laboring train 
Slants the long track that scores the level plain. 
Through tho moist valley, cloggcil with oozing 

clay. 
The ])atieiit convoy breaks its di'stined way ; 
At every turn the loosening chains resound, 
Tho swinging ploiighsharo circles glistening 

round, 
Till the wide Held one billowy waste appears. 
And wearied hands unbind the punting steers. 

These are the hands whoso sturdy labor brings 
The peasant's food, tlii^ golden ]iomp of kings ; 
This is the; page whose letters shall be seen, 
Changed by the sun to words of living green ; 
This is the scholar whosc^ immortal pen 
.Spells the first lesson hunger taught to men ; 
These arc the lines that heaven-cominanded Toil 
Shows on his deed, — the charter of the soil ! 

O gracious Mother, whose benignant breast 
Wakes us to life, and lulls us all to rest, 
How thy sweet features, kind to eviM-y clime, 
Mock with their smile the wriiikliMl front of 

Time ! 
We stain thy Mowers, — thi'y blossom o'er the 

dead ; 
Wo rend thy bosom, and it gives us bread ; 
O'er the red Held that tranipling .strife has torn. 
Waves the green idumagc! of thy tasselli-d corn ; 
Our ma<ldciiiiig eonllicls scar lliy fairest plain. 
Still thy soft answer is tho growing grain. 
Yet, our Mother, wliilir uncounted idiaiins 
Steal round our hearts in thine embracing arms, 
Let not our virtues in thy love decay. 
And thy fond sweetness waste our strength away. 

No, by these hills whoso banners now displayed 
In blazing cohorts Autumn has arrayed ; 
By yon twin summits, on whose splintery crests 
The tossing hemlocks hohl the eagles' nests ; 



POEMS (IF I'EMPERANCE AND l.AHOH 



By these fnir plains the mountaiii circle screens, 
And iVcils with streamlets I'loiii its d:irk ra- 
vines, — 
True to their home, these faithful arms shall toil 
To erown with jieaee their own nntainteil soil ; 
Ami, true to Goil, to freedom, to mankind. 
If her eliained ban-do^s Faction shall unbind, 
These stately forms, that, bendinj; even now, 
Bowed their strong manhood to the hmnble 

idoujjli. 
Shall rise erect, the guardians of the land. 
The same stern iron in the same right hand. 
Till o'er their hills the shouts of triumiili run, — 
The sword has rescued what the ploughshare 
won ! 

Oliver Wendell Holmes. 



THE .Mt)\VEi;s. 

The sunburnt mowers are in the swatli — 
Swing, swing, swing ! 
The towering lilies loath 
Tn.Mnble and totter and fall ; 
The meadow-rue 
Dashes its tassels of golden dew ; 

And the keen blade sweeps o'er all — 
Swing, swing, swing! 

The flowers, the berries, the feathered grass, 

Are thrown in a smothered mass ; 
Hastens away the butterfly ; 
■With half their burden the brown bees hie ; 

And the meadow-lark shrieks distrost. 
And leaves the poor younglings all in the nest. 

The daisies clasp and fall ; 
And totters the .lacob's-ladder tall. 
Weaving and winding and emving lithe, 
O'er plumy hillocks — through dewy hollows. 
His subtle scythe 

The nodiling mower follows — 
Swing, swing, swing ! 

Anon, the chiming whetstones ring — 
Ting-a-ling I iing-aAing ! 

And the mower now 
Pauses and wiix's liis Waded brow. 
A moment he scans the lleekless sky ; 
A n\onient, the fish-hawk soaring high ; 
And watches the swallows dip and dive 

.■\near and far. 
They whisk and glimmer, and chatter and strive; 
What do they gossip together ! 

Cunning fellows they are. 

Wise prophets to him ! 
" Higher or lower they circle and skim — 
Fair or foul to-morrow'sliay-weather ! " 



Tallest primroses, or loftiest daisies. 
Not a steel-blue feather 
Of slim wing grazes : 
" Fear not ! fear not ! " cry the swallows. 
Each mower tightens his snath-ring's wedge. 

And his linger daintily follows 

The long blade's tickle-edge ; 
Softly the whetstone's last touches ring — 

Timj-a-Uwi ! tinci-a-ling ! 
Like a leaf-imitiled binl in the woodland nigh. 
Faintly the fading echoes rejily — 

TiiHj-a-lingl ting-a-ling ! 

" Perchance the swallows, that flit in their glee. 
Of to-morrow's hay-weather know little as wc I " 
Says Farmer Husset. " Be it hidden in shower 
Or sunshine, to-morrow we do not own — 

To-day is ours alone ! — 
Not a twinkle wc '11 waste of the golden hour. 
Grasp tightly the nibs — give heel and give toe I — 
Lay a goodly swath, shaved smooth and low ! 

Prinu" is the day — 

Swing, swing, swing ! " 

Famier Eusset is aged and gray — 
Gray as the frost, but fresh as the spring. 

Straight is he 

As the given fir-tree ; 
And with heart most blithe, and sinews lithe. 
He leads the row with his merry scythe. 
" Come, boys ! strike up the old song 

While we ciirle around — 
The song we always in haytime sing — 

And let the woods ring. 

And the echoes prolong 

The merrv sound ! " 



July is just in the nick of time ! 

(Hay-weather, hay- weather ;) 
The midsummer month is the golden prime 
For haycocks smelling of clover and thyme ; — 

(Swing all together I) 
July is just in the nick of time ! 

Chorus. 

0, we "11 make our hay while the good sun 
shines — 
AVe "11 waste not a gtdden minute ! 
No shadow of storm the blue arch lines : 

We '11 waste not a minute — not a minute ! 
For the west-wind is fair ; 
0, the hay-day is rare ! — 
The sky is without a brown cloud in it ! 

June is too early for richest hay ; 

(Fair weather, fair weather ;) 




Pant par J. F. Millet 



Ktwvdlcr^ Pub. 



Grnvd par F. liracju.-.nonul. 



"THE MAN wrm rm<: hoe." 

Written apter seeing Mii.i.ki's WdKi.u-FAMotis Painting. 



'God made ni.Tn in His own iniaj^u, 

In tlic imago of God made lie liini." — Genesis. 



Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans 

Upon his hoe and gazes on llie ground, 

The emptiness of ages in his face, 

And on liis hack the burden of the worhi. 

Wlio made him dead to ra|)ture and des|)air, 

A thing tliat grieves not and that never hopes, 

SloHd anfl stunned, a brother to the ox ? 

Who loosened and let down this brutal jaw ? 

Whose was the hand that slanted back this brow ? 

Whose breath blew out the light within this brain ? 



THE MAX WITH THE IIOE. 
Continued. 

Is this the Thing the Lord God made and gave 
To have dominion over sea and lantl ; 
To trace the stars and search the heavens ibr jxiwer; 
To feel the jiassion of Eternity ? 
Is this the Dream He dreamed who shaped the suns 
And marked their ways upon the ancient deep ? 
Down all the stretch of Hell to its last gulf 
There is no shape more terrible than this — 
More tongued w-ith censure of the world's blind greed- 
More filled with signs and portents for the soul — 
More fraught with menace to the universe. 

What gulfs between him and the seraphim I 
Slave of the wheel of labor, what to him 
Are Plato and the swing of Pleiades ? 
What the long reaches of the peaks of song, 
The rift of dawn, the reddening of the rose ? 
Through this dread shape the suffering ages look; 
Time's tragedy is in that aching stoop; 
Tiirough this dread shape humanity betrayed, 
Plundered, profaned and disinherited. 
Cries protest to the Judges of the World. 
A ]irotest that is also jiropliecy. 

O masters, lords and rulers in all lands, 

Is this the handiwork you give to God, 

This monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched ? 

How will you ever straighten up this shape ; 

Touch it again with innnortality ; 

Give back the upward looking and the light; 

Rebuild in it the music and the dream; 

Make right the immemorial infamies. 

Perfidious wrongs, immedicable woes ? 

O masters, lords and rulers in all lands, 
How will the Future reckon with this Man ? 
How answer his brute question in that hoiu' 
When whirlwinds of rebellion shake the world ? 
How will it be with kingdoms and with kings — 
With those who shaped him to the thing he is — 
VVhen this dumb Terror shall reply to God 
After the silence of the centuries ? 





l-roni ■• T!ie Man With tht Uoc aittl Other Poems." 
Copyright. iPwi, by I-Mwiii M.lrkhiiin. 
Published by Doublcciay & McClure Co. 



LAIIOK. 



553 



The corn stretches tiiUer tlie livelong Uuy ; 
I5nt gniss is over too sappy to Iny ; — 

(Clip nil together!) 
.hine is too early for richest Imy. 

Angust 's 11 month that too far goes by ; 

(Ijite wentliev, hite weather;) 
Oriisslioppers are chipper ami kicli too liigh ! 
Anil grass that 's stamling is foiKler scorcheil 
ilry ; — 

(PulUll tngetlicr !) 
Angust 's 11 montli that too far goes liy. 

July isjnst in the nick of time) 

(Hest weather, best weatlier ;) 

The niiilsnininer month is tlie golden ])rinie 

For haycocks smelling of clover ami thyme ; — 
(Strike all togetlier !) 

July is just in tlie nick of time 1 



Still hiss the scythes ! 
Shudder the grasses' defenceless blades — 

The lily-tlirong writhes ; 
And, ns a [ihalanx of wild-geese streams, 
M'here the shoiv of April's elouilland gleams, 
On th'ir dizzy way, in serriecl grades — 

Wing on wing, wing on wing — 
The mowers, each a step in advance 
<M' his fellow, time their stroke with a glance 

0( swervcless force ; 
And far through the meadow leads their course — 

Swing, swing, swing ! 

MVRON B, DENTON. 



FROM "THE KAKMlCIi'S BOY." 

Ft. Ell now the sullen murmurs of the north, 
The splendid raiment of the Spring peeps forth; 

Uiit unassisted, through each toilsome day, 
With smiling brow the ploughman cleaves his 

way, 
Draws his fresh pKral!''.ls, and, widening still, 
Treads slow the heavy dale, or climbs the hill. 
Strong on the wing his busy followers play. 
Where writhing earthworms meet the unwelcome 

Jay, 
Till all is changed, and hill and level down 
Assume a livery of sober brown ; 
Again disturbed, when tiileswith wearying strides 
From ridgo to ridge the pon<lerous harrow guiiles. 
His heels deep sinking, every step he goes, 
Till dirt adhesive loails his clouted shoes. 
Welcome, green headland ! linn beneath his feet ; 
M'elcouie, the frien<lly bank's refreshing .seat ; 



There, warm with toil, his [lanting horses browso 
Their sheltering canofiy of pendent boughs ; 
Till re..>t delicious chase eacli transient pain. 
And new-born vigor swell in every vein. 
Hour after hoiu' and clay to day succeeds. 
Till every clod and deep-drawn fuifow spreads 
To crumbling mould, — a level surface clear. 
And strewed with corn to crown the rising year ; 
And o'er the whole (liles, once transver.se again, 
In earth's moist bosom buries up the grain. 
The work ks done ; m> more to nniii is given ; 
The grateful farmer trusts the rest to Heaven. 

His simple errand done, he homeward hies ; 
Another instantly its jilace supi)lies. 
The clattering dairy-maid, immersed in steam, 
Singing and scrubbing midst her milk and cream, 
Bawls out, "Go fetch the cows!" — he hears 

no more ; 
For pigs and ducks and turkeys throng the door. 
And sitting hens for constant war prepared, — 
A com'ert strange to that which late he; hoard. 
Straight to the meadow then he whistling goes ; 
With well-known halloo calls his lazy cows ; 
Down the rich pasture heedlessly they graze. 
Or hear the summons with an idle gaze. 
For w<'ll they know the cow-yard yields no more 
Its tempting fragrance, nor its wintry store. 
Helnctance marks their .steps, .sedate an<l slow, 
The right of con(|Ucst all the law tlu;y know ; 
Tin' strong ]iress on, the weak by turns succeed, 
And one superior always takes the lead, 
Is ever foremost wheresoe'er they stray, 
Allowed precedence, undisputed sway : 
With jealous pride her station is maintained, 
For many a broil that (lost of honor gained. 
At home, the yard aH'ords a grateful scene. 
For spring makes e'en a miry cow-yard clean. 
Thence from its chalky bed behold conveyed 
The rii;h manure that drenching winter made, 
Which, piled near home, grows green with many 

a weed, 
A proniLsod nutriment for autumn's seed. 
Forth comes the niaid, ami like the morning 

.smiles ; 
The mistress too, and followed close by Giles. 
A friiMidly tripod forms their humble .seat. 
With pails bright .scoured and delicately sweet. 
Where shallowing elms oli.struct the morning ray 
Begins the work, begins the simiile lay ; 
The full-charged udder yielils its willing stream 
While Mary sings .some lover's amorous dream ; 
And crouching (liles, beneath a neighboring tree. 
Tugs o'er his pail, ami chants with eipial glee ; 
Whoso hat with battered brim, of nap so bare, 
From the cow's side ]iurloins a coat of hair, — 
A mottled ensign of his harmless trade. 
All unambitious, peaceable cockade. 



554 



rOEMS OF rKMrEIJAXCE AND LABOK, 



As unambitious, too, tlmt cheerful aid 
Tlic mistress yields beside her rosy maid ; 
\\'ith joy she views her j>leuteous reeking store, 
And bears a brimmer to the dniry door ; 
Her cows dismissed, the luscious mead to roam, 
Till eve again recall them loaded home. 

ROBLKT BLOOMFIELD. 



THE FORGING OF THE ANCHOK. 

Come, see the Dolphin's anchor forged ; 't is at 

a white heat imw : 
The bellows ceased, the tlames decreased ; though 

ou the forge's blow 
The little tlames still titfuUy jilay throvigh the 

sable mound ; 
And titfully you still may see the grim smiths 

raidving round, 
All clad in leathern panoply, their broad hands 

only bare ; 
Some rest upon tlieir sledges here, sonu' work 

the w indlass there. 

The windlass strains the tackle-chains, the black 

juonnd heaves below. 
And red and deep a hundred veins bui-st oiit at 

every throe ; 
It rises, roars, lends all outright, — Vulcan. 

what a glow I 
'Tis blinding white, 'tis blasting bright, the 

high sun sliines not so ! 
Tlie high sun sees not, on the earth, such a fiery, 

fearful show, — 
The roof-ribs swarth, the candent hearth, the 

ruddy, lurid row 
Of smiths that stand, an ardent l«ud, like men 

before the foe. 
As, quivering through his fleece of Hamc. the 

sailing monster slow- 
Sinks on the anvil, — all about the faces fiery 

grow. 
" Hurrah ' " they shout, " leap out. leap out ; '' 

Iwng, bang, the sledges go ; 
Hurrah ! the jetted lightnings are hissing liigh 1 

and low ; 
A hailing fount of tiro is struck at every squash- 
ing blow ; 
The leathern mail rebounds the hail ; the rattling 

cinders strew 
The ground around : at every bound the swelter- 
ing fountains flow : 
And thick and loud the swinking crowd, at every 

stroke, jwut " Ho ! " 

Leap out, leap out, my masters : leap out and 

lay on load ! 
Let 's forge a goodly anchor, a bower, thick and 

broad ; 



For a heart of oak is hanging on every blow, I 

bode, 
And I see the good ship riding, all in a perilous 

road, — 
The low reef roaring on her lee, tlie roll of ocean 

poured 
From stem to stern, sea after sea ; the mainmast 

by the board ; 
The bulwarks down, the rudder gone, the boats 

stove at the chains, — 
But courage still, brave mariners, the bower still 

remains. 
And not an inch to fliiuh he deigns save when 

ye pitch sky-high. 
Then moves his head, as though he said, " Fear 

nothing, — here am 1 ! " 

Swing in your strokes in order, let foot and hand 

keep time ; 
Your blows make music sweeter far than any 

steeple's chime. 
But while you sling your sledges, sing ; and let 

the buiilen be. 
The Anchor is the Anvil King, and royal ciafts- 

nieu we ! 
Strike in, strike in, the sparks begin to dull 

their rustling red ! 
Our hammers ring with sharper din. our work 

will soon be sped ; 
Our anchor soon must change his bed of fiery 

rich array 
For a hammock at the roaring bows, or an oozy 

couch of clay ; 
Our anchor soon uuist change the lay of merry 

craftsmen here, 
For the Yeo-heave-o, and the Heave-away, and 

the sighing seaman's cheer ; 
AVhen, weighing slow, at eve they go — far, far 

from love and home. 
And sobbing sweethearts, in a row, wail o'er the 

ocean foam. 

In livid and obdurate gloom, he darkens down 

at last : 
A shapely one he is, and strong as e'er from cat 

was cast. 
tnisted and trustworthy guaixi, if thou hadst 

life like me. 
What pleasures would thy toils reward beneath 

tlie deep green sea ! 
deep-sea diver, who might then behold such 

sights as thou ? 
The hoary monsters' palaces ! methinks what joy 

't were now 
To go plumb plunging down amid the assembly 

of the whales. 
And feel the churned sea round me lioil beu' a') 

their scourging tails ! 



LABOR. 



555 



Then iliTp in tangle-woods to fight the fierce sea 
nniconi. 

And send him foiled and belhjwing baik, for all 
his ivory horn ; 

To leave the subtle sworder-tish of liony blaile for- 
lorn ; 

And for the glinstly-grinning shark, to laugh his 
jnws to scorn ; 

To leap down on tho kraken's back, where niiil 
Norwegian isles 

He lies, a lubber anchorage for sudden shallowed 
miles, 

Till snorting, like an under-sea volcano, olf lie 
rolls ; 

Meanwhile to swing, a-bulfeting the far-aston- 
ished shoals 

Of liis back-browsing ocean calves ; or, haply in 
a cove, 

Sliell-strewn, and consecrate of old to some Un- 
dine's love, 

To find the long-haired merinaidens ; or, hard 
by icy lands, 

To wrestle with the sea-serpent upon cerulean 
sands. 

broad-armed fisher of the deep, whose sports 

can equal thine ! 
Tlie Dolphin weighs a thousand tons that tugs 

thy cable line ; 
And night by night 't is thy delight, thy glory 

day by day. 
Through sable sea and breaker white, the giant 

game to play ; 
But, simmer of our little sports ! forgive the 

name I gave, — 
A fisher's joy is to destroy, thine office is to save. 

lodger in the sea-king's halls, couldst thou but 

understand 
Whose be tlie white bones by thy side, or who 

that dripping baud. 
Slow swaying in the heaving waves that round 

about thee bend, 
With sounds like breakers in a dream, blessing 

their ancient friend : 
0, couhlst thou know what heroes glide with 

larger steps round thee. 
Thine iron side would swell with pride ; thou 'dst 

leap within the sea ! 

Give honor to their memories who left tlie pleas- 
ant strand 

To shed their blood so freely for the love of 
fatherland, — 

Who left their chance of quiet age and grassy 
churchyard grave 

So freely for a restless bed amid tho tossing 
wave ; 



O, though our anclior may not be all I have 

fondly sung, 
Hiinor him for their memory whose bones he 

goes auioiig ! 



SAMUEL FERCUSO.V. 



THE SONG OF STEAM. 

Harness me down with your iron bands,^ 

lie sure of your curb and rein, ^ 

For I scorn the strength of your puny hands 

As a tempest scorns a chain. 
How I laughed as I lay concealed from sight 

For many a countless hour, 
At the childish boasts of liuman might, 

And the pride of human power ! 

When I saw an army upon the land, 

A navy upon the seas, 
Creeping along, a snail-like band. 

Or waiting the wayward lireeze ; 
When I marked the peasant faintly reel 

With the toil that he daily liore. 
As he feebly turned the tardy wheel. 

Or tugged at the weary oar ; 

When I measured the panting courser's speed, 

Th(^ flight of the carrier dove. 
As they bore the law a king decreed. 

Or the lines of inipiitieiit love, 
I could but think how the world would feel, 

As these were outstripped afar. 
When I should be liound to the rushing keel. 

Or chained to the Hying car. 

Ha ! ha ! ha ! they found me at last. 

They invited me forth at length. 
And I rushed to my throne with a thunder blast, 

And laughed in my iron strength ! 
0, then ye saw a wondrous change 

On the earth and ocean wide. 
Where now my fiery armies range. 

Nor wait for wind or tide ! 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! the waters o'er, 

The mountain's steep decline ; 
Time — space — have yielded to my jiower : 

Tlie world, the world is mine ! 
The rivers the sun hath earliest blest. 

Or those wliere his beams decline, 
The giant streams of the ipiecnly West, 

Or the Orient Hooils divine. 

The ocean pales wherever I sweep 

To hear my strength rejoice. 
And monsters of the briny deep 

Cower trembling at my voice. 



556 



POEMS OF TEMPERANCE AND LABOR. 



I carry tho wcaltli of the lord ol' cartli, 
The thoughts of his godlike luind ; 

I'he wind lags after my going forth, 
The lightning is left behind. 

In the darksome dciiths of the fathomless mine 

My tireless arm doth iday, 
Where the rocks ne'er saw the sun's decline 

Or the dawn of tlie glorious day ; 
I bring earth's glittering jewels up 

From tho hidden caves below. 
And I make tlie fountain's granite cup 

With a crystal gush o'erllow. 

I blow the bellows, I forge the steel. 

In all the shops of trade ; 
I hammer the ore and turn the wheel 

Where my arms of strength are made ; 
I manage the furnace, the mill, the mint, 

I carry, I spin, I weave. 
And all my doings I put into print 

On every Saturday eve. 

I 've no muscles to weary, no brains to decay, 

No bones to be laid on the shelf, 
And soon I intend you may go and play, 

W'liile I manage tho world myself. 
But harness me down with j'our iron bands, 

13e sure of your curb and rein. 
For I scorn the strength of your puny hands 

As the tempest scorns the chain. 

George w. cutter. 



Who, 

Ah! 

Who, 



LABOR SONG. 

FROM ■'THE BELL-FOUNDER." 

(Ah ! little they know of true happiness, they 

whom satiety (ills. 

Hung on the rich breast of luxury, eat of 

the raiikness that kills, 
little they know of the blessedness toil- 
purchased slumber enjoys 
, stretched on the hard rack of indolence, 

taste of the sleep that destroys ; 
Nothing to hope for, or labor for ; nothing to 

sigh for, or gain ; 
Nothing to light in its vividness, lightning-like, 

bosom and brain ; 
Nothing to break life's monotony, rippling it o'er 

with its breath ; — 
Nothing but dulness and lethargy, weariness, 

sorrow, and death ! 

liut blessed that child o( humanity, happiest 

man among men. 
Who, with hammer or chisel or jiencil, with 

rudder or ploughshare or pen, 



Laboreth ever and ever with hope through tlie 
morning of life. 

Winning home and its darling divinities, — love- 
worshipped children and wife. 

Round swings the hammer of industry, cjuickly 
the sharp chisel rings. 

Ami the heart of the toiler has throbbings that 
stir not the bosom of kings, — 

He the true ruler and conqueror, he the true 
king of his race. 

Who norveth his arm for life's combat, and looks 
the strong world in the face. 

De.nis Florence Mac-Carthv. 



A LANCASHIRE DOXOLOGY. 

" Some cotton has lately been imported into Farringdon. where 
the mills have been closed for a considerable time. The people, 
who were previously in the deepest distress, went out to meet the 
cotton : tlie women wept over the bales and kissed them, .ind 
finally sang the Doxology over them." — Sficctafor of Msy 14. 1S03. 

" Praise God from whom all blessings llow, ' 
Praise him who sendeth joy and woe. 
The Lord who takes, the Lord who gives, 
0, praise him, all that dies, and lives. 

He opens and he shuts his hand, 
But why we cannot understand : 
Pours and dries up his mercies' Hood, 
And yet is still All-perfect Good. 

We fathom not the mighty plan. 
The mystery of God and man ; 
We women, when afflictions come, 
We only sulVer and are dumb. 

And when, the tempest passing by, 
He gleams out, sunlike, through our sky. 
We look up, and through black clouds riven 
We recognize the smile of Heaven. 

Ours is no wisdom of the wise. 
We have no deep philosophies ; 
Childlike we take both kiss and rod. 
For he who loveth knoweth God. 

riiN.xH Maria mulock craik. 



TO LABOR IS TO PRAY. 

P.A.USE not to dream of the future before us ; 
Pause not to weep the wild cares that come o'er us ; 
Hark, how Creation's deep musical chorus, 

Unintermitting, goes up into heaven ! 
Never the ocean wave falters in flowing ; 
Never the little seed stops in its growing ; 
More and more richly the rose-heart keeps glow- 
ing, 

Till from its nourishing stem it is riven. 



LABOR. 



557 



" I^abor is worship ! " the robin is singing ; 
" Liibor is woi'sliip ! " thv wild bee is nnj;ing ; 
Listen ! that cloijuent whisper, upspiingiiig, 

Speaks to thy soul from out Nature's great 
heart. 
From the dm k oloud Hows the life-giving shower ; 
From the rough sud blows the soft-breathing 

flower ; 
From the small insect, the rich coral bower ; 

Only man, in the plan, shrinks from Lis part. 

Labor is life ! 't is the still water faileth ; 
Idleness erer despaireth, bewaileth ; 
Keep the watch wound, or the dark rust ossail- 
eth; 

Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon. 
Labor is glory ! — the flying cloud lightens ; 
Only the waving wing changes and lirightens ; 
Idle hearts only the dark future frightens ; 

riuy the sweet keys, wouldst thou keep thcni 
in tunc ! 



Labor is rest — from the sorrows that greet us ; 

Rest from all petty vexations that meet us ; 

Rest from sin-i)romptings that ever entreat us ; 
Rest from world-sirens that lure us to ill. 

AVork, — and pure slumbers shall wait on tliy 
pillow ; 

Work, — thou shalt ride over Care's coming bil- 
low ; 

Lie not down wearied 'neath Woe's weeping wil- 
low, 
AVork with a stout heart and resolute will ! 

Labor is health ! Lo, the husbandman reaping, 
How through his veins goes the life-current 

leaping ! 
How his strong arm in its stalworth pride 

sweeping. 
True as a sunbeam the swift sickle guides. 
Labor is wealtli, — in the sea the pearl groweth ; 
Rich the c|ueen's robe from the frail cocoon 

floweth ; 
From the fine acorn the strong forest bloweth ; 
Temple and statue the marble block hides. 

Droop not, — though shame, sin, and anguish 

are rounil thee ! 
Bravely fling olf the cold chain that hath bound 

thee! 
Look to tlie pure heaven smiling beyoud thee ! 
Rest not content in thy darkness, — a clod ! 
Work for some good, be it ever so slowly ! 
Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly ! 
Labor ! — all labor is noble and holy ; 
Let thy great deed be thy prayer to thy God. 
Frances sarce.nt Oscoo*. 



THE LABORER. 

ToiLIN'o in the naked fields. 
Where no bush a shelter yields. 
Needy Labor dithering stands. 
Beats and blows his numbing hands, 
Anil upon the crumping snows 
Stami)S in vain to warm his toes. 

Though all 's in vain to keep him warm, 
Poverty must brave tlie stoi-m, 
Friendship none its aid to lend, 
Constant health his only friend, 
Granting leave to live in pain, 
Giving strength to toil in vain. 

JOHN Clare. 



CORN-LAW HYMN. 

Lord ! call thy luillid angel. 

The tamer of tlie strong ! 
And bid him whip with want and woe 

The champions of the wrong ! 
0, .say not thou to ruin's Hood, 

" Up, sluggard ! why so slow ? " 
But alone, let them groan, 

The lowest of the low ; 
And basely beg the bread they curse. 

Where millions curse them now ! 

No ; wake not thou the giant 

Who drinks hot blood for wine ; 
And shouts unto the east and west, 

In thunder-tones like thine ; 
Till the slow to move rush all at once. 

An avalanche of men, 

Wliile he raves over waves 

Tliat need no whirlwind then ; 
Though slow to move, moved all at once, 

A sea, a sea of men I 

EBENEZER Elliott. 



DUTY. 



I SLEPT and dreamed that life was Beauty: 
I woke and found that life was Duty: 
Was then thy dream a shadowy lie ? 
Toil on, sad heart, courageously. 
And thou slialt find thy dream to be 
A noonday light and truth to thee. 

ANO.NVMOUSi 



TRUE REST. 

Sweet is the pleasure 
Itself cannot spoil ! 

Is not true leisure 
One with true toil ? 



508 



I'OEMS OF TEMPEIiAXCE AND LABOR. 



Thou that wouldst taste it, 

Still ilo thy best ; 
Use it, not waste it, — 

Else 't is no rest. 

Wouldst behold beauty 

Neai' thee ? all round ? 
Only hath duty 

Such a sight found. 

Best is not quitting 

The busy career ; 
Rest is the fitting 

Of self to its sphere. 

'T is the brook's motion, 

Clear without strife, 
Fleeing to ocean 

After its life. 

Deeper devotion 

Nowhere hath knelt ; 
Fuller emotion 

Heart never felt. 

v'T is loving and serving 
The highest and best ; 
'T is onwards ! unswerving, — 
And that is true rest. 

John Sullivan Dwight. 



GOOD NIGHT. 

i Good night. 
To each weary, toil-worn wight ! 
Now the day so sweetly closes, 
Every aching brow reposes 
Peacefully fill morning light. 
Good night ! 

Home to rest ! 
Close the eye and calm the breast ; 
Stillness through tlie streets is stealing, 
And the watdiman's horn is pealing. 
And the night calls softly, " Haste ! 
Home to rest ! " 

Sweetly sleep ! 
Eden's bi-eezes round ye sweep. 
O'er the peace-forsaken lover 
Let the darling image hover. 
As he lies in transport deep. 
Sweetly sleep ! 

So, good night '. 
Slumber on till morning light ; 



Slumber till another morrow 
Brings its stores of joy and sorrow ; 
Fearless, in the Father's sight, 

Slumber on. Good night ! 



From the German of KoRNER. Trans- 
lation of Charles T. Brooks 



FRAGMENTS. 

The Intoxicating Cup. 

Bacchus, that first from out the purple grape 
Ci'ushed the sweet poison of misuseil wine. 
Comi4s. Milton. 

Ah ! sly deceiver ; branded o'er and o'er. 
Yet still believed ! Exulting o'er the wi'eck 
Of sober vows. 

Tkt Art ^^/ Preserving Htalth. T. ARMSTRONG. 

In courts and palaces he also reigns. 
And in luxurious cities, where the noise 
Of riot ascends above their loftiest towers. 
And injury, and outnige : and when iiiglit 
Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sous 
Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine. 

P.traMs! Li>sl. Sii't \. MILTON. 

0, when we swallow down 
Intoxicating wine, we drink damnation ; 
Naked we stand, the sport of mocking fiends. 
Who grin to see our nobler nature vaucjuished. 
Subdued to beasts. 

It'i/e's Rtici. C. JOHNSON. 

A drunkard clasp his teeth, and not undo 'em. 
To suffer wet damnation to rim through eiii. 

Tht Revrnsrrj Tr.i^tdj: .-It! iii. Sc. I. C. TOCRNECR. 



Temperance. 

Of my merit 
On thet point you youi-self may jedge ; 
All is, I never drink no sperit, 

Nor I halnt never signed no pledge. 

The Bisio-ui r.ipers. First Series, Xo.vii. J- R. LOWELI- 



Tobacco Smokers. 

Such often, like the tube they so admire. 
Important triflers ! have more smoke than fire. 
Pernicious weed ! whose scent the fair annoys, 
Unfriendly to society's chief joys, 
Thy woi-st effect is banishing for houi-s 
The sex whose presence civilizes ours. 

Couz-ersttliC'i. COWPER. 



FRAGMENTS. 



559 



Labor. 

From labor health, from liealth contentment 
springs. 

Thi Minstrtl. BF.ATTIE. 

Like a lackey, from the rise to set, 
Sweats in the eye of Plicebu.s, and all night 
Sleeps in Elysium ; ne.\t day after dawn 
Doth rise and help Hyperion to his horse. 
Anil follows so the ever-running year 
With profitable labor to his grave. 
And, but for ceremony, such a wretch 
Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep, 
Hath the forehand and vantage of a king. 

A'(«i' f/tnry ;'. Ael iv. Sc. I. SHAKESPEARE. 

Cheered with the view, man went to till the 

giound 
From whence he rose ; sentenced indeed to toil. 
As to a punishment, yet (oven in WTath, 
So merciful is heaven) this toil became 
The solace of his woes, the sweet employ 
Of many a livelong hour, and surest guard 
Against disease and death. 

/V.iM. B. PORTEUS. 

Macduff. I know this is a joyful trouble to 

you, 

But yet, 't 'is one. 
Macbeth. The laborwe delight in physics pain. 

Moilntk, Acta. St. 3. SHAKESPEARE. 



OVF.KWORK. 

Why such impress of shipwrights, whoso sore 

task 
Does not divide tlie Sunday from the week ? 
What might be toward, that this sweaty haste 
Doth make thenight joint-laborer with the day? 

H.tmUr. Act i. Sc. I. SHAKBSPBARE. 



Work and Song. 

Veree sweetens toil, however rude the sound. 
She feels no biting pang the while she .sings ; 

Nor, as she turns the giddy wlieel around, 
Revolves the sad vicissitudes of things. 

CoHtempiatiiDt, K. GIFFOKD. 

There was a jolly miller once, 

Lived on the river Dee ; 
He woi'ked and sung from morn till night. 

No lark more blithe than lie. 

Love in a yutaEe. Actx. Sc 2. I. BICKERSTAFF. 

Fools, and owns in carols rude 
That all the circling joys are his 

Of dear Vicissitude. 
From toil he wins his spirits light. 
From busy day the peaceful night ; 
Kicli, from the very want of wealth. 
In heaven's best treasures, peace and health. 

Ode on the Pleasure arising from t'tcissinuie- T. GRAY. 



Prudexce. 

And for my means, I 'U husband them so well 
They shall go far with little. 

Hamlet, Act iv. Sc. 5. Shakespeare. 

Borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. 

Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE. 



Nobility of Labor. 

When Adam dolve, and Eve span. 
Who was then the gentleman ? * 



J BALL- 



• " Lines used by John B.ill. to encourage Che Rebels in Wat 
Tyler's Rebellion- Hume's History 0/ England, Vol. i- Ch. 17, 
Note 8," says BARTLETT. 



^ 



el 



•1^1 Tn 



^. 



i 



' ' ^ ^ i 








^ 



^ ^Jf ^ ^ J 




n ^ > It T^ .>:) ^ 




^ 




POEMS OF PATRIOTISM AND FREEDOM, 




rf/ 



^^^u.£e. /w-<fo-~ Wc-A-/^ ^^^ cif^t^ Ax<^ y^^€^ 



.^^ 









"^'—f^f'^. 









^v^ 






fcy^ 






POEMS OF PATRIOTISM AND 1 REE DOM. 



BREATHES THERE THE MAN. 

I'BOM "TIIR I.AV OP THE LAST MINSTREl.," CANTO VI. 

ItiiKATllES there the man with soul so dead 
Who never to liimsell' hath said, 

Tills is my own, my native hind ! 
Wliose heart liath ne'er williin liini Imine.l, 
As home Ids fnotstejis ho liatli turned 

From wandering on a forei<,'n strand ? 
ll'sueh there hreathe, go, mark him well ; 
Kor him no minstrel raptures swell ; 
IHkIi though his titles, proiul his nann', 
liiamilless his wealth as wish can claim, 
l)i's|iite those titles, (lower, and (lell'. 
The wretch, concentred all in self. 
Living, shall forfeit fair renown. 
And, doubly dying, shall go down 
To the vile dust from whence ho sprung. 
Unwept, unhonorcd, and unsung. 

SIR WaLTHR SCOTT. 



MY COUNTRY. 

TiiERK is a land, of every land the pride, 
Meloveil by Heaven o'er all the world besiile, 
Where brighter suns dispense serener light. 
And milder moons iiiiparadise the niglit ; 
Aland of beauty, virtue, valor, truth, 
Tinic-tutored age, and love-exaltod youth : 
The wandering mariner, whose eye explores 
The wealthiest isles, the most enihanting .shores. 
Views not a realm so bountiful and fair, 
Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air. 
In every clime, the nmgnet of his soul. 
Touched by remembrance, trenibli!s to that pole ; 
Kor in this land of Heaven's peculiar race. 
The heritage of nature's noblest grace, 
There is a s]>ot of earth supremely blest, 
A dealer, sweeter spot than all the rest. 
Where man. creation's tyrant, I'asts aside 
His sword and sceptre, pageantry and priile, 
While in his softened looks benignly blend 
The sire, the son, the husband, brother, friend. 
Hero woman reigns ; the mother, daughter, wife, 
.Strew with fresh Mowers the narrow way of life : 



In the clear heaven of her dc'lightful eye 
An angel-guard of love and graces lie ; 
Around her knees domestic duties meet. 
And lircside pleasures gambol at her feet. 
"Where shall that land, that spot of earth be 

found ? •' 
Art thou a man ? — a patriot ? — look around ; 
(), thou shall lind, howe'cr thy footsteps roam. 
That land thy country, and that spot thy home ! 

Man, through all ages of revolving time. 
Unchanging man, in every varying clime, 
Deems his own land of every land the priile. 
Beloved by Heaven o'er all the world beside ; 
His homo the spot of earth suincmely blest, 
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest. 

jAMiis Montgomery. 



HOW SI.F.r.l' TIIK liliAVE. 

How sleep the brave, who sink to rest 
liy all their country's wishes blest ! 
When .S])ring, with dewy lingers cold, 
Hetiirns to deck their hallowed mould, 
She there shall dress a sweeter sod 
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. 

By fairy liamls their knell is rung ; 
By forms unseen their dirge is sung ; 
There Honor conies, a pilgrim gray. 
To ble.ss the turf that wraps their clay ; 
And Freedom shall awhile re]iair, 
To dwell a wi I'liiiig lieiinlt there ! 

WILLIAM COLLINS. 



THE BRAVE AT HOME. 

The maid who binds her wairior's sash 

With smile that well her pain dissembles. 
The while beneath her drooping lash 

One starry tear-dmi) hangs and trembles, 
Though Heaven alone records the tear, 

Ami Fame shall never know her story, 
Her heart has shed a drop as dear 

As e'er bedewed the field of glory ! 



564 



I'Oli.MS OF I'ArKlOTIS.M AM) lltKEDOM. 



The wife who ginls hir luisband's swoiil, 

Mill little Olios who weep or wonder, 
Ami bravely speaks the cheering word, 

What tiiough her heart be rent asunder, 
Doomed nightly in her dreams to hear 

The bolts of death around him rattle, 
Hutli shed as saered blood as e'er 

Was poured upon the field of battle ! 

The mother who conceals her grief 

While to her bivast her son she presses, 
Then breathes a few brave words and brief, 

Kissing the patriot brow she blesses, 
With no one but her secret God 

To know the pain that weighs upon her. 
Sheds holy blood as e'er the sod 

Received on Freedom's field of honor ! 

THOMAS BUCHA.NA.N READ. 



THE DEATH OK LEONIDAS. 

It was the wild midnight, — 
A storm was on the sky ; 

The liglitning gave its light. 
And the thunder echoed In*. 

The torrent swept the glen. 
The ocean lashed the shore ; 

Then rose the Simrtan men. 
To make their bed in gore ! 

Swift from the deluged gixinnd 
Three hundred took the shield ; 

Tlien, silent, gathered round 
The leader of the field ! 

He spake no warrior word. 
He liade no trumpet blow. 

But the signal thunder roared. 
And they rushed upon the foe. 

The fiery element 

Showed, with one mighty gleam, 
Kampart, and Hag, and tent. 

Like tlie spectres of a ditam. 

All up the mountain's side. 
All down the woody vale. 

All by the rolling tide 

Waved the Pereian banners pale. 

And foremost from the pass. 
Among the slumbering band. 

Sprang King l.eonidas, 

Like the lightning's living brand. 



Then double darkness fell. 

And the forest ceased its moan ; 
But there came a clash of steel. 



Anon, a trumpet View, 

And a fiery sheet burst high, 

That o'er the midnight threw 
A blood-red canopy. 

A host glared on the hill ; 

A host glared by the bay ; 
But the Greeks rushed onward still. 

Like leopards in their play. 

The air was all a yell. 

And the earth was all a tlame. 
Where the Spartan's bloody steel 

On the silken turbans came ; 

And still the Greek rushed on 
Where the fiery torrent rolled. 

Till like a rising sun 

Shoue Xeixes' tent of gold. 

They found a royal feast. 

His midnight bampiet, there ; 

And the treasures of the Last 
Lay beneath the Doric spear. 

Then sat to the repast 
The bnivest of the bmve ! 

That feast must be their last, 
Tliat spot must be tlieir grave. 

They pledged old Sparta's name 

In cups of Syrian wine, 
A' d the warrior's deathless fame 

Was sung in strains divine. 

They took the rose-wreathed lyres 
From eunuch and from slave, 

And taught the languid wires 
The sounds that Freedom gave. 

But now the morning star 

Orovvued CEta's twilight brow ; 

Aiul the Persian horn of war 
From the hills began to blow. 

Up rose the glorious rank. 
To Greece one cup poured high. 

Then hand in hand they drank, 
"To immort;>lity !" 

Fe.Tr on King Xerxes fell. 

When, like spirits from the tomlv 
With shout and trumpet knell. 

He saw the warriors come. 



I'OKMS or I'ATKIOTISM AND I'KKKnOM. 



565 



But tlowii sw<l>t nil liis power, 
With oliiiriot niul with clmige ; 

Down poiuiil the nnows' shower, 
Till sank the Dorian's targe. 

They gnthereil round the tent, 

With nil their strength unstrung ; 

To Greece one look they sent. 
Then on high their torches tlnng. 

The king sat on the throne, 

His eiiptains hy his side, 
"While the llaine rushed roaring on, 

And their Pieiin loud replied. 

Thus fought the Greek of old ! 

Thus will he tight again ! 
Shall not the sell-snuie mould 

Bring forth the self-same men 1 

GEOKCE CROLY. 



HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE. 

Laks Porsena of Clusinni, 

By the Nine Gods he swore 
That the great house of Tari|uin 

Should sulfer wrong no more. 
By the Nine Gods he swore it, 

Anil named a trysting-<lny. 
And Imdc his messengers ride fortli, 
East and west and south and north. 

To sunnnon his array. 

East and west and south and north 

The messengers ride fast. 
And tower and town and cottage 

Have heard the trumpet's blast. 
Shame on the false Etruscan 

Who lingers in his home. 
When I'orsena of ( 'lusium 

Is on tlie march for Home ! 

The liorsemen and the footmen 

Are pouring in amain 
From many a stately nmrket-place, 

From nnmy a fruitful plain, 
From nuuiy a lonely hamlet. 

Which, hid hy beech and i>inP, 
Like iin eagle's nest hangs on tho crest 

Of purple Apeniiine : 

From lordly Volaferra-, 

Where scowls the far-famed hold 
Piled by the hands of giants 

For godlike kings of old ; 
From sea-girt Poi)uloni:i, 

Whose sentinels descry 
Sni-dinia's snowy nionntain-tops 

Fringing the southern sky : 



From the proud mart of Piste, 

Qneen of the western waves. 
Where ride Massilia's triremes. 

Heavy with fair-haired slaves ; 
From where sweet Clanis wanders 

Through corn and vines and flowers, 
From where Oortona lifts to heaven 

Her diadem of towers. 

Tall arc tlie oaks whose acorns 

Drop in dark Auser's rill ; 
Fat are the stags that champ the boughs 

Of tlie Ciminian hill ; 
Beyond all stri'anis, Clitumnus 

is to the herdsman dear ; 
Best of all pools the fowler loves 

The great Volsinian mere. 

But now no stroke of woodman 

Is heard by Auser's rill ; 
No hunter tracks the stag's green path 

Up the (.'iminian hill ; 
Unwatched along Clitumnus 

Grazes the milk-white steer ; 
Unharmed the water-fowl may dip 

In the Volsinian mere. 

Tlic harvests of Arretinm, 

This year, old men shall reap ; 
This year, young boys in Umbro 

Shall plunge tho struggling sheep ; 
And in the vats of l,unii, 

This year, the must shall foam 
Hound the white feet of laughing girls 

Whose sires have marched to Rome. 

There be thirty chosen prophets, 

The wisest of the land, 
Who always by Lars Porsena 

Both morn and evening stand. 
Evening and morn the Thirty 

Have turned the verses o'er, 
Traced from the right on linen white 

By mighty seers of yore ; 

And with one voice tho Thirty 

Have their glad answer given : 
"Go forth, go forth, l.ars Porsena, — 

Go forth, beloved of Heaven ! 
Go, anil return in glory 

To Clusium's royal dome. 
And hang round Nurscia's altars 

The golden shichls of Rome ! " 

And now hath every city 

Sent up her tale of men ; 
The foot are fourscore thousand, 

The horse are thousands ten. 



r)iiG 



roKMS OK I'A'lUltvriSM .\M> rUKKUOM. 



Bi'foro ll\o jjutes orSutiimn 

Is iiK'l tlio firont (limy ; 
A jirowil imiii WHS l.iirs PorsiMiii 

I'lHUi llu' trvstiiii,'-(lay. 

For nil thi" Ktriiscaii nniiii'S 

Woiv mnj;i'il bciu'iitli liis I'vo, 
And lUiUiy ii buuishoil Koiiiiui, 

Ami many u stout i\lly ; 
Anil with a mighty I'olhiwing, 

To join tlu' niusti'i', lamo 
The Tusi'uliin Maniilius, 

I'l-inci' of the l.alian minio. 

Hut liy (ho yolhiw 'I'ihoi- 

Was tumult ami allVifjht ; 
Fnun all tho sparions i'hani|iai};M 

To Uomi' mon tool; thoir lli:,'ht. 
A mill' aiouml tho city 

Till' thronj; slonpoil uji tlio ways ; 
A tVart'ul sij;ht it was to si'i' 

ThroU);h two long iiiiihts ami days. 

For aged folk on orutohi-s, 

And women givat with child, 
And mothers, sohbing over l>alies 

That clung to tluMu and smiled, 
And sick men borne in littei's 

High on the necks ot' slaves, 
And troops of snnlmrm'd hnsbandmen 

With reaping-hooks and staves, 

And droves of ntules and asses 

Lulen with skins of wine. 
And endless lloeks of giiats and sheep, 

And endless henls of kine. 
And endless trains of wagons, 

Tliat ci-eaked beneath the weight 
Of eorn-saeks and of household goods, 

Choked every i-miring gate. 

Now, fixnn the iMck Tarpeimi, 

Could the wan burglioi-s spy 
The line of blazing villages 

Red in the midnight sky. 
The Fathei's of the I'ity, 

They sat all night and day. 
For every hour some hoi-seman came 

With tidings of dismay. 

To oastwaixl and to westwanl 

Have spivad the Tuscan Kinds, 
Nor house, nor fence, nor doveeoto 

In Crustumerium stands. 
Verbeuua down to Ostia 

Hath wasted all the plain ; 
Astur hath stormed jjnii'nlum. 

And the stont guanls aiv shiin. 



I wis, in all tho Senate 

There v.'as no heart so bold 
L!ut sore it ached, and fast it beat. 

When that ill news was told. 
Forthwith up rose the Consul. 

Up rose the Fathers all ; 
In haste they girded up their gowns. 

And hied Ihem to the wall. 

They held a council, standing 

Hefoiv the Hiver-gate ; 
Short time was there, ye well may guess. 

For musing or debate. 
Out s]iaUe the Consul roundly : 

"The bridge must straight go down ; 
For, since .laiiiculum is lost. 

Naught else can save the town." 

.Tust then a scout came Hying, 

All wild with haste and fear : 
" To arms ! to arms ! Sir Consul, — 

Lars Forsena is liere." 
till the low hills to westward 

Tho Consul lixed his eye. 
And saw the swarthy storm of dust 

Hise fast along the sky. 

And nearer fast and nearer 

Poth the red whiihvind come : 
.\iul louder still, and still more loud. 
Fixun underneath that rolling cloud. 
Is lieanl the trumpets' war-note proud. 

The trampling ami the hum. 
Ami plainly and more plainly 

Now tliiMugh tho gloom appears. 
Far to left and far to right. 
In bi-oken gleams of dark-blue light. 
The long army ot helmets bright. 

The long array of spears. 

And plainly and nioiv plainly, 

Above that glimmering line, 
Now might ye see the Kinnei's 

Of twelve fair cities shine ; 
l^ut the banner of piwid (lusium 

Was highest of them all, — 
The tori-or of the Unibrian, 

The terror of the Gaul. 

And plainly and moiv i>laiiily 

Now might the bnrghei-s know. 
By port and vest, by hoi'so and eivst. 

Each warlike l.uciimo : 
Tlieiv Cilnius of Anvtium 

On his lleet rojin was seen ; 
And .\stur of the fourfold shield. 
I'irt with the bmnd none else may wield ; 
Tolnmnius with the Kdt of gold. 
And dark VerlH-nna from the hold 

l>v recdv Thmsvmene. 



I'OKMS OV rAlKlOI'lSM AM) I'KKKlHiM. 



jG7 



Fust by tlic iDyul xtuiKliiiil, 

O'crlookiiiK all ll»' wiir, 
Lnra I'oi-scim >>!' ('Insiiiiii 

Silt ill liis iviiry our. 
By tlin iij,'lil wlii'i'l idilc Miimiliii.s, 

I'liin'c III' llid Lillian iiiinio ; 
Ami by llui It'll fiilm' Sex Ins, 

Thnt wi'uiiglit tlii^ (leud ul' slianio. 

But when tlio fnoo of Scxtiis 

Whs seen iiiikiiik tlir Ini's, 
A yi'll that iviit t)ii' Uniianii'iil 

Kioiii all till' town aroMi. 
On the housi'-topH was lui wiiiiiiui 

But spat tuwanls liini niid liissuil, 
No cliilil lait siri'aiiu'il out curses, 

Ami sliiink its littlo list. 

But till' ('iinsiil's liinw was sail, 

Anil till' ronsul's s|H'i'rli was low, 
Anil ilui'kly liiiiki'il hi' iit the wall. 

Anil ilurkly at tliu foe : 
"Their van will 1h^ upon us 

Before till) liriilge j^oes ilowii ; 
Anil if they oiieo may win the liriilgo, 

What hope to save the town /" 

Then out spake brave Ilomtius, 

The Captain of the gati! : 
"To every iiiaii upon this earth 

Death I'oineth soon or late. 
Ami how eall Illau ilie better 

Thau faeing fearful oihls 
For the ashes of his fathers 

Anil till' temples of his goils, 

"Anil for the teniler niolher 

Who ilainlleil him to rest, 
Anil for the wife who nurses 

His baby at her breast. 
Ami for the holy maiileiis 

Who feeil the eternal llame, — 
To save tlieiii froin false Sextus 

That wrought the ileinl of shame ? 

" llew ilown llie briilf-e, Sir ronsul, 

With all the speeil ye may ; 
I, with two more to help me, 

Will holil the foe in play. 
In you strait )iath a thoiisamt 

May well be stoppeil by three : 
Now who will Htaml on either haml, 

Ami keep the bruise with me f" 

Then out spake .Spurius l.artius, — 
A Kamniati proiiil was he : 

" Lo, 1 will stanil at thy riglit haml. 
Anil keep the briilge with Ihee." 



Anil out spake strong Ilerminius, — 

< If 'riliiiii bloiiil was he ; 
' I will iiliid thy left siile, 

Anil keep the liriilge with thee." 

" lliiiiiliiis," i|>iolli III!' < 'iinsul, 

" As tliiHi sayi'st so let it be." 
Ami sliulght against that great array 

Went forth the ilauntle.ss three. 
For lloinans in lioine's i|iiarrel 

Spareil neither laiiil nor golil, 
Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life, 

In llie brave ilays of nlil. 

Then none was for a party — 

Then all were for the stato ; 
Then the great man helpeil the poor. 

Ami the poor man loveil the great ; 
Tlieii laiiils were fairly jiortioneil ! 

Then spoils were fiiirly solil : 
The Itiimans weri' like brothers 

In tile brave ilays of old. 

Now li'nlliall is lo b'liMlllll 

Mole linli'I'iil than a foe, 
Anil llie Irilmnes beiiril llie liigli, 

Ami the falhers griliil the low. 
As we wax hot in fuel ion. 

In battle we wax eolil ; 
Wheiel'iiie men light not as they fought 

In the linive ilays of oM. 

Now while the three were lightening 

Their harness on their liiirks, 
The Consul was the loreninsl iniin 

To take in haml an axe ; 
Ami fathers, mixeil with eoinmons, 

.Sei/eil halehet, bar, anil erow, 
Anil smote ii)ion the planks aliove, 

Anil looseil the jirops below. 

Meanwhile llie Tiisean iirniy, 

Uiglit glorious to beliolil, 
Came Hashing biiek llie noonday liglil, 
Itaiik behinil rank, like surges bright 

Of a liroail sea of golil. 
Four hiimlreil trumpets soumleil 

A peal of warlike glee, 
As that great host with nieasureil treail, 
Ami sjiears ailvaneeil, ami ensigns s]n'eail, 
llollecl slowly towarils the bridge's lieail, 

Where stood the ilaniitless three. 

The three stood ealin and silent, 

Anil looked upon the foes, 
Anil a great shout of laughter 

From all the vanguard rose ; 



568 



POEMS OF PATRIOTISM AND FREEDOM. 



And fortli three cliiefs came spurring 

Before that deep array ; 
To eartli they sprang, their swords they drew, 
And lifted high their sliields, and flew 

To win the narrow way. 

Annus, from green Tifernum, 

Lord of the Hill of Vines ; 
And Seius, whose eight hundred slaves 

Sieken in Ilva's mines ; 
And rious, long to Clusium 

Vassal in peaee and war. 
Who led to tight his Umbrian powers 
From that gray erag where, girt with towei-s, 
The fortress of Is equinum lowere 

O'er the pale waves of Nar. 

Stout Lartius hurled down Annus 

Into the stream beneath ; 
Herminius struck at Seius, 

And clove him to the teeth ; 
At Picus brave Horatius 

Darted one tiery thrust, 
And the proud Umbrian's gilded arms 

Clashed in the bloody dust. 

Then Genus of Faleiii 

Rushed on the Roman three ; 
And Lausulus of Urgo, 

The rover of the sea ; 
And Aruns of Volsinium, 

Who slew the great wild boar, — 
The great wild boar that had his den 
Amidst the reeds of Cosa's fen, 
Aukl wasted fields, and slaughtered men, 

Along Albinia's shore. 

Herminius smote down Aruns ; 

Lartius laid Genus low ; 
Right to the heart of Lausulus 

Horatius sent a blow : 
" Lie there," he cried, " fell pirate ! 

No more, agha.st and pale. 
From Ostia's walls the crowd .shall mark 
The track of thy destroying bark ; 
No more Campania's hinds shall fly 
To woods and caverns, when they spy 

Thy thrice-accursed sail I " 

I5ut now no sound of laughter 

Was heard among the foes ; 
A wild and wrathful clamor 

From all the vanguanl rose. 
Six spears' length from the entrance. 

Halted that mighty mass, 
And for a sjiace no man came forth 

To win the narrow pass. 



But, hark ! the cry is Astur : 

And lo ! the ranks divide ; 
And the great lord of Luua 

Comes with his stately stride. 
Ujion his ample shoulders 

Clangs loud tlie fourfold shield, 
And in his hanil he shakes the brand 

Which none but he can wield. 

He smiled on those bold Romans, 

A smile serene and high ; 
He eyed the Hincliing Tuscans, 

And scorn was in his eye. 
Quoth he, "The she-wolfs litter 

Stand savagely at bay ; 
But will ye dare to follow, 

I f Astur clears the way ? " 

Then, whirling up his broadsword 

With botli hands to the height. 
He rushed against Horatius, 

And smote with all his might. 
With shield and blade Horatius 

Right deftly turned the blow. 
The blow, though turned, came yet too nigh ; 
It missed his helm, but gashed his thigh. 
The Tuscans raised a joyful cry 

To see the red blood flow. 

He reeled, and on Herminius 

He leaned one breathing-space. 
Then, like a wild-cat mad with wounds, 

Sprang right at Astur's face. 
Through teeth and skull and helmet 

So fierce a thrust he sped. 
The good sword stood a handbreadth out 

Behind the Tuscan's head. 

And the great lord of Luna 

Fell at that deadly stroke. 
As fells on Mount Avernus 

A thunder-smitten oak. 
Far o'er the crashing forest 

The giant arms lie spread ; 
Aud the pale augurs, muttering low 

Gaze on the blasted head. 

On Astur's throat Horatius 

Right firmly pressed his heel, 
Ami thrice and four times tugged amaiu, 

Ere he wrenched out the steel. 
And " See," he cried, " the welcome. 

Fair guests, that waits you here ! 
What noble Lucumo comes ue.\t 

To taste our Roman cheer ? " 

But at his haughty challenge 

.\ sullen uuniniu' ran, 
Mingled with wrath and shame and dread, 

Along that glittering van. 



POEMS Ol' I'ATliKriISM AM) FKEKDOM. 



569 



There laukuil not nuii of prowess, 

Nor mi'ii uf lordly race, 
For all Ktruria's noblest 

Were rouiul the liital place. 

But all Etraria's uoblest 

Felt their hearts sink to see 
On tlie earth the blooily corpses, 

In the path the claiintless three ; 
And from the ghastly entrance, 

Where those bold luinians stood. 
All shrank, — like boys who, unaware, 
Hanging the woods to start a hare, 
Come to the mouth of the dark lair 
Where, growling low, a liercc old bear 

Lies amidst bones and blood. 

Was none who would be foremost 

To lead such dire attack ; 
But those behind cried " Forward I " 

And those before cried " Back !" 
And backward now and forward 

Wavere the deep array ; 
And on the tossing sea of steel 
To and fro the standards reel, 
And the victorious trumpet-peal 

Dies fitfully away. 

Yet one man for one moment 

Strode out before the crowd ; 
Well known was he to all the three, 

And they gave him greeting loud : 
" Now welcome, welcome, Se.xtus ! 

Now welcome to thy home ! 
Why dost thou stay, and turn away ? 

Here lies the road to Rome." 

Thrice looked he at the city ; 

Tlirice looked he at the dead ; 
And thrice came on in fury, 

And thrice turned bai'k in dread ; 
And, white with fear and hatred. 

Scowled at the narrow way 
Where, wallowing in a jiool of blood. 

The bravest Tuscans lay. 

But meanwhile axe and lever 

Have manfully been plied ; 
Anil now the bridge hangs tottering 

Above the boiling tide. 
"Come back, come back, Horatius ! " 

Loud cried the Fathers all, — 
"Back, Lartius ! back, Herniinius ! 

Back, ere the ruin fall ! " 

Back darted Spurius Lartius, — 

Herminius (larte<I back ; 
And, as they |iassed, beneath their feet 

Thev felt the timbers crack. 



But when they turned their faces. 

And on the farther shore 
Saw brave lluratius stand alone. 

They would have crossed once more ; 

But with a crash like thunder 

Fell every loosened beam. 
And, like a dam, the mighty wreck 

Lay right athwart the stream ; 
And a long shout of triumph 

Kose from the walls of Kome, 
As to the highest turret-tops 

Was splashed the yellow foam. 

Anil like a horse unbroken. 

When hrst ho feels the rein, 
The furious river struggled hard, 

And tossed his tawny mane. 
And bui'st the curb, and bounded, 

Kejoiciug to be free ; 
And whirling down, in fierce career, 
Battlement and plank and pier, 

Hushed headlong to the sea. 

Alone stood bi'ave Horatius, 

But constant still in mind, — 
Thrice tliirty thousand foes before, 

And the broad flood behind. 
" Down with him ! " cried false Se.xtus, 

With a smile on his pale face ; 
"Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena, 

" Now yield thee; to our grace ! " 

Kouud turned he, as not deigning 

Those craven ranks to see ; 
Naught spake he to Lars Porsena, 

To Sextus naught spake he ; 
But ho saw on I'alatinus 

The white porch of his home ; 
And lie sjiake to the noble river 

That rolls by the towers of Rome : 

" O Tiber ! Father Tiber ! 

To whom the Romans jiray, 
A Roman's life, a Rom.an's arms. 

Take thou in charge this day ! " 
So he sjiake, and, speaking, sheathed 

The good sword by his side. 
And, with his harness on his back, 

Plunged headlong in the tide. 

No sound of joy or soitow 
Was heard fi'oni eitlier bank. 

But friends and foes in dumb surprise, 

With parted lips and straining eyes. 
Stood gazing where he sank ; 

And when above the surges 



570 



POEMS OF PATRIOTISM AND FREEDOM. 



Tlioy saw his crest appeal', 
All Rome sent forth a nipturous cry, 
Ami oven the ranks ol' Tuscany 

t'ould scarce forbear to clieer. 

But lier(;ely van the current, 

kSwolh'U hii,'h by months of rain ; 
Ami fast his blood was (lowing, 

Ami he was sore in pain. 
And heavy with his armor, 

And spent with chaiigini,' blows ; 
And oft they thought him sinking. 

But still again ho rose. 

Never, I ween, did swimmer. 

In such an evil case, 
Struggle tlirough such a raging flood 

Safe to the landing-place ; 
But his limbs were borne uj) bravely 

By the brave heart within, 
Anil our good Father Tiber 

Bare bravely up his chin. 

"Cur.sc on him !" quoth false Sextus, — 

" Will not the villain drown ? 
But for this stay, ere close of day 

We should have sacked the town ! " 
" Heaven hel|) him ! " quotli Lars Porsena, 

"And bring him safe to shore ; 
For such a gallant feat of arms 

Was never seen before." 

And now he feels the bottom ; 

Now on dry earth he stands ; 
Now rouiul him throng the Fathers 

To press his gory hands ; 
And now, with shouts and clapping, 

And imise of weeping loud. 
He enters through the lliver-gate, 

Borne by the joyous crowd. 

They gave him of the corn-land, 

Tliat was of public right. 
As much as two strong o.\en 

Could jilough from morn till night ; 
And they made a molten image. 

And set it up on high, — 
And there it stands unto this day 

To witness if I lie. 

It stands in the Comitium, 

Plain for all folk to see, — 
Iloratius in his harness, 

Halting upon one knee ; 
And nudenu'ath is written, 

In letters all of gold. 
How valiantly he kept the bridge 

In tlu> brave days of old. 



And still his name sounds stirring 

Unto the men of Rome, 
As the trumpet-blast that cries to them 

To charge the Volscian homo ; 
And wives still pray to Juno 

For boys with hearts as bold 
As his who kept the bridge so well 

In the brave days of old. 

And in the nights of winter, 

WluMi the cold north-winds blow. 
And the long howling of the wolves 

Is heard amidst tlu' .snow ; 
When round the lonely cottage 

Roars loud the tempest's din, 
And the good logs of Algiilus 

Roar louder yet within ; 

When the oldest cask is opened. 

And the largest lamp is lit ; 
When the chestinits glow in the embers. 

And the kid turns on the spit ; 
When young and old in circle 

Around the tirebrands close 1 
When the girls are weaving baskets. 

And the lads are shaping bows ; 

When the goodman mends his armor. 

And trims his helnii't's plume ; 
When the goodwife's slmttle merrily 

(iocs Hashing through the loom ; 
With weeping ami with Laughter 

Still is the story told, 
How well Horatius kept the bridge 

In the brave days of old. 

THOMAS HABINGTO.V MACAULAV. 



SEMPRONIUS'S SPEECH FOR WAR. 



FROM "CATC," ACT 11. SC. 



My voice is still for war. 
Gods ! can a Roman senate long debate 
Which of the two to choose, slavery or death ? 
No ; let us rise at once, gird on our swords, 
And at the head of our remaining troops 
Attack tlio foe, break through the thick array 
Of his thronged legions, and charge home uptui 

him. 
Perhaps .some arm, more lucky than the rest, 
May reach his heart, and free the world from 

bondage. 
Rise ! Fathers, rise ! 't is Rome demands your 

help : 
Rise, and revenge her slaughtered citizens. 
Or share their tiite 1 The corpse "f half lur 

senate 




I .t«_-l 



CANADA NOT LAST. 
At Vknick. 
Lo! Venice, pay wilh color, lights and song. 
Calls from St. Mark's with ancient voice and 
strange : 
I am the Wilch of Cities ! glide along 

My silver streets that never wcnr by change 
or years : forget tlip years, ami |iain, and wrong, 
Ana every sorrow reigning men among. 
_ Know 1 can soothe thee, please and marry thee 
To my illusions. Old and siren strong, 
I smile immortal, while the mortals flee 
Who «hiten on to death in wooing me. 




jie 



At Ki.oke.nce. 
Say, what more fair by Arno's bridged gleam 
Than I'lorence.viewed from San Minialo's sli 
At eventide, when west .along llie stream 

The last of day reflects a silver hope ! — 
Lo, all else softened in the twilight beam : — 
'I'he city's mass blent in one hazy cream, 

The brown Dome 'midst it, and the Lilv tower. 
And stern Old Tower more near, and hills that 
seem 
Afar, like clouds to fade, and hills of power 
On this side greenly dark with cypress, vine 
and bower. 



At Romi:. 
End of desire to stray I feel would come 
Though Italy were all fair skies to me, 
Though France's fields went mad wilh flowery 
foam 
And HIanc put on a special majesty. 
Not all could match the growing thought of home 
Nor tempt to exile. Look I not on Rome — 

This ancient, modern, medieval queen — 
Yet still sigh westward over hill and dome, 
Imperial ruin and villa's princely scene 
Lovely wilh pictured saints and marble gods 
serene 





.■'■'■iv< 






.^^p-^ '..5 



3^ 



«r' 



Rf.fi.ectio.v. 
Rome, Florence. Venice — noble, fair and quaint, 

They reign in robes of magic round nie here; 
liul fading, blotted, dim, a |>ielure faint, 

With spell more silent, only pleads a (ear. 
Plead not! Thou has! mv heart, O picture dim! 

I see the fields, I sec the autumn hand 
Of God upon the maples! .Answer Him 

With weird, translucent glories, ye that stand 
Like spirits in scarlet and in amethyst 1 
I see the sun break over you: the mist 

On hills that lift from iron bases grand 

Their heads superb! — the dream, it is my 
native land. 

Wii.i.iAM Dduw LiciiriiAi.i,. 




GIFTS. 



"O World-God, give ino Wealth ! " llu' "O World-God, give me Power!" the 

Kgy|)tiiin cried. Roman cried. 

His prayer was granted. 1 Ugh as heaven His prayer was granted. The vast world 

behold was chained 

Palace and Pyramid; the brimming tide A captive to the chariot of his pride. 

Of lavish Nile washed all his land with The blood of myriad provinces was drained 

gold. To feed that fierce, insatiable red heart — 

Armies of slaves toiled ant-wise at bis feet. Invulnerably bulwarked every part 

World-circling traffic roared through mart with serried legions and with close-meshed 

and street, Code. 

His priests were gods, his spiee-balnied Within, the burrowing worm h.id gnaued 

kings enshrined its home: 

Set death at naught in rock-ribbed ehar- .\ lootless ruin stands where onee abode 

nels deep. pii^, imperial race of everlasting Rome. 
Seek Pharaoh's race to-day. and ye shall 

', , , ., , , , " t) God-head, give nie Truth!" the He- 

Rust and the moth, sdenee and dust) slee|). brew cried 

His prayer was granted. He became the 
"() World-God, gi\e me lieauty!" cried slave 

the Greek. (If the Idea, a pilgrim far and wide, 

His prayer was granted. All the earth be- Ginsed, hated, spurned, and sccnirged with 

came none to save. 

Plastic and vocal to his sense ; e:\ch peak, The Pharaohs knew him, and when Greece 
Each grove, each stream, quick with Pro- beheld, 

mcthean llame. His wisdom wore the hoary crown of I'.ld. 

Peopkxl the workl with imaged grace and Beauty he hath forsworn, and wealth .uul 

light. power. 

The lyre was his, and his the breathing Seek him to-d,iy, and lind in every Land. 

might No lire consumes him. neither lloods de- 
Of the immortal marble, his tlie play vour; 

Of diamond-pointed thought and golden Immortal through the l.imp within bis 

tongue. hand. 

Go seek the sunshine race. Ye lind to-day 
A broken column and a lute unstrung. Emma Lazarus. 



roKMS Ul' 1'.V1'UU)T1.S.M AMJ I'lUiKlJUM. 



071 



Miiiitiri'H tlic lic'lds 111' Tlic'Nsiily, vvliilo wo 
Sit lirrc (lrlilj(M'aliiij{, in rulil ili'liiilr, 
ir we Nhiiuiil suci'ificu our livcH to lionor, 
III' wrai' tlii'iii out ill HcrviiiiilK luiii cliiiiiiH, 
lioiisi- ii|i, lor hIiiiiiii' ' our lu'ollicrs ii( I'liiu'Hnliii 
I'oiiit at llirir wouiids, ami ny aliuul, -"To 

hattlr '■• 
(Jroat I'fpiiUM-y's .siiaiit' i'oiii|ilaiii.s lliat wi- iiir 

slow, 
Aud Sfipio's ),'lio8t walks iiiiicvi'iijji'd miiioiikhI lis. 

Joslll'll AUDI^ON 



CAllACTAC'US. 

BKKiiFti': luoiiil Home's iiii|M'riiil Uiroiic 

III iniiiil's iiiironi|iii'ri'il inooil, 
Ah if till' ti'iiiiiipli wi'i'u his own, 

Tliii ilituntli'ss I'aiitivu stowl. 
Noiit', to liavi' si't'ii luH fri'D-horn air, 
Hint laniii'il liini a I'aptivi' tlicro. 

Tlioiij{li, tliioiixli till' rrowili'il stii'i'ls of Uoiiii' 

With slow iiinl stntiily (ii'miI, 
Kiir IVoiii liis own lovi'il island lioiiii', 

That day in tiiiunph Ird, 
Ulilnilind his head, tinliriil his kiii'i', 
Uiiiliiiiiiiuil his cyi', his asiiuol I'luu. 

A fri'o and fi'iirlcss j{laiirij ho rnst 

On ti'iiipli', anil, and towi'r. 
By wliiih till' loll).; proi'i'itHion passi'd 

Of Koini's virtiil'ioils powor ; 
And soini'what of a sioniriil Hiiiili' 
Upriirlid his haughty liji tlii' whili'. 

And now hi' stood, with lirow scrcni', 
WhiMi' slavrs ini><lil prostiatii tall, 

ItouriiiK II Itriton's manly niirii 
III t'li'sar's palari' hall ; 

Clniiniii;<, with kindUid brow and iliri'k, 

Tlio liberty i''imi Ihrni to speak. 

Nor coulil Komo's liimghty lord withstand 

Tlio cliiim that look iiri'l'iiiTnil, 
lint niotioni'd with iiplil'trd hand 

Till' suppliant sliould l»i hoard, — 
If hi' indi'i'd a suppliant woro 
Whoso Klani'o domandid aiidiiiiri' llioro. 

Dei'p slillni'SH foil on all tho crowd, 

Kroiii ('laiiditis on his Ihrono 
Down to tho inoani'st slave that bowed 

At his iniporial throne ; 
Silont his IVllow-oaptivo's griof 
As fi'iirli'ss s|Hiko tho Island Cliiof ; 



"Think not, thou oii){lo lionl of Itoiiii', 

And niastor of tlio world, 
Tlioii;;li virtory's liannor o'er lliy iliniio 

In li'iiiinph now Is fiirhnl, 
I would addross tlii'o iis lliy slavo, 
Hut as Mio liidd should ^root llii' liriivo I 

" I nii;;Iit, pi'n'lmiii'i', ooiilil I liavo deigned 

To hold a vassaTs throne, 
K'eii now in llrilain's isle have reigned 

A kin;; in niiiiie alone. 
Vet holding;, as thy iiioek ally, 
A iiioniurli's inlinli' pii^oaiitiy. 

"Then through Koine's oiowdod strootn to-day 

I might have rode with thoo. 
Not ill a eaptive's Ini.so array. 

Hut fetterless and free, — 
If freedom ho eoiilil hopo to liml, 
Whose? Iiondugo is of heart and mind. 

" Itiit eanst thou marvel that, freeliorn. 

With heart and siuil iiiii|iielled. 
Throne, orown, and sireptre 1 Hliuiild seoiii, 

l!y thy perniission held f 
Or that I should retain my rl^dil 
Till wrested by a eoiii|iiei'or's might/ 

" Home, with her palai'i's and toworn, 

Hy us unwished, iinrofl. 
Her homely huts and woodland bowers 

To liritaiii might Imvo loft ; 
Worthless to you their wealth must lie, 
liiit dear to us, lor they were free ! 

" I might have bowed before, but wlierii 

Had been thy triiiinph now 'I 
To my resolve no yoke to bear 

Thou ow'st thy laiirolled brow; 
Inglorious viotory hail boon Ihino, 
And mori' inglorious bondage mine. 

" Now I liiivii spoken, do thy will ; 

lie life or death my lot, 
Sini'o Kritain's throne no niori' I lill. 

To me it mattors not. 
My lame is eleiir ; but on iny fate 
Thy glory or thy shanio must wait." 

lie eeaseil ; from all iiround ii|>spiiing 

A mni'iiiiir of applausi', 
For well had truth and lieedom's tongue 

Maintained their holy eaiiso. 
Tho eonipiorur was the I'uptive thou ; 
Ho bade the Hliive bo free again. 

IIIIKNAlin ll.\RTOM. 



01. 



POEMS OF PATRIOTISM AND FREEDOM. 



BOADICEA. 

AVhen the British wnnior imeoii, 
Bleeding from the Uoiuan roils, 

Sought, with lui iiuligiimit luieii, 
Counsel of her country's gods. 

Sage beneath the spreading oak 

Sat the Druid, hoary chief ; 
Every burning vvonl he sjioke 

Full of rage and full of grief. 

" Princess ! if our aged eyes 

Weep upon thy matchless wrongs, 

'Tis because resentment ties 
All the terrors of our tongues. 

"Rome shall jierish — write that word 
In the blood tliat she lias spilt, — 

Perish, hopeless and abhorred, 
Dee[) in ruin as in guilt. 

" Rome, for empire far renowned. 
Tramples on a thousand states ; 

Soon her jiride sliall kiss the ground, — 
Hark ! the Gaul is at her gates ! 

" Other Romans shall arise, 
Heedless of a soldier's name ; 

Sounds, nut arms, shall win the prize, 
Harmony the path to fame. 

" Then the urogeny that springs 

From the forests of our land, 
Arnu'd with thunder, clad witli wings, 

Shall a wider world command. 

" Regions Ciiesar never knew 

Thy posterity shall sway ; 
Where his, eagles never flew. 

None invincible as they." 

Such the bard's prophetic words, 

Pregnant with celestial fire. 
Bending as he swept the ihords 

Of his sweet but awful lyre. 

She, with all a nmnarch's pride. 
Felt them in her bosom glow ; 

Rushed to battle, fought, anil died, — 
Dying, hurled them at the foe. 

Ruffians, pitiless as proiul. 

Heaven awards the vengeance due ; 
Empire is on ns bestowed. 

Shame and ruin wait for you ! 

William CowrER. 



RIENZI TO THE ROMANS. 

FKOM " KIEN2I." 

FllIENILS ! 

I come not here to talk. Ye know too well 
The story of our thraldom. We are slaves ! 
The bright sun rises to his course, and liglits 
A race of slaves ! he sets, and his last beam 
Falls on a slave ! Not such as, swept along 
By the full tide of power, the conipieror leads 
To crimson glory and undying fame. 
But base, ignoble slaves ! — slaves to a horde 
Of petty tyrants, feudal desjiots ; lords 
Rich in some dozen paltry villages. 
Strong in some hundred spearmen, only great 
In that strange spell, — a name I Each hour, 

dark fraud. 
Or open rapine, or protected nnirder. 
Cries out against them. But this very day 
An honest man, my neighbor (poiuliiuj tu Pa- 
olo), — there he stands, — 
Was struck — struck like a dog — by one who 

wore 
The badge of Ursini ! because, forsooth. 
He tossed not high his ready cap in air. 
Nor lifted np his voice in servile shouts. 
At sight of that great ruffian ! Be we men, 
And sutler such dishonor ? men, and wash not 
The stain away in blood ? Sucli shames are coin- 

nion. 
I have known deeper wrongs. 1 , that speak to yv\ 
I had a brother once, a gracious boy. 
Full of all gentleness, of calmest hope. 
Of sweet and ipiiet joy ; there was the look 
Of Heaven upon his face which limners give 
To the beloved disciple. How I loved 
That gracious boy ! younger by fifteen years, 
Brother at once and son ! He left my side ; 
A summer bloom on his fair cheeks, a smile 
Parting his innocent lips. In one short hour 
The pretty, harmless boy was slain ! I saw 
The corse, the mangled corse, and then I cried 
For vengeance ! Rouse ye, Romans ! Rouse 

ye, slaves ! 
Have ye brave sons ? — Look in tlie next tierce 

brawd 
To see them die! Have ye fair daughters ' — Look 
To see them live, torn from your arms, distaiued. 
Dishonored ; and, if ye dare call for justice, 
Be answered by the lash ! Yet this is Rome, 
That sat on her seven hills, and from licr throne 
Of beauty ruled the world ! Yet we ari' Romans ! 
Why, in that elder day, to be a Roman 
Was greater than a king ! And once again — 
Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread 
Of either Brutus ! — once again, I swear. 
The eternal city shall be free ; her sons shall 

walk with princes. 

Mary Russni.L Mitford. 



roKMS OF PATRIOTISM \M) I'KEHDO.M. 



573 



I5HL'(-E AND Till': sriDEU. 

Foit Seotlaiul's and lor I'ivimIihii'.s light 

Tile Bruce lii.s pait Imd iihiyed, 
In five successive fields of liglit 

Been comiuered and dismayed ; 
Once more against the English host 
His band he led, and once more lost 

The meed tor which he fought ; 
And now from battle, faint and worn. 
The homeless fugitive forlorn 

A hut's lone shelter sought. 

And cheerless was that i-csting-place 

For him who claimed a throne : 
His canopy, devoid of grace. 

The rude, rough beams alone ; 
The heather couch his only bed, — 
Yet well I w^en had slumber fled 

From couch of eider-down 1 
fhrougli d.'irksonie night till dawn of day, 
Absorli-'il in wakeful thoughts he lay 

Of Scotland ami her crown. 

The sun rose brightly, and its gleam 

Fell on that hapless bed, 
And tinged with light each shapeless beam 

Which roofed the lowly .shed ; 
When, looking up with wistful eye, 
The Bruce beheld a spider try 

His filmy thix-ad to Hing 
From beam to beam of that rude cot ; 
And well tile insect's toilsome lot 

Taught ^5cotland's future king. 

Si.\ times his gossamery thread 

The wary sjiidcr threw ; 
In vain the filmy line was sped, 
For powerless or untrue 
Each aim appeared, and back recoiled 
The patient insect, si.\ times foiled. 

And yet uncoiii|uered still ; 
And soon the Bruce, with eager eye, 
Saw him prepare once more to try 

His courage, strength, and skill. 

One ell'ort more, his seventh and last — 

The hero hailed the sign ! — 
And on the wished-for beam hung fast 

That slender, silken line ! 
Slight as it was, his spirit I'aught 
The more than omen, for his thought 

The lesson well could tmce. 
Which even "he who runs may read," 
That Perseverance gains its meed, 

And Patience wins the race. 

UERNARD Barton. 



BAXNOClvBURN. 

At Bannockburu the English lay, - 
The Scots they were na far away. 
But waited for the break o' day 
That glinted in the east. 



But soon the sun liroke through tl: 
And lighted up that Held o' death. 
When Bruce, \vi' saul-inspiring breath, 
His heralds thus addressed : — 

Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, 
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led ; 
Welcome to your gory bed, 
Or to victorie. 

Now 's the day, and now 's the hour 
See the front o' battle lour : 
See approach proud Edward's power, — 
Chains and slaverie ! 

Wha will be a traitor knave ? 
Wha can fill a coward's grave ? 
Wha sae base as be a slave ? 
Let him turn and llee ! 

Wha for .Scotland's king and law 
Freedom's sword will strongly draw. 
Freeman stand, or freeman fa' ? 
Let him follow inc ! 

By Oppression's woes and pains ! 
By your sons in servile chains, 
We will drain our dearest veins, 
But they shall t)e free ! 

Lay the proud usurpers low I 
Tyrants fall in cveiy foe ! 
Liberty 's in every blow ! 
Let us do, or die ! 



heath 



Robert burns. 



LOCHIEL'S WARNING. 

WIZARD. — LOCHIEL. 
WIZARD. 

LociiiEL, Lochiel 1 beware of the day 

When the Lowlands shall meet thee in battle 

anay ! 
For a field of the dead ruslies red on my sight. 
And the clans of Culloden are scattered in fight. 
They rally, they bh'cd, for their kingdom and 

crown ; 
Woe, woe to the riders that trample them down ! 
Proud Cumberlaml prances, insulting the slain. 
And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to ths 

plain . 



574 



POEMS OF PATRIOTISM AND FREEDOM. 



But hark ! through the last-II;ishin.t; liglituing of 

war, 
What steed to the desert Hies I'rautic and far ? 
'T is tliine, Gleuulliu ! whose bride sliall await, 
Like a lovedighted wateh-fire, all night at tlie 

gate. 
A steed eonies at morning : no rider is there ; 
But its bridle is red with the sign of ilespair. 
Weep, Albin ! to death and captivity led ! 
O, weep ! but thy tears cannot number the dead ; 
For a merciless sword on CuUodeu shall wave, 
(-'uUoden ! that reeks with the blood of the brave. 

LOCniKL. 
Go, preach to the coward, thou death-telling 

seer ! 
Or, if gory Culloden so dreadful appear. 
Draw, dotard, around thy old wavering sight 
This mantle, to cover the phautums of fright. 

WIZARD. 

Ha ! laugli'st thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn ? 
Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be 

torn ! 
Say, rushed the bold eagle cxultingly forth 
From his home in tlie dark rolling clouds of the 

north ? 
Lo ! the death-shot of foemen outspecding, he 

rode 
Companionless, bearing destruction abroad ; 
But down let him stoop from his havoc on high ! 
Ah ! home let him speed, — for the spoiler is 

. nigh. 
Why flames the far summit ? Why shoot to the 

blast 
Those embers, like stars from the firmament cast ? 
'T is the fire-sliower of ruin, all dreadfully ilriven 
From his eyrie, that beacons tlic darkness of 

heaven. 
crested Lochiel ! the peerless in might. 
Whose banners arise on the battlements' height, 
Heaven's fire is around thee, to blast and to burn ; 
Return to thy dwelling ! all lonely return ! 
For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it 

stood, 
And a wild mother scream o'er her I'aniishing 

brood. 

LOCHIF.I.. 

FnlseWizard, avaunt ! I ha\-e marshalled my clan. 
Their swords are a thousand, their bosoms are 

one ! 
They are true to the last of their blood and their 

breath, 
And like reapers descend to the harvest of death. 
Then welcome bo CumT)'prland's steed to the 

shock \ 



Let him dash his proud foam like a wave on the 

rock ! 
Hut woe to his kindred, and woe to his cause. 
When Albin her claymore indignantly draws ; 
When her bonneted chieftains to victory crowd, 
Clanronald the dauntless, and Moray the proud. 
All plaided and plumed in tluir tartan array — 



— Lochiel, Lochiel ! beware of the day ; 

For, dark and despairing, my sight I may seal, 

lint man cannot cover what (-od would reveal ; 

'T is the sunset of life gives me mystical lore. 

And conung events east their shadows before. 

I tell thee, t'ulloden's dread echoes shall ring 

With the bloodhounds that bark for thy fugitive 
king. 

Lo ! anointed bj' Heaven with the vials of wratli. 

Behold where he Hies on his desolate path ! 

Now in darkness and billows he sweeps from my 
sight — 

Rise, rise ! ye wild tempests, and cover his Hight ! 

'T is finished. Their thunders are hushed on the 
moors : 

Culloden is lost, and my country deplores, 

But where is the iron-bound prisoner ! Where ? 

For the red eye of battle is shut in despair. 

Say, mounts he the ocean-wa\e, banished, for- 
lorn, 

Like a limb from his country cast bleeding and 
turn I 

Ah no ! for a ilarker d('[)avture is near ; 

The war-drum is nuiltled, and black is the bier ; 

His death-bell is tolling ; O mercy, dispel 

Yon sight, that it freezes my spirit to tell ! 

Life flutters convulsed in his quivering limbs. 

And his blood-streaming nostril in agony swims. 

Accursed be the fagots that blaze at his feet. 

Where his heart shall be thrown ere it ceases to 
beat. 

With the smoke of its ashes to poison the gale — 



— Down, soothless insulter ! I trust not the tale ; 

For never shall Albin a destiny meet. 

So black with dishonor, so foul with retreat ! 

Though my perishing ranks should be strewed 

in their gore. 

Like ocean-weeds heaped on the surf-beaten shore, 

Lochiel, untainted by Hight or by chains. 

While the kindling of life in his bosom remains. 

Shall victor exult, or in death be hud low. 

With his back to the Held, and his feet to the foe ; 

And leaving in battle no blot on his name, 

Look proudly to Heaven from the death-bed of 

fame ! 

Thomas Campbfi.l. 



POEMS OV PATRIOTISM Ax\I) I'liKKDoM. 



575 



SCOTLAND. 

FROM "THE LAY OF THE LAST MtNSTRUL." CANTO Vl. 

Caledonia ! sturii ami wiUi, 

Meet mirso for a poetic child ! 

Laiiil of brown heath auj shaggy wood, 

jjiiul of the mountain and tlie Hood, 

Land of my sires ! what mortal hand 

Call e'er untie the filial band 

That knits mo to thy rugged strand ! 

Still, as 1 view each well-known scene, 

Think what is now, and what hath been. 

Seems as, to me, of all bereft, 

Sole friends thy woods and streams were left ; 

And thus I love them better still, 

Even in extremity of ill. 

rty Yarrow's stream still let me stray, 

Thou<;h none should guide my feeble way ; 

Still feel the breeze down Ettriok break, 

.\lthough it chilled my withered cheek ; 

Still lay my head by Teviot stone, 

Though there, forgotten and alone. 

The bard may draw his iiarting groan. 

SIR WALTER SCOTT. 



ENGLAND. 

FROM "THE TIMEPIECE"! "THE TASK," BOOK If. 

Enoland, with all thy fiuilts, I love thee still, — 
My country ! and, while yet a nook is left 
Where English minds and manners may bo found, 
Shall be constrained to love thee. Though tliy 

clime 
Be fickle, and thy year most part deformed 
With dripiiing rains, or withered by a frost, 
I would not yet exchange thy sullen skies. 
And fields without a flower, for warmer France 
With all her vines ; nor for Ausonia's groves 
Of golden fruitage and her myrtle bowers. 
To shake thy senate, and fiom l^eight sublime 
Of [Kitriot elocfuence to flash down fire 
Upon thy foes, was never meant my task : 
But I can feel thy fortunes, and partake 
Thy joys and sorrows with as true a heart 
As any thunderer there. And I can feel 
Thy follies too ; and with a just disdain 
Frown at effeminates whose very looks 
Keflect dishonor on the land I love. 
How, in the name of soldiei'ship and sense. 
Should England prosper, when such things, as 

smooth 
And tender as a girl, all essenced o'er 
With odors, and as profligate as sweet. 
Who sell their laurel for a myrtle wreath. 
And love when they should fight, — when such 

as these 



Presume to lay their hand upon the ark 

Of her magnificent and awful cause ? 

Time was when it was praise and boast enough 

In every clime, and travel where we might. 

That we were born her children. Praise enough 

To till the ambition of a private man. 

That Chatham's language was his mother 

tongue, 
And Wolfe's great name compatriot with his 

own. 

WILLIAM COWPEH 



THE ROAST BEEF OF OLD ENGLAND. 

WuEN mighty roast beef was the Englishman's 

food. 
It ennobled our hearts, and enriched our blood; 
Our .soldiers were brave, and our courtiers were 
good. 

0, the Eoast Beef of old England, 
And 0, tlu: old Ewjlish Roast Beef ! 

But since we have learned from effeminate 

France 
To eat their ragouts, as well as to dance. 
We are fed up with nothing but vain complai- 
sance. 

0, the Roast Beef, etc. 

HENRY FIELDING. 



Our fathers of old were robust, stout, and strong. 
And kept open house with good cheer all day 

long. 
Which made their plump tenants rejoice in this 

song. 

0, llie Roast Beef, etc. 

When good Queen Elizabeth sat on the throne, 
Kre cofl'ee and tea, and such slip-slops, were 

known. 
The world was in terror, if e'en she did frown. 
0, the Roast Beef, etc. 

In those days, if fleets did presume on the main, 
Tliey seldom or never returned back again ; 
.\s witness the vaunting Armada of Spain. 
0, tlic Roast Beef, etc. 

0, then we had stomachs to eat and to fight. 
And when wrongs were cooking, to set ourselves 

right ; 
But now we're a — hum? — I could, but — 

good night ! 

0, tlu: Roast Beef, etc. 

Tkt /our Ulst itaittas addtd ty RICHARD LOVERIPCE. 



676 



POEMS OF I'ATKIOTIS.M AiND FREEDOM. 



RULE, BRITANNIA. 

FROM "ALFRED." ACT II. SC. 5. 

When Britain first, at Heaven's command, 

Arose from out the azure main. 
This was the charter of the land. 

And suardian angels sung tlie strain : 
Rule, Brilannin, rule the waves/ 
For Britons never will be slaves. 

The nations not so blest as thee 

Must, in their tui'ns, to tj'rants fall ; 

Whilst thou shalt llourish, great and free, 
The dread and envy of them all. 
Rule, Britannia 1 etc. 

Still more nuajestic shalt thou rise, 

More dreadful from each foreign stroke ; 

As the loud blasts that tear the skies 

Serve but to root thy native oak. 

Rule, Britannia ! etc. 

Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame ; 

All their attempts to bend thee down 
Will but arouse thy generous flame, 

And work their \voe — but thy renown. 
Rule, Brilannia ! etc. 

To thee belongs the rural reign ; 

Thy cities shall with commerce shine ; 
All thine shall be the subject main. 

And every shore it circles thine. 
Rule, Britannia ! etc. 

The Muses, .still with Freedom found. 

Shall to thy happy coast repair ; 
Blest Isle ! with matchless beauty crowned, 
And manly hearts to guard the fair. 
Rule, Britannia I etc. 

James Thomson. 



NASEBY. 

6v Obadiah Bind-their-kincs-in-chains-and-their-no- 

bles.with-links-of-iron ; sergeant in ireto.n s 
Regiment. 

O, WHEUEFonE come ye forth, in triumph from 
the north. 

With your hands and your feet and your raiment 
all red / 

And wherefore doth your rout send forth a joy- 
ous shout ? 

And whence be the grapes of the wine-press that 
ye tread ? 

O, evil was the root, and bitter was the fruit. 
And crimson was the juice of the vintage that we 
trod ; 



For we trampled on the throng of the haughty 

anil the strong, 
Who sate in the high places and slew the saints 

of God. 

It was about the noon of a glorious day of June, 
That we saw their banners dance and their 

cuir.asses shine. 
And the man of blood was there, with his long- 

essenced liair, 
\i\A Astley, and Sir Marmadnke, and Rupert of 

the Rhine. 

Like a servant of the Lord, with Ids Bible and 

his sword. 
The General rode along us to form us to the fight ; 
When a murmuring sound broke out, and swelled 

into a shout 
Among the godless horsemen upon the tyrant's 

right. 

And hark ! like the ioar of the billows on the 

shore, 
The cry of battle rises along their charging line ! 
For God ! for the cause ! — for the Church ! for 

the laws ! 
For Charles, king of England, and Rupert of the 

Rhine ! 

The furious German comes, with his clarions and 

his drums. 
His bravoes of Alsatia, and jiages of Whitehall ; 
They are bursting on our llauks. Grasp your 

pikes ! Close your ranks ! 
.Fur Rupert never comes but to couijuer, or to 

fall. 

They are here ! Tliey rush on ! We are broken ! 

We are gone ! 
Our left is borne before them like stubble on the 

blast. 
O Lord, put foith thy might ! Lord, defend 

the right ! 
Stand back to back, in Ciod's name ! and fight it 

to the last ! 

Stout Skippon liath a wound ; the centre hath 

given ground : 
Hark ! hark ! what means the trampling of 

hoi'semen on our rear ? 
A\'hose banner do I see, boys i 'T is he ! thank 

God ! 't is he, boys ! 
Bear up another minute ! Brave Oliver is here. 

Their heads all stooping low, their points all in 

a row, 
Like a whirlwind on the trees, like a deluge on 

the dikes, 



1'OE.MS UF I'ATIUUTISM AND FKEEDCJ.M. 



577 



Our cuirassiers Imw bui-st on lliu niiik> of tlic 

Aceuisl, 
And at a sliock have scattered the forest of his 

pikes. 

Fast, fast the gallants ride, in some safe nook to 

hide 
Their coward heads, prfdestined to rot on Teni- 

[ile liar ; 

And he, — he turns, he Hies ; — shame on those 

cruel eyes 
That bore to look on torture, and dare not look 

on war ! 

llo ! comrades, scour the jdain ; and, ere ye strip 
the slaii]. 

First give another stab to make your search se- 
cure ; 

Then shake from sleeves and pockets tlieir broad- 
pieces and lockets, 

The tokens of the wanton, the plunder of tlie 
poor. 

Fools ! your doubluts shone witli yold, and your 

hearts were jjay and bold, 
When you kissed your lily hands to your lemans 

to-day ; 
And to-morrow shall the fox, from her chambers 

in the rocks, 
lA'ad forth her tawny cubs to howl above the prey. 

AVhere be your tongues that late mocked at 
heaven and hell and fate ? 

And the fingers that once were so busy with your 
blades, 

Your perfumed satin clothes, your catches and 
your oaths ! 

Your stage-plays and your sonnets, your dia- 
monds and your spades ? 

Down ! down ! forever down, with the mitre and 

the crown ; 
With the Belial of the court, and the Mammon 

of the Pope ! 
There is woe in Oxford halls ; there is wail in 

Durham's stalls ; 
:■• Jesuit smites his bosom ; the bishop rends 

his cope. 

And she of the seven hills shall mourn her clnl- 

dren's ills. 
And tremble when she thinks on the edge of 

England's swoid ; 
And the kings of earth in fear shall shudder 

when they hear 
What the hand of God hath wrought for the 

Houses and the Woi-d ! 

Thomas Babington macaulav. 



THE 



HARP THAT ONCE THKOUGH 
TAKA'S HALLS. 



The harp that once through Tara's halls 

The soul of music shed. 
Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls 

As if that sold were lied. 
So sleeps the pride of former days, 

So glory's thrill is o'er. 
And lu^arts that once beat high for praise 

Now feel that pulse no more ! 

No more to chiefs and ladies bright 

The harp of Tara swells ; 
The chord alone that breaks at night 

Its tale of ruin tells. 
Thus Freeilom now so seldom wakes. 

The oidy throb she gives 
Is when some heart indignant breaks. 

To show that still she lives. 

Thouas Moore. 



AS BY THE SHORE AT BREAK OF 
DAY. 

As by the shore, at break of day, 
A van(|uished chief cvpiring lay. 
Upon the sands, with broken sword. 

He traced his t'arewcdl to the free ; 
And there the last unfinished word 

He dying wrote, was " Liljcrty ! " 

At night a sea-bird shrieked the knell 
Of him wlio thus for freedom fell ; 
The words he wrote, ere evening came. 

Were covered by the sounding sea ; — • 
So pass away the cause and name 

Of him who dies for liberty ! 

Thomas Moore. 



GOUOAUNE BARRA. 

fThp lake of GouK.iune Barra, i. c. the hollow, or recess of St, 
I-'iim liar, in the ruyticd Itrritory of llih-Laoghairc (the O'Lcarys' 
c'liiiury) in the west end of the county of Cork, is the parent of the 
rii er Lee. Its waters embrace a small but verdant islanJ of about 
half an acre in exteiu, which approaches its eastern shore The 
lake, as its name implies, is situate in a deep hollow, surrounded on 
every side (save the cast, where its superabundant waters arc dis- 
charned) by vast and almost periJcndicular mountains, whose d.-irk 
inverted shadows are yloomily reflected in its still waters bo-ncatli.] 

There is a green island in lone Gou(,'ivune Ban*a, 
Where Allua of songs rushes forth as an arrow : 
In deep-valleyed Desmond — a tliousand wild 

fountains 
Come down to that lake from their home in the 

mountains. 
There grows the wild ash, and a time-stricken 

willow 
Looks chidin^lv down nti the mirth of the billow : 



578 



POEMS OF rAl'ltlOTISM AND FREEDOM. 



As, like soiiio gay cluUi, that sail monitor scorn- 
It lightly laughs back to the laugh ol' the inuruing. 

And its zone of dark hills, — 0, to see them all 
brightening, 

When the tempest ilings out its red lianner of 
lightning. 

And the waters rush down, luiil the thunder's 
deep rattle. 

Like clans from their hills at the voice of the 
battle ; 

And brightly the fire-crested billows are gleaming, 

And wildly from Mullagh the eagles are scream- 
ing ! 

0, where is the dwelling, in valley or highland. 

So meet for a bard as this lone little island ? 

How oft, when the summer sun rested on Clara, 
And lit the dark heath on the hills of Ivera, 
Have 1 sought thee, sweet spot, from my home 

by the ocean. 
And trod all thy wilds with a minstrel's devotion, 
And thought of thy bards, when assembling to- 
gether. 
In the cleft of thy rocks, or the depth of thy 

heather ; 
They lleil from the Saxon's dark bondage and 

slaughtei'. 
And waked their last song by the rush <if thy 
water. 

High sons of the lyre, O, Iiow proud was the 
feeling, 

To think while alone through that solitude steal- 
ing. 

Though loftier minstrels gi-een Eriu can number, 

I only awoke your wild harp from its slumber. 

And mingled onee more with the voice of tliose 
fountains 

The songs even Echo forgot on her ininintains ; 

And gleaned each gray legend that darkly was 
sleeping 

Where the mist and the rain o'er their lieauty 
were creeping ! 

Least bard of the hills, — were it nunc to inherit 
The fire of thy harp and the wing of thy spirit, 
With the wrongs wliich like thee to our country 

have bound me, 
Did your mantle of song tling its radiance around 

me, 
Still, still in those wilds might vonng Libertv 

rally. 
And send her strong shout over mountain and 

valley, 
The star of the west might yet rise in its glory. 
And the land that was darkest be brightest in 

storv. 



I too shall be gone; — but my name shall bo 

spoken 
When Erin awakes and her fetters are broken. 
Some minstrel will come, in the summer eve's 

gleaming. 
When Freedom's young light on his spirit is 

beaming, 
And bend o'er my grave with a tear of emotion, 
Where calm Avon-Buee seeks the kisses of ocean, . 
Or plant a wild wreath, from the banks of that 

river. 
O'er the heart and the harp that are sleeping 

forever. 

JAMES JOSLiMI CALLv\NAr<. 



EXILE OF EKIN. 

There came to the beach a poor exi'e of Erin, 

The dew on his thin robe was heavy and ehill ; 
For his counti-y he sighed, when at twiliglit re- 
pairing 
To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill. 
But the day-star attracted his eye's sad devotion. 
For it rose o'er his own native isle of the ocean. 
Where once, in the fire of his youthful emotion. 
He sang the bold anthem of Erin go bragh. 

Sad is my fate ! said the heart-broken stranger ; 

The wild deer and wolf to a covert can flee. 
But I have no refuge from famine and danger, 

A home and a country remain not to me. 
Never again in the green sunny bowers 
Where my forefathers lived shall 1 spend the 

'sweet hours. 
Or cover my harp with the wild-woven Mowers, 

And strike to the numbers of Eriu go bragh ! 

Erin, my country ! though sad and forsaken. 
In dreams I revisit thy sea-ljeaten shore ; 

But, alas ! in a far foreign land 1 awaken. 

And sigh for the friends who can meet me no 
more ! 

cruel fate ! wilt thou never replace me 

In a mansion of peace, where no perils can chase 
me? 

Never again sludl my brothers embrace me? 
They died to defend me, or live tn iii'|ilore ! 

Where is my cabin door, fast by the wiMwood ? 

Sisters and sire, did ye weep for its l.iil ! 
Where is the mother that looked on my child- 
hood ? 

And where is the bosom-friend, dearer than all ! 
my sad heart ! long abandoned by pleasure, 
M'hy did it dote on a fast-fading treasure ? 
Tears, like the raiu-drop, may fall without 
measure, 

But rapture and beauty they cannot recall. 



POEMS OF PATRIOTISM AND FREEDOM 



579 



Ytl, nil ita sad recollections suppressing, 
One dying wish my lone bosom can draw, — 

Knn, an exile bei|Ueaths thee his blessing ! 
Land of my I'oret'athers, Erin go bragh ! 

huried and colli, when my heart stills her motion, 

(iieen be thy fields, sweetest isle of the ocean ! 

And thy harp-striking bards sing aloud with 
ilevotion, — 
Erin mavourneen, Erin go bragh ! * 

THOMAS CaMPUP.LL. 



MY NATIVE LAND. 

It chanced to me upon a time to sail 

Across the Southern ocean to and fro ; 
And, landing at fair isles, by stream and vale 

Of sensuous blessing did we ofttimes go. 
And mouths of dreamy joys, like joys in sleep, 

Or like a clear, calm stream o'er mossy stone, 
I'linoted passed our hearts with voiceless sweep, 

And left us yearning still for lands unknown. 

And when we found one, — for 't is soon to find 

In tliousand-isled Cathay another isle, — 
For one short noon its treasures tilled the mind. 

And then again we yearned, and ceased to 
smile. 
And so it was, from isle to isle we passed, 

Like wanton Iwes or boys on tlowei's or lips ; 
And when that all was tasted, then at last 

We thirsted still for draughts instead of sips. 

I !■ ;irned from this there is no Southern land 

' in till with love the hearts of Xortliern men. 
Mik minds need change ; but, when in health 
they stand 

'Xeath foreign skies, their love flies home agen. 
And thus with me it was : the yearning turned 

From laden airs of cinnamon away, 
And streti'hed far westward, while the full heart 
burned 

With love for Ireland, looking on Cathay ! 

My first dear love, all dearer for thy grief ! 

My land, that has no |ieer in all the sea 
For verdure, vale, or river, (lower or leaf, — 

If first to no man else, thou'rt first to me. 
New loves may come with duties, but the first 

Is deepest yet, — the mother's breath and 
smiles : 
Like that kind face and breast where I was nursed 

Is my poor land, the Niobe of isles. 

John Boyle O'Reilly. 

• Ireland my darling, Ireland forever I 



IRELAND. 

1847- 
they are dying 



where thi 



They are dying ! 

gulden corn is growing ; 
They are dying ! they are dying ! where the 

crowded herds are lowing ; 
Tliey are gasping for existence where the streams 

of life are flowing. 
And they perish of the plague where the breeze 

of health is blowing ! 

God of justice ! God of power ! 

Do we dream ? Can it be, 
In this land, at this hour. 

With the blossom on the tree, 
In the gladsome month of May, 
When the young lambs play, 
When Nature looks around 

On her waking children now, 
The seed within the ground, 

The bud upon the bough ? 
Is it right, is it fair, 
That we perish of despair 
In this land, on this soil. 

Where nur destiny is set, 
Whii'h we cultured with our toil. 

And watered with our sweat ? 
We have ploughed, we have sown 
But the crop was not our own ; 
We have reaped, but harjiy hands 
Swept the harvest from our lands ; 
We were perishing for food, 
W'lien lo ! in pitying mood. 
Our kindly rulers gave 
The fat fluid of the slave, 
While our corn filled the manger 
Of the war-horse of the stranger ! 

God of mercy ! must this last ? 

Is this land preordained. 
For the present and the past 

And the future, to be chained, — 

To be ravaged, to be drained, 
To be robbed, to lie spoiled, 

To lie hushed, to be whipt. 

Its soaring ]iinions dipt. 
And its every cll'ort foiled 1 

Do our numbei-s multiply 
But to perish and to die ' 

Is this all our destiny below, — 
That our bodies, as they rot. 
May fertilize the spot 

Where the harvestsof the stranger grow? 

If this be, indeed, our fate. 
Far, far better now, though late. 



580 



I'OKMS OF I'ATlilOTISM AND KHKKDOM. 



That wo sook some othur Ininl niul try some other 
zone ; 
The coUleat, bliMkost .shore 
Will surely yield us uiore 
Thuu the storeliDUse of the struuger lliut we dare 
not cull our own. 

Kindly brothers of the West, 
Who from Liberty's full breast 
Hiivo fed us, who are oriihans lieneath a stcp- 
diuuo's frown. 
Behold our hiqipy stiite, 
Ami weep your wretched fate 
That you share not in the splendors of our em- 
pire and our crown ! 

Kindly brothers of the East, — 
Thou great tiaraod priest, 
Thou sanctified Eienzi of Kome and of the 
earth, — 
Or thou who boar'st control 
Over golden Istambol, 
Who felt for our misfortunes anil helped i\s in 
our dearth, — 

Turn here your wondering eyes, 
("all your wis<ist of the wise. 
Your muftis and your ministers, your men of 
deepest lore ; 
Let the sagest of your sages 
Ope our island's mystic pages, 
And explain unto your highness the wonders of 
our shore. 

A fruitful, teeming soil. 
Where llie patient peasants toil 
Beneath the summer's sun and tlie watery winter 
sky ; 
Whei'e they tend tlie golden grain 
Till it bends upon the jilain. 

Then reap it for the stranger, and turn aside Iodic; 

I 

Whore tlioy watcli their tlocks increase. 
And store the snowy Heece 
Till they send it to their masters to lie woven 
o'er the waves ; 
Where, having sent their meat 
For the foreigner to eat. 
Their mission is fulfdled, and they creep into 
their graves. 

T is for this they are dying where the golden 

corn is growing, 
"r is for this they are dying where the crowded 

lierds ale lowing. 
'T is for this Ihey are dying where the streams 

of life ni-e flowing. 
Ami they perish of the pla!.;ne whore the lireiv<> 

of health is blowing ! 

DKNIS FLORENCR MAC.CARTHV. 



SONG OF THE GREEK POET. 

FROM "DON JUAN." CANTO III. 

The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece ! 

Where burning Sappho loved and sung, ■ 
Whore grew the arts of war and peace, — 

Where Delos rose, and Phieluis sprung ! 
Eternal summer gilds them yet ; 
But all, except their sun, is set. 

The Scian and the Teian muse. 
The hero's harp, the lover's lute. 

Have fouiul the lame your shores refuse ; 
Their phu'c of birth alone is mute 

To sounds w hich echo farther west 

Than your sires' "Islands of the Blest." 

The mountains look on Marathon, 
And Marathon looks on the sea ; 

And musing there an hour alone, 

I dreamed that Greece might still be frej 

For, standing on the Persians' grave, 

I could not deem mysidf a slave. 

A king sat on the rocky brow 

Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis; 

And ships iiy thousands lay below. 
And men in nations, — all were his ! 

He counted them at break of day, — 

And when the sun set, where were they ? 

And where are they ? and where art thou, 
My country ! On thy voiceless shore 

The heroic lay is tuneless now, — 
The heroic bosom beats no more ! 

And must thy lyre, so long divine, 

Degenerate into hands like mine '? 

'T is something, in the dearth of fame, 
Thougli linked among a fettered race. 

To feel at least a patriot's shame, 
Even as I sing, sutl'use my face ; 

For what is left the jioet here ? 

For Ci reeks a blush, ^ for Grei'ce a tear. 

Must we but weep o'er days more blest ' 
JIust we but blush ! — our fathers bled. 

Earth ! render back from out thy breast 
A remnant of onr Spartan dead ! 

llf the three luilidrcd. grant but three 

To make a new Thermopyhe ! 

What, silent still ? and silent all ? 

Ah, no ! the voices of the dead 
Sound like a distant torrent's fall. 

And answer, " Lot one living head. 
But one, arise, — we come, we come ! " 
'T is b:it the living "ho are dumb. 



POEMS OF PATRIOTISM AND FREEDOM. 



581 



III vain, — in vain ; sti'iki! otluf chords ; 

Kill high tho iii|i with Saiiiimi wine I 
Leave biitth'S to the Turkish hordes, 

And slii'd the lilood of Scio's vine ! 
ilurk ! rising to the ignohle call, 
Mow answers each bold Uacchunal ! 

Voii have the Pyrrhic dance as yet, — 
Wliere is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone ? 

I 'I' two .such lessons, why forget 
Tho nobler and the nianlier one ? 

Von have the lettera Cadmus gave, — 

Think ye be meant them for a slave ? 

Fill high the bowl with Samian wine ! 

We will not tliink of themes like these ! 
It made Anacreon's song divine : 

He served, but served Polycratcs, — 
A tyrant ; but our masters then 
Were still, at least, our countrymen. 

The tyrant of the Chersonese 

Was freedom's best and bravest friend ; 
That tymnt Wius Miltiades ! 

<> that the present hour would lend 
Another despot of the kind! 
Such eliains as his were sure to bind. 

Fill high the bowl with Samian wine ! 

On Siili's rock and Parga's shore 
Exists the remnant of a line 

.Such as the Doric mothers bore ; 
And tlieie perhajis some seed is sown 
The Hcracleidan blood might own. 

Trust not for freedom to the Franks, — 
They have a king who buys and sells : 

In native swords, and native ranks, 
The only hope of courage dwells ; 

But Turkish force, and Latin fraud, 

Would break your shield, however broad. 

Fill high the bowl with .Sniiiian wine ! 

Our virgins dance beneath the shade, — 
I sec their glorious black eyes shine ; 

But, gazing on each glowing maid. 
My own the burning tear-drop laves. 
To think such breasts must suckle slaves. 

Place me on .Siininin's marbled steep, 
Where nothing, save the waves and I, 

May hear our mutual murmurs sweep ; 
There, swan-like, let me sing and die. 

A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine, — 

Dash down yon cup of Samian wine I 

LORD BVRON, 



GREECE. 

FROM "CHILDK HAROLD." CANTO. II. 

Fair Greece ! sad relic of departed worth ! 
Immortal, though no more ; though fallen, 

great ! 
Who now shall lead thy scattered children fortli, 
And long-accustomed bondage uncrcato ! 
Not such thy sons who whilom did await, 
The hopeless warriors of a willing doom. 
In bleak Therniopyhe's se]>ulchral strait, — 
0, who that gallant spirit shall resume. 
Leap from Eurotas' banks, and call tliec from 
the tomb J 

Spirit of Freedom ! when on Phyle's brow 
Thou sat'st with Thrasybulus and his train, 
Couldst thou forebode the dismal hour which 

now 
Dims the green beauties of thine Attic plain ? 
Not thirty tyrants now enforce the chain, 
But every carlo can lord it o'er thy land ; 
Nor rise thy sons, but idly rail in vain, 
Treinblingbeneatli the scourge of Turkish hand, 
From birth till death enslaved ; in word, in deed, 

unmanned. 

Ill all save form alone, how idiangeil ! and who 
That marks the lire still sparkling in each eye. 
Who but would deem (heir bosoms burned anew 
With thy un(pieiic-lied beam, lost Liberty ! 
And many dream withal the hour is nigh 
That gives them back their fathers' heritage ; 
For foreign arms and aid they fondly sigh, 
Nor solely dare encounter hostile rage. 
Or tear their name dc-liled from Slavery's mourn- 
ful page'. 

Hereilitary bondsmen ! know ye not, 

Who would be free themselves must strike the 

blow ? 
By their right arms the comiuest must bo 

wrought '! 
Will Gaul or Muscovite redress ye ? No ! 
True, they may lay your proud despoilers low. 
But not for you will Freedom's altars Maine. 
Shades of the Helots ! trium[ih o'er your foe ! 
Greece I change thy lords, thy .state is still the 

same ; 

Thy glorious day is o'er, but not thy years of 

shame ! 

Lord Bvron. 



GREECE. 

FROM "THE GIAOUR.* 

Climk of the nnforgotten brave ! 
Who.se land, from plain to mountain-cave, 
AVas Freedom's home or Glory's grave I 
Shrine of the mighty ! can it be 



582 



POEMS OF PATRIOTISM AND FREEDOM. 



Tliat tins is all reniaiiis of thue ^ 
Aiijiroach, thou craven, crouching slave ; 

Say, is not this Thermopylte ? 
These waters blue that round you lave, 

servile oft'spring of the free, — 
Pronounce what sea, what shore is this? 
The gulf, the rook of Salainis ! 
These scenes, their story not unknown. 
Arise, and make again your own ; 
Snatch from the aslies of your sires 
The embers of their former tires ; 
And lie who in the strife expires 
Will add to theirs a name of fear 
That Tyranny shall quake to hear, 
And leave his sons a ho]je, a fame, 
They too will rather die than shame ; 
For Freedom's battle once begun. 
Bequeathed by bleeding sire to son. 
Though baffled oft is ever won. 
Bear wituess, Greece, thy living page ; 
Attest it, many a deathless age ; 
While kings, in dusty darkness hid. 
Have left a nameless pyramid. 
Thy heroes, though the general doom 
Hath swept the column from their tomb, 
A mightier monument command, 
The mountains of their native land ! 
There points thy Muse to stranger's eye 
The graves of tliose that cannot die ! 
'T were long to tell, and sad to trace. 
Each step from splendor to disgrace : 
Enough, — no foreign foe could quell 
Thy soul, till from itself it fell ; 
Yes ! self-abasement paved the way 
To villain-bonds and despot sway. 

What can he tell who treads thy shore ? 

No legend of thine olden time, 
No theme on which the Muse might soar, 
High as thine own in days of yore. 

When man was worthy of thy clime. 
The hearts within thy valleys bred, 
The tiery souls that might have led 

Thy sons to deeds sublime. 
Now crawl from cradle to the grave. 
Slaves — nay, the bondsmen of a slave, 

And callous save to crime. 

LORD BVRON. 



MARCO BOZZARIS. 

[Marco Bozzaris. the Epaminondas of modern Greece, fell in a 
•lijjhl attack upon the Turkish camp at Laspi, the site of the an. 
cient Platsa, Aug. 20, 1823, and expired in the moment of victory. 
His 'ast words were : " To die for Uberty is a pleasure, and not a 
pain, "J 

At midnight, in his guarded tent. 
The Turk was dreaming of the hour 

Wlien Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, 
Shouhl tremble at his power. 



In dreams, through caiup and court, he bore 
The trojihies of a conqueror ; 

In dreams his song of triumph heard ; 
Then wore his monarcli's signet-ring. 
Then pres.sed that monarch's throne — a king ; 
As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, 

As Eden's garden bird. 

At midnight, in the forest shades, 

Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band, — 
True as the steel of their tried blades, 

Heroes in heart anil hand. 
There had the Persian's thousands stood. 
There had the glad earth drunk their blood. 

On old Plataja's day ; 
And now there breathed that haunted air 
The sons of sires who conquered there, 
With arm to strike, and soul to dare, 

As quick, as far, as they. 

An hour passed on, the Turk awoke : 

That bright dream was his last ; 
He woke — to hear his sentries shriek, 

' ' To arms ! they come ! the Greek ! the G reek ! " 
He woke — to die midst flame, and smoke, 
And shout, and groan, and sabre-stroke. 

And death-shots falling thick and fast 
As lightnings from the mountain-cloud ; 
And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, 

Bozzaris cheer his band : 
"Strike — till tire last armed foe empires ; 
Strike — for your altars and your fires ; 
Strike — for the green graves of your sires, 

God, and your native land ! " 

They fought — like brave men, long and well ; 

They piled that ground with Moslem slain : 
They conquered — but Bozzaris fell. 

Bleeding at every vein. 
His few surviving comrades saw 
His smile when rang their proud hurrah. 

And the red field was won ; 
Then saw in death his eyelids close 
Calmly, as to a night's repose, 

Like flower.s at set of sun. 

Come to the bridal chamber, Death, 
Come to the mother, when she feels. 

For the first time, her first-born's breath ; 
Come when the blessed seals 

That close the pestilence are broke, 

And crowded cities wail its stroke ; 

Come in consumption's ghastly form. 

The earthquake shock, the ocean storm ; 

I 'ome when the heart beats high and warm, 
With banquet song and dance and wine, — 

-And thou art terrible ; the tear, 



POEMS OF PATRIOTISM AND FREEDOM. 



583 



Tho groiin, the knell, the |m11, tliu bier, 
Ami all we know, or dream, or fear 
Of agony, are thine. 

lint to the hero, when liis swonl 

Has won the hittle for the fiee. 
Thy voire sounds like a i)ro|)het's word, 
And in its hollow tones are heard 

The thanks of millions yet to be. 
Come when his task of fame is wrought ; 

< 'onie with her laurel-leaf, blood-bought ; 

Come in her crowning hour, — aud then 
Thy sunken eye's unearthly light 
To him is welcome as the sight 

Of sky aud stars to prisoned men ; 
Thy grasp is welcome as the hand 
(")f brother in a foreign land ; 
Thy summons welcome as the cry 
That told the Indian isles were nigh 

To the world-seeking Genoese, 
When the land-wind, from woods of palm. 
And orange-groves, and lields of balm. 

Blew o'er the Haytian seas. 

Bozzaris ! with the storied brave 

Greece nurtured in her gloiy's time. 
Rest thee ; there is no prouder grave, 

Even in her own proud clime. 
She wore no funeral weeds for thee, 

Nor bade the dark hearse wave its plume, 
Like torn branch from death's leafless tree. 
In sorrow's pomp and pageantry. 

The heartless lu.xuiy of the tomb. 
But she remembers thee as one 
Long loved, and for a season gone. 
For thee her poet's lyre is wreathed. 
Her marble wrought, her nmsic breathed ; 
For thee she rings the birthday bells ; 
Of thee her babes' first lisping tdls ; 
I'or thine her evening prayer is said 
At palace couch and cottjige lied. 
Her soldier, closing with the foe, 

< iives for thy sake a deadlier blow ; 
His plighted maiden, when she feara 
For him, the joy of her young years, 
Tliinks of thy fate, and checks her tears. 

And she, the mother of thy boys. 
Though in her eye and faded cheek 
Is read the grief she will not speak, 

The memory of her buried joys, — 
And even she who gave thee birth, — 
Will, by her pilgrim-circled hearth. 

Talk of thy doom without a sigh ; 
For thou art freedom's now, and fame's, — 
One of the few, the immortal names 

Tliat were not born to die. 

FlT2-GRBENe HALLECK 



POLAND. 

FROM "THU rLEASUKlIS OF IIQPF." PART t. 

Wak.saw's last I'haiupion from her height sur- 
veyed, 
Wide o'er the fields, a waste of ruin laid ; 
" Heaven I " he cried, " my bleeding country 

save ! — 
Is there no hand on high to shield the brave ! 
Yet, though destruction sweep these lovely plains. 
Rise, fellow-nieu ! our country yet remains ! 
By that dread name, we wave the sword on high. 
And swear for her to live — with Iter to die ! " 
He said, and on the rampart-heights arrayed 
His trusty warriors, few, but undismayed ; 
Firm-paced and slow, a horrid front they form, 
Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm ; 
Low nmrmuring sounds along their banners fly, 
Revenge, or death, — the watchword and reply ; 
Then pealed the notes, omnipotent to charm. 
And the loud tocsin tolled their last alarm ! — 

In vain, alas ! in vain, ye gallant few ! 
Fram rank to rank your volleyed thunder flew : — 
0, bloodiest picture in the book of Time ! 
Sarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime ; 
Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe, 
Strength in her arms, nor mercy in lier woe ! 
Dropped from her nerveless grasp the shattered 

spear. 
Closed her bright eye, and curbed her high career ; 
Hope, for a season, bade the world farewell, 
Aud Freedom shrieked — as Kosciusko fell ! 

Thomas Campbell. 



MEN AND BOYS. 

The storm is out ; the land is roused ; 
Where is the coward who sits well housed ? 
Fie on thee, boy, disguised in curls, 
Behind the stove, 'mong gluttons and girls ! 

A graceless, worthless wight thou must be ; 

No German maid desires thee. 

No German song inspires thee, 

No German Rhine-wine fires thee. 
Forth in the van, 
Man by man. 

Swing the battle-sword who can ! 

When we stand watching, the livelong night, 
Through piping storms, till morning light, 
Thou to thy downy bed canst cicc]i, 
And there in dreams of rapture sleep. 
A graceless, worthless wight, etc. 

When, hoarse and shrill, the trumpet's blast. 
Like the thunder of God, makes our hearts beat 
fast. 



584 



POEMS OF PATRIOTISM AND FREEDOM. 



Thou in the theatre lov'st to ainx-^ir, 
Where trills and quavers tickle the ear. 
A graceless, worthless wight, etc. 

Wlien the glare of noonday scorches the brain, 
When our parehkl lips seek water in vain. 
Thou canst make champagne corks Hy 
At the groaning tables of Ui.xury. 

A graceless, worthless wight, etc. 

When we, as we rush to the strangling fight, 
Send home to our true-loves a long " Good- 
night," 
Thou canst hie thee wliere love is sold, 
And buy thy pleasure with paltry gold. 
A graceless, worthless wight, etc. 

When lance and bullet come whistling by, 
And death in a thousand shapes draws nigh. 
Thou canst sit at thy cards, and kill 
King, rjueen, and knave with thy s]iadille. 
A graceless, worthless wight, etc. 

If on the red lield our bell .should toll, 
Then welcome be death to the patriot's soul ! 
Thy pampered llesh shall ipiake at its doom, 
And crawl in silk to a hopeless tomb. 
A pitiful exit thine shall be ; 
No German maid shall weep for thee, 
No German song shall they sing for thee. 
No German goblets shall ring for thee. 
Forth in the van, 
Man for man. 
Swing the battle-sword who can ! 

From the German nf KoRNER. Trans- 
lation of Charles t. brooks. 



THE MARSEILLAISE. 

Ye sons of freedom, wake to gloiy ! 

Hark ! hark ! what myriads bid you rise ! 
Your chililren, wives, and gramlsires hoary, 

Hehold their tears and hear their cries ! 
Shall hateful tyrants, mischiefs breeding, 
With hireling hosts, a ruffian band, 
Affright and desolate the land. 
While peace and liberty lie bleeding ? 
To arms ! to arms ! ye brave ! 

The avenging sword unsheathe ; 
March on ! march on ! all hearts resolved 
On victory or death. 

Now, now the dangerous storm is rolling. 
Which treacherotis kings confederate raise ; 

The dogs of war, let loose, are howling, 
Andlo ! our fields and cities blaze ; 



And shall we basely view the ruin. 

While lawless force, with guilty stride, 
Spreads desolation far and wide. 

With crimes and blood his hands imbruing. 
To arms ! to arms ! ye brave, etc. 

Liberty ! can man resign thee. 

Once having felt thy generous flame ? 
Can dungeons, bolts, or bars confine thee? 

Or whips thy noble spirit tame ? 
Too long the world has wept, bewailing 
That falsehood's dagger tyrants wield, 
But freedom is our sword and shield. 
And all their arts are unavailing. 

To arms ! to arms ! ye brave, etc. 

Abbreviated, from tlic French of ROUGET HE LISLE- 



MAKE WAY FOR LIBERTY. 

[On the exploit of Arnold Winkelried at the battle of Semp.-\i;h, 
in the fourteenth century, in which the Swiss, fighting for their in- 
dependence, totally defeated the Austrians.] 

" Make way for Liberty ! " — he cried ; 
Made way for Liberty, and dietl ! 

In arras the Austrian phahuix stood, 
A living wall, a human wood ! 
A wall, where every conscious stone 
Seemed to its kindred thousands grown ; 
A rampart all assaults to bear. 
Till time to dust their frames should wear ; 
A wood, like that euchanteil grove 
In which with fiends Kinaldo strove, 
Where every silent tree possessed 
A spirit prisoned in its breast, 
Which the first stroke of coming strife 
Would startle into hideous life : 
So dense, so still, the Austrians stood, 
A living wall, a human wood ! 
Impregnable their front appears. 
All horrent with projected spears. 
Whose polished points before them shine, 
From flank to flank, one brilliant line. 
Bright as the breakers' splendors run 
Along the billows to the sun. 

Opposed to these, a hovering band 
Contended for their native land : 
Peasants, whose new-fouuil strength had broke 
From manly necks the ignoble yoke. 
And forged their I'ettei-s into swortls. 
On equal terras to fight their lords. 
And what insurgent rage had gained 
In many a mortal fray maintained : 
Marshalled once more at Freedom's call, 
They came to conquer or to fall. 
Where he who coni|uered, he who fell. 
Was deemed a dead, or living. Tell ! 



I'OEMS OK r.VTKIOTISM AM) FKEEUUM. 



585 



Such virtue luul that patriot breatlied, 
So to tlie soil liis soul bfijufathril, 
'I'lint wlierosoe'cr liis arrows flew 
Monies in his owji likeness grew, 
Ami warriors sprang from every sod 
Which his awakening footstep trod. 

And now the work of life and death 
Hung on the passing of a breath ; 
The lire of conflict burnt within, 
The battle trembled to begin : 
Yet, while the Austrians held their ground, 
Point for attack was nowhere found ; 
Where'er the impatient Switzers gazed, 
The unbroken line of lances blazed : 
That line 't were suicide to meet, 
And perish at their tyrants' feet, — 
How could they rest within their graves. 
And leave their homes the homes of slaves ? 
Would they not feel their children tread 
With clanging chains above their head .' 

It must not be : this day, this hour. 
Annihilates the oppressor's power ; 
All Switzerland is in the field. 
She will not fly, she cannot yield, — 
She must not fall ; her better liite 
Here gives her an immortal date. 
Few were the numbers she could boast ; 
But everj' freeman was a host. 
And felt as though himself were he 
On whose sole arm hung victory. 

It did depend on one indeed ; 
Beliold hmi, — Arnold Winkelried ! 
There sounds not to the trump of fame 
The echo of a nobler name. 
Unmarked he stood amid the throng, 
In rumination deep and long, 
Till you might see, with sudden grace, 
The very thought come o'er his face, 
.•\nd by the motion of his form 
Anticipate the bursting storm. 
And by the uplifting of his brow 
Tell where the bolt wouhi strike, and how. 

But 'twas no sooner thought than done. 
The field was in a moment won : — ■ 

" Make way for Liberty ! " he cried, 
Then ran, with arms extended wide. 
As if his dearest friend to clasp ; 
Ten spears he swept within his grasp. 

" Make way for Liberty ! " he cried ; 
Their keen points met from side to side ; 
He bowed amongst them like a tree, 
.\nd thus made way for Liberty. 



Swift to the breach his comrades fly ; 
" Make way for Liberty"! " they cry, 
And through the Austrian phalan.\ dart. 
As rushed the spears through Arnold's heart ; 
While, instantaneous as his fall, 
Uout, ruin, panic, scattered all : 
An earthipuike I'ould not overthrow 
A city with a surer blow. 

Thus Switzerland again was free ; 
Thus Death made way for Liberty ! 

James Montcomerv. 



SWITZERLAND. 



FROM "WILLIAM TELL." 



O.NCE Switzerland was free ! With what a pride 
I used to walk these hills, — look up to heaven, 
And bless God that it was so ! It was free 
From end to end, from cliff to lake 't was free ' 
Free as our torrents are, that leap our rocks, 
And plough our valleys, without asking leave ; 
Or as our peaks, that wear their caps of snow 
In very presence of the regal sun ! 
How happy was 1 in it then ! I loved 
Its very storms. Ay, often have I sat 
In my boat at night, when, midway o'er the late. 
The stars went out, and down the mountain gorgf 
The wind came roaring, — I have sat and eyed 
The thunder breaking from his cloud, and smiled 
To see him shake his lightnings o'er my head. 
And think — I had no master save his own ! 

James Sheridan Knowles. 



A COURT LADY. 

Her hair was tawny with gold, her eyes with 
purple were dark, 

Her clieeks' pale opal burnt with a red and rest- 
less spark. 

Never was lady of Milan nnbler in name and in 

race ; 
Never was lady of Italy fairer to see in the face. 

Never was lady on I'artli more true as woman and 

wife, 
Larger in judgment ami instinct, prouder in 

manners and life. 

She stood in the early morning, and said to her 

maidens, " Bring 
That silken robe made ready to wear at the court 

of the king. 



586 



POEJIS OF PATKIOTIS.M AND FREEDOM. 



" Bring me the clasps of diamoiKl, lucid, dear 

of the mote, 
Clasp me the large at the waist, and clasp me 

the small at the throat. 

" Diamonds to fasten the hair, and diamonds to 

fasten the sleeves, 
Laces to drop from their rays, like a powder of 

snow from the caves." 

Gorgeous she entered the sunlight which gath- 
ered her up in a flame, 

While straight, in her open carriage, she to the 
hospital came. 

In she went at the door, and gazing, from end 

to end, 
"Many and low are the pallets, but each is the 

place of a friend." 

Up she passed through the wards, and stood at 

a young man's bed : 
Bloody the baiul on his brow, and livid the 

droop of his head. 

"Art thou a Lombard, my brother? Happy 

art thou ! " she cried, 
And smiled like Italy on him : he dreamed in 

her face and died. 

Pale with his passing soul, she went on still to 
a second : 

He was a grave, hard man, whose years by dun- 
geons were reckoned. 

Wounds in his body were sore, wounds in his 

life were sorer. 
"Art thou a Honiagnole ?" Her eyes drove 

lightnings belbre her. 

"Austrian and priest had joined to double and 

tighten the cord 
Able to bind thee, strong one, — free by the 

stroke of a sword. 

" Now be grave for the vest of us, using the life 

overcast 
To ripen our wine of the present (too new) in 

glooms of the past." 

Down she stepped to a pallet where lay a face 

like a girl's. 
Young, and ]iathetic with dying, — a deep black 

hole in the curls. 

"Art thou from Tuscany, brother? and seest 

thou, dreaming in pain. 
Thy mother stand in the piazza, searching the 

list of the slain ? " 



Kind as a mother herself, she touched his cheeks 

with her hands : 
"Blessed is she who has borne thee, although 

she should weep as .she stands." 

On she passed to a Frcniliiuan, his arm cairied 

off by a ball : 
Kneeling, . . "0 more than my brother I how 

shall I thank thee for all ? 

" Each of the heroes around us has fought for 

his land and line. 
But thou hast fought for a stranger, in hate of a 

wrong not thine. 

" Happy are all free peoples, too strong to be dis- 
possessed ; 

But blessed are those among nations who dare to 
be strong for the rest ! " 

Ever she passed on her way, and came to a 

couch where pined 
One with a face from Venetia, white with a 

hope out of mind. 

Long she stood and gazed, and twice she tried at 

the name. 
But two great crystal tears were all that faltered 

and came. 

Only a tear for Venice ? — she turned as in pas- 
sion and loss. 

And stoo]ied to his forehead and kissed it, as if 
she were kissing the cross. 

Faint with that strain of heart, she moved on 

then to another. 
Stem and strong in his death. "And dost thou 

sutler, my brother ? " 

Holding his hands in hers : — " Out of the Pied- 
mont lion 

Cometh the sweetness of freedom I sweetest to 
live or to tlie on." 

Holding his cold, rough hands, — " Well, 0, 

well have ye done 
In noble, noble Piedmont, who would not be 

noble alone." 

Back he fell while she spoke. She rose to her 

feet with a spring, — 
"That was a Piedmontese ! and this is the 

Court of the King." 

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING 



rOE.MS OK P.VTKIoriSM AND FKEEDOM. 



587 



THK LANDING OF THE ril.r.IilM 
FATllEKS IN NEW ENGLAND. 

TiiK brcnkins wfives dasheil higli 
On ft stiTii mill I'ock-boiiiul ooiist, 

Ami the wiiixls iigaiiist a stormy sky 
Their giant branches tossed ; 

Anil tlie heavy night hniig dark 

The hills and waters o'er, 
When a band of exiles moored their bark 

On the wild New England shore. 

Not as the eonnueror conies, 

They, the true-hearted, eanie ; 
Not with the roll ol' the stirring drums, 

And the trumpet that sings ol' I'aniB : 

Not as the flying come, 

In silence and in fear ; — 
Tliey shook the depths of the desert gloom 

With their hymns of lofty cheer. 

Amidst tlie storm they sang, 

And the stars heard, and the sea ; 

And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang 
To the aiitheni of the free. 

The ocean eagle soared 

From his nest by the white wave's foam, 
And the rocking pines of the forest roared, ^- 

Tliis was their welcome home. 

There were men with hoary hair 

Amid.st that pilgrim-band : 
'Why had they come to wither there. 

Away from their childhood's land ? 

There was woman's fearless eye, 

Lit by her deep love's truth ; 
There was manhood's brow serenely high, 

And the fiery heart of youth. 

AVhat sought they thus afar ? 

Bright jewels of the mine ? 
The wealth of scjis, the spoils of war 'if — 

They sought a faith's pure shrine ! 

Ay, rail it lioly ground, 

Tlio soil where first they trod ; 
They have left unstained what there they found, — 

Freedom to worship God. 

Fr.LICIA HEMANS. 



In happy climes, where from the genial sun 
.\iid virgin earth such scenes ensue. 

The force of art by nature seems outdone. 
And fancied beauties by the true ; 

In happy climes, the seat of innocence, 
Where nature guides and virtue rules, 

Where men shall not impose for truth and sense 
The pedantry of courts and schools : 

There shall be sung another golden age. 

The rise of em|iire and of arts, 
The good and great inspiring epic rage. 

The wisest heads and noblest hearts. 

Not such as Europe breeds in her decay : 
Such as slie bred when fresh and young, 

When heavenly flame did animate her clay, 
By future poets shall be sung. 

Westward the course of empire takes its way ; 

The first four acts already past, 
A fifth shall close the drama with the day ; 

Time's noblest oll'spring is the last. 

Bishop George Berkeley. 



ON THE PRO.SPECT OF PLANTING ARTS 
AND LEARNING IN AMERICA. 

The Muse, disgusted .at an age and clime 

Barren of every glorious theme. 
In distant lands now waits a better time, 

Proilucing subjects worthy fame. 



AMERICA. 

jiiiTHEU of a mighty race, 
Yet lovely in thy youthful grace ! 
The elder dames, thy haughty peers, 
Admire and hate thy blooming years ; 

With words of shame 
And taunts of scorn they join thy name. 

For on thy cheeks the glow is spread 
That tints thy morning hills with red ; 
Thy step, — the wild deer's rustling feet 
Within thy woods are not more fleet ; 

Thy hopeful eye 
Is bright as thine own sunny sky. 

Ay, let them rail, those haughty ones, 
While safe thou dwellest with thy sons. 
They do not know how loved thou art, 
How many a fond and fearless heart 

Would rise to throw 
Its life between thee and the foe. 

They know not, in their hate and pride, 
What virtues with thy children liide, — 
How true, how good, thy graceful maids 
Make bright, like flowers, the valley shades ; 

What generous men 
Spring, like thine oaks, by hill and glen ; 

What cordial welcomes greet the guest 
By thy lone rivers of the west ; 



583 



POEMS OF PATRIOTISM AND FREEDOM. 



How faith is kept, ami tiutli revered, 
And mail is loved, and God is feared, 

In woodland homes. 
And where the ocean border foams. 

There 's freedom at thy gates, and rest 
For earth's down-trodden and opprest, 
A shelter for the limited head. 
For the starved laborer toil and bread. 

Power, at thy bounds. 
Stops, and calls back his baffled hounds. 

fair young mother ! on thy brow 
Shall sit a nobler grace than now. 
Deep in the brightness of thy skies, 
The thronging years in glory rise. 

And, as they Meet, 
Drop strength and riches at thy feet. 

Thine eye, with every coming hour, 
Shall brighten, and thy form shall tower ; 
And when thy sisters, elder born, 
Woidd brand thy name witli words of scorn. 

Before thine eye 
Upon their lips the taunt shall die. 

William Cullen Br\'ant, 



COLUMBIA. 

Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise. 
The queen of the world, and the child of the skies! 
Thy genius commands thee ; with rapture behold. 
While ages on ages thy splendors unfold. 
Thy reign is the last and the noblest of time. 
Most fruitful thy soil, most inviting thy clime ; 
Let the crimes of the east ne'er eiicrinison thy 

name, 
Be freedom and science and virtue thy fame. 

To conquest and slaughter let Europe ^isjiire ; 
Whelm nations in blood, and wrap cities in fire ; 
Thy heroes the rights of mankind shall defend, 
And triumph pureue them, and glory attend. 
A world is thy realm ; for a world be thy laws 
Enlarged as thine empire, anil just as thy iMiuse ; 
On Freedom's broad liasis that empire shall rise, 
E.xtend with the main, and dissolve with the skies. 

Fair Science her gates to thy sons shall unbar. 
And the East see thy morn hide the beams of her 

star ; 
New bards and new sages unrivalled shall soar 
To fame unextinguished when time is no more ; 
To thee, the last refuge of virtue designed. 
Shall Hy from all nations the best of mankind : 
Here, grateful to Heaven, with transport shall 

bring ■" 

Their iuceusc, mon' fras'int th:ni odors of sprhig. 



Nor less shall thy fair ones to glory ascend. 
And genius and beauty in harmony blend ; 
The graces of form shall awake pure desire. 
And the charms of the soul ever cherish the fire ; 
Theirsweetness unmingled, their manners refined, 
And virtue's bright image, enstaiiiped on the 

mind, 
With peace and soft rapture shall teach life to 

glow. 
And light up a smile on the aspect of woe. 

Thy fleets to all regions thy power shall display, 
The nations admire, and the ocean obey ; 
Each shore to thy glory its tribute unfold, 
And the East and the South yield their spices and 

gold. 
As the dayspriug unbounded thy splendor shall 

flow, 
And earth's little kingdoms before thee shall bow. 
While the ensigns of union, in triumph unfurled. 
Hush the tumult of war, and give peace to the 

world. 

Thus, as down a lone valley, with cedars o'er- 

spread, 
From war'sdread confusion, I pensively strayed, — 
The gloom from the face of fair heaven retired ; 
The wind ceased to murmur, the thunders ex- 
pired ; 
Perfumes, as of Eden, flowed sweetly along. 
And a voice, as of angels, enchautingly sung ; 
" Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise. 
The queen of the world, and the child of the 

skies ! " 

Timothy dwicht. 



AMERICA TO GREAT BRITAIN. 

All hail ! thou noble land. 
Our Fathers' native soil ! 
0, stretch thy mighty hand, 
Gigantic grown by toil, 
O'er the vast Atlantic wave to our shore ! 
For thou with magic might 
Canst reach to where the light 
Of Phcebus travels bright 
The world o'er ! 

The genius of our clime 

From his pine-embattled steep 
Shall hail the guest sublime ; 
While the Tritons of the deep 
With their conchs the kindred league shall pro- 
claim. 
Then let the world combine, — 
O'er the main our naval Hue 
Like the Milky Way shall shine 
I'riglit in fame ! 



POEMS OK PATRIOTISM AM) I'KEliDOM. 



589 



Thoiigli ages long liavc passed 

Since our Fathers left their home, 
Their pilot in the blast. 

O'er untravelled seas to roam. 
Yet lives the blood of England in our veins ! 
And shall we not proelaini 
That blood of honest fame 
Wliieh no tyranny can tame 
By its chains > 

While the language free and bold 
Which the Bard of Avon sung, 
In which our Jlilton told 

How the vault of heaven rung 
When Satan, blasted, fell with his host ; 
While this, with reverence meet. 
Ten thousand echoes greet, 
From rock to rock repeat 
Round our coast ; 

While the manners, while the arts. 

That mould a nation's soul. 
Still cling around our hearts, — 
Between let Ocean roll. 
Our joint communion breaking with the sun : 
Yet still from either beach 
The voice of blood shall reach. 
More audible than speech, 
"We are One." 

Washington allston. 



SONG OF MARION'S MEN. 

Our band is few, but true and tried, 

Our leader frank and bold ; 
The British soldier trembles 

When JIarion's name is told. 
Our fortress is the good greenwood, 

Our tent the cypress-tree ; 
We know the forest round us. 

As seamen know the sea ; 
We know its walls of thorny vines. 

Its glades of reedy grass. 
Its safe and silent islands 

Within the dark morass. 

Woe to the English soldiery 

That little dread us ne.ir ! 
On them shall light at midnight 

A strange and sudden fear ; 
When, waking to their tents on fire. 

They grasp their arms in vain. 
And they who stand to face us 

Are beat to earth again ; 
And they who Hy in terror deem 

A mighty host behind. 
And hear the tramp of thousands 

Upon the hollow wind. 



Then sweet the hour that brings release 

From danger and from toil ; 
We talk the battle over. 

And share the battle's s])oil. 
The woodland rings with laugh and shout, 

As if a hunt were up, 
And woodland llowers are gathered 

To crown tlie soldier's eu|). 
Witli merry songs we mock the wind 

That in the pine-top gi'ieves. 
And slumber long and sweetly 

On beds of oaken leaves. 

Well knows the fair and friendly moon 

The band that Marion leads, — 
The glitter of their rifles. 

The scampering of their steeds. 
'T is life to guide the fieiy barb 

Across the moonlight jilain ; 
'T is life to feel the night-wind 

That lifts his tossing mane. 
A moment in the British camp — 

A moment — and away 
Back to the pathless forest. 

Before the peep of day. 

Grave men there are by broad Santee, 

Grave men with hoary hairs ; 
Their hearts are all with Marion, 

For Jlarion are their prayers. 
And lovely ladies greet our band 

With kindliest welcoming. 
With smiles like those of summer,- 

And tears like those of spring. 
For them we wear these trusty arms, 

And lay them down no more 
Till we have driven the Briton 

Forever from our shore. 

WILLIAM CULLEN BRVA.NT. 



HYMN : 



SUNG AT THE COMPLETION OF THE CONCORD MONU.MENT, 
APRIL 19, 1836. 

By the rude bridge that arched the flood, 
Their flag to Ajjril's breeze unfurled. 

Here once the embattled fanners stood. 
And fired the shot heard round the world. 

The foe long since in silence slept ; 

Alike the conqueror silent sleeps ; 
And Time the ruined bridge has swept 

Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. 

On this gi'een bank, by this soft stream, 

Wc set to-day a votive stone ; 
That memory may their deed redeem, 

When, like our sires, our sons are gone. 



590 



POEMS OP PATRIOTISM AND FREEDOM. 



Spirit, that ninde tliose heroes dare 
To die, or leave their children free, 

Bid Time and Natnre gently spare 
The shaft we raise to them and thee. 

Ralph w.vi.no EmiiRSON. 



WARREN'S ADDRESS. 

Stand ! the ground '.s your own, my braves ! 
Will ye give it up to slaves ? 
Will ye look for greener graves ? 

Hope ye mercy still ? 
What 's the nu'rey despots feel ? 
Hear it in that battle-peal ! 
Read it on yon bristling steel ! 

Ask it, — ye who will. 

Fear ye foes who kill for hiir > 
Will ye to yonr hoiiws retire ? 
Look behind you I — they 're afire ! 

Anil, before you, see 
Who have done it ! From tlie vale 
On tlu-y cmne ! — and will ye quail ? 
Leaden min and iron hail 

Let their welcome be ! 

In the God of battles trust ! 
Die we may, — and die we must : 
But, 0, when? can dust to dust 

Be consigned so well, 
As where heaven its dews shall shed 
On the martyred patriot's bed. 
And the rocks shall raise their head, 

Of his deeds to tell ? 

JOHN PlERPO.>rr. 



CARMEN BELLKOSl'M. 

In their nigged regimeut«ls 
Stood the old Continentals, 

Yielding not, 
When the givnadiers weiv lunging, 
And liki' hail fell the pUmging 
Cannon-shot ; 
When the files 
Of the isles, 
From the smoky night encampment, Ixnx' the 
Ixinuer of the rampant 
Unicorn, 
And gruiumcr, grummer, grnnuner ivUed the 
i-oU of the drummer. 
Through the morn ! 

Then with eyes to the front all, 
And with guns horizontal. 

Stood our siivs ; 
And the IwUs whistled deadly, 
And in sti-ean»s Hashing redly 

Blazed the fires : 



As the roar 
On the shore. 
Swept the strong battle-breakers o'er the green- 
sodded acres 
Of the plain ; 
And louder, louder, louder, cmcked the black 
gunpowder. 
Cracking amain ! 

Now like smiths at their forges 
Worked the red St. George's 

Cannoneers ; 
And the " villanous saltiietre " 
Rung a fierce, diseoiilaut metre 
Round their ears ; 
As the swift 
St<n-m-drift, 
With hot sweeping anger, came the horseguards' 
clangor 
On our tlanks ; 
Then higher, higher, higher, burned the old- 
fashioned fire 
Through the ranks ! 

Then the bare-headed colonel 
Galloped through the white infernal 

I'owder-clond ; 
And his broad sword was swinging. 
And his bn\;!en throat was ringing 
Trnmpet-loud. 
Then the blue 
Bullets Mew, 
And the trooper-jackets redden at the touch of 
the leaden 
Rille-breath ; 
And rounder, rounder, ixnrnder, roared the iron 
six-pounder. 
Hulling death ! 

GL'V HUMPHREY MCMASTER. 



PAUL REVERE'S RIDE. 

Listen, my chihlivn, mid you shall hear 

Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, 

On the eighteenth of April, in 'Seventy-five ; 

HaiiUy a man is now alive 

Who ivniembers that famous day and year. 

He Siiid to his friend, "If the British march 
By land or sea from the town to-night. 
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry nivli 
Of the North Clinroh tower as a signal light, - 
One, if by land, and two, if by sea ; 
And 1 on the opposite shore will Ix', 
Ready to ride and spread the alarm 
Through every MidiUesex village and farm, 
For the country folk to be up and to arm." 



POEMS OK I'ATHIOTIS.M AM) 1 HKKlii i\l. 



'.n 



Tlicii lie Biiki, "Good night !" iiiul willi iiiulllfJ 

oar 
.Silently rowed to tlie rliaili'slowii mUoio, 
.lust IIS till) moon lost) over tlie luiy, 
Where swiii^jing wide ill her iiionrings luy 
The SoiiieiM't, lll■iti^ll iimii-ol'-wur ; 
A pliiinloiii shiji, with eiu'h must uiid spar 
Auruss tlie moon like it jirisoii tiiir, 
Aiitl 11 huge bhiek hulk, thiit was uiugnilied 
l!y its own reflection in the tide. 

Meanwhile, his frienil, through nlley and street, 
Wiiiidei-s and watilies with eager ears, 
Till in the sili'iiee aroiiiid him he hears 
The muster of men at the hiirriiek door, 
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feel. 
And the ineasiiieil tread of' the grenadiers, 
Marehing down to their boats on the shore. 

'I'll. Ml III' riiliiUcl the tower (.1 the I lid North 

I'hiiieli 
I'y the woollen stairs, witli sti'iiltliy tread. 
To the belf'ry-ehamher overhead. 
And startled the pigeons from their peieli 
On the sonihre rafters, Ihiit round him iiiaite 
.Masses and moving shapes of shade, - 
liy the trembling ladder, sleep and tall. 
To the highest wiiiilow in the wall, 
Where he paused to listen and look down 
A nioment on the roofs of the town, 
\iid the moonlight flowing over all. 

ISi-iieath, ill the ehniehyard, lay the dead. 

In their night. eiieiiiiipiiiuiit on the hill, 

Wrappeil in silenet? so deep and still 

That he iMiuhl hear, like a sentinel's tread. 

The watehfiil niglil-wind, us it went 

Ciwping along from IimiI to tent, 

Anil seeining to whisper, "All is well I" 

A nioinent only hi' feels the spell 

(If the place and the hour, uiid the secret ilread 

Of the lonely belfry and tilt; dead ; 

l''cu- suddenly all his thoughts are bent 

Oil a shadowy soiiielhing far away. 

Where the river widens to meet the bay, — 

A line of bhtek that bends and lloats 

On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats. 

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and riilc, 
liooled and spurred, with a heavy stride, 
On the opposite shore walked I'aiil llevere. 
Now he patted his horse's side. 
Now gazed nt the Inndseape far and near, 
Then, impetuous, stamped the earth, 
And turned aiitl tightened his satldle-girth ; 
Hut mostly ho watched with eager search 
Tlio belfry-tower of the Old North Cliurih, 



As it rose above the graves on the hill. 
Lonely and spectral and soinbiu itlid still. 
And lo ! as he looks, on the belfry's height 
A glimmer, iiiid then a gleam uf liglil ! 
He springs to the sadillc, the bridle lie turns, 
lint lingers and gaxes, till full on Ins sight 
A second lump ill the bell'iy burns I 

A liiiiry of liiiiil's in a villagi' street, 

A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark. 

And beneath, froni llie pebbles, in passing, a 

spark 
Struck out by a steed Hying I'cinlcss and Heel : 
That was all I And yel, (liiniigli llic gluuin and 

the light. 
The fate of a nation was riding that iiiglil ; 
Anil the spark struck out by that stccil, in his 

lliglit, 
Kindlcil the land into llaiiic with its heat. 

lie lias left the village and moiiiilcd the stcrp, 
And beneath liini, ti'ani|iiil and broail and deep, 
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides ; 
Anil under the alders, that skirt its edge. 
Now soft oil the sand, now loud on the ledge, 
Is lieartl tin' Inimp of his .steed as ho ride.s. 

It was twelve by the village clock 

When he cros.sed the bridge into Medford towu, 

lie heard the crowing of the cock. 

And the barking of the farmer's dog, 

.Villi felt the damp of the river fog, 

That rises after the siin goes down. 

It was one by tlic village clock 

When lie gallojied into l,e,\iiigton. 

He saw the gilded weathercock 

Swim in the moonlight as he pa.ssed. 

And the meetiiig-hoiise windows, blank and bare, 

(iaze at him with a spectral glare. 

As if they already .stood aghast 

At the bloody work they would look upon. 

It was two by the village clmk 

When he came to the bridge in Concord towu. 

He heard the bleating of the flock. 

And the twitter of birds among the trees, 

And felt the breath of the morning breeze 

lilowing over the meadows brown. 

And one was safe and asleep in his bed 

Who at the bridge would be first to fall. 

Who that day would be lying dead, 

rierced by a lirilish ninsket-ball. 

You kiiow the rest. In the books you have read, 
How the Hritish Hegulars fired and fled, — 
How the farmers gave them ball for ball. 
From behind each fence and farm-yard wall. 



592 



POEJIS OF PATRIOTISM AND FREEDOM. 



Chasing the redcoats down the lane, 
Then crossing tlie liolds to ernei'ge again 
Under the trees at the turn oi" the road, 
And only pausing to lire and Kiad. 

So through the night rode I'aul Kevere ; 

And so tlirougli tlie niglit went his ery of alarm 

To every Middlesex village and farm, — 

A cry of defiance and not of fear, 

A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door. 

And a word that shall echo forevermore ! 

For, borne on the night-wind of the Past, 

Through all our history, to the last. 

In the hour of darkness and peril and need. 

The people will waken and listen to hear 

The hurrying lioof-beats of that steeil 

And the midnight message of I'aul Revere. 

HENRY WaDSWOKTH LONGFELLOW. 



THE AMERICAN FLAG. 

"When Freedom, from her mountiiin height, 
Unfurled her standard to the air. 

She tore the azure robe of night. 
And set the stars of glory there ! 

She mingled with its gorgeous dyes 

The milky baldi-ic of the skies, 

And striped its pure, celestial white 

With streakings of tlie morning light ; 

Then, from his mansion in the sun. 

She called her eagle-bearer down. 

And gave into his mighty hand 

The symbol of her chosen land ! 

Majestic monarch of the cloud ! 

Wlu) rear'st aloft thy regal form, 
To hear the tempest trumping loud. 
And see the lightning lances driven, 

When strive the warriors of the storm, 
And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven, — 
Child of the Sun ! to tliee 't is given 

To guard the banner of the free. 
To hover in the sulphur smoke. 
To ward away the battle-stroke. 
And bid its V>lendings .shine afar. 
Like rainbows on the cloud of war. 

The harbingers of victory ! 

Flag of the brave ! thy folds shall Hy, 
The sign of hope and triumph high ! 
When speaks the signal-truniiiet tone, 
And the long line comes gleaming on, 
Ere yet the life-blood, warm ami wet, 
Has dimmed the glistening bayonet. 
Each soldier's eye shall brightly turn 
To where thy sky-born glories burn. 
And, as his springing steps advance, 
Catch war and vengeance from the glance. 



And when the cannon-mouthings loud 
Heave in wild wreaths the battle shroud, 
And gory sabres rise and fall 
Like shoots of tiame on midnight's pall, 
Then shall thy meteor glances glow, 

And cowering foes shall shrink beneath 
Each gallant arm that strilces below 

That lovely messenger of death. 

Flag of the seas ! on ocean wave 
Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave ; 
When death, careering on the gale. 
Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail. 
And frighted waves rush wildly back 
Before the broadside's reeling rack, 
Each dying wanderer of the sea 
Shall look at once to heaven and thee. 
And smile to see thy splendore fly 
In triumph o'er his closing eye. 

Flag of the free heart's hope and liouie, 

By angel hands to valor given ! 
Thy stars have lit the welkin dome. 

And all thy hues were born in heaven. 
Forever float that standard sheet ! 

AVhere breathes the foe but falls before us. 
With Freedom's soil beneath our feet. 

And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us ! 

Joseph Rou.man Drake. 



THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER. 

SAY, can you see hy the dawn's early light 
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last 

gleaming ? — 
Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through 

the jierilous fight 
O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly 

streaming ! 
And tlie rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting 

in air. 
Gave proof through the night that our flag was 

still there ; 
say, does that star-spangled bainier yet wave 
O'er tlie land of the free and the home of the 

brave ? 

On that shore, dimly seen through the mists of 

the deep. 
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence 

reposes. 
What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering 

steep. 
As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses ? 
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first 

beam. 
In full glory reflected, now shines on the stie.Tni ; 



POEMS OF PATRIOTISM AN'li I'UKHDOM. 



593 



'T is the stur-sjianyled bniinci- ! 0, long may it 

wave 
O'lT the laml of tlie free niij tlio home of the 

brave ! 

An<l where is that band who so va\mtingly swore 
That the liavoe of war and the battle's confusion 
A home and a eouiitry should leave us no more / 
Their blood has wasjied out their foul footsteps' 

pollution. 
No refuge could save the hireling and slave 
From the terror of flight or the glooui of the 

grave ; 
And the star-spangled banner in triunipli dutli 

wave 
O'er the land of the free and tin- lionie of the 

brave I 

0, thus be it ever when freemen shall stnm! 

Between their loved homes and the war's desola- 
tion ! 

Blest with vict'ry and peace, may the Heaven- 
rescued land 

Praise the Power that hath nuule and preserved 
us a nation. 

Then con(|Uerwe must, when our cause it is just. 

And this be our motto, " In God is our trust ;" 

And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall 
wave 

O'er the laiul of the free and the home of the 
brave. 

TRANCIS SCOTT KEY. 



THE LITTLE CLOUD. 

AS when, on Carmel's sterile steep, 
The ancient prophet bowed the knee. 

And seven times sent his servant forth 
To look toward the distant sea ; 

There came at last a little cloud. 
Scarce largir than the human lianil. 

Spreading and swelling till it broke 
lu showers on all the hcrbless land ; 

And hearts were glad, and shouts went up. 
And pniisc to Israel's mighty f!od, 

As the sear hills grew bright with (lowers. 
And verdure clothed the valley sod, — 

Even so our eyes have waited long ; 

But now a little dnud appears, 
Spreading and swelling as it glides 

Onward into the coming years. 

Bright clouil of liibcrty ! full soon. 
Far stretching from the ocean strand, 

Thy glorious folils shall spreail abroad, 
Encircling our beloved land. 



Like the sweet rain on Juilah's hills, 
The glorious lioon of love shall fall, 

And our bond millions shiiU arise, 
As at an angel's trumpet-call. 

Then shall a .shout of joy go up, -- 
The wild, glad cry of freedom como 

From hearts long crushed by cruel hands. 
And songs IViPUi lips long sealed and dumb ; 

And every bondman's clmin be broke. 
And every soul that moves abroad 

In this wide realm shall know and feel 
The blessed Liberty of ( !o<l. 

J(;UN HoWARIJ BRYANT. 



SONNET. 

WRITTEN WHILE IN PRISON FOR DBNOUNCING TUB 
UOMBSTIC SLAVE.TKALIB. 

High walls and huge the body may confine. 

And iron gates obstruct the prisoner's gaze. 
And massive liolts may bailie his design. 

And vigilant keepers watch his devious ways ; 
But .scorns the immortal mind such base control : 

No cimins I'an biuil it and no cell enclose. 
Swifter than light it Hies from pole to pole. 

And in a Hash fiom earth to heaven it goes. 
It leaps from mount to mount ; from vale to vale 

Itwanders, pluckinghoueyedfruitsand (lowers ; 
It visits home to hear the (ireside tnle 

And in sweet converse jiass the joyous hours ; 
'Tis up before the sun, roaming afar. 
And in its watches wearies every star. 

WILLIAM LLOYO GARRISON. 



SLAVERY. 

FROM "THE TIMEPIECE": "THE TASK." BOOK II. 

FOR a lodge in some vast wilderness. 
Some boundless contiguity of shade. 
Where rumor of oppression and deceit, 
Of unsuccessful or successful war, 
Might never reach me more I My ear is pained. 
My soul is sick, with every day's report 
Of wrong and outrage with which earth is (illcd. 
There is no (lesh in man's olidurate heart ; 
It does not feel for man ; the natural bond 
Of brotherhood is severed as the (lax. 
That falls asunder at the touch of tire. 
He finds his fellow guilty of a skin 
Not colored like his own, and, having power 
To enforce the wrong, for siudi a worthy cause 
Dooms and devotes him as his lawful ]irey. 
I..ands intersected by a narrow frith 
Abhor each other. Mountains interposal 



594 



I'OKMS Ol' I'AI'UIoriSM AND FREKDOM 



Malvc iMioniies nf mitions, who lind else 
l.iUc kiiiilivil ilrnps lioi'ii iiuiinli'il into one. 
Tims mivu lU'Voti's his brothrr, aiitl ileatroys ; 
Ami, worse tlmii all, niul inosl to Iw (U'|iloi'od 
As ImuiiHi imtmv's liroiuU'st, Ibiilrsl blot, 
rhuiiis him, iiiul tasks him, ami nxiifts his sweat 
With sti'i|iiis, that Jleivy, with a blooiling heart, 
Weeps, when she sees iiillieteil on a beast. , 
Then what is man ( And what mini, seeing this, 
And having hnnian feelings, does not blnsh, 
Aiul Ining Ids head, to tlunk himself a nuin ? 
I wonld not have a slave to till my gronnd, 
To earry me, to fan me while I sleep, 
And tr>'mble when 1 wake, for all the wealth 
That sinews bought and sold have ever earned. 
No ; dear us freedom is, and in my heart's 
.Iilst ostinnuion prized above all priee, 
1 had nnieh rather \v myself the slave. 
And wear the bonds, than fasten them on him. 
\Vc have no slaves at home. — Then why abroad ! 
And tliey themselves onee ferried o'er the wave 
That parts ns aiv emaneipate and loosed. 
.Slaves eannot breathe in Kngland ; if their lungs 
Keeeive our air, tliat uuma-nt they an' free ; 
They toueli our eountry, and their shaekles fall. 
That 's nolilo, and liespeaks a nation pixmd 
And jealous of the blessing. Sproail it then, 
Aiut let it eiroiilato, through every vein 
Of all your empire ; tl\at, wheiv Britain's power 
Is felt, mankind may feel her nuMey loo. 

WILLIAM COVVI'LK. 



Ho has .sounded forth tlie trumpet that shall 

never eall retreat ; 
Ho is sifting out the hearts of men before his 

judgment-seat ■ 
O, be swift, uiy soul, to answer him ! be jubilant, 

my b'et I 
Our tlod is mareliing on. 

In the beauty of the lilies L'hrist wirs born across ■ 

the sea. 
With a glory in his bosom that transtigiires you 

and nu' ; 
As he died to nuike men holy, let us die to make 

men free, 
While tlod is marehing on. 

11 l-L\ WAKL) IlOWB. 



HATTl.K-HYMX OK TUK IJF.rrULK'. 

MiNS oyes have si>en the glory of the eoiniiig of 
the Loiil ; 

He is trampling out tlie vintage wheiv the gmjios 
of wrath are stored ; 

He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terri- 
ble swift sword : 
Uis truth is niaivhing on. 

1 liave seen him in the wateh-tires of a hundred 
eireling eanips ; 1 

They liave bnilded him an altar in the evening , 
dews and dain]>s ; | 

1 eau wad his righteous .sentenee by tlie dim and 
tiaring lamps : 
His day is maivhing on. 

1 have iwid « liory gospel, writ in burnished rows 

of steel :" 
•' .\s ye deal with my eoiitemnors, so with you 

my graee shall deal ; 
Let the Hero, Iwrn of wonn\n, erusli tlie serpent 

with his heel,* 
Since God is marching on." 



SHERIDAN'S KIDE. 

Up from the South at break of day, 

liringiug to Winchester fresh dismay. 

The alfrighted air with a shudder bore, 

Like a herald in haste, to the i-hioftain's door, 

The teriilile grumble and rumble and roar. 

Telling the battle was on once more, 

.Vnd Sheridan twenty miles away. 

.\nd wider still those billows of war 

Thnndered along the horizon's bar ; 

And louder yet into Winchester i-oUcd 

The roar of that ix'd sea uncoutioUed, 

Making tho blood of the listener cold 

As he thought of the stake in that liery fray, 

With Sheridan twenty miles away. 

But there is a road from Winchester town, 

A good, baiad highway, leading down ; 

And then', through tlie Hash of the morning light, 

A steed as black as the steeds of night 

Was seen to pass as with eagle llight. 

As if he knew the terribb- need. 

He stretched away with the utmost speed ; 

Hills rose and fell, — but his heart was gay, 

With Sheridan lifteen miles away. 

Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thuuderiug 

South, 
The dust, like smoke from the cannon's month ; 
Or the ti-.iil of a comet, sweeping faster and lastei . 
Foi-elmding to traitors the iloom of disaster. 
The heart of the steed and the heart of the master 
Wero beating, like prisoners assaulting their 

walls, ^ 
Inn>atient to Ih> where the battle-field calls ; 
Kvery nerve of the charger was strained to full 

play. 
With Sheridan only ten miles away. 



1'0KM.S Ul-' rATUIOTISM AND I'lililiDO.M, 



595 



liider his s|>uniing I'ei-t, the iimil 

l.ikv nil iiiToHv Alpiiie rivi^r lli>wi'il, 

Anil the laiulsriipu spuil away IhOiiiiiI, 

I>ikc an ocean living lii'fore the wiiul ; 

Anil till' stoiil, like a Imik fed with luiiiaec ire, 

Swept on, with his wild eyes I'lill of lire ; 

l!ut, lo ! he is niaring his heart's desire, 

Ho is siuifling the smoke of the roaring fray, 

With Sheridan only live miles away. 

The tii-st that the General saw were the groups 
t ir stragglers, and then tin: retreating troops ; 
What was done, -what to do, — a glanee told 

him holh. 
And, striking his spurs xyith a terrilile oath, 
lie dashed down the line mid u storm of huzzas, 
And the wave of retreat checked it8 course there, 

bci'ause 
The sight of the master compelleil it to pause. 
With foam and with dust the blaek eharger was 

gray ; 
By the lla-sh of his eye, and his nostril's play, 
lie seemed to the whole great army to say, 
" I have brought you Sheridan all the way 
From Winchester down, to save the day ! " 

Hurrah, hurrah for Sheriilan ! 
Hurrah, hurrah for horse and man ! 
And when their sUitues are placed on high, 
I'nder the dome of the Union sky, — 
The American soldier's Temple of Fame, — 
There with the ghu'ious (leneral's name 
l!o it said in lettei-s botli bold and bright : 
" Here is the steed that saved the day 
By carrying Sheridan into the light. 
From Winchester, — twenty miles away ! " 

TnOklAS UUCHA.NA.N READ. 



THE BLACK KEGIMENT. 

(MaV rj. 1863,] 

Dark a.s the clouds of even, 
Kankeil in the western heaven, 
Waiting the breath that lifts 
All the dead mass, and drifts 
Tempest an<l falling brand 
Over a ruineil land, — 
So still and orderly. 
Arm to arm, knee to knee, 
Waiting the great event. 
Stands the black regiment. 

Down the long dusky line 
Teeth gleam ami eyeballs shine ; 
And the bright bayonet, 
Bri.stling and linnly set, 



Flashed with a purpose: grand. 
Long I're the sharp command 
Of the tierce rolling dnim 
Told them their time liad coniC; 
Told them what woik was sent 
For tlie blai-k regiment. 

"Now," the llag-sorgeant cried, 
"Though ileath and hell betide, 
J,et the whole nation see 
If we are lit to be 
Free in this land ; or bound 
Down, like the whining hound, — 
Bound with icd stripes of pain 
In our cold chains again ! " 
0, what a shout there went 
From the black regiment ! 

" Charge I " Trump and drum uwokc ; 
Onward the Ijondmcn broko ; 
Bayonet and sabre-stroke 
Vainly oppo.sed their rush. 
Through the wiM battle's crush, 
Witli but one! lliought allush, 
Driving their lords like chalf, 
In the guns' mouths they laugh ; 
(Jr at the slippery brands 
Leaping witli open hand.s, 
Down they ti'ar man and horse, 
Down in their awful course ; 
Tranijiling with bloody heel 
Over the crashing steel, ^ 
All their eyes forward bent. 
Rushed the black regiment. 

" Freedom ! " their battle-cry, — 
" Freedom ! or leave to die ! " 
Ah ! and they meant the word. 
Not as with us 't is heard. 
Not a mere party shout ; 
They gave their sjiirits out. 
Trusted the end to Ood, 
And on the gory sod 
Rolled in triumphant blood. 
Olail to strike one free blow, 
M'lii-tlicr for weal or woe ; 
Glad to breathe one free breath. 
Though on the lips of death ; 
Praying, — alas ! in vain I — 
That they might fall again. 
So they <:ould once more seo 
That burst to liberty ! 
This was what " freedom " lout 
To the blaik regiment. 

Hundreds on hundreds fell ; 
But they are resting well ; 
Scourges and shackles strong 
Never shall ilo them wrong. 



r.iui 



I'dKMS (IK I'A'rUUiriS.M AM) KliKKDOM. 



0, to llio liviiif? low, 
Solilii'is, lio JmsI. iiiul Iriui I 
lliiil llii'iii iiM ('oiiu'Milcs ti'icil ; 
Kifjlil. willi lluMii siilo liy siilo ; 
Novi'i', in lU'ld (ir lout, 
Sconi i\w liliu'k iv^imoiil ! 

(.ItDKGlt IIKNKV notvItK. 



liAlillAKA KKIK'I'ClllK. 

I' I' IVolll till' IIH'lllUuVS lii'll willl llilM, 

Clciir ill till' ciKiI Si'pli'iiiluT iiiorii, 

'I'lii' I'liisli'icil spill's 111' l''ivil('iii-U stiiml 
Hiw>ii-wiiUi'il liy till' hills ol' Aliii-yliuul. 

Houiiil llllOUt, tlll'IU oi'cliiii'ils SWl'l'll, 

Ainili' ami imiu'li tri'o fruiU'il (Km']i, 

Fair iis a ganli'ii ol' llu' l.oicl 

To llu' I'vcs ol' lln> I'liiiiislii'il ri'lu'l Uoi'ilc, 

On tlmt |ili'iisiiiil morn of tlio caiiy lull 
W'licii l.i'i' nmii'lii'il over IliiMiuiiiiihiiii wall, — 

OVI'I- 111!' lllolUllMillS, wiiuliiig llowil, 

lloisi' 1111(1 Tool inio Kii'ili'i'ii'k lowii. 

Forty tlnj;s witli tlii'ii- silver slurs, 
Forty lla)^ with tlu'ir criinson liars, 

Flappwl ill tlu' luoniiiig wiiul ; llu' snii 
or noon looKi'il ilown, anil saw not ono. 

I'p roHf old lliirlnira Friolrliio tlion, 
Uowcil willl lioi I'oursooit) years and ten ; 

llmvi'st of all in Frodcriok town, 

Sill' look lip llio IIm.l; llio nn'ii liaulod down ; 

111 lii'r iillii'-window llu' stall' slio sot, 
To sliow llnil oiii' lioiirl was loyal yet. 

I'p till' stivc't oanio llio ivlu'l tread, 
Stonewall .laekson ridinj; aliead. 

Umlor his slonehed hat li'l'l iiiid rii;lit 
lie Khiiieed ; llio old llaj; met his sij;lit. 

" Hall ! " — the diist-brown ranks sUiod fust ; 
" Fill' 1 " — out lilivzed the rille-lilnsl. 

It sliiveiT'il the window, imne and siish ; 
It lYiit the Imnner with seam and j;pish. 

t^uiek, as it fell, I'imiu I lie lnoken slalV I 

Oanie llarbara siiateheil llie silken searf; '[ 

She h'aned far out on tlio window-sill, [ 

And shook it forth witli a royal will. ! 



"Shoot, if you nuist, this old gray head, 
lint spine your conntry's lla^," she said. 

A shade of sadness, a lilnsli of shame, 
Over the face of the li'ader eame ; 

The noliK'r iiiiliue williin him stirred 
To Hie III llial wollliUl's deed lllul word : 

" Who louelies a hair of yon gray head 
Dies like a dog ! Mareli on ! " ho .said. 

All day long Ihnnigh Frederii-k street 
Soniuli'd the tri'iid of manliing feel ; 

All day long that I'rj'e Hag tost 
Over the lioiids of Iho rebel host. 

F,\'er ils lorn folds rose mid fell 

On the loyal winds lliiil loved il well ; 

And llii'ongh the liillga|is .sunset light 
Shone over it with a warm good-night. 

Harliara Friolehie's work is o'er. 

And the rebel rides on his raids no more. 

Honor 111 her ! iiinl let ii tear 

Fall, for her sake, on .^lonrwall's bier. 

Over Harlmra Frielehie's grave. 
Flag of freedom ami nnioii, wave ! 

I'eaee and unler iind beinily draw 
lionnd thy synibol of light iiiul law ; 

And ever the stars above look down 
Oil thy stnra below in Fii'deriok town ! 

John r.Kio^NLi-Ar WtunirK. 



THE OAUSF OF THF SOPTH. 

I'KOM "SUNlINI-l. SONC.S." 

Till' fallen eanse still waits, — 

Us lianl has not eomo yet. 
His song' - thiinigli one of to-morrow's gates 

Shall shine but never set. 

But when ho eonies — ho "U swoop 

A harp with teai-s all stringed. 
And tlio very notes ho strikes will woop, 

.•\s they eome, from his hand, woe-winged. 

Ah ! gnind shall be his strain, 
.\nd his songs shall till all elinies. 

And the Kobels shall rise and mareli ngiiin 
Powu the linos of his glorious rhymes. 



TKNNYSON 

TiiK I'or.r 

None sang of l.ove more noljly ; fi-w as well ; 

()( l''ricn(lshi|) none with jiathos as profound ; 

Of l)uty sternlicst-ijroveii when inyrtle-crowned ; 

Of l*',n(4lish grove and rividel, mead ,itid dell : 

Orcat Arthur's Ix'^end he alone dared tell ; 

Milton and I)ryden feared to tread that ^jroiind ; 

I'or him alone o'er Camclot's faery l)ound 

'I'he ' horns of Klfland ' Idew their lIla^;i<: s[)ell. 

Sinf:e Shakes[)eare and since Wordsworth none hath sung 

Sfj well his Ivngland's greatness; none hath given 

Iteproof more fearless or arlvi<e more sage : 

None inlier taught how near to earth is Heaven; 

With what vast concords Nature's harp is strung ; 

How base false pride; — faction's fanatic rage. 

Aui'.KKV l)r. Vekr 



/•'rotn XIX t'rntury Afagazinf. xxxU ; 8^1 










? = 




k > 




5 V 




^ V* J5 




5-S ?^ 




t. S « > 




< 5, <: C 




i^^i^ 




i ^ s ^ 




■i:| S^ 




C S « V 




** * t- "^ 


c 

75 


V » ? s 


> 


-i ." -^ -^ 




■~- k 


s- 




Q 


^ 




-1$^ 


J 


; s S 




*" .t^ ?> 


Si 


:i ■§ "3 ^' 




. ^- ^ ^ 


< 


J; S 5 » 


U4 
^ 






^i -^ <: -*: 


g 


^ « -^ ;:; 


i 


i' ^ =^ ^ 


~ 








b, K 



r()K.\I.S Ol' I'ATltlOTI.SM AM) I'KKKDOM. 



597 



Ami through his verse sluill jjlcaiii 

The swuiils tlmt HiUihi'il in vuiii, 
AiiJ llic im-ii who wore thu gray shuU seem 

To be inur.slialliug ugiiiii. 

But liush ! between his words 

Peer I'uees siul and pale, 
And you hear the sound of broken chords 

Heat tlirough the poet's wail. 

Through his verse tlie orphans cry — 

Tile terrible undertone ! 
And the father's c\irse and the mother's sigh, 

And the desolate young wife's moan. 

I sing, witli a voice too low 

To be heard beyond to-day, 
In minor keys of my people's woe ; 

And my songs pass away. 

To-morrow hears them not — 

To-morrow belongs to fame : 
My songs — like the birds' — will be forgot, 

And forgotten shall be my name. 

And yet who knows ! betimes 

The gi'andcst songs depart, 
AVhile the gentle, humble, and low-toned rhymes 

Will echo from heart to heart. 

ADRAM J. KVAN. 



LAUS DEO I 

\0n hearing the belts rin; on the passage or the Constitutional 
Amendment abolishing slavery.J 

It is done I 
Claiij; of UU and roar of gun 

Send the tiiliiigs up and down. 
How the Iwllries rock and reel I 
How the great guns, peal on peal. 

Fling the joy from town to town I 

Ring, bells ! 

Every stroke exulting tells 
Of the burial hour of crime. 

Loud and long, that all may hear, 

King for every listening ear 
Of Eternity and Time I 

Let us kneel ; 

God's own voice is in that peal. 
And this spot is holy giound. 

Lord, forgive us 1 What are we. 

That our eyes this glory see. 
That our ears have heard the sound! 



For the Lord 

On the whirlwind is abroad ; 
In the eartlii|uake he has spoken ; 

He has smitten with liis thunder 

The iron walls asunder. 
And the gates ofbrass are broken '. 

Loud and long 

Lift the old exulting song ; 
Sing with iMii'iani by the sea : 

He has cast the mighty down ; 

Horse and rider sink and drown ; 
Ho has triumplied gloriously I 

Did We daii'. 

In our agony of juayer, 
Ask for more than He has done ? 

When was ever his right hand 

Over any time or land 
Stretched as now beneath the sun t 

How they pale, 
Ancient myth and song and tale. 

In this wonder of our days. 
When the cruel rod of war 
Blossoms white with righteous law. 

And the wrath of man is praise ! 

Hlotted out ! 

All within and all about 
Shall a fresher life begin ; 

Freer breathe the universe 

As it rolls its heavy curse 
On the dead and buried sin. 

It is done ! 
In the circuit of the sun 

Shall the souncl thereof go forth. 
It shall bid the sad rejoice. 
It shall give the dumb a voice. 

It shall belt with joy the earth ! 

Ring and swing, 

Ik-lls of joy ! On morning's wing 
Send the song of praise abroad ! 

With a sound of broken chains. 
Tell the nations that Ho reigns. 
Who alone is Lord and God ! 

JitHN GkhgNLBAP WHITTII-IK 



BOSTON HYMN. 

READ IN MUSIC HALL. JAN. I. i86j. 

The word of the Lord by night 
To the wati'hing Pilgrims came, 
As they sat by the seaside. 
And filled tlieir hearts with flame. 



598 



POEMS OF PATRIOTISM AND FREEDOM. 



God said, I am tired of kings, 
I sull'or tlieiu no moro ; 
Up to my eai' the morning brings 
The outrage of the poor. 

Think yo I made this hall 

A fieUl of havoc and war. 

Where tyrants gieat and tyrants small 

Might harry the weak and poor ? 

My angel, — his mime is Freedom, — 
Choose him to be your king ; 
He shall cut pathways east and west, 
And fend you with his wing. 

Lo ! I uneover the land 
Which I hid of old time in the West, 
As the sculptor uncovers the statue 
When he has wrought his best ; 

I show Columbia, of the rocks 
Which dip their foot in the seas, 
Arid soar to the air-borne Hocks 
Of clouds, and the boreal fleece. 

I will divide my goods ; j 

Call in the wretch and slave : 
None shall rule but the humble, 
And none but Toil shall have. 

1 will have never a noble, 
No lineage counted great ; 
Fishers and choppers and ploughmen 
Shall constitute a state. 

Go, cut down trees in the forest, 
And trim the straightest boughs ; 
Cut down ti-ees in the forest. 
And build me a wooden house. 

Call the people together, 
The young men and the sires. 
The digger in the harvest-field, 
Hireling, and him that hires ; 

And here in a pine state-house 
They shall choose men to rule 
In every needful faculty. 
In church and state and school. 

Lo, now ! if these poor men 
Can govern the land and sea. 
And make just laws below the sun, 
As planets faithful be. 

And ye shall succor men ; 

'T is nobleness to serve ; 

Help them who cfuinot-help again : 

Beware from right to swerve. 



I break your bonds and masterships. 
And 1 unchain the slave : 
Free be his heart and hand henceforth 
As wind and wandering wave. 

I cause from every creature 
His proper good to flow ; 
As much as he is and doeth, 
So much he shall bestow. 

But, laying hands on another 
To coin his labor and sweat. 
He goes in pawn to his victim 
For eternal yeai-s in debt. 

To-day unbind the captive, 
So only are ye unbound ; 
Lift up a people from the dust. 
Trump of their rescue, sound ! 

Pay ransom to the owner, 

And fill the bag to the brim. 

Who is the owner ? The slave is owner, 

And ever was. Pay him. 

Q North ! give him beauty for rags, 
And honor, South ! for his shame ; 
Nevada ! coin thy golden crags 
With Fre'cdom's image imd name. 

Up ! and the dusky race 
That sat in darkness long, 
Be swift their feet as antelopes. 
And as behemoth strong. 

Come, East and West and North, 
By races, as snow-Hakes, 
Arid carry my purpose forth, 
Which neither lialts nor shakes. 

Jly will fulfilled shall be, 
For, in dayliglit or in dark. 
My thunderbolt has eyes to see 
His way home to the mark. 

Ralph w.^ldo E-merson. 



THE PEOPLE'S SONG OF PEACE. 

FROM THE "SONG OF THE CE.NTENNIAL." 

The grass is green on Bunker Hill, 
The watei-s sweet in Brandywiue ; 

The sword sleeps in the scabbard still. 
The farmer keeps his flock and vine ; 

Then who would mar the scene to-day 

With vaunt of bittle-field or fniv / 



rOKMS OK 1>ATKH)T1S.\I AMJ I'KEEDOM. 



yj'j 



The limvc corn lifts in regiments 
Ten thousand siilires in tlie sun ; 

The rieks repliice the battle- tents, 
The bannered tussels toss imd run. 

The nrighing steed, the bufjle's blast, 

Tlie.M' be but stories of the Jiast. 

The earth has healed her jvoimded breast, 
The cannons ]>lough the (iidd no more ; 

The lieroes rest ! 0, let tlieni rest 
In peace along the peaceful shoie ! 

They fought for peace, for peace they fell ; 

They sleep in peace, and all is well. 

The fields forget the battles fought, 
The trenches wave in golden grain : 

Shall we neglect the lessons taught. 
And tear the wounds aga]ie again ? 

Sweet Jlother Xature, nurse the land, 

.\nd heal her wounds with gentle hand. 

Lo ! peace on earth ! Lo ! flock and fold ! 

Lo ! rich abundance, fat increase. 
And valleys clad in sheen of gold ! 

0, rise and sing a song of peace I 
For Theseus roams the land no more. 
And Janus rests with rusted iloor. 

juAouhN Miller. 



Perish with him the lolly that seeks through 
evil giKid ! 

Long live the generous purpose unstained with 
human blood ! 

Not the raid of midnight terror, but the thought 
which underlies ; 

Not the borderer's pride of daring, but the Chris- 
tian's sacrilice. 

Nevermore nniy yon Blue Kidges the Northern 
rifle hear. 

Nor see the light of blazing homes lla^h on the 
negro's spear; 

But let the tree-winged angel Truth their guarded 
passes scale, 

To teach that right is more than might, and jus- 
tice more than mail ! 

So vainly shall Virginia set her battle in array ; 

In vain her trampling squadrons knead the win- 
ter snow with clay ! 

She may strike the poimcing eagle, but she dares 
not harm the dove ; 

And every gate she bars to Hate shall open w'ide 
to Love ! 

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. 



BROWTI OF OSSA'WATO.MIE. 

John Bkown of Ossawathmik spake on his 

dying day : 
" 1 will not have to shrive my soul a priest in 

Slavery's pay ; 
But let some poor slave-mother whom 1 have 

striven to free. 
With her children, from the gallows-stair put up 

a prayer for me ! " 

John Brown of Ossawatomie, they led liini out 

to die ; 
And lo ! a poor slave-mother with her little i hild 

pres-scd nigh : 
Then the bold, blue eye gl-ew tender, and the old 

harsh face grew mild. 
As he 8tooi)ed between the jeering ranks and 

kissed the uegi'o's child ! 

The shadows of his stormy life Ihat moment felly 

a|>art. 
And they who blamed the bloody hand foigdve 

the loving heart ; 
That ki.ss from all its guilty means ledeemed the 

good intent, 
And round the grisly fighter's hair the martyr's 

aureole bt'Ut ! 



■WHAT CONSTITUTES A STATE? 

What constitutes a State ? 
Not high-raised battlement or labored mound. 

Thick wall or moatej gate ; 
Not cities proud with spires and turrets crowned ; 

Not bays and broad-arnied ports, 
Where, laughing at the storm, ricli navies ride ; 

Not starred and spangled courts. 
Where low-browed baseness waits perfume to 
pride. 

No: — men, high-niindccl iiui]. 
With jiowers as far above dull brutes endued 

In forest, brake, or den. 
As bea.sts excel cold roeks and branililes rude, — 

Men who their duties know. 
But know their rights, and, knowing, dare main- 
tain. 

Prevent the long-aimed blow. 
And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain ; 
[liCSC-Constitutc a Sta^ ; 



nd sovereign law, that State s collected will, 

O'er thrones and globes elate 
Sits empress, crowning good, repressing ill. 

Smit by her sacred frown, 
The liend, Di.ssension, like a vapor sinks ; 

And e'en the all-dazzling crown 
Hides his faint niys, and at her bidding shrinks. 



600 



roE.MS OF I'ATKIUTIS.M AMD rUEEDli.M. 



Siic-li was this lioaveu-loved isle, 
Than Lesbos fairer and tlie Cretan sliore ! 

No more shall freedom smile ? 
Shall Britons languish, and be men no more ? 

Since all must life resign. 
Those sweet rewards whieh decorate the brave 

'T is folly to decline. 
And steal inglorious to the silent grave. 

siK William Jones. 



THE FREEMAN. 

FROM "THE WINTER MORMNr. WALK:" 
"THE TASK." BOOK VI. 

He is the freeman whom the truth makes free, 
And all are slaves beside. Th.ere 's not a chain 
That liellish foes confeilerate for his harm 
Can wind around him, but he oasts it otT 
With as much ease as Samson his green withes. 
He looks abroad into the varied Held 
Of nature ; ami though pool', perhaps, compared 
With tliose whose mansions glitter in his sight, 
Calls the delightful scenery all his own. 
His are the mountains, and the valley his. 
And the resplendent rivers. His to enjoy 
Witli a propriety that none can feel 
But who, with hlial confidence inspired, 
Can lift to heaven an unpresumptuous eye, 
And smiling say, " My Kather made them all ! " 
Are they not his by a pec\diar right. 
And by an emphasis of interest his. 
Whose eyes they till with tears of holy joy, 
Whose heart with praise, and whose exalted mind 
With worthy thoughts of that unwearied love 
That planned and built, and still upholds, a 

world 
So clothed with beauty for rebellious man ? 
Yes, ye may t\\\ your garners, ye that reap 
The loaded soil, and ye may waste nuich good 
In senseless riot ; but ye will not find 
In feiist, or in the chase, in song or dance, 
A liberty like his, who, unimpeached 
Of usurpation, alul to no man's wrong. 
Appropriates nature as his Father's work, 
And has a richer use of yours than you. 
He is indeed a freennm. Fiee by birth 
Of no mean city, planned or e'er the hills 
Wei* built, the fountains opened, or the sea 
With all his roaring multitude of waves. 
His freedom is the same in every state ; 
."Vnd no condition of this changeful life. 
So manifold in cares, whose every day 
Urings its own evil with it, makes it less. 
For he has wings that ueitlier sickness, pain. 
Nor penury can crippTe or confine ; 
No nook so narrow but he spreads them there 



With ease, and is at large. The ojipressor holds 
His body bound ; but knows not what a range 
His spirit takes, unconscious of a chain ; 
.(Vnd that to bind him is a vain attempt. 
Whom God delights in, and in wliom he dwells. 

WILLIAM COWPER. 



THE KEFOKMER. 

All grim and soiled and brown with tan, 

I saw a Strong One, in his wrath. 
Smiting the godless shrines of man 
Along his path. 

The Church beneath her trembling dome 

Essayed in vain her ghostly charm : 
Wealth shook within his gilded home 
With strange alarm. 

Frauil from his secret chambers fled 
Before the sunlight bursting in : 
Sloth drew her pillow o'er her head 
To drown the din. 

"Spare," Art implored, " yon holy pile ; 
That grand old time-worn turret spare : 
Meek Reverence, kneeling in the aisl^ 
Cried out, " Forbear ! " 

Gray-bearded Use, who, deaf and blind, 
Groped for his old accustomed stone. 
Leaned on his staff, and wept to find 
His seat o'erthrown. 

Young Romance raised his dreamy eyes, 

O'erliung with paly locks of gold, — 

"Why smite," he asked in^sad surprise, 

"The fair, the old?" 

Yet louder rang the Strong One's stroke. 

Yet nearer Hashed his axe's gleam ; 
Shuddering and sick of heart I woke, 
As from a dream. 

I looked : aside the dust-cloud rolled, — 

The Waster seemed the Builder too ; 
Upspringing from the ruined Old 
I saw the New. 

'T was but the rnin of the bad, — 

The wasting of the wrong and ill ; 
Whate'er of good the old time had 
Was living still. 

Calm grew the brows of him I feared ; 

The fi'own which awed me passed away, 
.\nd left behind a smile which cheered 
l.ike breaking dav. 



I'llAG.MENTS. 



001 



The grain gr^w gncii on batlU'iiliuns,' 

O'er swnnltHl wiu-nioiiiuis gnizcd the cow ; 
The slave stooii foigiiii» I'roiu liis clmiiLs 
The spade and [lUmgh. 

■Where frowned the fort, [liivilions gay 

And cottage windows, llower-entwinod, 
Lookeil out upon tile peaceful bay 
And hills behind. 

Through vine-wreathed cups with wine once red, 

The lights on briinniing crystal IVU, 
Drawn, sparkling, from the rivulet head 
And mossy well. 

Through prison-walls, like Heaven-sent hope, 
Kresh breezes blew, and sunbeams strayed. 
And with the idle gallows-rope 

The young child played. 

Where the doomed victim in his cell 
Had counted o'er the weaiy hours. 
Glad school-girls, answering to the bell, 
Came crowned with llowers. 

Grown wiser for the lesson given, 

I fear no longer, for I know 
That where the share is deepest driven 
The best fruits grow. 

The outworn rite, the old abuse, 

The pious frauil transparent grown, 
The good lield cajitive in the use 
Of wrong alone, — 

These wait their doom, from that great law 
Which nnikcs the past time serve to-day ; 
And fresher life the world shall draw 
From their decay. 

backward-looking son of time ! 
The new is old, the old is new. 
The cycle of a change sublime 

Still sweeping through. 

So wisely taught the Indian .seer ; 

Destroying .Seva, forming l)rahm. 
Who wake by turn Earth's love and fear. 
Are one, the same. 

Idly as thou, in that old day 

Thou mournest, did thy sire repine ; 
So, in his time, thy child grown gray 
Shall sigh for thine. 

But life shall <mi anil upward go ; 

Th' eternal step of Progress beats 

To that great anthem, calm anil slow, 

Which ("lod repeats. 



Take heart ! — the Waster builds again, — 

A charmid life old Hoodne.ss hath ; 
The tares may perish, — but the grain 
Is not for death. 

God works in all things ; all obey 

His first propulsion from the night : 
Wake thou and watch ! — the world is gray 
With morning light ! 

John greenleaf wiuttier. 



FRAGMENTS. 

The Love of (.'ountuy. 

No factious voice 
Called them unto the field of generous fame, 
But the poor consecrated love of home ; 
No deeper feeling sways us, when it wakes 
In all its greatness. 

The Graves c/Ihe Patriots. ]. G. PERCIVAL. 

What pity is it 
That we can die but once to save our country! 

Cato. /tctiv.Sc.4. ADDIBO.M. 

The inextingtiishnble spark, which fires 
The soul of patriots. 

Leoiiuias. R. Gl-OVER. 



Evil Ti.mes. 
Resolved to ruin or to rule the state. 

Absalom and Achitophet, Part It. I3RVDEN. 

That bawl for freedom in their senseless mood, 
And still revolt when truth would set them free. 
License they mean, when they cry Liberty ; 

For who loves that must first be wise and good. 

Oh lite Detraction which /oltov/ett upon my writing Certain 

Treatises, II. MH.TON. 

The man that is not moved at what lie reads, 
That takes not fire at their heroic deeiis. 
Unworthy of the blessings of the brave. 
Is base in kinil, and born to be a slave. 

Table Talk. COWPER. 

Content thyself to be obscurely good. 

When vice prevails, and impious men bear sway. 

The post of honor is a private station. 

CaU. Act Iv. Sc. 4. ADDISON. 

The Tvhan't's Plea. 

So spake the Fiend, and with necessity. 
The tyrant's plea, excused his devilish deeds. 

Paradtie Lost, Root iv. M ll.TON. 



602 



I'OEMS OF TATKIOTISM AND FREEDOM. 



Soldi Kus of Fueedom. 

Yet 't is not helm or feathei', — 
Foi' ask you ilcspot, wlxether 

His iiUuni'd bands 

(-'ouKl bring such hands 
And hearts as ours together. 
Leave pomps to those wlio need 'em, — 
Give man but lieart and freedom, 

And proud he braves 

The gaiuliest shives 
Tliat crawl where niouarchs lead 'cm. 
The sword may pierce tlie licaver, 
Stone walls in time may sever; 

'T is mind alone, 

Worth steel and stone. 
That keeps men free forever. 

O, the sisMt entrancitis^, T.MOORE. 

When once more her hosts assemble. 
Let the tyrants only tremble ; 
Smile they at this idle threat i 
Crimson tears will follow yet. 

U'MfrSifif. BYRON. 

But William said, " He don't deserve 

The name of Faith's defender, 
Who would not venture life and limb 

To niakc a foe surrender. 

" Hrave boys," he said, "be not dismayed. 

For the loss of one commander. 
For liod will be our king this day. 

And I '11 be general under." 

J'ratii tttc Jiilttte c/the BoyHe. OLD BALLAD. 

The Power that led his chosen, by pillared cloud 

and (lame, 
Through parted sea and desert waste, that Power 

is still the same ; 
He fails not — He — the loyal hearts that tirm on 

Him rely ; 
So put your trust in God, my boys, and keep 

your powder dry.* 
OUvtr's .Ithnct. Cou Blacker. 



Hu.manity's Heroe.s. 
No common object to your sight displays. 
But what with pleasure Heaven itself surveys, 
A brave man struggling in the storms of fate, 
And greatly falling with a falling state. 
WliiK' Cato gives his little senate laws, 
What bosom heats not in his country's cause ? 
M'lio hoai-s him groan, and does not wish to bleed? 
Who sees him act, but envies every deed ? 

/V^iV"' -V •V'*. A^tiilvn't CMtt. POPE. 

• Cromwell, on a cartain wcaston. when his troops were about 
crovsinc .1 river to arnck tm enemy, concluded an address with 
these words : " I'tit your tnisl in God ; but mind to keep your 
(Wwdcr dry." 



But whether on the scall'old high 

Or in the battle's van. 
The Fittest place where man can die 

Is where he dies for man ! 

M. J. rarkv. 

Freedom. 

I must have liberty 
Withal, as large a charter as the wind, 
To blow on whom I please. 

As You LtieU, Act ii. Sc. ;. SHAKESPEARE, 

Of old sat Freedom on the heights. 
The tliiinders breaking at her feet : 

Above her shook the starry lights : 
She heard the torrents meet. 

Her open eyes desire the truth. 

The wisdom of a thousand years 
Is in them. May perpetual youth 

Keep dry their light from teai-s ; 

That hor fair form may stand and shine. 
Make bright our days and light our dreams. 

Turning to scorn with Uiis divine 
The falsehood of extremes ! 

0/ old Slit FrwdjtH OH tJtt >ui£hts. TENNYSON. 

So Thouglit flung forward is the prophecy 
Of Truth's majestic uiarcli, and shows the way 
Where future time shall lead the proud array 

Of peace, of power, and love of liberty. 

Sir John bowring. 

\o. Frecdoni has a thousand charms to sliow. 
That slaves, howe'er contented, never know. 

Keligion, virtue, truth, whate'er we call 
A blessing — Freedom is the pledge of all. 

Taile Tali. COWPER. 

England. 

Daddy Neptune, one day, to Freedom did say, 

"If ever I lived upon dry land, 
The spot I should hit on would be little Britain I " 
Says Freedom, "Why, that 's my owu island !" 
0, it 's a snug little island ! 
A riglit little, tight little island ! 
Search the globe round, none can be found 
So happy as this little islantl. 

The Tiffkt LittU Island. T. DlBDIN. 

Wo must be free or die, wlio si>eak the tongue 
That Shakespeare spake ; the faith aiui morals 

hold 
Which Milton held. In everything we are sprung 
Of earth's first blood, have titles manifold. 

Po€ms <tedtcate<i to XiJtioNal tndfffndcHce. P^r' '. S'.'Mwe/ xvi 

^VOKDSWORTH. 



FIIAGMENTS. 



603 



This loynl throne of kings, this sceptred ialo, 
'I'liia uiirtli of niiijcsty, this seat of Mara, 
This other Kdeii, deini-parmlisc ; 
This fortress, Imilt hy Nature I'or herself, 
Ajpiinst infeetioii ami the hand of war ; 
This hapjiy hreed of men, this little world, 
Tliis precious stone set in the silver seu, 
Whieli serves it in the olliee of a wall, 
t)r as a moat defensive to a house. 
Against the envy of less happier lands ; 
This blesseil plot, this earth, this realm, this 
Knglanil. 

Ai«i' «ri<A.li-,( //.. A<l II. Sc. 1. SIIAKESrEARE. 



This Kngland never did, nor never shall, 
Lie at the proud foot of n eomiueior. 

KtHe y^'Ax. -<<'»■ Sc. 7. SHAKESPEARE. 



I'ireil at the sound, my genius spreads her 
wing, 
.\nd Hies where Britain courts the western spring ; 

I'lide ill their port, defiance iu their eye, 

I see the lords of humankind pass liy ; 

Intent on high designs, a thoughtful liaud, 

liy forms unfashioned ficsli from nature's hand. 

Fierce in their native hardiness of .soul, 

True to imagined riglit, aliove contrnl, — 

While even the peasant lioasts these lights to 

scan, 
.\nd learns to venerate himself as num. 
Thine, Freedom, thine the blessings pictured 

here, 
Thine are those charms that dazzle and endear. 

rite Tntttlltr. GOLDSMITH. 



A land of settled government, 
A land of just and old renown. 
Where freedom broadens slowly down, 

l''riim precedent to precedent : 

Where faction seldom gathers head ; 
Hut, by degrees to fulness wrought. 
The strength of some diffusive thought 

Math time ond space to work and spread. 

The Liifid of Landi. TENNVSON. 



God save our gi-ncio\is king. 
Long live our noble king, 

God save the king. 
Send him victorious, 
Happy and glorious, 
I.rf)ng to reign over us, 

(iod save the king. 

CM rmw Ihi k'nif. llnNRV CAREY. 



SwlTZKltLAND. 

Thus every good his native wilds impart, 
Imprints the patriot passion on his heart ; 
And e'en tho.se ills, that round his mansion rise, 
Enhance the bliss his scanty fund supplies. 
Dear is tlmt shed to which his .soul ciiufoiins, 
And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms ; 
And as a child, when scaring sounds molest. 
Clings dose and closer to the mother's breast. 
So the loud torrent and the whirlwind's roar 
But bind him to his native mountains more. 

r/lt rnxvllUr. GUUDSMll II. 



Amkhk-a. 

Hail Columbia ! happy land ! 
Hail yc heroes, heaven-born band ! 

Who fouglil and bled in freedom's cause. 
Who fciught and bled in freedom's cause. 
And when the storm of war was gone, 
Knjoycil till' peace your valor won 1 
Let indc]iciidciice be our boast, 
Ever mindful what it cost ; 
Ever grateful for the prize. 
Let its altar reach the skies. 
Firm — united — let us be, 
liallying round our liberty ; 
As a band of brothers joined, 
Peace and safety we shall lind. 

Hail Culumbtii. JOSEPH HOPKINSON. 

They love their land because it is their own. 
And scorn to give aught other reason why ; 

Would shake hands with a king upon his throne, 
And think it kindness to his majesty. 

Conmcttdtt. V. tl. Halleck. 

TlIK li.U,I.oT-li0X. 

Along the street 

The shadows meet 
Of Destiny, whose hands conceal 

The moulds of fate 

That shniic the State, 
And make or mar the connnon weal. 

Around I see 

The jiowers that bo ; 
I stand by Em|iire's primal springs ; 

And princes meet 

In eveiy street. 
And hear the tread of uncrowned kings I 

Not lightly fall 

Beyond recall 
The written scrolls a breath can float ; 

The crowning fact 

The kiugliest act 
Of Freedom is the freeman's vote I 



Thr lilt 0/ Etiftion. 



WhiTTIRR. 



(104 



I'llKMS OF rATUlni'ISM ANP I'liKKUOM 



A woopoii tliiit oomos down as still 

As siiow-llakos full viium tlio soil ; 
Hut oxoi'utos a l'ivon\ai\'s will, 

As Ugli(i\iii)i; (Iocs till' will oftioil ; 
And fi-oiii its foivo, nor doois nov looUs 
Can sliiold you ; — 't is the Imllol-box. 

A H'M\i/yMH* l^hfi-^Htf. J. ririRl'ONV. 

" CUM'KNNIAI." Kl'IlOES. 

Sun of tlio stalely Pay, 
l,ot Asia into llio shadow drift, 
Lot Kuivpc Iwsk in thy ripenod lay, 
Anvl over llu> smoiiuji; ooi-an lift 
A biiiw of hiwiili'V spliMuloi- ! 
Oivo lijflit to I 111" oagi'V oyos 
Of the l,;ind that waits to holiold (lioo rise : 
Till' fjladin'ss of niorning lond hor, 
With tlio triumph of noon attend her, 
And I ho iw'iVi'o of tho vospoi' skios 1 
Vox lo 1 she ooniotli now 
With hope on the lip ami pride on the brow, 
St iMnjsi'i', and deaii-i-. and faiii'i'. 
To smile on the Ion- we Ix'ai' her, — 
To liw, as we dn-anied liei' and sought her, 

l.ilvMty's latest daughter ! 
In the eletls of the rooks, in the seoivt plaoes, 

We t'ound her ti-.ui>8 ; 
On the hills, in tho erash of woods that full, 
We heani her eall ; 
When the lines of Kittle broke, 
We saw her faoe in the liory stnoke ; 
Thi\»i)sl> toil, and anguish, and desolation. 

Wo followed, anil founvl her 
With tho )jraet> of a virjjin Nation 
As a sjionnl ?.one aroui\tl her I 
Who shall ivjoieo 
With a righteous voiee, 
Far-hoaiNl through \he ag<>s, if not she f 
Kor the nionaoo is dun\b that vloliovi lior, 
The doubt is diMd that denied her. 
And she stands aokno\vleiigi>d, anil strong, and 
iVoo! 

PMiAniei/^htA, ^^ 4. ig;6 UAVAKU TAYLOR. 



Our fathei-s' tiod ! from out whoso hand 
The oeuturies fall like grains of sand, 
We meet to-day, united, tivo. 
And loyal to our land and thee, 
To thaidc thoo for the era done, 
And trust thee for tho opening one. 

0, make thou us, through eenturies long, 
In poaoe seevu'e, in Justioo strong ; 
Around our gift of freedom dmw 
The safeguaivis of thy righli'ous law ; 
And, oa.st in .some diviner mould, 
Let tho new cycle shame tho old ! 

Cm/fHHMi Hymn ; tHtrtttati^nat tA^illiMt, PAitaJr/^i,! 
M.ty 10, lS;«, WHITTIHR. 



Long as thine Art shall love true love, 
Long as thy Soienee truth shall know. 
Long as thine Ivigle harms no Hove, 
Long as thy Law l>y law shall grow, 
Long as thy (>od is tuid above. 
Thy brother every man below, — 
So long, dear lj\nd of all my love, 
Thy uau\o shall shine, thy fame shall glow I 

/>Ai/.t.A^iAM. .tf.^ to, 1S;0. S. LA.VIHK, 



Who Cometh over the hills, 
Her g;irments with n\oruing sweet. 
The dance of a thousand rills 
Making music lx>foro lior feet » 
Hor pivsenco t'lvsliens the air, 
Sunsliine steals light from her face. 
The leaden footstep of Caro 
Ijcaiw to the tune of hor jwce. 
Fairness of all that is tair, 
Orvco at tho heart of all grace I 
Sweetener of hut and of hall, 
Bringer of lite out of naught, 
I Fivedom, 0, faiivst of all 
The daughters of Time and Thought I 

1 X/r.V 1* i8js- J- R- LOWKLI. 




i'f)i-;.\(s o 1 'I II I, Si; A. 







*s 






1 



^ 



X s^ 










-» 










4 



rOKMS OK rilK SKA 



TIIK HKA. 

nioM "' rntnii iiAHoi.t]," i-anio iv. 

(TllKlir in II pli<ii>'iiri' in llii' |iiitlilri>i hikmIm, 
'I'Ihtii in II rii|>tiiri' iiii lln' liiiiiily kImhi', 
I liKiii \h HiH'li'ty wlirrii iiiiiiii iiilniili'N 
i;y 111" ili'i'p w'li, uml iniiHii' In lln iimr i 
I liivii lint llillll llin li'xn, lull liiilini' tliol'1% 
I'Vniii IIh'hii mil liili'i'viiiwii, In wlilili I nloiil 
Ki'iiiii all I may Im, or liiivti lii^cii lii'l'oi'i*^ 
'I'll iniii|{li' uitli lliii iliilviuni', anil lii'l 
Wlial. I ran iin'ir i'X|iri"t«, yiitciiiinol all riuii'i'al, 

Kill I on, iliiHi ili'i'pninl ilark lilin'Oiran, lull' 
Ti'ii lliuiiKaiiil fli'iiU awi'i'ii iiviir llii'ii in vnin ; 
Man iiiarloi tli« lairtli witli nilii, - IiIh ciiiilinl 
>% Hlii|M Willi lliit hIiiii'ii ; ii|iiiii llm wiili'iy |iliiiii 
Tli« wii'i'liN all' all Iliy iIukiI, nor ilntti riiniiiiii 
A nIiimImw (if iiiiin'H ravii^i', Havii Iiih own, 
WIh'Ii, I'nr 11 inoini'iit, llki< it 'Irop of rain, 
lln xlnkN liilo thy i|i'|itliH wllli liiilililiiiK){i'"'»>i 
Witliiiiit a ((ritvc, iinkiii'lliiil, iinrollliiKil, iiiiil ilii- 

klloWM. 



Hi* Hd'iM nr« not ii|Kin Uiy (hiIIih, Iliy lliililn 
Am not 11 »|ioll for liiiii, tlioii iIomI, arimi ' 
Ami iilmkii liiin from tlino ; tliii viln utrungtli 

III' wii'liU 
Kur Mirlli'ii ili'Htnirtion tlioii ilimt nil iliujiim', 
H|iiirninK liiin lioiii tliy Iiohoiii to tliii nkii'H, 
Ami Hi'ii'l'iit liiin, iililviH'in;( in tliy |>layfiil npiay 
Ami liowliii)(, to liU ({oiIh, wlii'Kt Imply liiw 
llix pi lly liopii in Miniit ni'nr port or Imy, 
Aii'l ilanliuat liini iifjiiin lo lartli : llnrn liM. Iilin 

lay. 

Till' itrmnnmnUt wlilcli tlinnilnriitrlkii llin wnllii 
of roi'k'laiilt I'ltii-ii, )iii|illn)( nalloiiH i|niiki! 
Aii'l riioiiari'liH trnnilili' in llii'ir rnpltalH, 
Till' oak li'Viatliunii, wliow liii)(ii rilut Miakn 
Tlii^ir rlay rn^ntJir tlin vnin tilln tiikit 
<l| loril of IliiMi mill iirliitiT of war, - 
'riii'w ur<' tliy toy*, iin<l, an tlin nnowv llnki', 
Tlii'y imill Into tliy y»iiit of waviw, wlilili mar 
Allki' tlin Arimiila'n pri'ln or ii|Hiilii of Tralalffar. 



Tliy ulioira aril liiiipiri'ii, I'liun^i'il in nil iiavii 

tlinii ; 
AxMyrIa, (Iri'i'i'ii, Itonin, < 'itil.lm;/.!', wlinl urn 

llioy? 
'I'liy watiiin wiuli'il llinin H'lillit tliny wiiri- frw'. 
Ami niitny it lyraiM. Klmii ; tlinir iiliornii olmy 
Tim alraiiKi'r, "lavn, or Mivat(ii ; tlii'li' dmiiiy , 
lliiH ilt'ii'il up M'liliim Ui (IcNcrtn ; not no tlioii ; 
lliii'lian)(iiiililii Hiivii lo tliy wil>l wiivi'n' play, 
Tiiiiii wrili'H no wrinkli'n on lliim- a/.iiin lirow ; 
Hiirli aHrriMttloii'Hiliiwn IikIhIiI, tlioii riilliait now. 

Tlioii (^lorloiiK mirror, wlinrn tlm Al»il«lily'>i 

form 
(iliutW'H Itwlf In li'nipi'Ntii i in all tlnm, 
I 'aim or ronviilni'il, -In lin-i'Zi', or gitlr, or 

nloriii, 
Inln^f tllii I'oli^, 1,1 ill III" lolli'l I'lillli' 
llarli'lii'iiviiiK ; IioiiihIIiiiih, nni||i'ii«, iiml miiIi- 

limi'. 
Till' imiiKii of Ktnrnlty, tlm tlironn 
Of lliii InvlNililii I iiviin from out tliy ullniii 
Tim monatiirit of tlm ilri'p arr imi'lii ; nai'li mnn 
Olii'yH tliiiii ; tliou ^oiml I'oilli, ilri'iiil, fatlioinli'lw, 

nl(in«. 



Anil I liuvii loviid tliiic, Onitnii I ami rny Joy 
Of yontlifiil Dpnrta wiot on tliy limaiit to Im 
I'lnni', like Iliy liiilililin, onwaril ; from n iMjy 
I wantoiM'il with tliy liri'aki'r«, limy l^i mn 
Wi'ii' It i|nll«lit I iiml If llm fii'iilii'iiin(< ana 
Mmlii tlmni it tiirror, 't wan a pI'imiiiK finr ; 
l''or I witM lui It worn it iliilii of llii'n, 
Ami tniittiHJ t<i thy billowa far ami ni'nr, 
Ami Inlil my linml upon thy niitni), - ii* I 
lmr«. 



If 



Lowri IIVAOM, 



Till'- HKA. 

Iti'.AiMil'iM., fiiililimi', nnil u^nrUmH ; 

Milil, niiiji'Mtli', foaniinK, fr''", — 
(lv«r timn itwlf v|i:torlonii, 

ImiiKo of I'.titrnlty I 



608 



I'OE.MS 01-' TliK SKA. 



Suu aiid luoou uiui stnrs sliiiif o'er thee, 

See thy siiri'iico ebb mul How, 
Yet attempt not to explore tUoo 

In thy souudless depths below. 

Whotlior nioi'iiiiig's siileiulois steep thee 
With the iiiiiilxnv's glowing grace, 

Tempests loiise, o. navies sweep thee, 
'T is but lor a moment's spuee. 

Earth, — her valleys and her mountains, 

Mortal man's behests obey ; 
The unt'athomable fountains 

Scot)' his search and scorn his sway. 

Such art thou, stupendous Ocean ! 

But, iC overwhelmed by thee. 
Can we think, without enuition, 

What must thy Creator be .' 

I'.iiKNAKD Barton. 



THE OCEAX. 

fWrittcn .It Scarborouijli, in tile Siiiumer of 1&15.I 

Al.L liail to the ruins, the rocks, and the shores ! 

Thou wide-rolling t>ceau. all hail ! 

Now brilliant with sunbeams and dimpled with 

oars. 
Now dark with the fresh-blowing gale, 
While soft o'er thy bosom the cloud-shadows sail, 
.Vnd the silver-winged sea-fowl on high. 
Like nieteoi's bespangle the sky. 
Or dive in the gulf, or triumphantly ride. 
Like foam on the surges, the swans of the tide. 

From the tmnull and smoke of the city set free, 
With eager and awful delight, 
I'roni the crest of the mountain I gaze upon thee, 
1 gaze, — and am changed at the sight ; 
Kor mine eye is illumiued, my genius takes flight. 
My soul, like the sun, with a glance 
Enibi-ju'es the boundless expanse, 
.\nd moves on thy watei-s, wherever they roll. 
From the day-darting zone to the night-shadowed 
pole. 

J\Iy spirit descends where tlie dayspring is born, 

Where the billows are rubies on lire, 

And the breezes that rock the light cradle of 

nuirn 
Are sweet as the Phojnix's pyre. 
regions of beauty, of love and desiire ! 
O ganleiis of Eden I in vain 
riaced far on the fathomless main, 
Where Nature with Innocence dwelt in her 

youth, 
When ]iure was heriheart and unbroken her 

truth. 



Hut now the fair rivers of Paradise wind 
Through countries and kingdoms o'erthrown ; 
Where the giant of tyraimy crushes mankind. 
Where he reigns, — and will soon reign alone ; 
For wide and more wide, o'er the sun-beaming 

zone 
He stretches his hundred-fold arms, 
Despoiling, destroying its charms ; 
Heneath his broad footstep the Ganges is dry. 
And the mountains recoil from the flash of his 

eye. 

Thus the pestilent Upas, the demon of trees, 

Its boughs o'er the wilderness spreads. 

And with livid contagion polluting the breeze, 

Its mildewing inlhience sheds ; 

The birds on the wing, and the Mowers in their 

beds, 
Are slain by its venomous breath. 
That liarkens the noonday with death, 
And pale ghosts of travellei's wander around, 
While their mouldering skeletons wliiteu the 

ground. 

Ah ! why hath .lehovah, in forming the world. 

With the waters divided the land, 

His ramparts of rocks round the eontinejil 

hurled. 
And cradled the deep in liis liand. 
If nnui nuiy transgress his eternal eomnuiud, 
And leap o'er the bounds of his birth. 
To ravage the uttermost earth. 
And violate nations and realms that should be 
Distinct as the billows, yet one as the sea .' 

Tliere are, gloomy Ocean, a brotherless clan, 

Who travei-se thy banishing waves. 

The poor disinherited outcasts of man. 

Whom Avarice coins into slaves. 

From the liomes of their kindred, their fore- 

fathera' graves. 
Love, friendship, and conjugal bliss, 
They are ilragged on the hoary abyss ; 
Tlie shark heai-s their shrieks, and, ascending 

to-day, 
Denninds of the spoiler his share of the prey. 

Then joy to the tempest that whelms them be- 
neath. 

And makes their destruction its sport ; 

But woe to the winds that propitiously breathe. 

And waft them in sjifety to port. 

Where tlie vultures and vamiiires of Mammon 
resort ; 

AAHiere Europe exultingly drains 

The life-blood from Africa's veins ; 

Where num rules o'er man with a uiereiless rod, 

And spurns at Ids footstool the image of tnid '. 



POEMS OF THE SEA. 



609 



Tlie hour is approucliiiig, — a terrible hour ! 
Ami Veiifji'iiiKc is lit^iiiliiig livr liow ; 
Alri'uily the cldiuls uf thu lunilcam) Iowlt, 
Ami the roc^k-icmliiig wliirlwimis Mow ; 
IJui'k rolls the huge Oceiiii, liell opens below ; 
The II001I3 return heaillong, — Ihey sweep 
The sliive-cultured lunils to the deep, 
In M moment entonibeil in the horrible void, 
By their Maker himself in his unger destroyed. 

Shall this bo the fate of the caue-planted isles, 

More lovely thiin elond.s in the west. 

When the sun o'er the oimnui deseending in smiles, 

Siuks softly and sweetly to rest ? 

No ! — Father of merey ! befriend llie opprest ; 

At the voii-O of thy gospel of peace 

May the sorrows of Afriea eease ; 

Ami slave and his master devoutly unite 

To walk in thy free<lom and dwell in thy light ! 

As lionieward my weary-winged Fancy extends 

Her star-lighted course through the skies. 

High over the mighty Atlantic ascends, 

And turns upon Kurojie her eyes : 

Ah me ! what new prospects, new horrors, arise! 

1 see the war-teinpesti'd Hood 

All foaming, and panting with blood ; 

The panic-struck Ocean in agony roars, 

liebounds from the battle, and Hies to his shores. 

For Hritannia is wielding the trident to-day. 

Consuming her foes in her ire. 

Ami hurling her thunder with absolute sway 

From hc-r wave-ruling iduiriots of tire. 

•She triumphs ; the winds and the waters conspire 

To spread her invincible name ; 

The universe rings with her fame ; 

But the cries of the fatherless mix with her 

pmise, 
And the tears of the widow are alieil (jij her bays. 

( > BKtain, dear Britain ! the land of my birtli ; 

<) Isle most enehantingly fair ! 

Thou I'earl of the <»ceau ! thou Gem of the 

Karth ! 
O my Mother, my Mother, beware. 
For wealth is a piiantom, and empire a snare ! 
•0, let not thy birthright be sold 
For repmbate glory and gold ! 
Thy distant dominions like wild graftings shoot. 
They weigh down thy trunk, they will tear up 

thy root, — 

The root of thine oak, O my country ! that stands 

Kock-planted and flourishing free ; 

Its bninehes are stretched o'er the uttermost 

laniJB, 
And its shallow eclipses the sea. 
The blood of our ancestors nourished the tree ; 



From their tombs, from their ashes, it sprung ; 

Its boughs with their trophies are hung ; 

Their spirit dwells in it, and — hark ! for it 

spoke. 
The voice of our fathers ascends from their oak : 

" Ye Britons, who dwell where we compiered of 

old, 
Who inherit our battle-field graves ; 
Though poor were your fathers, — gigantic and 

bold. 

We were not, we could not be, slaves ; 

But lirni as our rocks, and as free as our waves. 

The sjiears of the Romans we broke, 

We never stooped under their yoke. 

In the shipwreck of nations we stood up alone, — 

The world was great C'aisar's, but Britain our 

own." 

Jambs Montgomery. 



HAMPTON BKACH. 

The sunlight glitters keen and blight, 

Where, miles away. 
Lies stretching to my dazzled sight 
A luminous belt, a misty light. 
Beyond the dark pine blult's and wastes of sandy 
gray. 

The tremulous shadow of tin- Sea ! 

Against its grouml 
Of silvery liglit, roi:k, hill, anil tree. 
Still as a picture, clear and free, 
With varying outline mairk the coast for miles 
arrjiuid. 

On — on — we tread with loose-flung rein 

Our seaward way, 
Through dark-green fi(diis and blossoming 

grain. 
Where the wilil brier-rose skirts the lane. 
And bends above our heads the llowering locust 
spray. 

Ha ! like a kind hand on my brow 

(.'omc!s this fresh breeze, 
Cooling its dull and feverish glow. 
While through my being seems to flow 
The breath of a new life, — the healing of the 
seas ! 

Now ri:8t we, where this grassy mound 

His fec^t hath set 
In the great waters, which have bound 
His granit<t ankles gi'eenly round 
With long and tangled moss, and weeds with 
cool spray wet. 



610 



POEMS OF THE SEA. 



Good-by to pain and care ! I take 

Mine ease to-day ; 
Here, wliere the sunny waters break, 
And ripples this keen breeze, I sliake 
All burdens from the heart, all weary thoughts 
away. 

I draw a freer breath — I seem 

Like all I see — 
Waves in the sun — the white-winged gleam 
Of sea-birds in the slanting beam — 
And far-off .sails which Hit before the south-wind 
free. 

(So when Time's veil shall fall asunder, 

The soul may know 
No fearful change, nor sudden wonder, 
Nor sink the weight of mystery under. 
But with the upward rise, and with the vastness 
grow. 

And all we shrink from now may seem 

No new revealing, — 
Familiar as our childhood's stream. 
Or pleasant memory of a dream. 
The loved and cherished Past upon the new life 
stealing. 

Serene and mild, the untried light 

May have its dawning ; 
And, as in summer's northern night 
The evening and the dawn unite. 
The sunset hues of Time blend with the soul's 
new morning. 

I sit alone ; in foam and spray 

Wave after wave 
Breaks on the rocks which, stern and gray, 
Shoulder the broken tide away, 
Or umrmurs hoarse and strong through mossy 
cleft and cave. 

Wliat heed I of the dusty land 

And noisy town ? 
I see the mighty deep expand 
From its white line of glimmering sand 
To where the blue of heaven on bluer waves 
shuts down ! 

In listless quietude of mind, 

I yield to all 
The change of cloud and wave and wind ; 
And passive on the flood reclined, 
I wander with the waves, and with them rise 
and fall. 

But look, thou dreamer ! — wave and shore 

In shadow lie ; 
The night-wind warns me back once more 



To where, my native hill-tops o'er, 
Bends like an arcli of iire the glowing sunset 
sky! 

So then, beach, bluflT, and wave, farewell ! 

1 bear with me 

No token stone nor glittering shell. 

But long and oft shall Memory tell 

Of this brief thoughtful hour of musing by the 

Sea. 

John Greenleaf Whittier. 



TWILIGHT AT SEA. 

The twilight hours, like birds, flew by. 

As lightly and as free. 
Ten thousand stars were in the sky, 

Ten thousand on the sea ; 
For every wave, with dimpled face, 

That leaped upon the air. 
Had caught a star in its embrace, 

And held it trembling there. 

Amelia B. Welbv. 



OCEAN. 



FROM "THE COURSE OF TIME." BOOK I. 

Great Ocean ! strongest of creation's sons. 

Unconquerable, unreposed, untired. 

That rolled the wild, profound, eternal bass- 

In nature's anthem, and made music such 

As pleased the ear of God ! original, 

Unmarred, uufaded work of Deity ! 

And unburlesqued by mortal's puny skill ; 

From age to age enduring, and unchanged, 

Majestical, inimitable, vast, 

Loud uttering satire, day and night, on each 

Succeeding race, and little pompous work 

Of man ; unfallen, religious, holy sea ! 

Thou bowedst thy glorious licad to none, fearcdst 

none, 
Heardst none, to none didst honor, but to God 
Thy Maker, only worthy to receive 
Thy great obeisance. 

Robert tollok. 



THE SEA. 

Behold the Sea, 
The opaline, the plentiful and strong, 
Yet beautiful as is the rose in June, 
Fresh as the trickling rainbow of July : 
Sea full of food, the nourisher of kinds, 
Purger of earth, and medicine of men ; 
Creating a sweet climate by my breath. 
Washing out harms and griefs from memory^ 
And, in my mathematic ebb and flow, 



POEMS OF THE SEA. 



611 



Giving a hint of th^it wliich changes not. 
Kicli are tlie sea-goil.s : — wlio gives gifts but they ? 
They grope tlie.sea for pearl.s Init more than pearls: 
Tliey pluck Force thence, and give it to the wise. 
For every wave is wealth to DiBilalus, 
Wealtli to tile cunning artist who can work 
This matchless strength. Where shall he tinil, 

waves ! 
A load your Atlai! shoulders cannot lift ? 
I with my lianinier pounding evermore 
The rocky coast, smite Andes into ilust, 
Strewing my bed, and, in another age, 
Kelmild a continent of better men. 
Then I unbar the doors : my paths lead out 
The exodus of nations : 1 disperse 
Men to all shores that front the hoary main. 

kalph wall>o Umerson. 



THE Dl.'^APPOINTED LOVER. 

FROM "THE TRIUMPH OF TIME." 

I WILL go back to the great sweet mother — 
Mother and lover of men, the Sea. 

I will go down to her, I and none other. 

Close with her, kiss her, and mi.\ her with me ; 

Cling to her, strive with her, hold lier fast. 

fair white mother, in days long past 

Born without sister, boni without brother, 
Set free my soul as thy soul is free. 

fair green-girdled njother of mine, 

Sea, that art clothed with the sun and the rain, 
Thy sweet hard kisses are strong like wine, 

Thy large embraces are keen like pain. 
Savi' me and hide me with all thy waves, 
Find me one grave of thy thousand graves, 
Those pure cold populous giaves of thine, — ■ 

Wrought without hand in a world without stain. 

1 shall slec)i, and move with the moving ships. 
Change as the winds change, veer in the tide ; 

My lips will feast on the foam of thy lips, 

I shall rise with thy rising, with tine .subside ; 
Sleep, and not know if she be, if she were, — 
Filled full with life to the eyes and hai?-. 
As a rose is full filled to the rose-leaf tips 
With splendid summer and perfume and pride. 

This woven raiment of nights and days. 

Were it once cast off and unwound from me, 

Naked and glad would I walk in thy ways, 
Alive and aware of thy waves and thee ; 

Clear of the whole woild, hidden at hcune. 

Clothed with the gieen, and crowned with the 
foam, 

A pulse of the life of thy straits and bays, 
A vein in the heart of the streams of the Sea. 
ALCER.NoN Charles Swinburne. 



DOVER BEACH. 

The sea is calm to-night. 

The tide is full, the moon lies fair 

Upon the Straits ; — on the French coast, tlie light 

Gleams and is gone ; the cliffs of England stand, 

(Uimmering and vast, out in the tranipiil bay. 

Come to the window ; sweet is the night air ! 

Only, fi'om the long line of spray 

Where the ebb meets the moon-blanched sand, 

Listen ! you hear the grating roar 

Of pebbles which the waves suck back, and fling, 

At their retuiii, up the high strand. 

Begin and cease, and then again begin. 

With tremulous cadence slow, and bring 

The eternal note of sadness in.^ -■ 

Matthew Arnold. 



ADDRESS TO THE OCEAN. 

THOU vast Ocean ! ever-sounding Sea !-.^ 
Thou symbol of a drear immensity ! 

Tliou thing that windest round the solid world 
Like a huge animal, which, downward hurled 
From the black clouds, lies weltering and alone, 
Lashing and writliing till its strength be gone ! 
Thy voice is like the thumler, and thy sleep 
Is as a giant's slumber, loud and deep. 
Thou speakest in the east and in the west 
At once, and on thy heavily laden breast 
Fleets come and go, and shapes that have no life 
Or motion, yet are moved and meet in strife. 
The earth has naught of this : no chance or 

change 
Ruffles its surface, and no spirits dare 
Give answer to the tempest-wakened air ; 
But o'er its wastes the weakly tenants range 
At will, and wound its bosom as they go : 
Ever the same, it hath no ebb, no Row : 
But in their stated rounds the .seasons come. 
And pass like visions to their wonted home ; 
And come again, and vanish ; the young Spring 
Looks ever bright with leaves and blossoming ; 
And Winter always winds his sullen horn. 
When the wild Autumn, with a look forlorn. 
Dies in his stormy manhood ; and the .skies 
Weep, and flowers sicken, when the summer Hies. 
0, wonderful thou art, great element. 
And fearf\il in thy spleeny humors bent, 
And lovely in repose ! thy summer fomi 
Is beautiful, and when thy silver waves 
Make music in earth's dark and winding caves, 

1 love to wander on thy pelibled beach. 
Marking the sunlight at tlie evening hour. 
And hearken to the thoughts thy waters teach ,^ 
Eternity — Eternity — and Power. 

Dkvan Waller Procter {Barry Carnitiatl), 



Gii; 



POEMS OF THE SEA. 



ON THE LOSS OE THE ROYAL GEOKGE. 

WRITTEN WHBN THE NEWS ARRIVED ; 1782. 

Toll for the biave, — 
Tho bi'iivo tliat are no more ! 

All sunk beneath the wave, 
Fast by tlieii' native slioie. 

Eight hunJred of the brave, 
AVhose eourage well was tried, 

Hail iiiailo the vessel heel, 
And laid her on her side. 

A land-breeze shook the shrouds. 

And she was overset ; 
Down went the Hoyal George, 

With all her erew eonqilete. 

Toll for the brave ! 

Hrave Keinpeiil'elt is gone ; 
Hi;* last sea-light is I'ouglit, 

His work of glory done. 

It was not ill the battle : 
No tempest gave the shock ; 

She spmng no fatal leak ; 
She ran upon no roek. 

His sword was in its sheath, 

His lingi'rs held the pen, 
When Kempenfelt went down 

With twice four hundred men. 

Weigh the vessel up. 

Once dreaded by our foes ! 
And mingle with our enp 

The tear that England owes. 

Her timbers yet are sound. 

And she may lloat again. 
Full charged with England's thunder. 

And plough the distant main. 

But Kempenfelt is gone ; 

His victories are o'er ; 
And he and his eight hundred 

Shall plough the wave no more. 

William Cowper. 



THE SHIPWRECK. 

In vain tlie cords and axes were (irepared. 
For now the audacious seas insult the yard ; 
High o'er the ship they thixiw a horrid shade. 
And o'er her burst in terrible cascade. 
Uplifted on the surge, to heaven she Hies, 
Her shattered top half buried in the skies, 



Then headlong plunging thunders on the ground ; 
Earth groans ! air trembles ! and the ileeps re- 
sound ! 
Her giant-bulk the dread concussion feels. 
And quivering with the wound in torment reels. 
So reels, convulsed with agonizing throes, 
The bleeding bull beneath the murderer's blows. 
Again she plunges ! hark ! a second shock 
Tears her strong bottom on the marble rock : 
Down on the vale of death, with dismal cries. 
The fated victims, shuddering, roll their eyes 
In wild des]>air ; while yet another stroke. 
With deep convulsion, rends the solid oak ; 
Till like the mine, in whose infernal cell 
The lurking demons of destruction dwell. 
At length asuiulei' torn her franu- divides. 
And, crashing, spreads in ruin o'er the tides. 

0, were it mine with tuneful Maro's art 
To wake to sympathy the feeling heart ; 
Like him the smooth and mournl'ul verse to dress 
In all the pomp of exquisite distress. 
Then too severely taught by cruel fate. 
To share in all the perils 1 relate, 
Then might 1 with unrivalled strains deplorf 
The impervious horrors of a lei'ward shore ! 

As o'er the surge the stooping mainmast luiug. 
Still on the rigging thirty seanuui clung ; 
Sonu", struggling, on a broken crag were cast, 
And there by oozy tangles gra]ipled fast. 
Awhile they bore the o'erwhelmiiig billows' rage, 
ITneijual combat with their fate to wage ; 
Till, all benumbed and feeble, they forego 
Their slippery hold, and sink to shades below. 
Some, from the nniin-yard-ann impetuous thrown 
On marble ridges, die without a groan. 
Three with Palenum on their skill depend, 
And from the wreck on oars and rafts descend. 
Now on the mountain wave on high they ride. 
Then downward plunge lieneath the involving 

tide. 
Till one, who seems in agony to strive, 
Tho whirling breakers heave on shore alive ; 
The ix'st a speedier end of anguish knew. 
And pressed the stony beach, a lifeless crew ! 

wii.LTAM Falconer. 



THE SEA FIGHT. 

AS TOLD PV AN ANCUCNT MARlNER>v, 

Ah, yes, — the fight ! AVell, messmates, well, 
I served on board that Ninety-eight ; 

Yet what I saw I loathe to tell. 
To-night be sure a crushing weight 

Upon my sleeping breast, a hell 
Of dread, will sit. At any rate. 

Though land-locked hi're, a watch I '11 keep, — 

Grog cheers us still. M"ho cares for sleep ? 



POEMS OF THE SEA. 



613 



That Ninety-eiglit I snileil on buiiiil ; 

Along the Krcnclnnaii's oiiast we llcw ; 
Right lift Iho rising teniiiest roiueil ; 

A nolilir lirst-nite hove in view ; 
Anii soon liigli in the giile tliere .sofired 

Her streiuni'il-imt bunting, — reil, white, blue ! 
We cleiueil lor liglit, iinil lamlward bore, 
To get between the cliase and shore. 

Wasters, I cannot spin a j'arn 
Twice hiiil witli words of silken stull". 

A fact 's a fact ; and ye may larn 
The rights o' this, though wild and rough 

My words may loom. 'T is your consavn, 
Not mine, to understand. Enough ; — 

Wo neared the Frenchman where he lay. 

And as we neareil, he blazed away. 

We tacked, hove to ; we filled, we wore ; 

Did all that seamanship could do 
To nike him alt, or by the fore, — 

Now rouniled off, and now broached to ; 
And now our starboanl broadside bore. 

And showers of iron through and through 
His vast hull hissed ; our larboard then 
Swept from his threefold decks his men. 

As we, like a huge serpent, toiled. 

And wound about, through that wild sea, 

The Frenchman each manteuvre foiled, — 
'Vantage to neither there could be. 

Wliilst thus the waves l>etween us boiled, 
We both resolved right manfully 

To tight it side by side ; — began 

Then the tierce strife of man to man. 

Gun bellows forth to gun, and pain 
Kings out her wiUl, delirious scream I 

Redoubling thunders shake the main ; 
Ltiud crashing, falls the shot-rt'nt beam. 

The tinibers with the bn)adsidcs strain ; 
The slippery decks .send up a steam 

From hot and living blood, and high 

And shrill is heard the death-pang cry. 

The shredded limb, the splintered bone, 
The unstitfened corpse, now block the way ! 

Who now can hear the ilying groan I 
The trumpet of the judgment-day. 

Had it i«'alcd forth its mighty tone, 

We sliouhl not, then have heard, — to say 

W'ould be rank sin ; but this I tell. 

That could aUuie our mailness ipiell. 

Upon the forecastle I fought 

As captain of the for'ad gun. 
A scattering shot the ciirringe caught ! 

What mother then had known her son 



Of those who stood around ? — distraught, 
And smeared with gore, about they run. 
Then fall, and writhe, and howling die ! 
But one escaped, — that one was I ! 

Night darkened round, and the storm pealed ; 

To windward of us lay the foe. 
As he to leeward over kcclcil. 

He could not light his guns below ; 
So just was going to strike, — when reeled 

Our vessel, as if some vast blow 
From an Almiglity band had rent 
The huge ship from her clement. 

Then howled the thunder. Tumult then 
Had stunned herself to silence. Round 

Were scattered lightning-blasted men ! 

Our mainmast went. All stilled, drowned. 

Arose the Frenchman's sliout. Again 
The bolt burst on us, and we found 

Our nmsts all gone, — our decks all riven : 

Man's war mocks faintly that of heaven ! 

Just then, — nay, messmates, laugh not now, — 

As I, amazed, one minute stood 
Amidst that rout, — I know not how, — 

'T was silence all, — the raving flood, 
The guns that pealed from stem to bow. 

And God's own thundci', — nothing could 
I then of all that tumult hear. 
Or see aught <ir that scene of fear,— 

My aged mother at her door 
Sat mildly o'er her humming wheel ; 

The cottage, orchard, and the moor, — 
I saw them plainly all. 1 '11 kneel, 

And swear 1 saw them ! O, they wore 
A look all peace I Could I but feel 

Again that bliss that then I felt. 

That made my heart, like childhood's, melt ! 

The blessW tear was on my cheek. 

She smiled with that old smile I know : 

"Turn to me, mother, turn and speak," 
Was on my i|uivering lips, — when lo ! 

All vanished, and a dark, red streak 
(! hired wild and vivid I'rnm the foe, 

Tliat flashed upon the blood-stained water, — 

For fore and aft the flames had caught her. 

She struck and hailed us. On us fast 
All burning, helplessly, she came, — 

Near, and more near ; and not a most 
Had v,r to help us from that flame. 

'T was then tlic bravest stood ngha.st, — 
'T was then the wicked on the name 

(With ilnnger and with guilt appalled) 

Of God, too long neglected, called. 



614 



POEMS OK THE SKA. 



The eildying llaines with raviMiing toiigiif 
Now on our ship's ilnik Inilwiuks iliish, — 

We nlmost tonchml, — whou w'l'iiii nmj; 
Downi to its (leptlis with oiu' loinl crush ! 

Ill hi'iivoii's top vault one iiistiint hung 
Thu vast, intense, and Winding Hash ! 

Then all was darkness, stillness, diead, — 

The wave moaned o'ei the valiant dead. 

She 's gone ! Mown up ! that galhiiit I'oe ! 

And though she lolt us in a plight. 
We tlonted still ; long weiv, 1 know, 

And haixl, the laliois of that night 
To eleai- the wieek. At length in tow 

A IVigjite took us, when 't was light ; 
And soon an English port we gained, — 
A hulk all battered and hlood-staiued. 

So many slain, — so many dmwued ! 

I like not of that light to tell. 
Come, let the cheerful grog go round ! 

Messmates, I 've done, .V spell, ho ! spell, — 
Though a pressed man, 1 '11 still lio found 

To do a seaman's duty well. 
I wish our brother landsinen knew 
One half we jolly tars go through. 

ANONVMOUS. 



OASABIANOA. 

fV'oung Casabiancn, n boy ftboul thirteen >T«rs oUl, son of tlic 
Ailmiral of the Orient. rciii.iinc<l At his post (in the lt.ittle of the Nile) 
nflcr the ship hnj taken tire <\ntl all the ^tiiis liiul tieen nKindonc^l. 
ani.1 pcrishnl in the explosion of the vessel, when the lUuics hiul 
reached the powiler.J 

The boy stood on the burning deck, 

Whence all but him had lied ; 
The llame that lit the Kittles wr^ck 

Shone ixniml him o'er the dead. 

Yet beautiful and bright he stood, 

As iKirn to rule the storm ; 
A civature of heroic lilood, 

A proutl though childlike fonn. 

The flames rolled on ; he would not go 

Without his father's woi\l ; 
Thai father, faint in death below. 

His voice no longer heaixl. 

lie called aloud, "Say, father, say, 

If yet my task lie done ! " 
lie knew not that the chieftain lay 

Unconscious of his son, 

" Sjieak, father ! " once again he cried, 

"If 1 may yet be gone ! " 
And but the iKioinim; shots ivplied, 

And fast the flames toIUhI on. 



Upon his brow he felt their broath. 

And in his waving hair, 
.\iul looked from that lone post of death 

In still yet brave despair ; 

And shonteti but once nioi-e aloud, 

"My father ! must I stay ?" 
While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud. 

The wreathing lires made way. 

They wrapt the ship in splendor wild, 

They caught the flag on high. 
Ami streamed above the gallant child. 

Like baunei-s in the sky. 

There came a buret of thunder sound ; 

The boy, — Oh ! where was lir ' 
Ask of the winds, that far arouiul 

With fragments strewed the sea, — 

With shroud and mast and pennon fair, 
That well hail borne their part, — 

Hut the noblest thing tliat perished thei-e 
Was that young, faithful heart, 

FISLICIA Hl'.M.\NS, 



THE MAIUXEK'S PREAM. 

1 N sUimlx-rs of midnight the sailor-boy lay ; 

His hammock swung loose at tlie sport of the 
wind ; 
But watch-worn and weary, his cares flew away. 

And visions of happiness lianeed o'er his mind. 

He divanit of his home, of his dear native 
Ixiwei-s, 
And pleasures that waited on life's merry 
morn ; 
While Memory stood sideways, half covercii with 
llowei-s. 
And restored every rose, but secreted its thorn. 

Then Fancy her magical pinions spi-ead wide. 
Ami Imde tlie young divanier in ecstasy rise ; 

Now far, far behiinl him the green watei's glide. 
And the cot of his foivfathei-s blesses his eyes. 

The jessamine elambei-s in flowers o'er the thatch. 

And the swallow chirps sweet from her nest in 
the wall : 
All trembling with transport he raises the latch, 

And the voices of loved ones i-eply to his call. 

A fatlier bends o'er him with looks of delight ; 
His cheek is impearliHl with a mother's warm 
tear ; 
And the lips of the boy in a love-kis-s unite 
With the lips of the maid whom his bosom 
holds dear. 



POEMS OF rilK SUA. 



015 



The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast ; 
luy quickens his pulse, uU bis hardships seem 
o'er ; 
And a muniiur of happiness steals throu-,')! his 
rest, — 
"0 God ! thou liiuit blest iiic, — I a.sk I'ui- no 
more." 

All ! whence is that llaiiii: wliicli now btnsts on 
his eye I 
Ah ! what is that sound whieb ncjw lurunis 
his car ! 
'Tis the lightning's red glare, painting hell on 
the sky ! 
'T is the crash of the thunder, the groan of the 
sphere ! 

lie springs from bis hammock, he llies to the 
deck ; 
Amazement confronts him with images dire ; 
Wild winds and mud waves drive the vessel a 
wreck ; 
The masts tly in splinters ; the shrouds are on 
lire. 

Like mountains the billows tremendously swell ; 

In vain the lost wretch calls on mercy to save ; 
I'nseen hands of spirits are ringing bis knell. 

And the death-angel fla[)s bis broad wing o'er 
the wave ! 

I O sailor-boy, woe to thy dream of delight ! 

In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of 
bliss. 
Where now is the picture that Fancy touched 
bright, — 
Thy parents' fond pressure, and love's honeyed 
kiss ? 

O sailor-boy ! sailor-boy ! never again 

Shall home, love, or kindred thy wishes repay ; 

Unblessed and unhonored, down <l<M'p in the 
main. 
Full many a fathom, thy frame shall decay. 

No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for 
thee. 
Or redeem form or fame from the merciless 
surge ; 
l!ut the white foam of waves shall thy winding- 
sheet be, 
And winds in the midnight of winter thy 
dirge ! 

On a bed of green sea-flowers tliv limbs sbidl be 
laid, - 
Around thy white bones the red coral shall 
grow ; 



Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be 
made. 
And every part suit to thy mansioi below. 

Days, months, years, and ages shall circle away. 
And still the vast waters above tliee shall roll ; 

Kartb loses thy pattern foi'ever and aye, — 
sailor-boy ! sailoi'-boy ! peace to thy soul ! 

WILLIAM UIMOND. 



POOK JACK. 

Oi), patter to lubbers and swabs, do ye 8ee,'^( 

'Bout danger, and fear, and the like ; 
A tight-water boat and good sea-room give me. 

And it a'n't to a little I 'II strike. 
Though the tempest topgallant-masts smack 
smooth should smite. 

And shiver each sjilinter of wood. 
Clear the deck, stow the yards, and bouse every- 
thing tight. 

And uniler reefed foresail we 'II sc\id : 
Ava.st ! nor don't think nie a milksop so soft 

To be taken for trifles aback; 
For they say there 's a Providence sits up aloft. 

To keep watch for the life of poor Jack ! 

I beard our good chaplain palaver one day 

About .souls, heaven, mercy, and such ; 
And, my timbers ! what lingo he'd coil and belay; 

Why, 't was just all as one as High Dutch ; 
P'or he said how a sparrow (;an't founder, d'ye see, 

Without orders that come down below ; 
And a many line things that proved clearly to me 

That Providence wkes us in tow : 
"For," says he, do you mind nic, "let storms 
e'er so oft 

Take the topsails of sailors aback. 
There 's a sweet little cherub that sits up aloft. 

To keep watch for the life of poor Jack !" 

1 said to our Poll, — for, d' ye see, she would 
cry, — 

When last we weighed anclior foi' sea, 
" What argufies snivelling and piping your eye ? 

Why, what a blamed fool you must be ! 
Can't you see, the world 's wide, and there 's 
room for us all, 

I5otb for seamen and lubbers ashore ? 
And if to old Davy 1 should go, friend Poll, 

You never will bear of me more. 
What then '( All 's a hazard : come, don't be .so 
soft : 

Perhaps I may laughing come back ; 
For, il' ye see, there 's a cherub sits smiling aloft, 

To keep wati'li for the lifi' of poor Jack ! " 



616 



POEMS OF THE !>EA. 



D" ye miud me, a snilor slioiiUl be every inch 

All as oue iis a piece of the ship, 
And with her brave the world, notoU'eriii}; to lliiich 

Fivm the moment the anchor 's a-trip. 
As for me, in all weathers, all times, sides, and 
enils, 

Xaught 's a trouble from duty that springs. 
For my heart is my Poll's, and my rhino 's my 
friend's. 

And as for my will, 'tis the king's. 
Even when my time comes, ne'er believe me so soft 

As for grief to K" taken aback ; 
For the same little cherub that sits up aloft 

AVill look out a good berth for poor Jack ! 

CHARLES DIBOIN. 



NAPOLEON AND THE BRITISH SAILOR. 

I LOVE contemplating — ajiai-t 

From all his homicidal glory — 
The traits that soften to our heart 
Napoleon's glory ! 

'T was when his lnuiners at Boulogne 
Armed in our island every freemiui. 
His navy chaneevl to eaptui-e oue 
Poor Britisli seaman. 

They suffered him — I know not how — 

Unprisoned on the shore to roam ; 
And aye was bent his longing brow 
Ou England's home. 

His eye, methinks ! pursued the (light 

Of birds to Britain half-way over ; 
WitJi envy Ihiii could reach the white 
Dear cliffs of Dover. 

A stormy midnight watch, he tliovight. 

Than this sojourn would have lieen dearer. 
If but the storm his vessel brought 
To England nejiivr. 

At last, when care had Kinished sleep. 

He saw one morning, di-eaming. doting. 
An empty hogshead from the deep 
Come shoivwaixl floating ; 

He hid it in a cave, and wrought 

The livelong day laliorious ; lurking 
Until he launched a tiny Iwat 
By mighty working. 

Heaven help us ! 't was a thing beyond 
Description wretched ; such a wherry 
Perhaiis ne'er ventured ou a pond. 
Or crossed a fcrrv. 



For, ploughing in the salt-sea field. 

It would have made the boldest shudder ; 
Untarred, uncompassed, and unkeeled, — 
No sail, no rudder. 

From neighboring woods he interlaced 

His sorry skilf with wattled willows ; 
Ai.d thus enuipped he would have passed 
The foaming billows, — 

But Frenchmen caught him on the beach. 

His little Argo sorely jeering ; 
Till tidings of him chanced to reach 
Napoleon's hearing. 

^Vith folded anns Napoleon stood, 

Serene alike in peace and danger ; 
And, in his wonted attitude, 
.\ddrcssed the stranger ; — 

" Rash man, that wouldst yon Channel pass 

On twigs and staves so rudely fashioned, 
Thy heart withsome sweet British lass 
JIust be impassioned." 

" I have no sweetheart," said the lad ; 

" But — aVisent long from oue another — 
Great was the longing that 1 had 
To see my mother." 

" And so thou shalt," Najioleon said. 
"Ye ve both my favor fairly won ; 
A noble mother nnist have bivd 
So brave a son." 

He gave the tar a piece of gold, 

And. with a flag of truce, commanded 
He should lie shipped to England Old, 
And safely lauded. 

Our sailor oft could scaroely shift 

To find a dinner, plain and hearty, 

But never chaugeil the coin and gift 

Of BouajwrtJ. 

Thomas Campbelu 



(HOWS MY BOY > 

" Ho. sailor of the sea ! 

How 's my boy — my boy t " 

" What 's your Iwy's name, good wife, 

.\nd in what ship saileil he ? " 

"My boy John — 
He that went to sea — 
Wiat care I for the ship, sailor ? 
Mv lx>v 's mv bov to me. 




/irk^/f- fi)^cr/ymM , 



I'OK.MS OI'- TIIK SKA. 



617 



"YoH coiiio luirlc I'roiii «(iii, 
Ami not know my John t 

i Illi^llt IIS well llllVV llskcil HOIIIU lllllllslllllll, 

Yoiiilcr ilowii III till' town. 

Tlicro 'h not an iish in nil thu purisli 

Kut liu knows my Jobn. 

" How 'a my boy — my boy ? 

Anil unlcHH yon lot me know, 

I 11 swiuir yon me no »itilor, 

nine jiieket or no, 

ISnisH Imttnna or no, sailor, 

Aiu'lior mill crown or no I 

Snre his ship was the 'Jolly Briton'" — 

"Speak low, woman, Hpcak low I" 

" Anil why should I speak low, siiilor, 
Aluiiit my own Iioy .Inlin ? 
ir 1 was liiwd as 1 iini proud 
I M sinK him over the town I 
AVIiy shipiild I speak low, sailor?" 
" That j;iM)d ship went down." 

" How 's my boy — my hoy ? 

What rare I for the ship, sailor? 

I was never aboard her. 

lie she afloat or he she ajjround, 

•Sinkiiiff or swimming, 1 'II bu bouud 

Her owners ean aH'onl her ! 

I say, how 's my John I" 

" Kvery man on board wont down, 

Every man aboard her." 

" How 's my boy — my boy ? 
What eare I for the men, sailor ? 
1 'ill not their mother ^ 
llow 's my lH>y - my boy ? 
Tell ine of him and no other I 
How 's my boy — my boy / " 

SVDNBV DOBBLU 



HEKVli KIEL. 

/ On the sea and at the Hokuc, sixteen hundred 
ninety-two. 
Dill the English light the Krench, — woe to 
Krniiee 1 
Anil, the thirty-liist of May, helter-skelter 

thiiiu^'h the blue, 
Like a erowil of fnglitened porpoises a shoal of 
sharks pursue. 
Came eiowding ship on shi]) to St. Male on 
the liaiice, 
With the English fleet in view. 



'T was the Nijuadidii that escaped, with the vic- 
tor in full chase, 
FiiDt and fiiniuost of (he drove, in his great 
ship, Danifi'eville ; 
('lose on him lleil, great and small, 
Twenty-two ijoiiil slii|is in all ; 
And they signalled to the place, 
" Help the winners of a race ! 
Get usgiiidaiioe, give us harbor, take us quick, 

— or, ipiicker still. 
Here's the English can and will !" 

Then the pilots of the place ]mt out brisk and 
leaped on board. 
" Why, what hope or chance have ships like 
these to pass?" laughed they ; 
"Ilocks to starboiird, rocks to port, all the pas- 
sage scarred and scored. 
Shall the Kormiilable here, with her twelve and 
eighty guns, 
Think to make the nver-mouth by the single 
narrow way. 
Trust to enter where 'tis ticklish for a craft of 
twenty tons. 
And with flow at full beside ? 
Now 't is slackest ebb of tide. 
Keacli the mooring f liather say, 
While rock stands or water runs. 
Not a ship will leave the bay I " 

Then was called a council straight ; 

Hrief and bitter the debate : 

"Here's the English at our heels ; would you 

have them take in tow 
All that's left ns of the lleet, linked together 

stern and bow, 
Kor a prize to I'lyinouth Sound? 
lietter run the ships aground ! " 

(Ended Damfrevillo his s]iei!ch.) 
" Not a minute more to wait I 
Let the captains all and each 
Shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels 
on the beach ! 
Franco must undergo her fate." 

"Give the word ! " liut no such word 
Was ever spoke or heard ; 

For up stood, for out stepped, for in struck 
amid all these, 
A cnirtain ! A lieutenant ? A mate, — first, 
second, third ? 
No such man of mark, and meet 
With bis belters to compete ! 
Hut a simple lireton sailor pressed by Tour- 
ville for the fleet, — 
A poor coasting-pilot he, Horvi Kiel the Croi- 
sickeso. 



618 



POEMS OF THE SEA. 



Ami " Wlmt niookerv or irialice liave we here ? " 

fries Horvc Hiel ; 
" Are you mad, you Malouiiis ? Are you cow- 
arils, fools, or rogues '! 
Talk to lue of rooUs aud shoals, luc who took the 

souuiliugs, tell 
On my lingers every bank, every shallow, every 
swell 
'Twixt the oiling here and Greve, where the 
river disembogues ? 
Are you bought by ICnglish gold ? Is it love the 
lying 's for ? 
Morn and eve, night and day, 
Have I iiiloted your bay. 
Entered free and anchored fast at the foot of 
Soliilor. 
Burn the lleet, and ruin France ? That were 
worse than lil'ty Hogues ! 
Sirs, they know I speak the truth ! Sirs, 
believe nu', there 's a way ! 
Only let me lead the line, 

Have the biggest ship to steer. 
Get this Formidable clear. 
Make the otlu'rs follow mine. 
And I lead them most and least by a passage I 
know well, 
Right to Solidor, past Greve, 

And there lay them safe and sound ; 
And if one ship misbehave, — 

Keel so nuu-h as grate the grouiul. — 
Why, I 've nothing but my life ; here "s my 
head ! " cries Hervi Riel. 

Not a minute more to wait. 

" Steer us in, then, small and great ! 

Take the helm, lead the line, save the squad- 
ron ! " cried its chief. 
Captains, give the sailor place I 

He is Admiral, in brief. 
Still the muth-wind, by God's gi-ace. 
See the noble fellow's face 
As the big ship, with a bound, 
Cleare the entry like a hound. 
Keeps the passage as its inch of way were the 
wide sea's profound 1 

See, safe through shoal and rock, 

How they follow in a Hock. 
Not a ship that mislxdiaves, not a keel that 
grates the ground. 

Not a spar that comes to grief ! 
The peril, see, is past. 
All are harbored to the last ; 
And just as Herve Itiel halloos " Anchor ! " — 

sure as fate. 
Up the English come, too late. 

So the storm subsides to calm ; 
They see the green tr^ wave 
On the lieights o'erlooking Greve : 



Hearts that bled are stanched with balm. 
" Just our rapture to enhance. 

Let the English rake the bay. 
Gnash their teeth and glare askance 

As they cannonade away ! 
'Neath rampin-d Solidor pleasant riding on the 

Dance ! " 
How hope succeeds despair on each captain's 

oinmtenance ! 
Outbui-st all with one accord, 
"Tliis is Paradise for Hell ! 
Let France, let France's King 
Thank the man tliat did the thing ! " 
What a shout, and all one word, 

" Herve Kiel," 
As he stepjied in front once more, 
Not a symptom of surprise 
In tile Irank blue Breton eyes. 
Just the same man as before. 

Then said Damfreville, " My friend, 
I must speak out at the end, 

Thougli I find the speaking hard : 
Praise is deeper tlian the lips ; 
You have saved the king his ships. 

You must name your own reward. 
Faith, our sun was near eclipse ! 
Demand whate'cr you will, 
France remains your debtor still. 
Ask to heart's content, and have ! or my name 's 
not Damt'reville." 

Then a beam of fun outbroke 
On the bearded mouth that spoke. 
As the honest heart laughed through 
Those frank eyes of Breton blue : 
" Since I lu^eds must say my say. 

Since on board the duty 's done. 

And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what 
is it but a run ? 
Since 't is ask aiul have I may, — 

Since the others go ashore, — 
Come ! A good whole holiday ! 

Leave to go and see my wife, whom 1 call tlie 
Belle Aurore ! " 

That he asked, and that he got, — nothingmore. 

Name and deed alike are lost ; 
Not a pillar nor a post 

In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell ; 
Not a head in white and black 
On a single lishing-smack 
In memory of the man but for whom had gone 
to wrack 

All that France saved from the fight whence 
Englaiul bore the bell. 
Go to Paris ; rank on rank 

Seaveli the heroes flung pell-mell 



POEMS OK THE SKA. 



G19 



On the Louvre, face and flank ; 

Voii hliall look long enough ere you come to 

Herve Kiel. 
So, for better ami for woree, 
HerviS Uiel, accept my verse ! 
In my verse, Hi'rvc Hid, do tliou once more 
Save tlie S(|undron, lionor France, iove tliy wife 

the Belle Aurore. 

ROBKKI UKuWNING. 



TACKING Sllir Ob'F SllOKE. 

/The weather leach of the topsail shivers, 

The bowlines strain and the lee shrouds slacken. 
The bmces are taut and the lithe boom c|uivers. 
And the waves with the coming siiuuU-cloud 
blacken. 

Open one point on the weather bow 

Is the lightdiouse Uill on Kire l.sland Head ; 

There's a shade of doubt on the captain's brow. 
And the pilot watclies the heaving lead. 

I stand at the wheel and with eager eye 
To sea aiul to sky and to sliore 1 gaze, 

Till the muttered order of " Fl'LL AND BY !" 
Is suddenly changed to " Full for .stay.s ! " 

The .ship bends lower before the brei-ze. 

As her broadside fair to the blast she lays ; 

And she swifter springs to the rising seas 
As the pilot calls, " SrAND by fuu stay.s ! " 

It is silence all, as each in his place. 

With the gathered coils in his hardened hands, 

l)y tack and bowline, by sheet and brace, 
Waiting the watchword impatient stands. 

And the light on Fire Island Head draws near. 
As, trumpet-winged, the pilot's shout 

From his post on the bowsprit's heel I hear. 
With the welcome call of " Kkadv ! AUofT ! " 

No time to spare ! it is touch and go. 

And the captain growKs, "Down iiklm ! IIAHD 
DOWN ! " 

As my weight on the whirling spokes I throw. 
While heaven grows black with the storm- 
cloud's frown. 

High o'er the knight-hends flies the spray, 
As we meet the shock of the plunging sea ; 

And my shoulder stiff to the wheel 1 lay, — 
As I answer, " Av, ay, sin ! iiakd a lee !" 

With the .swerving leap of a .startled steed 
The ship flies fast in the eye of the wind. 



The dangerous shoals on the lee recede. 

And the headland white we have left behind. 

The topsails flutter, the jibs collapse 

And belly and tug at the gi'oaning cleats ; 

The spanker slai)s and the mainsail Haps, 

Ami thunders thi'ordcr, "Tacks and sheets!" 

Mid the rattle of blocks and the tramp of the 
crew 
Hisses the rain of the rushing squall ; 
The sails are aback from clew to clew, 

And now is the momi'ut for "Mainsail, 
HAUL ! " 

And the heavy yards like a baby's toy 
By HI'ty strong arms ai'c swiftly swung ; 

She holds her way, and I look with joy 

For the first white spray o'er the bulwarks 
flung. 

" Let go, and haul ! " 't is the last command. 
And the head-sails fill to the blast once more; 

Astern and to leeward lies the land. 

With its breakers white on the sliingly shoi-c 

What matters the reef, or the rain, or the sipiall >. 

I steady the helm for the open sea ; 
The first-mate clamors, " I5ei,ay theue, all !" 

And the captain's breath once more comes free. 

And so ofl' shore let the good sliip fly ; 

Little care I how tlu! gusts may blow. 
In my I'o'eastle-bunk in a jacket dry, — 

Eight bells have struck, and my watch is below. 
Walter f. Mitchell. 



THE TREASURES OF THE DEEP. 

What hid'st thou in thy treasure-caves and 
cells ? 
Thouhollow-soundingand mysterionsmain ! — 
Pale glistening pearls and lainbow-coloicd shells, 
Bright things which glciim unrecked of and in 
vain ! — 
Keep, keep thy riches, melancholy sea ! 
We ask not such from thee. 

Yd more, the depths have more ! — what wealth 
untold, 
far down, and shining through tlndr stillness 
lies ! 
Thou hast the stariy gems, the burning gold. 
Won from ten thousand royal argosies ! — 
Sweep o'er thy spoils, tliou wild and wrathful 
main ! 
Earth claims not Ihtsc again. 



020 



1MI;.\1S Ol- TllK SEA. 



Yi'l nioiv, llio ilt'plhs liiivo mmv ! — tliy waves 
Imvii iiillml 
Aluivo llu' I'ilios 111' 11 woiUl jfiiu' liy ! 
Suii.l htilli lilU'vl up till' [liiliuvs ol' iiM, 

Si' i-\vin>d vi'i'iyi'inMi till' halls iil' rovi'lry. 

Dasli o'or tlu'in. Ocraii, in tli\ soonil'iil play ! 

Mill! yii'Uls llu'in li> iloi'jiy. 

Yi'l Mioiv, till' Inllows iiml llio iloplhs havo moiv ! 
lliijli lioaits ami liravo aiv ^atlu'ivd to lliy 
liii<asi ! 
Thi'V liwir Mol now tlio lioomiiii; waloi's ivar, 

'\\w IwUU'-tliun.li'is will not luvak tlu-ii' ivst. — 
KiH'p thy ivil noKl aiiil gi'ms, thou sloiniy gmvo ! 
Oivo l«ik Iho tnic aiul hiavf 1 

(Jivo tiaok tholost aitil lovoly ! — thoso for whom 
The plai'o was ki'pt al hoaixl auil lirailh so lonj; ! 
Tho prayiT wont up thi\iuj;h luiiiuighl's hivath- 
loss j-looui, 
Auii thovaiuyoivniiiij; woko niiilst IVslal sonjj! 
llohl last thy huiiod isli's thy towoi^i o'oi'- 
tlnvwu, — 
Hut all is not thiiio own. 

To tho<> tho lovo of wouiau hatli g>»no ilown, 

Oai'k How thy tiiloso'or luauhootl's uohh' homi, 
O'l'i' youth's liritflit looks, au>l iH'aiUy's llowory 
or\>wu : 
Vi't must thou hiar a voioo, — l{oston> the 
vliviil ! 
Gtirtli shall iwlaim hor pivoiotts thiujjs I'lvui 
t h<H> ! — 
Ktfstoix* tJio doad, thou sra ! 

1-i;lu'ia Humans 



"01-0 lliONSIUKS." 

Ay, ti-ar hor tuttorinl oiisijiu down ! 

LoUii has it wavod on hijjh. 
And many an oy>> has danoorl to soo 

That Ivuntor in tin- sky ; 
IVnoath it rung tho Iwttlo-shout, 

.\i\d bui-st lhi> oannou's i\wr : 
Tho mottHM' of thi' (voau air 

Shall s\\\wp tho olouds no moiv I 

Hor dook, onoo nnl with hoiMi>s" hUvvl, 

Whoiv kitolt tho viinnuisluHl loo, 
\Vhi>n winds woiv hurrying o'ov tho Hood 

.Vnd W)\vos worx' whito Ivlow, 
No moiv shall Uv\ tho victor's tivad. 

Or kitow tho ^^^uauorx^l kn<v ; 
Tho harpios of tho slioiv shall jJnok 

Tho o:(glo of tho ««« ! 



O liottor that hor shnttorod hulk 

Should .-iink Iw-noath tho wavo ! 
llir Ihnndors shook tho mighty doep, 

And tlioiv shoulil ho hor gravo : 
Nail to tho nia.st hor holy Hag, 

Sol o\'oiy throadkuv sail, 
And give hor to tho god of storms, 

Tho lijjhtning and tho g-alo ! 

Ol,l\l-K WluMn.LL IIOLMliS 



TIIF. INl'llCAl'K KiH'K. 

No stir in tho air, no stir in tho soa, — 
Tho ship was as still as sho oould ho ; 
llor .sails fi\>m hoavon ivoi'ivod iu> motion ; 
llor kool was steady in tho oooan. 

Witliovtt oithor sign or sound of lluir shook, 
Tho wiwos llowod ovor tho Inolioapo rook ; 
So littlo thoy imso, so littlo thoy foil, 
Thoy did not movo tho Inohoapo IvU, 

Tho holy AhKit of .Miorhivthok 
Had plaood that Kll on tho Inohoapo iwk ; 
On a huoy in tho storm it tloatod and swung. 
And ovor tho wavos its warning rung. 

W'hon tho rook was hid hy tho surgos' swoU, 
Tho marinoi-s houi\l tho warning Iwll ; 
.\nd thou thoy know tho ]iorilous iwk. 
And blossod tho AhKit of Ahorhivthok. 

Tho sun in hoavon was shining gsiy, — 

.\11 things woix> joyful on that day ; 

Tho so«-l>ii\is soivamod as thoy whoolod aivund, 

.Vnd thoiv was joyanoo in thoir souuvi. 

Tho huoy of tho Inohoapo Ixdl was soon, 
A darkor si>ook on tho oooan giwn ; 
Sir lialph, tho ivvor, walked his dook. 
And ho fixed his oyo oi\ the vlarker spook. 

Ho felt the ohoi'ring jmwer of spring. — 
It made him whistle, it made him sing ; 
His heart was mirthful to exooss ; 
Hut tlu> rover's mirth was wiekiHlness. 

His oyo W)is on tho heW atid float ; 
t^uoth ho, " My men, put out the Kwt ; 
.\nd i\nv me to the InohoaiK' iwk. 
And 1 'U plague tho priest of Alwrhrothok," 

Tho Ixwt is lowei\sl, the Kwtmon i\nv. 
Ami to the lnohoaiH> iwk they gxi : 
Sir Kalph Ivnt over fixnn tho Kwt, 
And out the warning Ih'U from the ll<\it. 



N 



I'OE.MS ol' Tin; SKA. 



(-,21 



Dciwii wink tliu lifill with ii k>>I'k1>»K i*<»iiid ; 

Till,' llllllllll^1 KiHi', unit liiit'Ht iiriiiiMil. 

fjimtli .Sir Kiilpli, "Till' m^xt wlm luiiniH to tliu 

riiiik 
Will not lili'SK tlio Abhot of Alwilirutlicik." 

.Sir Kalpli, ll)(^ riiviT, Miilifd iiwiiy, — 
III] Hi'oiiri'il till' Hi'iiH for many a iliiy ; 
Ami now, )(i'owii rich with iiliiinlcri'il Htorii, 
lie Ktocnt Imh courao to Scutlumrit nhuru. 

.So think II hazi! oVrHpriiailM tlin nky 
Thi'y raiiiiot Hi'« tliii HUM on hi^li ; 
Thu wlijil lialli blown a n^i\i: all iliiy ; 
At vvi-ninx it hath iliril away. 

On thu ilock tliii rover takim liiii ntuinl ; 
.So ilark it in tln'y himi no hinil. 
i.Miiith Sir l{ul|ih, " It will lio li«ht(T Hoon, 
Kor thi'i'ii Ih till) iluwii of thu riMiiK moon." 

" CunBt hnir," naiil oiin, " thu hrcakurn ronr 1 
Kor yonili'r, ini'lhinkH, hIioiiIiI Ic Ihi; iiliori!. 
Now whi'iii HI' all' I rannol ti'll, 
lint I wUh wi! coiiM lii'ur lln' hi'luiipi' lu'll." 

'I'liiy liiMir no Hoiiml ; tlio hwiII is Ktroni; ; 
'riioiigli llii^ winil hatli rnlli'ii, llii'y ilril't along ; 
Till llii: vimsi'l Htriki'H with a Mliivfring Hhock, - 
II (liriHt ! it Ih thu Ini.hrapii rock ! 

.Sir llalph, thu rovor, t')ru hix hair ; 
Hu I'nriMul hiiimi'ir in IiIh ilcHpair. 
Thu wiivi'H mill in on uvury hiilu ; 
The uliip in Hiiikiiig liunualh the tidu. 

liut uvi-r in hin ilyiiig frar 
(Inu ilri'iiiiriil Hounil liu ki'uiiii'iI to hi'iir, — 
A Konnil ax if with thu Iiichiapu 1h-11 
Thu iJuvil IkIow wiim ringing IiIh knull. 

KollllUT SOUTIIIiy, 



TIIK TIIKKI'; J'lHIIKIi.S. 

/Tmhke hahurH wunt Hailing out into thu wuitt, — 
Cliit into the went lui thu hiiii wunt down ; , 

hju'h thought of thu woman who lovud him thu I 

llUHt, I 

And thu childrun Htood watcliiiig tluni out of 
thu town ; 
l''or ini'ii niUHt work, and womun iniint wui^ji ; 
Ami tliuru 'h littlu to uarn, and many to kuup. 
Though thu linrlior liar liu moaning. 

Tliri'o wivuH wit up ill llin light-lioiiKu lowur. 

And triminud thu lampHim tliuHiiii wunt down ; 
And thuy lookud at thu wpiall, and tliuy lookud 
at thu Hliuwur, 
And thu nivk it lamu rolling up, riiggud and 
hrowii : 



lint mull miiHt work, itiid womnn imiHt wuup, 
Though ntoiniH l>u Hiiddi'ij, imd watuiH duup, 
And the harhiir liar liu moaning. 

Throe vorpHuH lay out on lliu Hliining Hundx 

In thu morning gluam iih thu tidu wuiil down. 
And thu womun aru watching anil wringing llnir 
haniU, 
I''or tlioMU who will ni'ViT c:omii Imck lo llm 
town ; 
For mi'ii muNt work, and wonnji niuHt wicp, - 
And thu mioncr it '» over, lliu Hooncr to «luup, — 
And good-liy to thu liar and itH moaning. 

ClfAkl.aM KlNI.»l.l!Va 



TIIK .SA.NIIS ()• I IKK. 

"<l M,viiY, go and call thu cattle lioniu, 
And call thu cattle home. 
And call thu cattle homu, 
AcroMH the HiindH o' I lee ! " 
Thu wcHturn wind wan wild and dank wi' fciiim, 
And all alone went hlie. 

The creeping tide clinie up iiImiij.; Ihu Mund, 
And o'er and o'er the hiiimI, 
And roiinil and round thu Hiinil, 
Ah far iih eyu could muu ; 
Thu lilinding mint cainu down and liid the l.md ; 
And nuvur home camu hIiu. 

"O, in it weed, or lUli, or lloating liiiir, — 
A truHH o' golden hair, 
O' diowni'd imiiiluii'H hair, — 
Al«)ve thu iiutH at Hua '( 
WnH nuvur Huhnoii yut that Hhonu ho fair, 
Among thu HtiikuH on I)i!u," 

They rowed her in acroHH the rolling foum, — 
Thu cruel, crawling limiii, 
Thu cruel, liungiy foam, — 
To her gnivu licrnidi^ thu Hua ; 
But Htill thu lioatmen huarhureall the cattle lioniu 
AuroHH thu huiiiIh o' Deu. 

ClIAKMCM KINCIILIIV. 



FLOTSAM A.VI) .IKTSAM. 

(TllK HUB cruHhcd nvur the grim gray rockn, 
It thundered lieneiith the height, 
It Hwupt hy reef and Handy dune, 
It glitturud liuneath the harvuHt moon, 
Thitt liiithud it in yellow light. 

Shell, and Hua-uued, and Hpaikling Ntone, 

It flung on the golden Hand. 
.Strange relicH torn IVoni iU deepcHt eiivuH, 
.Sud trophiuH of wild victorioun Wttvun, 

It Hcattcred uiion thu ntrand. 



roKM.S OF THE SK.V. 



Spurs that Imil looked so strong mul Inio, 

At luiiiiy a giiUiiiit liuuu'li, 
Shiitti'ivil iiiiil lu'oUcii, lluiix to ilio slioro, 
Wliilc till' tiilo ill its Willi liiiiuipliaiit loiir 

liiiiii; 11 ilil'gi' for llu' vessel sliuieli. 

IVtty trilles tliiit lovers liaii Immglit 

Kiom iniuiy a I'oiei^ii eliiiie, 
Siiatelieil by tlio stonii from the eliiijjiiij,' ehisp 
lir liaiiiU that the lonely will never gmsp, 

Wliile tile world yet lueasmes time. 

liaek, liaek to its depths went I lie elilaiig tide, 

Leaving its stores to rest, 
I'lisonglit and unseen in the silent bay, 
To be jpitheied aj;ain, ere eloso of day. 

To the oeean's mighty breast. 

Kinder than man alt thou, O .sea; 

Kraukly we give our liest. 
Truth, and hope, and love, and faith, 
Oevotion that elialleuges time and death 

Its sterling worth to test. 

Wo lling them down at our darling's feet, 

Indill'eivnee leaves llieni theiH). 
The eiireless footstep turns Ksido, 
Weariness, ehaugefuluess, seoru, or pride. 

Bring little of thought or eare. 

No tide of huninn feeling turns ; 

Onee ebbed, love never Hows ; 
The pitiful wrei'Uage of time luul strife, 
The llotsam and jet.sam of luiinan life, 

No saving relhi.\ knows. 

ANONVMOUS, 



SEA WEED. 

When descends on the .\tlantie 

The gigantie 
Sloiin-wiud of the eiininox, 
Landwanl in his wiiith he scourges 

The toiling surges, 
Liulen with sea-weed from tho rocks: 

From Bermuda's rt-efs ; from edges 

Of sunken ledges, 
In some far-olf, bright Azoix' ; 
From Bahama, and the dasliing, 

Silver-Hushing 
Surges of Sun Salvador ; 

From the tumbling surf, that buries 

The Orkneyan skerries, 
Answering the lioai'se Hebrides ; 
And from wiveks of ships, and drifting 

Spnis, upliftingi 
On the desolate, rainy seas ; — 



Ever drifting, drifting, drifting 

On the shifting 
CuiTOiits of the restless main ; 
Till in sheltered eoves, and reaches 

Of .sandy beaches, 
All have Ibiind repose ngitiii. 

So when storms of wild emotion 

Strike the ocean 
(If the poet's soul, erelong. 
From each cave and rocky fastness 

lu its vastiicss, 
Floats some fragment of a song : 

I'roni the far-olf isles enchanted 

Heaven has planted 
With the golden I'rnit of Truth; 
From the Hashing surf, whose vision 

(Ueains Elysinn 
In the tropic clime of Youth ; 

From the strong Will, and the F.ndeavor 

That fore\'er 
M'restles with the tides of I'^ite ; 
From the wreck of Hopes far-scattered, 

Tempe.st-shattered, 
Floating waste and desolate ; — 

Ever drifting, drilting, drifting 

On the shifting 
t^irrents of the restless heart ; 
'fill at length in books recoixled. 

They, like hoarded 
Household words, no more depart. 

IlHNKV WaOSWOKTH 1.0NCPBU.0W, 



GULF-WKi:i>. 

A WEAUY weed, tossed to and fro. 

Drearily drenched in the ocean brine, 
Soaring high and sinking low, 

Lashctl along without will of mine ; 
Sport of the spume of the surging soa ; 

F'lung on the foam, afar and anear, 
Mark my manilold mystery , — 

l^rowth and grace in their place appear. 

I bear round berries, gray and red, 

Uootless and rover tliongli 1 be ; 
My spangled leaves, when nicely spread, 

Arboivscc as a trnnkless tree ; 
Conils curious coat me o'er. 

White and lianl in apt array ; 
Mid the wild waves' rude uprojir 

OraccfuUy grow I, night and day. 



I'OK.MS (JF TllK SKA. 



G2a 



Ili'iirU tliiTi; arc uu the Houmliiig Hliori.-, 

Somutliing wliiMpiTH Hiift tu iiiu, 
Restless aixl roaming ruivvuriiiuiu, 

Like this wiMiry wcuil of the sea ; 
Bear tlicy yet mi I'lirli heating liruast 

The fti'rnal lypi' xl tli(? wnuilruus whole, 
Growth iiiiloliling Jiini<lst iiiin^st, 

Umcf inrorming with siluiit soul. 

CoKM^LIUU GUOHGU FilNNUK. 



SKA 1,1 1'' E. 

PKOM "TUB PB1.1CAN ISLAND." 

l.lciir as a llakv of fiiain upon thir winil 
K(jcl-iipwaii| from tho ilwp oniorgi'il a shell, 
Sliapi'il like the moon ere half hiT horn is lilleil ; 
Fniiight with yonng life, it righted as it rose. 
Anil moveil at will along Ihi; yieliling water. 
The native pilot of this littler bark 
I'ut out a tier of oars on either side, 
.SpHMd to the wafting lireeze a twofold sail. 
And mounted up ami glideil down the hillow 
In happy freeiloni, pleased to fc^id tlio air. 
And wander in the luxury of light. 
Worth all the dead ereation, in that hour, 
To me apiieured this lonely Nautilus, 
.My fellow-lieing, like myself, alive. 
Kntraneed in eonteinplation, vague yet swei't, 
I wati.'hed its vagrant rourse an<I ri|jpling wake. 
Till I forgot tlie sun amidst the heavens. 

It eloseil, sunk, dwindled to a poijit, then 
nothing ; 
While the last bubble crowned tlie dimpling 

eddy. 
Through whieh ndneeyes still giddily pursued it, 
A joyous creature vaulted through the air, — 
The aspiring lish that fain would be a bird, 
< In long, light wings, that Hung a diamond- 
shower 
Of dew-drops rouml its evanescent form, 
■Sprang into light, anil insUintly deseemled. 
Kre I could greet the stranger as a friend, 
<Jr mourn his ipiick departure on the surge, 
A shoal of ilolphins tumbling in wild gli^e, 
Olowed with such orient tint.s, they might have 

been 
The rainbow's ulFspring, whi^n it met the ocean 
In that resplendent vision I had seen. 
While yet in ecstasy I hung o'er these, 
With evei'y motion pouring out fresh beauties, 
.\s though the lonseions colors came and went 
At pleasure, glorying in their subtle changes, — 
Knonnous o'er the Hood, Leviathan 
I "oked forth, and from his roaring nostrils sent 
Two fonntJiins to the sky, thou plunged amain 
In headlong pastime through the closing gulf. 



Those Here but preludes to the revelry 
That ri'igncd at sunset : then the deep let loose 
Its blithe adventurers to sport at largi;. 
As kinitly instinct taught them ; buoyant shells, 
On storniless voyages, in Ileets or single, 
Whinnied their liny maiiners ; aloof. 
On wing-like lins, in bow-anil-arrow figures. 
The llying-llshes dajliul to ajid fio ; 
While spouting whales projected watery col- 
umns, 
That turned to arches at their height, and seemed 
The skeletons of crystal palaces 
liuilt on the blue e.xpansi', then penshing, 
Frail as the element wliii'h tlii'y wens made of; 
Dolphins, in gambols, lent the lucid brine 
llili'S richer than tin; canopy of eve. 
That overhung the sr^eni! with gorgeous clouds. 
Decaying into gloom more beautiful 
Than the sun's golden liveries which they lost : 
j Till light that hides, and darkness that reveals 
The stars, — exchanging guard, like sentinels 
Of ilay and night, — transfoiined I he face of 

nature : 
Above was wakefulness, sileni'e around, 
Iteneath, repose, — repose that reached even me. 
I'ower, will, sensation, memory, faileil in turn ; 
My very essence' seenieil to pass away, 
Like a thin cloud that nndts acro.ss the moon, 
Lost in the blue immensity of heaven. 

)AMes Mo.NTCoMBar. 



TllK f'OKAL IN.SKCT. 

Tnrr. on ! toil on ! ye ephemeral train, 
Who build in the tossing anil treacherous main ; 
Toil on ! for the wisdom of man ye mock. 
With your sand-based structures and domes of 

rock. 
Your columns the fathomless fountains' cave, 
And your arches spring up to the crested wave ; 
Ye 're tt puny race thus to boldly rear 
A fabric so vast in a realm so drear. 

Ye bind tho deep with your secret zone, — 
The nr.raii is sealed, and the surge a stone ; 
Kresh wreaths from the coral pavement spring, 
Like the terr.iced ]iride of Assyria's king ; 
The turf looks green where the breakers rolled ; 
O'er the whirlpool ripens the rind of gold ; 
The sea-Hnatched isle is the home of men, 
.\nd mountains exult where the wave hath been. 

liiit why do ye plant, 'neath the billows dark. 
The wrecking reef for the gallant bark ? 
There are siiiues enough on the tented field, 
I Mid the blossomed sweets that the valleys yield j 
I There are serpents to coil ere the Dowers are up, 
I There '» a poison drop in man's purest cup, 



624 



I'OKMS l)K THE SE.V. 



Tlu'io lire foes that watch I'oi- his crmlU' lirrath, 
And wliy iired ye sow tho Hoods with di'iith / 

Willi inoiihU'viiif; Ihhios thi" dwps uri' white, 
Krom the icc-chid (loh' to thi> troiiics hrii;ht ; 
Till' iiUTiiiaicl iMlh Iwisti'd her liiigcis mid 
With the iiu'sh of the son-hoy's cuils of yold, 
And till' {jods of tlu' oi'can have fiowiii'd to siif 
'I'll!' niiiriiu'i's hcd ill tlii'ir hidls of gh'c ; 
Math I'artli no griivi's, that yo thus must spi-Oftd 
Tho honiuUoss soa for the llu-ongiiij; doad I 

Yo hiiild — yo hnild — hut yo ontor not in, 
Liko tho Irilios whom llio dosoit dovonrod in 

llioir sill ; 
Krom tho land of pniiniso yo fado and dio 
Kro its vordiiro jjloams forth on your woary oyo : 
As llio kings of tho oloud-oiownod iiyramid, 
Tlioir iioisoloss honos in ohlivion hid, 
Yo sliiiiihor iiiinnirkod mid tho dosolato main, 
Whilo tho wonder and j>rido of your works re- 

luaiu* 

LYDIA HUNTLUV SICOL'RNKY. 



THE CORAL KEEF. 

FROM "TIIH rCLIIIAN ISLAND." 

EvK.r.Y one. 
By instinot taught, iiorfonnod its little task, — 
To hnild its dwoUiiij; and its se|iiiloliiv, 
Fivin its own ossoueo exquisitely niodolled ; 
There hreeil, and die, and leave a progi'iiy, 
Still nuiltipliod heyond the reaoli of nninhors. 
To frame new eells and tomhs ; then breed and dio 
As all their aneestors had done, — and rest, 
llermetieally sealed, eaeh in its shrino, 
A statue in this temple of ohlivion ! 
Millions of millions thus, from agi' to ago, 
With simplest skill and toil unvveariahlo. 
Xo moment and no luoveinont nnimproVed, 
Laid lino on line, on teviiieo torraee spread. 
To swell the heightening, brightening, gmilual 

mound. 
By marvellous stniotni-o elimbing towanls theday. 

A point at lirst 
It peoii'd alwvo those waves ; a point so small 
1 just peivoived it, lixod wheit> all was lloating ; 
And when a buhhlo emssed it, the blue lihu 
Expanded like a sky above the spook ; 
That spook boeanio a hiuid-bivadth ; day and 

night 
It spii'ad, aooinnulated, and erelong 
rrosontod to my view a da/zling plain. 
White as tho moon amid tho sapphire sea ; 
Bai-o at low water, and as still as death. 
But when tho tide earn* gurgling o'er tho surface 
'T was like a ivsnnvetion of the doad : 



From graves inuunievable, puiu'turos tine 
In the eloso eoral, eapillary swarms 
0( reiitiles, horrent as Medusa's snakes. 
Covered tho bald-pato reef ; 

Erelong the reef o'ertojit the spring-Hood's height, 
And inoeked tho billows when they leapt ni"in it. 
Unable to maintain their slippery hold. 
And falling down in fonin-wreaths round its 

verge. 
Stoop were the Hanks, with preeipiees sliaii>, 
l)oseoiuliiig to their ba.se in oeoan gloom. 
Chasms few and narrow and irregular 
Formed harbors, safe at oiiee and perilous, — 
Safe for dofenoo, but perilous to enter. 
A sea-lake shone amidst the fossil isle, 
Kellecting in a ring its olills and eaverns, 
With heaven itself seen like a lake below. 

jAMiis Montgomery. 



THE COUAl, CUOVE. 

Oeki' in the wave is a eoral grove, "^ 

Where the purple mullet and gold-lish rove ; 

Where tho soa-Hower spivads its leaves of biUB 

That never are wot with falling dew. 

But in bright and eliangeful I'oauiy shine 

Far down in tho gioon and glassy brine. 

The Hoor is of sand, like the moiintaiii drift. 

And the pearl-shells spangle tho Hiiity snow ; 

From eoral roeks the sea-phints lift 

Their houghs, where the tides and billows How : 

Tho water is ealm and still below, 

For tho winds and waves are absent there, 

And the sands are bright as tho stai-s that glow 

In tho motionless fields of upper air. 

There, with its waving blade of green, 

.The sea-fiivg stioams thivugh tho silent water, 
And tho erimson leaf of the dulse is seen 
To blush, like a Iwnner bathed in slaughter. 
There, with a light and easy motion, 

\ The fan-eoral sweeps through tho elear deep sea;. 
And the yellow and searlet tufts of oeoan 

I Aiv bending like corn on the upland lea : 
.\nd life, in nire and beautiful forms. 
Is sporting amid those bowers of stone. 
And is safe when the wrathful Spirit of storms 
Has made the top of the wave his own. 
And when the ship ("nun his fury Hies, 
Where the myriad voiees of Oeoan roar ; 
When tho wind-god fnnviis in the nunky skies, 
And demons are waiting the wivek on shore ; 
Then, far below, in the peaeeful soa, 
The purple mullet and gold-lish iiive, 
Wheiv tho watoi-s murmur traminilly, 
Through tlie bending twigs of the eoi-al grove. 
James gates I'ercivau 



POEMS Ol-' THE SEA. 



G25 



THE CHAMUEKED NAUTILUS. 

(This is tlio ship of pcurl, which, poets feign, 
Snils tlie uiiHlmcloweil iimiii, — 
The vi'iilurona liiiik llmt llings 
l)n the sweet suiiiiner wiiiil its purpleil wings 
In gulfs eiiclumtccl, wlieru tlie Siren sings. 

And comi reefs lie iiare. 
Where tlio eold sea-niiiiils rise to sun their 
streaming hair. 

Its webs (if living gauze no more unfurl ; 

Wreckeil is the ship of peiirl ! 

And every eliainhered eell. 
Whore its dim dreaming life was wont to dwill, 
As the frail tenant shaped his growiug shell, 

Before thee lies revealed, — 
ltd irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed ! 

Year after year beheld the silent toil 

That spread his lustrous coil ; 

Still, as the spiral grew. 
He left the past year's dwelling for the now. 
Mole with soft step its shining archway through, 

Ituilt up its idle door, 
Stretidii'd in his la.st-found home, and knew tin- 
old no more. 

Thanks for the heavenly message brought liy 
thee. 
Child of the wandering sea, 
fast from her lap, forlorn ! 
From thy dead lips a clearer note is born 
Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn ! 

While on mine ear it rings. 
Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice 
that sings : — 

Uuild thee more stately mansions, my soul. 

As the swift seasons roll ! 

Leave thy low-vaulteil past ! 
Let each new temple, nobler than the last, 
Sliut thee from liraven with a iloine more vast. 

Till thou at length art free. 
Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting 
sea ! 

OLIVER WENDELL H0LMU5. 



THE SEA. 

( The wa ! tlie sea ! the open sea I 
The blue, the fresh, the ever free ! 
Without a mark, without a Viound, 
It runneth the earth's wide regions round ; 
It plays with the clouds ; it mocks the skies ; 
Or like s cradled creature lies. 



I 'm on the sea ! I 'ni on the sea I 

I am where I would ever be ; 

Willi the blue above, and the \iUu: below, 

And silence wheresoe'er 1 go ; 

If a storm should come and awake the ileep. 

What matter ! I .-.ball ride and sleep. 

I love, O, Aoitf 1 love to ride 
On the fierce, foaming, bursting tide. 
When every mad wave drowns the moon, 
Or whistles aloft his tempest tune. 
And tcdis how goetli the world below, 
And why the sou'west lilasts do IjIow. 

I never was on the dull, tame shore. 
Hut I loveil the great sea more and more. 
And backwards Hew to her billowy breast, 
Like a bird that seeketh its mother's nest ; 
And a mother shi^ was, and in, to me; 
l''or I was burn on the open sea 1 

The waves were white, and red the morn, 
In the noisy hour when I was born ; 
And the wliali: it whistled, the poi]ioise rollo<l. 
And the dolphins bared their backs of gold ; 
And never was heard smli an outcry wild 
As welcomecl to lifc! the oc'can-child ! 

1 've lived since then, in calm and strife. 
Full fifty siiiiimers, a sailor's life. 
With wealth to spend and a power to range, 
Hut never have sought nor sighed for change ; 
And Death, whenever he comes to me. 
Shall come on the wilil, unbounded sea I 

nsVAN WAI-teit l'kO(,-M'.K [lltirry Cornwall). 



SONG OF THE EMIGRANTS IN BEKMUDA 

WiiKltE the remote Bermudas ride 

In the ocean's bosom unespied, 

Krom a small boat that rowed along 

The listening winds received this song : 

" What shouhl we do but sing His praise 

That led us through the watery maze 

Where he the huge sea monsters wracks, 

That lift the deep upon their backs. 

Unto an isle .so long unknown, 

And yet far kiniliM' than our own ? 

He lands us on a grassy stage. 

Safe from the storms, and jirelate's rage ; 

He gave us this eternal spring 

Which here enamels everything, 

And sends the fowls to us in (-are 

On daily visits through the air. 

He hangs in shades the orange bright 

Like golden lamps in a green night. 



(52G 



rOKMS OK I'lIK SK.\. 



Ami linos in tlu> imiui-)ti'i>'ii>l<'s olnso 
.li'Hi'ls moiv lioli limn Oin\us shows ; 
111' ni.iki's llio lijjs our niouilis in nici'l. 
Anil lIuMws llvo nu'lons ill nnr I'lvl ; 
Hut iippU's, plants of snoli m ptioi". 
No liw i-onlil I'vi'v Ihmv iIu'MI Iwioo. 
With I'oihii's ihoM'n l>v his Innul 
V'lvni l.olvmon h<> stoivs tlu> liind ; 
Ami i\i:ikos till' hollow sons ihiil roiir 
riMilaini I ho ninhoiyiis on shoiv. 
Ilo I'asi (ol'wliioh wo mthor Kmst) 
'I'lio jtivspol's [lOiii'l U|K>« onr ooasl ; 
An>l in thoso i-ooks lor ns iliil iV.uno 
A loniplo whoiv to sonml liis nanio, 
C\ lot our voioo his pniiso oxnlt 
Till it nrrivo at hwivon's vault, 
Whioh thou porhaivs ix'lHmmlinj* nmy 
K.olio hovoml tho Moxiijuo hiy I"- 
Thus sunjj tlioy in tho I'.ujilish hoat 
A holy auvl i> ohoorl'ul nolo ; 
Ami all I ho way. to j;ni>lo ihoir oliinio. 
With lallinj; o;>i-s thoy kopt iho tiino. 



A WKT SllKir AM> A Kl.OWlNC, SKA, 

A WKr shoi>l anil a llowinj; si>«, — 

A wiml that lollows fast. 
Anil tills tho whito aiul rustling Siiil, 

.\uil Ivmls tho jF«llant mast, 
Auil KmiiIs tho .sallant mast, my Ivys, 

Whilo. liko tho oaslo fiw, 
.Vw^ty tho s»o<l ship tlios, ami U>«vi>s 

OKI Knsli»>>l »n ll'o Uh<. 



for a soft aiiil jp>«t.lo wiml ! 

1 hoai\l a lair ono ory ; 
Uut jt'^>' '>' '»>' tUo suoiiii^ l>r»>eie 

.■Vnil whito wjiws hoavinj; hijth, — 
Ami whito W!)Vos lioavinj! liijjli, uiy lx>j-s, 

Tho jtxHHl ship tijiht auil IW : 
Tho worlil of W5H01-S is our homo. 

And movrv n\on aiv wo. 



Th«r«> "s tonnvst in wn hornovl miwu, 

Anil lijrhtniuj; in wn oloml ; 
Auil hark tho musio, marinors ! 

Tho wiml is pipiujj louvl, — 
Tho wiml is pipiiij; loud, my K>ysi, 

Tho lijihtniu^ llashiug I'lw : 
>Vhilo tho hollow »)ak our julaoo is. 

Our horitsjw tjj soa. 

.\Lt*X CVNXIiMiHAM. 



SONO OF TllK UOVEU. 

i>"Kv>M " rmi coK^A^K." i."am\> i, 

O'kk tho glad wiitors of tho daik Wue soji, 
Our thoughts as houmlloss ami our souls as fno, 
Kar as tho Invo/o oan Innr, tho Inllows liviui, 
Sui'voy our onipiiv, and hohold our homo ! 
Thoso aiv our ivalnis, no limits to thoir sway, — 
Onr Hag tho sooptif all who moot oWy. 
Oui's tho wild lil'o in tumuli still to rangi' 
Kiiini toil to ivst, and joy in ovory ohangi'. 
(\ who can toll 1 not thou, luxurious slavo ! 
Whoso soul would siokon o'or tho hoaving wavo; 
Not thou, vain loi\l of wantonnoss and oaso 1 
Whom slumU'r soothos not, — ploasuiv oaiinot 

ploaso. — 
t\ who lan toll s<\vo ho whoso hoart hath triod. 
And vlamvd in triumph o'or tho watoi's wido, 
Tho oxulling sonso, tho pulso's maddoning play, 
I'hat thrills Iho wandoivr of that Iraokloss w,ay I 
That for itsolf oan woo tho appivsiohing tight. 
And tmu what somo doom daugi'r to dolight ; 
That sooks what oiinons shun with moiv than 

rwil, 
And whoiv tho fivhlor faint oan vuily fool — 
Kool to tho rising Kv<om's inmost oore, 
ll'i hoiHi awakou and its spirit soar ? 
No divad of doath — if with vis dio our fo«>s — 
Savo tliat it sihmus ovon dullor than ivjHwo ; 
(,'omowhou it will — wo snatoh tho lifo of lifo 
Whon Uvst — what iwks it — l>y disoaso or stril. 
Lot him who crawls onamoixnl of dooay, 
Cling to his oomh ami siokon yoai's away ; 
lliavo his tliiok Invath, and shako his (vilsiiHl 

hoad ; 
i^nrs — tho fivsli turf, luid not tho fovyrish bc\l. 
Whilo g!>sp l>y gjisp ho faltoi-s forth his soul, 
(>urs with ono (vuig — ono hound — osoajHW wii- 

tivl. 
His wrs»> uu>y Ixwst its urn and narrow oavo, 
.\nd f hoy who UtdhiMl his lifo may gild his gravi- ; 
Oui's aiv tho ti<ars, though tow. simvivly shod. 
Whon 0»H\an slnvuds and sopuKhivs our doad. 
t'or us, ovon Ivuuiuots fond ivgivts supply 
In tho rod oup that oivwiis our momory ; 
And tho hriof opitaph in danger's day. 
Whon tliivso who win at longth divido tho pix>y. 
.And ory. Komomhiimoo sjiddoning o'or oaoh hivw. 
How had tho bravo who foil oxultovl mo«".' 

l.ORO BVRON. 



MY UKUiANTINE. 

FROM '■ \HK WATSR WITCH." 

Jl'STJn tliy mould and KvHutoous in thy form. 
lt«ntU» in roll and huoyaiit on tho sui-g<'. 
Light as tho soa-fowl i\x-king in tho storm, 
In I'rxH'io and gale thy onwaixi ovnirso wo ui-ge. 



"^ 



I'OKMS OK TIIK SKA. 



027 



My Wtttor-qiieon ! 

I,aily of iiiiiji', 
Moro llglit ami Mwid timii llioii iioiii! tliriinl (In 

nun 
With mirur ki'ul ur Htinilii'i' on iln jmUi, 
Wif linivo I'iK'li Wiutti! Ill oi.iuiiiiiiyHtiJiy 
Ami liui|{li to Jieiii' lliu howling ti'ni|wHt'ii wriith, 

For wi^ uru thinu. 

My lirigiintimi I 
TriiHt to tliii inyatii: |iowi:r thnt {KiintH thy way, 
Trimt to ihi) i.'yi) thnt iiicrroH I'loin nriir ; 
Tnuit t)io r<Ml nM-tcfiiH that iiround tJiiM! plfiy^ 
Ami, fviirhMK, tnint llu^ Heu-tJiuuM Luily'ii Ntur, 

Thuii tiurk divino I 

JAMI^M FUMMOKU CO^JI'UK. 



TIIK IIKAVINIi (IV TIIK I.KAI). 

Koic Knghinil wh< ij with iavoring giili: 
Our giilhint Hhi|i up •:hiinni'i Htiret'iMl, 

Ami, Hi-nililiiig uiiilcir I'uxy Huil, 
Tlii^ high hlm^ wanti^rn litml iippuuroil ; 

To liiiiivi^ Ihi! li'Hil till! Hi'iiinun npniiig, 

Anil to till! pilot rliaerly ming, 

" l)y thu (lc«p — liiiio 1 " 

Ami lii'arlng up to gain thu [Hiit, 
Sormi Will I -known olijiTt ki.pt in view, — 

All iiblxfy-towur, ii hailioi-fort, 
Or Ixiurofi t/i th« viMWfll trill! ; 

Whllii oft till! li!ai| till! Hi-aniaii Hung, 

Ami to this ]iilot i:hi'i!i'ly auiig, 

" I'.y till) mark — Mi!Vun I " 

Ami iiH till! nitirh-lovi.'il Hhorn Wu nnar, 
Willi tniiiHiMii't wi- l)i!li(>li| till) riMjf 

WliiTi! ilwi'lt a Irioml or partniT iliiar, 
Of faith ami lovi) a niatilili^Hx proof. 

Till' h-uil oni.'u liion: thu hi!anian Hung, 

Ami to till! wntrhliil jiilot Hiing, 

" Quarter Idhk — fivn ! " 

Now to hir lK!rth tin) Hhiji iIihwh nigh ; 

Wo dhoitDii nail, — hIii! I'i:i!|h tlii! tido, — 
"Staml iili'itr thn wihli!" Ih tin: rry, — 

Tlio mirlior 'h goiii! ; wi! Haii!ly riihi. 
Till) wntrli i* wt, uihI through tin: night 
We hi-ttr the wuiiidii with ih-light 

]'roi:lu;nj, — " All '» wi:ll ! " 

CMAKLIlIt DinUlN 



AM, 8 W'KlAj. 

VHOH "THK HKITimi PLRKT," 

DKHRitTKii hy till) waning moon, 

Wlii!ii Hkii:H pro<:laiiii iiightM iihi.'DrlcHn nuoii. 

On towur, or fort, or ti-ntral grouml 

Thi: iM:Nlry walk« hit lom-ly loiiml ; 



I Anil hIioiiIiI ii footnti-p haply utray 
Wlii:r"! raiilioii niarkn tin: giianliil way, 
" Who goi'H tlii:i'ii I Htiaiigiir, ipiii:kly ti:!! I" 
" A Iriond I " " TIid word ( " " Uood-nlght ; " 
all 'n wi:ll. 

Or, nailing on tin: niidniglit di'i'p, 
WliDii wi;at'y nii!HHntati-H Hoiindly Hli:i!p, 
Till! i'ari:l'lil waU;li patroln tin: di!i:k, 
To guard tin: xhiji I'lnni I'niiH or wi'i:i:k ; 
And wliili: liin Ihoughtx olt hoiiM!WarilH vcnr, 
Honn: l'iii:ndly voiii: Haluli:H IiiH i:ar, 
" Whut chi:i:r I ISrothi:!', ijuii:kly tJ:lt ; 
/Ahovo, — liolow." Oood-niglil ; all 'b well. 

TMOUA!) IJIDDlN. 



TIIK TKMl-KST. 

Wk wnrii (:rowili:d in tin: cahin, 
Not a aoiil would ilaii) to hli'cp, — 

It waH niidniglit on tin: watorn 
And a hIoiiii wax on tin: i|i:i:p, 

'T in a li:arriil thiii(.; in wiMti:r 

To hi: i(liatti:ri:d hy tin: hlant, 
And to hi:ar tin: rattling triinipi:t 

Tliiuidi:r, "(Jut away thu iiiuiit 1" 

Ho WI! Hliuildi!ri!d thi:ri: in Hili;in:i:, — 
For tin: htouti!Hl IidIiI IiIh liri:ath, 

Whih: till! hungry Hi:a wan roaring, 
And tin: hriiaki'IH tiilkiiil with I)i;alh. 

Ah thuK wo Kilt in ihirkni:iiH, 
F/iii:h ono huHy in liin iiiayorH, 

" We aro lout I " tin: laptain ahoulDil 
Ah ho Htiiggi:ri!il down tin: Htairn. 

I'liit Ilia litlli! daiighti:i' wliiHpi:ri:d, 

Ah hIii! took liin ii:y hand, 
" Ih n't (ioil upon tin: oi:i;uii 

JuHt till! Hunii! iiH on thi! land 1" 

Tlii:ii wi: kiHHwl tho littlo niaiili!U, 
And WI! npoki: In ln'ttrr i:lni:r. 

And W(! am:liori!d Hali: in liurhor 
Wlii'U tin- morn wan nhiiilng i!li!ar. 

jAMl") rtt'yMAM niCLfJIii 



TIIK MINUTK-fllJN. 

WiiKS in till! Htorrn on Alhion'H coant, 
Tin: night-watrh gunidn liin wi:ary pout, 

From thoughtn of daiigiir fri:i!, 
III! niarkn nonii! vi'HM-l'n dunky form. 
Anil hi:arH, amid tin: howling atorni, 

Till' minnti'gun at nra. 



02S 



1MKM8 OV I'llK SKA. 



Swift, on till" slioio i\ lumty low 

Tlio lili'-lmiit in;ui will) i> giillaiit oivw 

Ami (liiro llio ilanj;i'i\nis wave ; 
Tlmnijih tlio will! siirl' (lu'y clonvo thoir way, 
Liist ill tlio foam, nor know dismay, 

For tlicy no the oiow to sjivc. 

Km O, wliiil rapliin' tills oavli tavast 
0( tlio liojioloss oii'W of tlio ship ilistivssed I 
Thou, laiiiioit safo, what joy to toll 
Of kU tlio aaiijsvi-s that liol'oU ! 
Thoii is lioaiil no nioiv, 
lly tlio watoli on slioiv, 
Tlio niiiiuto-gun at sea. 

K. S SlUKPE. 



THK 1!AY OV lUSCAY. 

Loiti) iiv»r»>il the iln'adful thundor, 

Tho i-ain a doliijji- showoi-s, 
Tho olonds woiv n'lit asundor 

Hy lightninjj's vivid powoi-s ; 
Tho night both ilivar ami dark, 
Onr i>oor dovotod Iwrk, 
Till noxt day, thoiv slio lay, 
In tho liiiy of liisoay, ! 

Now dashod niHiii tho billow. 

Hor o|ionin}; timK'i-s oivak, 
Eaoh foai-s a watoiy pillow, 

Nono stoiw tho dri'adfiil loak ; 
To oliiij; to slippory shixnids 
Kaoh hivatliloss soanian oivwds, 
As sho lay. till tho day, 
111 tho Riy of Hisoay, ! 

At length tho wishod-for morrow 
l^ivko lliixingh tho liajy sky, 

AlisorlHHl in silent sorivw, 
Eaoh hoaviHl a hitter sigh ; 

Tho dismal wivok *o view 

Striiok horror to the oix-w. 

As she lay, on that day, 

lu the Bay of Biseay, ! 

Hor yielding tinilws sever. 

Her pitohy seams aiv iviif. 
When I leaven, all Iwunteons ever. 

Its Iwnndloss meivy sent, — 
A sail in sight apiwai's ! 
We hail her with thiw eliw^rs ; 
Xow we s;iil, with the gjilo, 
From the liiy of fiisoay, ! 

ANDREW CHERKV, 



THE STOKM. 

Ckask, riido Uoroax, htnstoriiig iiiiler I j 

List, yu laiulsnioii all, to nio ; 
Jlossmatos, hear a bi-otlior sailor 

Sing tho dangers of tho son ; 

Kroiii boniidiiig billows, lirst in motion. 
When the distant wliirlwiiids rise. 

To tho toniposl-troiiblod oi'oan. 

Where the seas eoiitoiul with skies. 

Hark ! the boat.swain hoarsely Iviwliiig. 

By topsail-shoots and hanlyards stand ! 
Down top-g!illaiits ipiiok bo hauling ! 

Down your stay-sail.s. — hand, boys, hand J 

Kow it frosliens. set the bnioos, 

tj^niek tho toivsail shoots let go ; 
Lull", boys, lulf ! don't make wry faces, 

Up your toi>sails nimbly clew. 

Konud ns iiiai-s the tempest louder. 
Think w hat fear our minds inthralls ! 

Hanlor yet it Mows, still lianlor, 
Xow ag;iin the Iwatswain calls. 

Tho fojisjiil-yanl point to the wind. Ws, 
See all clear to reef each coui'se : 

I^'t the foivsluvt go, — don't mind. Ih\vs, 
Though the weather should lie worse. 

Fore and aft the spritsail-yaixl get, 

Koef the mi?j!en, see all clear ; 
Hand up. each pivventorbineo set ! 

Man the foi-eyanls, — cheer, lads, cheer! 

Now tho divadfnl thunder 's roaring. 

Deal on jwal ctuilcinliiig clash, 
On onr heads lioivo i-aiu falls pouring. 

lu onr eyes blue lightnings tlasli. 

One wide water all around us, 

All alnive ns one black sky ; 
DilVemut de;>tlis at once surround us : 

Hark ! what meaus that diwulful cry f 

The foremast 's gone ! cries ewry tongue out. 
O'er the lee twolw feet 'Ixn-e deck ; 

A loak iHMioath tho cliost-tive 's sprung out. 
Call all hands to clear the wreck. 

Quick the lainimls cut to inocos ; 

(^ome. my hearts. In- stout and lH^ld ; 
Plumb the well. — the loak incr»"i>ses. 

Four feet water in the hold ! 



I'OKMs oi nil'; SKA. 



629 



Wliilu o'er tlio nliip wild wnvcH iiri- Ix-iiling, 
Wii our wivi'h iuhI i'IiIIiIii'Ii niuiiiii ; 

MiiK I fniiii lii'iii'r tliiirc '» iiu ivlimiUun, 
Alui ! tn tliotii tlioro 'ii no r«liit'ii ! 

Htill till] li'.'ik In XKiiiii'K <"> X" ' 

lliilli rliiiiii-|Miiii|in mil rliiikiiil lii'low : 

llniivrli liiivi- iiH'iry lii'i'ii U|kiii iin ! 
Kill' only tliiit <:iiii wivu iiH now. 

O'i'i tliii l™-lii'iuii Ik tliii Iniiil, lioyH, 
l^'l lliii xmit o'lrliimril In; llimwii ; 

To tliii iiiuii|m rail I'Viiiy liiinil, lioyH, 
Hi'ii ! our niizzfii-iimiit iit gonu. 

Tim li'iik wii 'vo fimnil, it iiiiniiut |iiiiir f'anl ; 

W<! 'vii li){liti!iii'il liiir II foot or iiioii! ; 
l>'|i mill I'ix " Jury roiiiiiiiint, 

Hill) rixlit" I iiliorl>{litH, Imynl wii'ro olf »liorii. 

i;ilOKI,II Al.KXANOKK HlltVltNH. 



YK MAUINKItS OV ICNOI.ANIJ. 

Yk iiinrinnrH <i{ Kiiglnml I 

Tliiit xniiril our niiliv<: wnn ; 

Wliiw lliix liHH lirnvi.-i|, II tliouwinil yeiim, 

'I'lir Imltli' mill I lilt liririizii I 

Your ((lorloiin KUimlunl ImiiK'li ii){iiiii 

'i'o riiatrh miotlirr ton I 

Ami nwi'i!)! lliroii)(li ttiii ili!(!|i, 

Wliili' III" Hloriiiy wlri'lx ilo lilow ; 

Wliiln thf Irnltli; ra;<nH louil iiii'l long, 

Aim! tlio Ktoriiiy wIikU iIo Mow. 

Tim >i|iirit)) of your fnllmrii 

Hliall ilart from itvi'iy wavo ! — 

Kor tliii ilmk it wan llinir (liiM of fmiM!, 

Ami oi'i'iiii wiiM tliiiir gravn : 

WlnTi' lilak't mill mighty Nitlwui fi;ll, 

Your manly lii'art* uliall glow, 

An yi! HHIM'll tlirOUgll till) lll!l!|l, 

Wliili- till! Htorniy wimlii ilo blow ; 
Wliili' till! linltli! rug™ loud and long, 
And tliii Ht'inny wiiidji do blow. 

Hritnniiia nrndii no liulwarkH, 

No townrit along tlii" «tM'|i ; 

Ili-r niarirli in o'it tin? niotint/iin-wavoH, 

Hit lioinii in on tliii dm:|i. 

With tliumli IK from hiir nntivn oiik, 

.Slur i|iii;llii th(! tliHjiU Iwlow, — 

A« I liny rottf on tlin Hliont, 

When till! Hloniiy windH do blow ; 

Wlivn tliu battle rugi-n loud nnd long 

And the utorniy wlndN do blow. 



Till! inntMir (lag of Kngland 

Hliiill yid li'iriliir burn ; 

Till dangi'r'H Iroubli'd iiiglM, i|i'|iai-l, 

And till' Htar of |inii:ii ritliirii. 

Tliiui, llii'ii, yi! oiiiain wiirriorii ! 

Our Ming and litant hIniII flow 

'I'o tlin laiiii' of your nanin, 

Wliiiii till) Hlorm liiiH iiniiMi'd to blow ; 

Wln'ii tin; fii'ry light in lii'ard no morn. 

And thii Hlorm hiiH rniiwid to blow. 

TIIOMAII LAMdllO.I.. 



TO.\l llOWI.I.Nt;. 

IIkiik, n hIiimt hulk, liitH poor Tom I'owling, 

Thn darling of our i:ri!W ; 
No inori! Ill' 11 liiar Ihn ti'mpnitt howling, 

I'or dnalli ban bioiudiiMl him to. 
IIIh form wan of thii manliiiHt bnituty, 

IIIh hi'iirt wax kind nnd Hofl ; 
Kaithfiil, birlow, III) did liin duty ; 

I Silt now ho 'h gonn aloft. 

Tom iiDvnr from bin word di'jiaitid, 

I I in virliii'H wnri! no rain, 

llix IrinndH will' mmiy and trun-hnartiHl, 

llin I'oll witH kind mid fair: 
And tlinn hn 'd aing, ho blitlin and jolly, 

All, many 'h thn limn and oft ! 
Hut inlrtli in tnrnnd to mnlannholy, 

Kor Tom in gonn iilolt. 

Yi't nliall poor Tom liiid plnananl wnatlinr, 

Winn Hn who nil iiimmamU 
Hliall givn, to rail lilnH crnw lognthnr, 

Till! word to "pipn all liamU," 
TliiiH iJnntli, who kingH and tarit dmpatnlK'ii, 

In vain Toiu'h lifn liiiH dollnd ; 
Kor Ihoiigh bin iMidy 'h iindnr ImtnhfiH, 
f^llin Houl liiiH goiin aloft. 

CMAK 1.1(1, OIHOIH. 



TIIK WIIITK .sgi;Ai,i,. 

TifK win wiut briglit, und tlm Iwrk rodo wnll i^ 
Till! brwzn Imrn thn tonn of thn vnHjHT bull ; 
"I'wiw II gallant bark with a nrnw m bravij 
Ah cvnr Imtnnhnd on thn hnnving wavn. 
Hhi! nhonn In thn light of dnnlining day, 
And niuih mill won wt, und niu'li liiiiirt wan gay. 

Thny nnarnd thn land whnrn in ln!nHty HniileH 
Tim Hiinny nhorn of thn firnnian IhI<!H ; 
All thought of liomn, of that wnhomn dfiur 
Whinli Hoon Hlioiild grnnt naidi wundnrnr'it nar ; 
And in fnnny Joinnd tlm Honinl throng 
In till! fnHtJvn dunnn mid tin; joyiiuii wing. 



(•.:ui 



I'or.MS DK TllK SKA. 



A wlvitt- I'lmi.l ^lull's lliroiiuli lilt' !\x\iiv sky, — 
Wliiit Mii'i\ii.s llml will! iliisiniiriiif; ciy ! 
Kuri'wi'll llii> visiimoil siviu'S of lioiiio I 
'I'liiil I'lv is " llol|i," wluM'i" no lii'lp iivn riiim> ; 
Kov tlio Wliilo Sinmll riili's on ll»' suij;iiij{ wavp, 
Aiul th<> Imrk is 'milfi'il in tin (U'cim ({iavt>. 

IIKVAN WAH UK I'KOCntK iKirry C>>rHWititi, 



OIU; UOAI' 'I'O TllK W AVKS. 

Ouii Iwut to tlio ttiivra j;o lii'i', 

Uv tlio liomliiij; tiilc, wtion' llii> iiiilt'il wave 

lnvaks, 
l.iki' \\\c tmok of Uio wiml on tlio wliito snow- 
llakoM ; 
Awuy, nvvay I "Pis a (latli o'l'i' tlm son. 

Miiists may nivo. snivail llio siiil, 

Foi' oiir spirits oaii wivst tlio powoi' I'lviii Ilio 
wiml, 

Ami llionniy oloiuls yioM to llio siiiiuy iiiiiul, 
Kwir iiot \vi> tlio whirl of tlio gsilo. 

WlUlAM 1 in:KV t-tlANNlNt.;. 



TO SKA! 

To soa ! to soa ! tlio oaliii is i>'or, 
Tlio wanton wator loaps in spoit, 

Aiul i-iittlos down tlio (volilily slioiv, 
Tlio dolpliiii wliools, llio soa-oows snort. 

Ami iinsoon niormaiirs poarly soiijj 

t\>nios liiiliMinj; nji, tlio wooils aiiioii);. 

Kliii){ biXMil tlio sail, (lip dwii tlio mu- : 

To sw» I to sivi ! tlio OHlm is o'or. 

To soa ! to si>a ! onv wliitowin^'d Kuk 
Shall hillowiiij; oli-avo its watovy way. 

Ami Willi its sliailow. Hoot ami dark, 
Uivak tlio oavoil Triton's armv day, 

l.iko nionntain oaj;lo sivariiij! lijjht 

O'or a«tolo|H's on Aljiino lioijslit. 

Tho anoliv>r lioavos ! Tlio ship swings fivo ! 

l)i\r sails swoU t\ill ! To soa ! to si>i> ! 

Thomas Lovki.i. IIiiiukiks. 



TllK SAU.OK'S CONSOLATION. 

OXK nijtht oanio on a linnioano. 

Tlio soa Wfis nioiuilaiiis i\>lliiijr, 
Whon llainoy l^nntlino tnniol liis nuivl. 

And said to Hilly Uowlini; ; 
" A stiMiiii iiov'wostor's Mowiiij;, Uill ; 

Hark ! don't yo hoar it iwar now f 
1a>i\1 holp 'oni, how^ pitios thoin 

ITiihappy folks on slioiv now ! 



" Foolliurdy ohaps w lio livo in towns. 

What daiijji'r llioy aro .ill in. 
And now lio (piakinj; in tlioir liod.s, 

Kor four llio roof shall fall in ; 
Toor on'atnivs ! liow tlioy onvios ns. 

And wishos, 1 'vo a not ion, 
Kor onr j;ood liiok, in snoli n storm, 

To ho upon (ho oi'oan ! 

" And as for lln'iii wlio'ro out all day 

t>n hiisino.ss fi-oiii llioir lionsos, 
And lalo al nij;hl aiv ooniinj; homo, 

To olioor tlioir liahos and sponsos, — 
Wliilo you and I, Hill, on llio liovk 

.\it' ooiuforlahly lyiiij;, 
My oyos ! what tilos and oliiinnoy-iiots 

Ahoul llioir lioads aiv llyiiii; ! 

" .\iul vory ofloii li^ivo wi hoanl 

How nion aiv kiUod and uiulono 
Ity ovorturns of oarriayos, 

By Ihiovos and liivs in London. 
Wo know what risks all landsnion I'ln, 

Kivni nohlomon to tailors ; 
Tlion, Hill, lot us thank I'lMvidonoo 

That you aiul 1 aiv sailors." 

W'ti.i.iAu nv 



A I.IKK ON TllK OOKAN WAVK. 

A 1 IKK on tho oooaii wavo, 

.\ homo on tho ivllinj; doop ; 
Wlioiv tho soaltoivii wators nivo. 

And tho winds llioir ivvols koop I 
l.iko an oaj;lo oa^ji'd I piiio 

0{\ this dull, unohaiijtiiii; >lioiv : 
t\ >;ivo 1110 tho llashing biino, 

Tho spi-ay and llio tonipost's i\Mr ! 

t^iioo nioiv on Ihodook 1 stand, 

0( my own swift-jtlidiiij; oi-aft : 
Sot sail I faivwoU to tli(> land ; 

Tho };alo follows fair Hlvift. 
Wo shoot thiMUgh tlio sp;uklin,s: loam, 

l.iko an ooi'anhiul sot fixv, 
l.iko tho ivo!in-liii\l, our homo 

Wo 11 tind far out on the st>«, 

Tho land is no lonjjfr in view, 

Tho olonds have Ivguii to trowii ; 
Hut with a stout vessel and oivw, 

We "11 sjiy. Let the storm oomo down ! 
.Vnd the sonj; of our hearts shall lie. 

While the wiiuls and the watei-s rave, 
A homo on the ivlling sea ! 

.\ life on the »>oean wava ! 

Kl'liS SAKv^K.M. 




A/lmiii lUilihig hy C. C 11,,/ .. 



TO A 1,1, IN ll,\VI',N. 

Ai.i, yu will) liiivc giiincil ilic li.ivcn of safe (lays, 
And rest at t-asu, your w.indcritiKs being done, 
KxcL-pt thu last, inc'vilabk- niif, 

He well content, I say, and hear men's jiraise: 

Yel in the (|uiet of your siu-llcred hays, — 
lii.ind waters shining in ,in ii|n.d sun, — 
I'orgel not that llie awlul slorni tides run 

In far, unshellered, and lenjpesluous ways: 

Renienilier near what roi ks, and ihrouKJi what shoals, 
Worn, desperate mariners strain with ,'dl iheir might: 

They may nol ( onir Im ynur sued rcslliil ^o.ds. 
Your waters pl.i< id in the Icvc'l light: — 

'I'hcir graves wait in thai sc.i no moon controls. 
That in in dreadlul Irlicuvship with ,\iglii. 



I'liiiir lloiiKKK Maksion. 








IGHTS 
ngUali*' 



Our bi-o\vs aro wrealbeil witli spiiuInU 

aiul the weed is on our knees ; 
Our loins are battered "neath us by the 

swinjjin^, smoUing seas. 
From reel' and rock and skerry — over 

licadland, ness and voe — 
The Coastwise Li'ilits of England watch 

the ships of England go ! 

Through tlie endless summer evenings, 

on tlie lineless, level lloors ; 
Through tlie yelling Channel tempest 

when the syren hoots and roars — 
Hy ilay the dipping house-llag and by 

night the rocket's trail — 
As the sheep tliat graze behind us so we 

know them where they hail, 

\Vc liridgo across the dark, and bill tlie 

helmsman have a care, 
The Hash tliat wheeling inland wakes 

his sleeping wife to prayer ; 
From our vexed eyries, head to gale, we 

bind in burning chains 



r!»i&~- 



The lover from the sea-rim drawn — 
his love in English lanes. 

\Vc greet ihe clippers wing-and- 

wing ihat race the Southern 

w,Hil ; 

We warn the crawling cargo-tanks 

of Iircnion, T.oith and Hull ; 

To each anil all our equal lamp at peril 

of the sea — 
The white wall-sided warships or the 
whalers of nundee ! 

Come up, come in from Eastward, from 
the guard-ports of the Morn I 

Heat up, beat in from Southerly, O gip- 
sies of the Horn ! 

Swift shuttles of an I'.mpire's loom that 
weave us main to main. 

The Coastwise Lights of England give 
you welcome back again ! 

Go, get you gone up-Cluumel with the 
sea-crust on your plates ; 

Go, get you into London with the bur- 
den of your freights ! 

Haste, for they talk of Empire there, 
and say, if any seek, 

The Lights of England sent you, and 
by silence shall ye speak. 

RUDYAi^n Kii'i.iNU. 

C«/t.rrig*t. in 1896, ij' Rtiiiyard Kifline. 



FKAOMKNTS. 



631 



TIIK OCEAN, 

Till'. (I Ill III tlio I)i(l(linj< of tli<.' iiKMiii 

Kori'viir i'lijiii);i'!i wIlli Iiih iohIIiwh tiiUi : 
Kliinn Hliorcwiiiil imw, to Iwi rcgiillicri'il wmii 
With kiiinly |iiuih<ik of ri'lnitiint i>ii(lc, 
Anil Hi'iiililiiiii'i' <>(' ri'liirii. Anon I'ldiii lioino 
Hii iMBiiim foilli iinc-w, liiuli ridt^i-.l imil livit, - 
The gi'iitlcHi TiMiiinnr of hit KrcthiuK roiiiii 
Liko iirinii'H whiM|i<'iin« wIhto giisut ciJioch In'. 
0, Iciivi' llll^ hern upon thin hniii'li to rov<', 
Miilo Imli'iii'i to tlmt Honnil no nmml ami loni^ ! 
A ({lorioiiH Kounil, ili'i'p driiwii, mid Htroiij;ly 

thrown, 
And rnii'hinn Ihow on inoiiiitiiin hi'i^jhtn iiliovc, 
To Itiili'th iiiiH (iiH who xhiill miorn to own () 
A tuUihir loinl voicf, ii savior toiin of hive. 

CIIAKLKS ruKNIH. 



FRAGMENTS. 
TiiK Hka-Shoiik. 

f\ hllVl! NCI'II 

A curinud child, wlio dwidt npon u triirt 
Of inldnil Kroniid, iipplyiiiK '" 'i'" ''"'' 
Thv I'onvolutioiiH oT II HinoothlippiMl iihidl ; 
To which, in hUciicc hiiHhcd, IiIn very houI 
LlHtviicil intciiHcly ; mid IiIh coiintiiniiiiii' Koon 
Hrinlitcncd with J<iy ; for from within wcic hiiird 
MiiriniirinKH, whcridiy tho monitor cxjiichhciI 
MyHtcrioim union with ili native hcii. 
Even Hiich n hIicM tlic iiiiivcrHc itNclf 
Id to the ciir of Kaith : and there are tinicH, 
] (loiiht not, when to yon it dotli impart 
Authentic tidiii({N of InviHilile thiiiKH ; 
Of el)h and How, anil ever-diiriiiK power ; 
Anil central ikmu'c, HulmiHtlii){ at thu heart 
OfcndlcHH nKitation. 

Tnt figtiteiioH. tlM>k it Wf)K0H\VOI/-| M. 

And there, where tlie niiioolh, wet JiebhloH bo, 

The walciH K'<<k'" I"»K'I'K'.V> 

Ah if Ihcy fain would neck the hIioic, 

To be at rent fimn the I'eiiiM Ichh roar, 

To bo lit rent foroveriiioro. 

Th4 sttfiii. ]. R. t.nwni I. 

I am an a weed. 
Filing fioin the rock, on Ocean's foam, to anil 
Where'er the anrge nuiy »wce]i, the tempent's 
breath prevail. 

t>*n Jtiait, Ca»l. tU. IIVKON. 

PeACR on TIIK Sl'.A. 

C*lm and iinriilllnil nn n Hiiinmcr Hea, 

When not a breath of wiinl lliea o'er ita Hurfiice. 

Ctf/y. ADUISON. 



WiNIlH AN»> WaVKH. 

WntcliiiiK the waves with all their white crcHtit 

dancing 
I'lime, like thick-plilliied Hi|iliidroiiM, to Die shorn 
(inllaiitly boiiiidin;{. 
yiiitiiii, »i« A. iii'Ni. 

I have seen tempests when the scolding; winds 
Have rived the knotty onks ; and I have sein 
The aniiiitiffUs oi'eun swell, and ra^e, and foam. 
To be exalted with the thieat'iiiiiK iloiids. 

yuliui Caicif. /Irit, Sr. v SirAKl'M'l'Allll. 

lint cliii^f at sea, wliosi' every llexilo wave 
llbeys the blast, the lu^riiil tumult swells. 
Ill the dread Oi'ean undulating wide, 
lleniiatli the radiant line that girls the globe. 

//u.Sramis: Siimmrr. THOMSON 

Once more upon Ihi^ waters ! yd once more ! 
And the waves bound licneath nie as a stceil 
That knowH his rider. 

Ihii 7mi». Ciinl. III. IIYKON. 

Strongly 'I benrs us aloii;; in kwcIIIm^ and liinit- 

liws IlilloWH. 

Nothing before and nothinj^ behjiid but the sky 
iinil the ocean, 

/*/ Ihmirti lltxamtUr. Ir. of CoLll«lIlr;r^ S( iin.i.im 



■SmII'K, 

liiiild me straiglit, O worthy Mast<^rl 
.Stanch and strong, a goodly vcssid, 

That mIiiiII laugh at all diwisler 

And with wave and whirlwind wrestl(^ 

Ih, llutlduis ii/llir Sln/l. I.ciNOI'I'.I.I.OW, 

HelioM the threaden sails, 
Horno with the invisible and creeping wiinl. 
Draw the liiigit bottoms lliroiigh the furrowr'd sea, 
lireiisling the lofty surge. 

Kiue lUilry y. /Irl m. (Jlorui. SMAKIIl'I'AHI!. 

Hailing 
I,ike n Ktntely sliip 
Of Taistis, bound for the isles 
Of .lavaii or (iadire. 

With all her bravery on, and tackle trim, 
iSails lilled, and strcami'is waving, 
Coiirleil by all the winds that hold tlieiii play, 
An miiber scent of odorous pcrfunii' 
Her liarbliiger. 

SnmiHH Atonlilil. MILTON. 

Hearts of oak are our sliips, 
HenrtA of oak are our incu. 



032 



I'OEMS 01'' TUK SKA. 



Stukms ami SmrwKKCK. 

Yp pontlomeu of England 

'I'lmt livo at honii' at oase, 
All ! littlo ilo you think upon 
Tlio dungi'rs of tlio seas. 

O (lilot ! 't is a fiyirl'ul ni}j;lit, 
Thoi'O 's dangoi' ou tho deep, 

ThtflM. T. II. BAVLY. 

Ood moves in a mysterious way 

His wonders to iierform ; 
lie jvlauts his I'ootsteiis in the soa 

And rides unon tho storm. 

I-igtit sJ%t»ini^ i'Nt ii/-l\iritHess. COWPER. 

Seas 
Koush with Maek winds, and storms 
Unwonted. 

B«>>Jk i, IXU i. 7v.iNjAirt'<>M 1^ Milton. hokack. 

Her deek is eiMwded with desiiairing souls. 
And in the hollow ]>auses of the storm 
^Ve hear their jiieroiii}; eries. 

Strtram. C MATl'KIN. 

Fierce o'er tho wieek the wholmins; waters 
passed. 
The helpless crew sunk in the roaring main ! 
T/kf Mitn»rr. Mrs. Anm; Raucliffi^ 

A solitary shriek, the Imbbliiig ory 
Of some strong swimmer in his agony. 

/V« yuan, Cj««/. ii. BVRON. 

Oangerous rocks, 
Wlueli touching hut my gentle vessel's side. 
Would scatter all her spices on tho stivam, 
Eni'obo tho roaring watoi-s with my silks. 
And, in a wonl, but oven now worth this, 
And now worth nothing. 

.VrrtAjml if ( cnut, .«l i iV. I. SHAKESPEARE. 



As rich . . . 
As is the ooze and bottom of the sea 
With sunken wreck and sumless treasuries. 

Kills Htnry V.. Act i. Sc. ». SHAKESPEARE. 

No, here's to tho pilot that weatlierod the storm. 

The Pilot that nt^itfiertti the Storm. C. CANMNi;. 



TlIK Low Col'NTIUHS. 

To men of other minds my fancy Hies, 
Embosomed in the deep where Holland lies. 
Methinks her patient sons before mo stand, 
Where thi> broad Ocean loans against the land, 
And, sedulous to stop the coming tide, 
Lift the t«U nimpii-o's artificial pride. 
Onward methinks, and diligently slow. 
The linn connected bulwark seems to grow, 
Sproads its long arms amidst the watery roar. 
Scoops out an empire, and usurps the shoiv. 
While the pent Ocean, rising o'er tho pile, 
Sees an amphibious world beneath him siuilo ; 
The slow canal, the yellow-blossomed vale. 
The willow-tufted bank, the gliding sail. 
The crowded mart, tho cultivated plain, 
A now creation ivscued from his reign. 

TJit Tnivtlirr. GOLDSMITH. 

As when the sea breaks o'er its bounds, 
.\iid ovortlows tho level grounds. 
Those Ivmks and dams that like a screen 
Did keep it out, now keep it in. 

HluMrM. DR. S. BCTLEK. 



ENC.I.AND. 

Broad -based upon her people's will, 
And compassed by the inriolate sea. 

To tlU i^H«*t, 







POEMS OF ADVENTURE AND RURAL SPORTS 



«V^J 









€J<^ -v-»->^ t*j^Th > vujC^ -c-A^tx/ilfZ- ^«9; 
^ tx t iil ^d^ Ovj_ T'^^ S'^'^^% ' 

IVf-c^^cl 'V-xK-^'hejT "vri./3ov-iA.« »:». 'fc<rv>sL^. 
^4-^^cl UNu.«r< -c.4:xc>^ Urt^\. tL- <», v.»v;r o? ':^--''^^ 



POEMS or ADVKNTllRK AND UIJJtAL SPOirrS. 



ADVENTURE. 



CIIEVY-CIIASK. 

ft'ercy. E«rl of Northumberland, had Wowed to hunt for three 
<l4y»(r» the HcoltUh hot'Icr. wtlhool conile*ccn'llnt{ lo ji»k Icfivp 
from Herl I>ouKla«. who w,n either lord of the vill or lor'1 warden 
of the Marchet. Thl» [jrovoked tlio conrtkt whkh wfta colchraird 
In the old ballad of the " Huntlnif o the Cheviot." The circwiii. 
•tancrt <if the l,«llle of <JllrrlK>urrie (A D ijWt) are woven Into the 
iMlUd. and (he aflalr. of the two cvenlfc are confounded. The Ijal- 
lad preserved in the i'ercy Kellquea U prolAlily u« old at 1574. 
The one followlOK li a ntodernlxed form, of the lime of Jaiiie% I.J 

Cioii iiii)H[)fr IniiK iiiir iiolilt! ItiiiKi 

Our livcH uiiil Kiifidii'H all ; 
A woful liiuiliiig once: lln^rf iliil 

III rlievyClmsc Itcfiill. 

To (Irivi: till: iliMrr with liouml iiml lioiii 

Kiiil I'cny tofik Iiih way ; 
Till; chilli may iiio tlmt JH uiilmrii 

The liiiiiting of tlmt (Uy. 

Till: Htout Karl of Nortliumlxirlaiiil 

A vow to (ioil tliil niakt!, 
II in [ilBiuiurc in tli« .Si;olliiili wooiIh 

Tliri!c HiiiiiiiiiT ilayi) to take, — 

Till' <:liii'f(>Mt hartii in <'lM!vy-f,'liaii« 

To kill and hear away. 
TIk-ho tiiiiiit(H to Karl Douglaii cainii, 

In Kcotlnnd wtii;ro he lay ; 

Who sent Karl I'crcy prcHcnt word 

III? woiihl |irevfnt hin aport. 
Tho Kn)(litih carl, not fearing that, 

Did to the wowla reaort. 

With fifteen hundred fKtwnien Itold, 

All iliosen men of iiiixht, 
Who knew full well in time of need 

To aim their Hhaftn aright. 

The gallant groyhoiindH awiftly ran 

To I'liasc the fallow deer ; 
On Monday they liegaii tit hunt. 

Whin diiylight did n|i|K'ar ; 



And long Iji-fore high noun lliey had 

A hiinilr'i-d fal liiirkK nlain ; 
Then, having dined, ihi: ilioverH went 

To rouhe the ileer again. 

The howmen niUhtered on the liillH, 

Well iilile to endiiie ; 
And all tlndr rear, with xjieeial care. 

That day was guarded aure. 

The hounda ran awiftly through the woods 

The nimble deer to take, 
That with their enea the hilla and duleit 

An echo Mlirill did iiiiike. 

Lord I'l^rey to the (|uany went, 
To view the Klanghtered deer ; 

Quoth ho, " Karl Uouglaa piomiafed 
ThiH day to meet me here ; 

" But if f thought he would not come. 

No longer would I atay;" 
With that a brave young genlleiii^iri 

ThiiH to the earl did aay : — 

"1,0, yonder doth Karl Doiiglaa eomc, — 

lli» mill in annor bright ; 
Full twenty liundred .Seotlihh Hpeara 

All mari.'hing in our aight ; 

" All men of pleaaant Teviotdxtlo, 

Kaat by the river Tweed ;" 
"Then eeaw: your Mporta," Karl Percy Haid, 

" And take your bowa with apewl ; 

" And now with me, my eoiintrymen, 

Your courage forth advance ; 
For never waa there chum|iion yet, 

111 Scotland or in France, 

"That over did on horwdjaek come, 

Hut if my hap it were, 
I iliirxt encounlir man for man. 

With him to break u apear." 



OoO 



I'OKMS OF AOVK.NTl KE ANP KlKVl, sroKlS. 



Eiirl Ooiij'lus on liis milk-wluto stiitl, 

^l^^st liko « Iwivn KiUl, 
Koiio foix'iiuvit of liis oomiudiy, 

Wluvio minor sliouo liko )^>Ul. 

" Show me," said lio, "" wliiwo moii yo» K', 

'rimt lumt so l>oUlly lu-iv, 
Tl\at, without luv i-oiimMiI, do ohivso 

Ami kill ii\y rallow-dooi." 

Th<< tii'st iiiai\ that did answer niako. 

Was noblo Toivy, hi- — 
Who s;iid, '" Wo list not todpolaix', 

Nov show wln^so nion wo W ; 

" Yot will wo sjH'nd our ilcaix'st IiKhhI 

Thy ohiol'ost liarts to slay." 
Thon Poiiglas swoiv a soloinu wth, 

And thus in nigo did say ; — 

" Kiv thus 1 will out-hrsivM Ins 

Ono of ns two shall dio ; 
1 know tluv woU, an oarl thou art, — 

Lonl Toivy, so am 1 . 

" But trust tno. IVivy, pity it woiv. 

And givat ortVuoo, to kill 
Any of thoso our jiuiltloss n\on. 

For thoy havo dono no ill. 

" L#t you iuul nn> tht< Iwttlo try. 

And set onr n>o« asido." 
" Aivurswl U> ho." KjuI IVrv-y sjiid, 

*• By whom this is donio\l." 

Thon stepiHHl a g!«llant sunin' forth, 

Wiihorington W!»s his namo. 
Who stxid. " I would not havo it told 

To Houry, our king, for shiuuo, 

" That o'or my captain fought ou foot. 

And I stiHxl Kniking on. 
You t\w K' wrls," sjiid Witlu-ringfon, 

" And I a s>iuin> alono : 

"I "11 do tho lH>st th«t do I may, 
Whilo 1 havo ivwor to stjuul ; 

Whilo 1 h.ivo tMWor to wiold n>y swoixl 
I '11 fight with hoiirt tuid hand." 

Our English arohors Ivnt tlioir Ivws, — 
Thoir hoarts wore gvHxl !U\d truo ; 

At tho tirst llight of .irrviws soi\t. 
Full foui'swnv SiMts thoy slow. 

Yet stax-s Earl IXniglas on tho K'lit, 

.\s ohiol1)>iu stout and gvwl ; 
As valiant otiptain, a]^ un^no^-^^^, 

Th« shock he finnlv stcKxl, 



His host ho jvirtod had in three, 

As loader waiv and tried ; 
And soon his stieannon on their foes 

Bore down on every side. 

Thivnghont the F.uirlish arx'hery 
They dealt full many a wound ; 

But still our valiant K.nglishnien 
All firmly kept their ground. 

And throwing str»»ight thoir Ixws away, 
Thoy gnisiHHl tlioir swoi\ls so bright : 

And now sharp blows, a heavy shower, 
Ou sliields nud helmets light. 

They olosinl f>ill fast on every side, — 
\o slackness tlioix> was found ; 

And many a gidlaut giutloman 
Lay gsisping on tho ground. 

In truth, it \tos a grief to see 
How each one chose his s^H<ar, 

And how the bKnid out of thoir breasts 
Did gush like wi>ter eJeiU-. 

At last those two stout earls did n\oot ; 

l.iko captains of groat n\i);ht. 
Like lions wixlo, thoy laid ou KhIo, 

And made a crnel fight. 

They fovight until thoy both did sweat. 
With swoi\ls of tomjH'riHl steel. 

Until the bUxnl. like drojvs of niiu, 
They trickling down did f«d. 

" Yield th«>, Lonl Teroy." Douglas s;iid. 

■• In faith I will tluH" bring 
Where thou shsUt high advanced be 

By .lames, our Si-ottisli king. 

"Thy ransom I will fively give, 

Anvl this rojx<rt of thee, — 
Thou art the nuvst cvnirageous knight 

That ever 1 did see." 

" No, Dougl.as," s!«th F-'irl Tercy tlien, 

"Thy profior 1 do siMrn ; 
I will not yield to any Scot 

That ewr )-et was born." 

With tliat thero came an sirrow keen 

Out of an English lx>w. 
Which struck Ejirl Douglas to tlie heart, - 

.\ deep and deadly blow : 

Who ne\-er s^take more worxls thsin tlies« ; 
" Fight on, my merry men all ; 
I For why, my life is at an end ; 
Loivi IVrvv sees mv fall." 



ADVENTUUE. 



637 



Tlit'ii li'iiving life, Knrl I'l-rry took 

Tliir cloud iiiitn liy tlic liuml ; 
Anil Huiil, " Kiirl Duii^Iuh, I'lir lliy lil'u 

Would I liiid limt my lurid. 

"In triilli, my vory liourl dulli IjIci'iI 

Willi HiiriDW I'lir tliy imkr ; 
For Hiiri! II moil' ri'ilniilitinl kiiiglit 

MiHcliiiiim dill iiovrr tiikr." 

A kiUKlit itiiiiiiigHt thn ScotH tlioru wns 

Who Hnw Kiirl l)iiii)(lii.s dio, 
Wlio Htriiiglit ill wnilli iliil vow uvdiixii 

IIpoii tlir Kiirl I'i'icy. 

Sir lliigli .Mi>iint<^'iitiiiM'y wiih ho lalli'd, 
Willi, with a Hpnir lull liil;{lil, 

Wi'll mouiilod nil II giilliiiil hIcm'iI, 
Hull lifiri'ly llinmKh tin' light ; 

And pnut tho EiigUiih uri'hiu's all, 

Without a drnid or Iciir ; 
Anil tliniiigli Karl I'lroy'H liody thun 

llu tiiriiHt hilt liiili'i'iil spi'ar. 

Willi Hiicli voluMiiiMil foiii' and iniglil 

111' did liiH hijily gori', 
Till! Htuir ran lhriiu;,'li the otliur sidu 

A lurgu rlnlh-yard and iiioro. 

So thus dill hoth Ilii'Hi' iiolili'H dii), 
Whoso couragi' iioiu uld stain. 

An Kiiglisli iiri'hcr tlion in'ioeivod 
Tho noMo oarl was slain. 

Ilo had a bow lioiit in his hand, 

Mado of a trusty Irou ; 
All arrow of II I'lolh-yiird long 

To till' hiird hoad iialod ho. 

Against iSir Hugh Moiiiilgoniory 

So right tho shaft lio sot, 
Tho gray gooso wing that wiih thoroon 

In his heart's lilood was wot. 

TlilH figlit <lid liLst from hroak of iluy 

Till Hotting of tho sun ; 
Kor wlion tlioy rung tlio ovoiiing-bull 

Till! hatttu RCiu'co Wiw donu. 

With Hloiit Earl I'oroy there wore nlniii 

Sir .lolin of Egortoii, 
Sir Kohirl llal.lilf, and Sir .lohii, 

Sir .lanioH, that hold haroii. 

And with Sir Oeorgo and utoiit Sir Janios, 
Ilotli knightj* of good ni'ooiint, 

flood Sir Ralph Kahy tliori) was slain, 
Whose prowess did mirnioiint. 



For Witliorington my lioart Ih woo 

Tliat over ho slain should ho, 
For whon IiIh logs wore liown in two, 

III' knolt and fought on liiii kiiue. 

Ami with Kail Douglas tlioro wore Bhiin 

Sir Hugh Moiiiilgomory, 
Sir ('liarlos Murray, that from the hoi. I 

Olio foot would iiovor lloo ; 

.Sir Chiirlos Murray of llatolill', loo, — 

His sister's son was ho ; 
Sir David l.aiuh, so woll ostoomod, 

ISiil saved 1 add not ho. 

And tho Lord Mii.twoll in like cane 

Did vi'ilh Karl DouglaK dio ; 
Of twenty liunilroil Srottish Hpearo, 

Si'iireo lilty-live did lly. 

Ofliftooii hiiiidii'd KngliHhmen, 

Weill liMiiii' liul llft.y-three ; 
The rest in Chevy -Chase wereBliiiii, 

Uiidor till' grrouwooil tree. 

Noxl day did iiiany widoWH (!ome, 

Tlii'ir huslmnds to bewail ; 
Thoy washed tlioir wounds in liriiiish tears, 

I'llll all would llol |il'ovall. 

Their liodios, Inilhed in jairplo hlood, 

They bore with Ihoni away ; 
Thoy kissed them dead a thousand times, 

Km they were clad in eliiy. 

The news was liioiight to Kdiiiliiiigh, 
Whore Si'otland's king did reign. 

That brave Karl Douglas suddenly 
Was with an arrow slain : 

"O heavy news," King .lames did say ; 

" Heotland can witness bo 
I have not any eaptain niorii 

Of Hueli aeeount as ho." 

l.ike tidings In King lloiiry oaiiii' 

Within as short a spaoe. 
That I'oiey of Noithiimborlaiid 

Was slain in Chovy-( 'base ; 

" Now f!od be with him," said our King, 

"Sineo 'twill no hotter bo ; 
I trust I have within my realm 

Five hundri'd us good as hu ; 

" Yet shall not Scots or Scotland soy 

■ Hut I will vengennro take ; 
1 '11 bo rcvengod on tliein all 
For brave Karl Percy's sake." 



638 



rOJiJlS OF ADVENTURE A.NU UUliAL Sl'UKTS. 



This vow full wrll tliii kiiij; i>i'rfoniuid 

Al'tor 111 lliinilili'ilowii ; 
111 diu' iliiy lil'ly kiii^'lils weiv sliiiii 

With luiils 111' liiyli iviunvu ; 

And of the rest, of small nocmiiit. 

Dill niiiiiy ImiuiriHls die : 
Tlmsoiidoth llu> hiiiitiiigof rlievy-Chnso, 

Miulo by tlio Karl IVri'V. 

God snvo the Uiiij;, uiul liloss this liiiul, 

AVith plenty, joy, iiiid )ieiiee ; 
And grnut, heneefortli, tlmt foul debiito 

'Twixt noblemen niiiy eense. 

KiCtlAKD SMBALK. 



LAMENT OF TlIK lUilJOKK WIOOAV. 

IStr Wllltcr Scolt -i.iys : " This balLul rclmcs lo the execuTion of 
Cockbtirnc of llclidcrl.uiil, n lionlcr frccliootcr, tiaiined over the 
KMc of his own lower by JaiiU'S V, in Ills fiimous expedition. In 1539. 
a^^'ainst the niarauiler^ of the bonier. It) n ilcscneil burlaNplace 
near the ruins of llie ciistle, the moimineiit of Cockburne ami his 
laily Is still shown. Tile following; inscription is still legible, thou){h 
ilcfaceil I — 

'•■HllRU LYttS eilRVS HI' COKUL'RNli AND Ills WVFU 
MAKJOKV."") 

JIy love he hiiilt me ii iHHiiiie Innvcr, 
And eliul it a' \vi' lily llmver ; 
A briiwer liower yo ne'er did see. 
Than my tnio-love ho built for mo. 

There eame a man, by middle day, 
lie siiied his sport, ami went away ; 
And brought the king that very night, 
Who brake my bower, and slow my knight. 

He slew my knight, to n\e sae dear ; 
Ho slew my knight, and poin'd his gear : 
My servants all for life ilid llee. 
Ami left me in extremitie. 

1 sewed his slieel, making my inane ; 
1 watehed the I'orjise mysell alane ; 
I watehed his body night and day ; 
No living eivature came that way. 

I took his body on my back. 

And whiles 1 gtied, and whiles I snt ; 

I digged a grave, and laid him in, 

And happed him with the sod sac given. 

lint think nao ye my heart was snir, 
When 1 laid the monl' on his yellow hair? 
O, think nao ye my heart was wae, 
A\'hen I turned about, away to gae > 

Nnc living man 1 '11 love again, 
Sinee that my lively knight is slain ; 
"\Vi' ae loek o' his yellow hair 
1 '11 ehain my heart foTi'vermair. 

.■VNO.WMOIIS. 



KOHIN HOOD AND ALLKN-A-DALE. 

[Of Kobln Hood, the famous oull.iw of Sherwood Forest, and 
his merry men, there are many ballads ; but the limits of this volume 
forbid our Kivinn more than a sinnlc selection. 

\*arioiis periods. r.uiKinn from tile time of Kichard I. to the end 
of thr ^ciiru of Udward 11.. have been ossi,;neil as the n^e in wliich 
Kobin Hood lived. He is usually described as a yeoman, abiding 
in Sherwood Forest, in Nollinj;hauisllire. Hi^ most noted follow- 
ers, h'enernlly mentioned in the ballads, are Lutie Jolin, Friar Tuck, 
his chaplain, and his maid Marian. Nearly all the legends extol 
his coitra^'e. Ills K'cncrosUy, his hutitanity. and his skill as an archer, 
lie robbed the rich only, who could aliord to lose, and (jave freely 
to the VKior. He protected the needy, was a champion of the fair 
sex. and took Krcat dciitht in pluuderini; prelates. The following' 
biiilad exhibits the outlaw in one of ins most attractive aspects, — 
nllordinj; assisutncc to n distressed lover.) 



t'oMH, listen to me, yon gallants so free. 
All yon that love mirth for to hour, ' 

And 1 will tell yon of a bold outlaw, 
That liveil in Nottinghamshire. 

As Kobin Hood in the forest stood. 

All under the gieeiuvood tree. 
There he was aware of a brave young man, 

As line as line might be. 

The youngster was clad in soarlet red, 

In .searlft line and gay ; 
And he did frisk it over tlie plain, 

And eliaiitfd a roundelay. 

As Kobin Hood next morning stood 

Amongst the leaves so gay, 
There tlid he espy the same young man 

t'oine drooping along t!ie way. 

The searlet he wore the day before 

It was clean east away ; 
And at every step lie fetched a sigh, 

" Alaek and well-a-day ! " 

Then stepped forth brave Little .lolin, 

And Midge, the miller's son ; 
Which made the young man bend his bow, 

Wheiias he see them come. 

"Stand oil" ! stand olf ! " the young man said, 

" What is your will with nie > " 
" You must come bel'oiv our master straight. 

Under yon greenwood tree." 

And when he eame bold Kobin before, 

Kobin asked him eourteonsly, 
" (^, hast thou any money to spaiv. 

For my merry men and me ' " 

" 1 have no money," the young man said, 

" Hut live shillings and a ring ; 
And that I have kept these seven long years. 

To have at my wedding. 



ADVENTUKE. 



639 



" Yesterday 1 should have married a maid, 

But slie wits from me lii'cii, 
Auil chostMi to bo »n old knight'H deliglit, 

Whereby my poor licart is slain." 

" Wlmt is thy iiuino ?" tlieii said Kobiii Hood, 
" t'oiiiu t<'ll me without niiy liiil." 

" Hy the faith of uiy body," tln-ii said the young 
man, 
" My name it is Allen-a-Dale.". 

" Wlmt wilt thou give nie," said Robin Hood, 

" In ready gold or fee, 
To help thee to thy true-love again. 

And deliver her unto thee ? " 

" I have MO money," then ciuoth the young man, 

" No ready gold nor fee. 
But 1 will swear upon a Ixjok 

Thy true servant for to be." 

" How many miles is it to thy true-love ? 

tome tell niu without guile." 
" By the faith of my body," then said the young 
man, 

"It is but live little mile." 

Then liobin he hasted over the plain, 

He did neither stint nor lin,* 
Until he eanio unto tlie ehureh 

Where Allen should keep his wedding. 

" What hast thou here ? " the bishop then said, 

" I prithee now tell unto me." 
"I am a bold harper," (pioth liobin Hood, 

■' .\nil the liest in the north country." 

" 0, welcome, 0, welcome," the bishojj he said, 

" That mu.sie l)est jileascth me." 
" You shall have no music," (|uoth Hobin Hood, 

"Till the bride and bridegroom I see." 

With that came in a wealthy knight. 

Which was both giave anil old ; 
And after him n linikin lass, 

Did shine like the glistering gold. { 

"This is not a fit match," quoth Robin Hood, 

" That jou do seem to make here ; 
For since we are come into the ehureh. 

The bride shall chuse her own dear." 

Then Robin Hood put his horn to his mouth, 

And blew blasts two and three ; 
When four-and-twenty yeomen bold 

L'ame leaping over the lea. 



j And when they camo into the churchyard. 

Marching all in a row. 
The very liisl man was Allen-a-I)ale, 
I To give bold Robin his bow. 

"This is thy true-love," Robin he said, 

" Young Allen, as 1 hear say ; 
And you shall be niarried at this same time, 

Belore we dei)art away." 

" That shall not be," the bishop he cried, 

" For thy word shall not stand ; 
They shall be three times asktnl in the churcli. 

As the law is of our laud." 

Robin Hood pulled olf the bishop's coat, 

And put it upon Little .lolin ; 
" By the faith of my body," then Robin said, 

"This cloth doth make thee a man." . 



iiune, 



When Little John went into tint 

The people began to laugh ; 
He asked them seven times in the church 

Lest three times should not be enough. 

" Who gives me this maid 'I " said Little John, 
Quoth Robin Hood, "That do 1 ; 

And he that lakes her from Allen-a-Dale, 
Full dearly he shall her buy." 

And then, having ended this meiry wedding. 

The bride looked like a ipieen ; 
And so they returned to the merry greenwood, 

Amongst the leaves so green. 

A.NUNVMOUS. 



JiHK JOHNSTONE, THE TINKLER. 

"0, I'AMKye ower by the Yoke-burn Ford, 
Or down the King's Road of the eleuch '!* 

Or .saw ye a knight and a lady bright, 

Wha ha'e gane the gate they baitli shall rue 

"I saw a knight and a lady bright 

Ride up the eleuch at the break of day ; 
The knight upon a coal-black steed, 
I And the dame on one of a silver-gray. 

" And the lady's ])alfrey flew the first. 
With many a clang of silver bell : 

Swift lus the raven's morning lligbt 
The two went scouring owi-i' the fell. 

"By this time they are man and wife. 
And standing in St. Mary's fane ; 
' And the lady in the griiss-green silk 
I A maid you will never see again." 



' Stop nor flay. 



640 



1'0EM.S OF ADVENTUUE AM) Kl i;.\l. Sl'OUl'S. 



" But I onii toll thop, siiuoy wight, — 
Auil tliiit till- niiiawny slmll luove, — 

l!i"v«'iit^' to 11 Doujjliis is ns swi'cl 

As ii\i\iiiiMi ohfti'ius or niniilon's lovo." 

"Sinoo thoii siiy'st tliat, my l.onl Uiuii'las, 
t^ooil fiiith some oliiiUiii}; tlioro will lie ; 

Ilcsluvw my lnvirt luit iiiul my swonl, 
ir 1 wimirt turn aiul liilo witli tluv ! " 

Tlicy whipiwil out owim- the Slu'iihonl Cloucli, 
And douii llio links o' the (.'oi-soolouoh Uuin ; 

Ami ayo tin' nonjilas svvoro by his swoixl 
To win his lovo. or m''oi' ivtuni. 

" Fii-sl lijjht your rival. Lonl Pouglas, 

Ami thi 11 hiaj; al'tor. if yon may ; 
Ku' llio Karl of Koss is as bravo a loixl 

As over jtavo good woiipon sway. 

'• Hut 1 lor ao poor sillor moik. 

t>r thirloon poniiios and a bawboo,' 
Will t;ik in hand to light yon l«ith. 

Or boat tlio wiuiior, whioho'or it bo." 

The IVniglns tnrnod him on his stood. 

And 1 Wilt a lond laughtor lonoh ho ; 
" Ofii" tho fools 1 hiivo ovor mot. 

Mail, 1 ha'o nover mot aue liko fhoo. 

" .\rt thou akin to loi\l or knight, 
Ih' oourtly siiuiiv or warrior loal ? '" 

"1 am a tinklor," nuo' tho wight, 

" But 1 liko ci\>uu-craoking unco wool." 

Whoii thoy oamo to St, Mary's kirk, 
Tho ohaplain shook for very foar ; 

And ayo ho kissod tho oivss, and saiil, 

" What doavil has son! lliat IVmulas lioiv ! 

*' llo noithor valnos liook nor Vwn, 

But oui-siv! all without domur ; 
And caivs inio mair lor a holy nxau 

Than 1 do for a worthloss our." 

" Ooiuo hero, thou bland and britflo priest, 

And toll to uio without dolay 
Whoix' you havo hid tho loiil of Rivss 

.\nd tho lady that oamo at tho bivak of day." 

" Xo knight or lady, go>vl l.oi\l Douglas. 

Havo 1 Ivhold siuoo bivak of morn ; 
Aiul 1 novor saw tho lonl of lioss 

Sinoo tho woful day that I was Kirn." 

l.oul Douglas turnwl him ivnnd alxiut, 
.\nd liHiktvl tho Tinklor in tho faoo : 

\Vlioix> ho Ivhold a lurking smilo. 
And a doovil of a dour griinaoe. 



" How 's this, liow 's this, thou Tinklor loun » 
Hast thon pivsuinod to Ho on nio !" 

" Kailli that 1 havo !" tho TinkK'r said, 
" .\nd a right good turn I hnvodono to thee ; 

" Kor tho lord of Hoss ami thy own trnodovo, 
Tho boautoous Haniol of Thiilostauo, 

Kado west away, oiv tho broak of day : 
And yon '11 novor soo tho doar maid agiiin ; 

"So 1 thought it host to bring you horo, 
lln a wrung soont, of my ow ii aoooid ; 

For liad you mot tho .lohiistoiio olan, 
Thoy wad ha'o niado miiu'o-moat of a lonl." 

At this tho Douglas was so wivth 

Ho wist not what to say or do ; 
Bnt ho strak tho Tinklor o'or tho oivun. 

Till tho blood oamo drooping owor his lirow. 

" Boshivw my hoarl." quo' tho Tinklor lad, 
'■ Thou boar'st thoo most ungallautlyo I 

If thoso aiv tho manuoi-s of a lonl. 
Theyaiv manuoi'sthatwinnagaugdouuwi'mo. " 

" Hold up thy hand," tho Douglas oriod, 
" And koop thy distaiu'o, Tinklor loun ! " 

"That will 1 not," tho Tinklor said, 
"Though I niid my maro should both go 
doun ! " 

" 1 havo armor on," oriod tho l.oivl Douglas. 

"C'uiniss and holm, as yon may soo." 
" Tho doil mo oaiv ! " i|uo' tho Tinklor lad : 

" 1 shall havo a skolp at thom and thoo." 

" You aiv not hoi'sod," <ino' tho l.oixl Douglas, 
"And no ivmoi'so this woapoii bmoks." 

"Mino'sa right good yaud," >pio' tho Tinklor lad, 
" And *giYat doal iH'llor nor she looks. 

" So stand to thy weajKiiis, thou liaughty lord, 
■What 1 havo takon I iioods invist gi\i.> ; 

Thou shall novor strike a tinklor again. 
For tho langi'st day thou hast to live." 

Thon to it thoy loll, both sharp and snell. 
Till tho liiv fivm lv>lh thoir weapons tlow ; 

But the very lii'st sluvk that thoy mot with. 
The Douglas his rasluiess 'gsui to rue. 

For though ho had on a s;>rk of mail. 

.\iid a ouiiiiss on his bivast woiv he, 
■With a giHid sti>ol bonnot on his head. 

Yet tho UoihI i-an triokliug to his knee. 

The Douglas sat upright and firm, 

Aye as together their hoi-ses ran ; 
But tho Tinkler laiil on liko a very deil, — 

Sioeau strokes woix' never laid on bv man. 



AUVENTUKK. 



641 



" Ilol<l iiji tliy liiind, lliou Tinklnr louii," 
I'ricKl till' pour |ii'ii'.Ht, u'illi wliiiiiij^' iliii ; 

" If tlioii liui't lliu bravo Lmd .Iuiiii'h Doiigliui, 
A ciiraa 1)0 on tliuu ami all thy kin I" 

" I earu im iiiori' Pur Lciril .Ihiik'h DoiigliiM 
Tliun l,(inl .Iinnim DiiUKlax caicH lor inu ; 

Itiit I want to li^t his jirond hirart know 
'I'liat a tinkler 'h a man an wi'll a.t liii." 

Ho lh«y foUKlit on, and tlicy lou^shl on, 
Till ({ood l.oni |loii;;laH' hrcalh Has X"n<' ; 

And lh(i 'I'inkliT hori' liiin to thii |t>'"nnd, 
With rush, with ralth', and with groan. 

" I' lion ! () lnJM !" crii'd thr pronil Donglaa, 
" That I this ihiy shonld liavi' livinl to hcu I 

For Hurc my honor I havu lost, 

And a Icadt-r again I can iicvi^r lar ! 

" Hut till iiir of thy kith and kin, 

And where was lirisl thy wen]ion hand if 

Kcir thou art the wale ot tinkler louns 
That ever waH horn in fair Scotland." 

" My namn 'h ,Ioek JohiiHtono," ipio' tlni wight ; 

" I winna keep in my nami^ fraii thuu ; 
And here, tak thou thy HWord again, 

And butter friunda wo two almll be." 

I'Ut the Ooiighuf Hwore a Holeinn oath. 
That was a ilebt he eonid never owe ; 

lie woidd rather <lie at thc! baek of tlio dike 
Than owe his swcird to a man ho low. 

" Itnt if thou will ridi; nmler my lianner. 
And iH'ar my livery ami my name, 

Mv right-hand warrior thon shalt he 

And I 'II knight thee on the Held of foino." 

" Woe worth thy wil, good l.ord Donglas, 
To think I 'd eliange my trade for thine ;■ 

Kar better and wiser would yon Ih% 
To live a join'tii'yman of nune, 

" To inon<I n kettle or ii raii(|iio, 

l)r clout a goodwife'a yettlin' pan, — 

I pon my life, good Lord Douglax, 
V'ou'd make a nohli! tinkler-man t 

" I would give you a drairnnock twice a day, 

And HunketH on n Hiinday ninrn, 
And you should be a rare adept 

In steel anil copper, bnuH and lioni I 

" I 'II fight you ovcry doy you rise, 

Till you ran net the hero's part ; 
Therefore, I pray you, think of this, 

And lay it neriouiily to heart." 



The Douglas writhed beneath the lash, 
Answering with an inward curse, — 

liike Halmon wriggling on a spear. 
That nud<eM hiu deadly wound the worse. 

Itut up there came two sipiires renowned ; 

In searidi of Lord Douglas they eiime ; 
And when they saw their master down. 

Their spirits mounted in a llame. 

And they Hew upon the Tinkler wight, 

Dike pi'rfect tigers on their prey ; 
Hut till) Tinkler heaved his trusty sword, 

And iiiiide him ri'iidy for the fray. 

"('onie one to one, ye coward knavcH, — 
C'ome hand to hand, and steed to atocd ; 

I would that ye were bettiT men, 
Kor this is ghnious work indeed ! " 

Before you eoiild hiive roiinteil twidve, 

The Tinkler's wondrous ehivalrye 
Had both the si|uiri!H upon the sward, 

And their horhes galloping o'er thii leii. 

The Tinkler tied them im.k and liiiei, 

And inony a biting jrst gave he ; 
"() fie, for shame I" said the Tinkler lad ; 

"Sicitan fighterH I did never Bee I" 

He slit one of their bridle reins, — 

(), what disgrace the eoni|Uereil feels I — 

And he skeljiit the sijuires with that good tuwse. 
Till the blood run olfut baith their hcelH. 

The Douglas ho wfls forced to laugh 
Till down his cheek the salt teal' ran : 

" I think the deevil he come here 
In tin: likcnesH of u tinkler man I " 

Then he has to Dord Douglas gone, 

And he raised him kinilly by the hand. 

And he set him on his gallant steed, 
And bore him away to llenderland ; 

" lie not east down, my l.ord Douglas, 
Nor writhe beneath a broken bane j 

Kor the leech's art will mend the part. 
And your honor lost will spring again. 

"'Tin tnie, ,Ioe,k .lohnslone is my name ; 

I 'm a right good tinkler, us you sec ; 
For I can crack a casipie betimes. 

Or clout one, as niy need may l». 

".lock .lohnstone is my name, 'tis tru«, - / 
Hut noble hearts are allied to me ; 

For I am the loid id' Annaiidale, 

And a knight and earl as well as thee," 



C42 



POEMS OK AllVEXTVRE AXD KlUAl. Sr01!l>. 



Then Douglns straiiiwl the lieiv's hand, 
And took fivm it liis s\voi\l ajr.iiii : 

"Sinoo thou ait the Uiitl of Annundt\U\ 
Thou hast eased my hemt of mcikic luin. 

" I inijjht have known thy noMe form 
In that disguise thou 'it pleased to wear; 

All Scotland knows thy niatehless arm, 
And Knglaiid by experieuoe dear. 

"We have been foes as well as friends, 
And Joalous of each other's sway ; 

Hut little can I eonipreliend 
Thy motive for these pninks today." 

"Six>tli, my gKiod lorxl, the truth to tell, 
"r was I that stole your love away, 

And jr.ive her to the loixl of Koss 
An hour bel'oiv the bivak of day ; 

" For the lord of Ross is my brother. 

By all the laws of ohivalrye ; 
And I brought with me a thousand men 

To guaixl him to my aiu oountrye. 

" But I thought nuH^t to stay iH'hind, 
And try your loitlsliip to waylay, 

Kesolveii to breed some noble sport. 
By leading you so far astray. 

" Judging it K'tter some lives to sjwiv, — 
AVhioh fancy takes me now and then, — 

And settle our quarivl hand to hand, 
ThiUi each with our ten thousand men. 

" God send you soon, my Lonl Douglas, 
To Rorxier foray sound and haill ! 

But never strike a tinkler agjiin, 
If he be a Johnstone of Annaiidale." 

JA.MES HOCC. 



MORT D'ARTHUR, 

So all day long the noise of Kittle rolled 
Among the mountains by the winter sea ; 
Until King Arthur's Table, man l\v man. 
Had fallen in Lyoness alniut their loi\l. 
King Arthur : then, because his wound was deep, 
The bold Sir IWiveiv uplifted him, 
Sir Bciiivere, the last of all his Knights, 
And bore him to a chajwl nigh the field, 
A broken chancel with a bi-oken cross. 
That stood on a dark strait of Iwrnn land. 
On one side lay the Ocean, and on one 
Lay a great water, aud the moon w;is full. 

Then spsike King Arthur to Sir Bedivere : 
" The sequel of to-da'^ unsoldew all 



The goodliest fellowship of t'amous knights 
Whereof this world holds ivcoi\l. Such a sleep 
They sleep — the men 1 loved. 1 think that we 
Shall ncvennore, at any futuiv time, 
Delight our souls with talk of knightly deeds. 
Walking about the gjuxlens and the halls 
Of I'ainelot, as in the days that were. 
1 perish by this people which 1 made, — 
Thougli Merlin sware that I sliouUl come agiiiu 
To rule once more ; but let what will he, be. 
1 am so deeply smitten through the helm 
That without help 1 cannot last till morn. 
Thou therefore take my brand E.\calibur, 
Which was my pride : for tliou rememWrest 

how 
In those old days, one summer lUKHi, an arm 
Rose up from out the bosom of the lake, 
Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful. 
Holding the swoi\l — and how 1 rowed across 
And took it, and have worn it, like a king ; 
And, wheresoever I am sung or told 
In after-time, this also shall l>e known : 
But now delay not : take Excalibur, 
And tling him far into the middle mere : 
Watch what thou seest, and lightly bring me 

\voi\l. 

To him replied the Iwld Sir Bedivere : 
" It is not meet. Sir King, to leave thee thus. 
Aidless, alone, and smitten through the helm. 
A little thing may harm a wounded man ; 
Yet I thy liest will all perforin at full. 
Watch what I see, and lightly bring thee word." 

So saying, from the ruined .shrine he stept 
Aud in the moon athwart the place of toiulis. 
Where lay the mighty Ixmes of ancient men. 
Old knights, and over them the sea-wind s;ing 
Shrill, chill, with llakes of fiwm. He, stepping 

down 
By rigzag {viths, and juts of i>oiiited rock. 
Came on the shining levels of the lake. 

There drew he forth the brand Excalibur, 
.\nd o'er him. drawing it, the winter moon. 
Brightening the skirts of a long cloud, ran forth 
And siwrkled keen with frost ag-ainst the hilt ; 
For all the halt twinkled with diamond stnd.s, 
Jlyriads of tojuiz-lights, and jacinth-work 
Of subtlest jewelrj'. He givzed so long 
That both his eyes were dazzled as he stoixl, 
This way and that dividing the swift mind. 
In act to throw : but at the last it seemetl 
Better to leave Excalibur concealed 
There in the many-knotted watertlags. 
That whistled stitl" and dry about the marge. 
So strode he back slow to the wounded King. 



AUVENTUUK. 



643 



'I'licii .H|iakn KiiiK Aiiliiir to Sir HciliviTn ; 
*' lliutt tlioii iiiiruniail my iiiiHxioM »liii:li I 

gnv<i ( 
W'liat in it tliuu liiust m'cii f ni- wliut liiisl lii'iinl I " 

Anil answer made the bold Sir Itedivi^ro : 
" I heard tli« ri|i|il» wiushing in tlio rocMlx, 
And tlic wild water lupiiing on tlic erug." 

To wlioni replied King Artliur, faint and [lale ; 
" Tlion hast l«^trayed thy nature and tliy name, 
Not rendering trne unawer, as be.seemed 
Thy fealty, nor like a noble knight : 
For Hurer sign )nid followi'il, either hand. 
Or voice, or else a motion of the mere. 
This ia a Hhami'ful thing for mi'n to lie. 
Yet now, I ehargu their, c)»iekly go agiiin, 
As thou art lief and dear, and do the thing 
I bade thee, watch, and lightly bring me wopl." 

Then went Sir Bedivcro the second time 
iHS the ri<lge, and i)aeed be.side the niere, 

inting the dewy pebbles, li.xed in thought ; 
ISut when he saw the wonder of the hilt, 
How curiously and strangely chased, he smotu 
His palms together, and lie cried aloud ; — 

" And if indeed I ea.st tlie brand away, 
Surely a prei.ious thing, one worthy note, 
Should thus be lost forever from the earth. 
Which might have pleiused the eyes of many men. 
What gooil should follow this, if this were done f 
What lianii, undone ? deep hanii to disobey. 
Seeing obcilienee is the bond of rule. 
Were it well to oliey then, if n king ilemand 
An net unprotitnlile, against Iiiinself .' 
The King is sick, and knows not what he docs. 
What reeonl, or what relic of my lord 
Should be to after-time, but empty breath 
And rumors of a doubt 1 but were tliis kept, 
Stored in some treiusuredionso of mighty kings, 
Some one might show it at a. joust of arms. 
Saying, ' King Arthur's sword, Kxealibur, 
Wrought by the lonely maiden of the lyake. 
Nine years she wrought it, sitting in the deeps 
Upon the hidden bitses of the hills.' 
So might some oM man speak in the after-time 
To all the |)eople, winning reverence. 
But now much honor and much fame were lost." 

.So spake he, eloiidcil with his own conceit, 
And hill Kxcnlibur the second time. 
And so atrodo back slow to the wounded King. 

Then spoke King Arthur, breathing heavily : 
" What is it thou hostseen ?or what hast heard ?" 

And answer made the bold Sir Bcdivero : 
" I heard the water lapping on the crag. 
And the long ripple washing in the reeds." 



To whom replied King Arthur, much in wrath ; 
"Ah, niisiH'able and unkind, untrue, 
llnkniglilly, Iriiitor-hearted ! Woe is me ! 
Authority forgets a dying king, 
Laid widowi'd of the power in his eye 
That bowed the will. 1 see thee what thou art, 
Kor thou, I he latest-left of all my knigliLs 
In whom should meet the olllies of all. 
Thou wouldst betray me for the pieeious hilt ; 
Kit her from lust of gold, or like a girl 
Valuing the giddy jileasure of the eyes. 
Yet, for II man may fail in duty twice. 
And the third time may prosper, get thee hence : 
Hut, if thoil spare to lling Kxealibur, 
I will arise and slay thee with my hands." 

Then ipiickly rose .Sir I'edivere, and ran. 
And, leaping down the riil;.'es lightly, [ilunged 
Among the liulrUHli-beds, and elutehed the sworil, 
And strongly wheeled and threw it. The great 

brand 
Made lightnings in the Hpleiidor of the moon, 
And Hashing roiuiil and niiind, iiimI whiileii in an 

arch. 
Shot like a streamer of llie northern morn. 
Seen where the moving isles of winter shock 
liy night, with noises of the northern sea. 
So lliished and fell the brand Kxealibur ; 
lint ere he dipt the surface, rose an arm 
Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful. 
And caught him by the hilt, and brandished him 
Three limes, and drew him under in the mere. 
And lightly went the other to the King. 

Then spoke King Arthur, drawing thicker 
breath : 
" Now see I by thine eyes that this is done. 
Speak out : what is it thou ha.st heard, or seen '( " 

And answer made the liold Sir I'edivere : 
"Sir King, 1 closed mine eyelids, lest the gems 
Should blinil my purjiose, for I never saw. 
Nor shall see, here or elsewhere, till I die. 
Not though I live three lives of mortal men, 
.So great a miracle as yonder hilt. 
Then with both hands 1 (lung him, wheeling 

him ; 
But when I looked again, Ixdiold an arm, 
f'lodicd in white samite, mystic, wonderful. 
That caught him by the hilt, and brandished him 
Three times, and drew him under in the mere." 

And answer made King Arthur, breathing 
hard : 
" M^v end draws nigh ; 't is time that 1 were gone. 
Make broad thy shoulders to receive my weight, 
And Is'ar me to the margin ; yet I fear 
My wound hath taken cold, and 1 shall die." 



'644 



POEMS OF ADVENTURE AND RURAL SPORTS. 



So sapng, from the pavenieut he half rose, 
Slowly, with pain, reclining on his arm. 
And looking wistfully witli wide blue eyes 
As in a picture. Him Sir Bedivere 
KemorsefuUy regarded through his tears. 
And would have spoken, but he found not words ; 
Then took with care, and kneeling on one knee. 
O'er both his shoulders drew the languid hands. 
And rising bore him through the place of tombs. 

But, as he walked, King Arthur panted hard, 
Like one that feels a nightmare on his bed 
When all the house is nmte. So sighed the 

King, 
Muttering and murmuring at his ear "Quick, 

quick ! 
I fear it is too late, and I shall die." 
But the other swiftly strode from ridge to ridge, 
Clothed with his breath, and looking, as he 

walked, 
Larger than human on the frozen hills. 
He heard the deep behind him, and a cry 
Before. His own thouglit drove him like a goad. 
Dry claslied his harness in the icy caves 
And barren chasms, and all to left and right 
The bare black cliff clanged roimd him, as he 

based 
His feet on juts of slippery crag that rang 
Sharp-smitten with the dint of armed heels — 
And on a sudden, lo ! the level lake, 



Then saw they how there hove a dusky barge. 
Dark as a funeral scarf from stem to stern. 
Beneath them ; and descending they were ware 
That all the decks were dense with stately forms, 
Black-stoled, black-hooded, like a dream, — by 

these 
Three Queens with crowns of gold, — and from 

them rose 
A cry that shivered to the tingling stars, 
And, as it were one voice, an agony 
Of lamentation, like a wind that shrills 
All night in a waste land, where no one comes, 
Or hath come, since the making of the world. 

Then murmured Arthur, " Place me in the 

barge ; " 
So to the barge they came. There those three 

Queens 
Put forth their hands, and took the King, and 

wept. 
But she that rose the tallest of them aU, 
And fairest, laid his head upon her lap. 
And loosed the shattered casque, and chafed his 
) hands, 

And called him by his name, complaining loud, 



And dropping bitter tears against his brow 
Striped with dark blood : for all his face was 

white 
And colorless, and like the withered moon 
Smote by the fresh beam of the springing east ; 
And all his gi-eaves and cuisses daslied mth drops 
Of onset ; and the light and lustrous curls — 
That made his forehead like a rising sun 
High from the dais-throne — were parched with 

dust ; 
Or, clotted into points and hanging loose, 
Mi.xed with the knightly growth that fringed his 

lips. 
So like a shattered column lay tlie King ; 
Not like that Arthur, who, with lance in rest, 
From spur to plume a star of tournament. 
Shot through the lists at Camelot, and charged 
Before the eyes of ladies and of kings. 

Then loudly cried the bold Sir Bedivere : 
"Ah ! my Lord Arthur, whitlier shall I go? 
Where shall I hide my foreliead and my eyes ? 
For now I see the true old times are dead. 
When every morning brought a noble chance. 
And every chance brought out a noble knight. 
Such times have been not since the light that led 
The holy Elders with the gift of myrrh. 
But now the whole Round Table is dissolved 
Which was an image of the mighty world ; 
And I, the last, go forth companionless, 
And the days darken round me, and the years. 
Among new men, strange faces, other minds." 

And slowly answered Arthur from the barge : 
" The old order changeth, yielding place to new, 
And God fulfils himself in many ways. 
Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. 
Comfort thyself : what comfort is in me ? 
I have lived my life, and that which I have done 
May He within lumself make pure ! but thou, 
If thou shouldst never see my face again. 
Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by 

prayer 
Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy 

voice 
Rise like a fountain for me night and day. 
For what are men better than sheep or goats 
That nourish a blind life within tlie brain. 
If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer 
Both for themselves and those who call them 

friend ? 
For so the whole round earth is every way 
Bound by gold chains about the feet of God. 
But now farewell. I am going a long way 
With these thou seest, — if indeed I go 
( For all my mind is clouded with a doubt) — 
To the island-valley of Avilion ; 



ADVEM'UKE. 



045 



■\Vhere falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, 
Nor ever wind Mows loudly ; but it lies 
Deep-mendowed, liappy, fair with orchard-lawns 
And bowery hollows crowned with summer sea. 
Where I will heal me of my grievous wound." 

So said he, and the barge with oar and sail 
Moved from the brink, like some full-breasted 

swan. 
That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, 
Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood 
With swarthy webs. Long stood Sir Bedivere 
Revolving many memories, till the hull 
Looked one black dot against the verge of dawn. 
And on the mere the wailing died away. 

ALFRED TENNYSON. 



ALFRED THE HARPER. 

Dark fell the night, the watch was set. 
The host was idly spread. 
The Danes around their watchfires met, 
Caroused, and fiercely fed. 

The chiefs beneath a tent of leaves, 

And Guthrum, king of all, 

Devoured the flesh of England's beeves, 

.\nd laughed at England's fall. 

Each warrior proud, each Danish earl, 

In mail and wolf-skin clad. 

Their bracelets white with plundered pearl, 

Their eyes with triumph mad. 

From Humber-land to Severn-land, 

And on to Tamar stream. 

Where Thames makes green the towery strand. 

Where Medway's waters gleam, — 

With hands of steel and mouths of flame 

They raged the kingdom through ; 

And where the Norseman sickle came, 

No crop but hunger grew. 

They loaded many an English horse 

With wealth of cities fair ; 

They dragged from many a father's corse 

The daughter by her hair. 

And English slaves, and gems and gold. 

Were gathered round the feast ; 

Till midnight in their woodland hold, 

0, never tliat riot ceased. 

In stalked a warrior tall and rude 
Before the strong sea-kings ; 
" Ye Lords and Earls of Odin's brood. 
Without a harper sings. 



He seems a simple man and poor. 
But well he sounds the lay ; 
And well, ye Norseman chiefs, be sure, 
Will ye the song repay." 

In trod the bard with keen cold look. 

And glanced along the board. 

That with the shout and war-cry shook 

Of many a Danish lord. 

But thirty brows, inflamed and stern. 

Soon bent on him their gaze, 

While calm he gazed, as if to learn 

Who chief deserved his praise. 

Loud Guthrum spake, — " Nay, gaze not thus, 

Thou Harper w-cak and poor ! 

By Thor ! who bandy looks with us 

Must worse than looks endure. 

Sing high the praise of Denmark's host. 

High praise each dauntless Earl ; 

The brave who stun this English coast 

With war's unceasing whirl." 

The Hai-per slowly bent his head. 
And touched aloud the string ; 
Then raised his face, and boldly said, 
" Hear thou my lay, King ! 
High praise from every mouth of man 
To all who boldly strive. 
Who fall where first the fight began, 
And ne'er go back alive. 

" Fill high your cups, and swell the shout, 

At famous Regnar's name ! 

Who sank his host in bloody rout. 

When he to Humber came. 

His men were chased, his sons were slain. 

And he was left alone. 

They bound him in an iron chain 

Upon a dungeon stone. 

" With iron links they bound him fast ; 
With snakes they filled the hole. 
That made his flesh their long repast. 
And bit into his soul. 

" Great chiefs, why sink in gloom your eyes ? 

Why champ your teeth in pain ? 

Still lives the song though Regnar dies ! 

Fill high your cups again ! 

Ye too, perchance, Norseman lords ! 

Who fought and swayed so long. 

Shall soon but live in minstrel words. 

And owe your names to song. 

" This land has graves by thousands more 
Than that where Regnar lies. 
When conquests fade, and rule is o'er. 
The sod must close your eyes. 



G46 



POEMS OK ADVRXTUIIE AND liUKAL STOUTS. 



How soon, who knows ? Not chief, nor bard ; 
And yet to nie 't is given, 
• To see your forelieads deeply scarred. 
And guess the doom of Heaven. 

" I may not read or wlien or how, 

But, Earls and Kings, lie sure 

1 see a blade o'er every brow, 

Where pride now sits secure. 

Fill high the cups, raise loud the strain ! 

^\'llen chiet' and monarch fall. 

Their names in song shall breathe again. 

And thrill the IVastful hall.". 

Grim sat the chiefs ; one heaved a groan. 

And one grew pale with dread. 

His iron mace was grasped by one, 

By one his wine was shed. 

And Guthrum cried, "Nay, bard, no more 

We hear thy boding lay ; 

JIako drunk the song with spoil and gore ! 

Light up the joyous fray ! " 

*' Quick throbs my brain," — so burst the song,- 

" To hear the strife once more. 

The mace, the a.xe, they rest too long ; 

Earth cries, My thirst is sore. 

More blithely twang the strings of bows 

Than .strings of harps in glee ; 

Hed wounds are lovelier than the rose 

Or rosy lips to me. 

" 0, fairer than a field of flowers. 

When llowers in England grew. 

Would be the battle's marshalled powers. 

The plain of carnage new. 

With all its deatlis before my soul 

The vi.sion rises fair ; 

Eaise loud the song, and drain the bowl ! 

I would that I were there ! " 

I,oud rang the harp, the minstrel's eye 
KoUed fiercely round the throng ; 
It seemed two crashing hosts were nigh, 
Whose shock aroused the song. 
A golden cup King Guthrum gave 
To him who strongly ]ilayed ; 
And said, " I won it from the slave 
Who once o'er England swayed." 

King Guthrum cried, " 'T was Alfred's own ; 

Thy song befits the bravo : 

The King who cannot guard his throne 

Nor wine nor song shall have." 

Tlie minstrel took the goblet bright, 

.\iid said, " I drink the wine 

To him wlio owns by justest right 

Tlie cup thou bid'st be mine. 



" To him, your Lord, shout ye all 
His meed bi^ deathless praise ! 
The King who dares not nobly fall, 
Dies basely all his days." 



"Tlie praise thou speakest," Guthrum said, 

" Witli sweetness tills mine ear ; 

For Alfred swift before me fled, 

And left me monarch here. 

The royal coward never dared 

Beneath mine eye to stand. 

0, would that now this feast he shared, 

And saw me rule his laud ! " 

Then stern the minstrel rose, and spake. 

And gazed upon the King, — 

"Not now the golden cup I take, 

Nor more to thee 1 sing. 

Another day, a happier hour, 

Shall bring me here again : 

The cup shall stay in Guthrum's power. 

Till I demand it then." 

The Harper turned and left tlie shed. 

Nor bent to Guthrum's crown ; 

And one who marked his visage said 

It wore a ghastly frown. 

The Danes ne'er saw that Harper more. 

For soon as morning rose. 

Upon their camp King Alfred bore. 

And slew ten thousand foes. 

John sterling. 



THE EARL 0' QUARTERDECK. 

A NEW OLD BALLAD. 

TilF, wind it blew, and the ship it flew ;^ 

And it was " Hey for hame ! 
And ho for hame ! " But the skipper cried, 

" Hand her oot o'er the saut sea faem." 

Then up and spoke the King himsel' : 

"Hand on for Duniferline !" 
Quo the skipper, " Ye 're king upo' the land — 

I'm king upo' the brine." 

And he took the helm intil his hand. 

And he steered the shii) sae free ; 
W'i' the wind astarn, he crowded sail. 

And stood right out to sea. 

Quo the king, " There 's treason in this, I vow ; 

This is something underhand ! 
'Bout ship ! " Quo the skipper, " Yer grace for- 
gets 

Ye are king but o' the land ! " 



ADVJfiNTinJE. 



647 



Ami still I>e held to tlii; oiieii si'ii ; 

Ami the cast-wind sank behind ; 
And the west had a bitter word to say, 

Wi" a white-sea roarin' wind. 

And he turned her head into the north. 

Said the king : "Gar fling him o'er." 
Quo the fearless skipper : " It 's a' ye 're worth ! 

Ye '11 ne'er see Scotland more." 

The king crept down the cabin -stair, 

T(i drink the gude French wine. 
And up she came, his <laughter fair, 

And luikit ower the brine. 

She turned her face to the drivin' hail, 

To the hail but and the weet ; 
Ilcr snood it brak, and, as lang 's hersel'. 

Her hair drave out i' the sleet. 

She turned lier face frae the drivin' win' — 

" What 's that ahead ? " quo she. 
Tlie skipper he threw hinisel' frae the win'. 

And he drove the helm a-lee. 

" I'ut to yer hanil, my lady fair ! 

Put to yer hand," i|U0 he ; 
" Oin she dinna face the win' the mair, 

It's the waur for you and me." 

For the skip[icr kenned that strength is strength. 
Whether woman's or man's at last. 

To the tiller the lady she laid her han', 
And the ship laid her cheek to the blast. 

For that slender body was full o' soul. 

And the will is mair than shape ; 
As the skipper saw when they cleared the berg, 

And he lieard her quarter scrape. 

Quo the skipper : " Ye are a lady fair. 

And a princess grand to see ; 
But ye are a woman, and a man wad sail 

To hell in yer company." 

She liftit a pale and queenly face ; 

Her een flashed, and .syne they swim. 
/*i And what for no to heaven ? " she says, 

And she turned awa' frae liim. 

I5ut shctook na her han' frae the good ship's helm. 

Until the day did daw ; 
And the skipper he spak, but what he said 

It was said atween them twa. 

And then the good ship she lay to, 

With the land far on the lee ; 
And up ('ame the king upo' the deck, 

Wi' wan fai'e and bluid.>>lKit ee. 



The skipper he louted to the king : 
" Gae wa', gae wa'," said the king. 

Said the king, like a prince, " I was a' wrang. 
Put on this ruljy ring." 

And the wind blew lowne, and the stars cam' oot, 
And the ship turned to the shore ; 

And, afore the sun was up again. 
They saw Scotland ance more. 

That ilay the ship hung at the pier-heid, 
And the king he stcjit on the land. 

".Skipper, kneel down," the king he said, 
" iloo daur ye afore me stand ? " 

The skipper he louted on his knee. 

The king his blade he drew ; 
Said the king, " How daured ye contre me ? 

I 'm aboard my ain ship noo. 

" I canna mak ye a king," said he, 
' ' For the Lord alone can do that ; 

And besides ye took it intil yer ain han' 
And crooned yersel' sae pat ! 

" But wi' what ye will I redeem my ring ; 

For ance I am at your beck. 
And first, as ye loutit Skipper o' Doon, 

Kise up Yerl o" Quarterdeck." 

The skipper he rose and looked at the king 

In his een for all his croon ; 
Said the skipper, " Here is yer grace's ring. 

And yer daughter is my boon." 

The reid blude sprang into the king's face, — 

A wrathful man to see : 
" The rascal loon abuses our grace ; 

Gae hang him upon yon tree." 

But the skipper lie sprang aboard his ship, 

And he drew his biting blade ; 
Ami he struck the chain that held her fast, 

But the iron was ower weel made. 

And the king ho blew a whistle loud ; 

And tramp, tramp, down the pier. 
Cam' twenty rideis on twenty steeds, 

C'lankin' wi' spur and si)ear. 

" He saved your life ! " cried the lady fair ; 

" His life ye daurna spill ! " 
" Will ye come atween me and my hate ?" 

Quo the lady, "And that I will I " 

And on cam' the knights wi' spur and spear, 

For they heard the iron ring. 
"Gin ye care na for yer father's grace, 

Jliiid ve that I am the king." 



648 



POEMS OF ADVENTIRE AND KVRAL SPOUTS. 



"I kneel to my fiither for his grace, 

Kight lowly on my knee ; 
But I stand and look the king in the face. 

For the skipper is king o' me." 

She turned and she sprang upo' the deck, 
And the cable sphvshed in the sea. 

The good ship spread her wings sae white. 
And away with the skipper goes she. 

Xow was not this a king's daughter, 

And a brave lady beside * 
And a woman with whom a man might sail 

Into the heaven wi' pride ' 

George Macdonau?. 



MAKMION AXD DOrGLAS. 

FROM " UARMION." CANTO VI. 

Not far advanceii was morning day, 
When Marmion did his troop array 

To Surrey's camp to ride : 
He had safe-conduct for his hand. 
Beneath the royal seal and hand. 

And Douglas gave a guide : 
The ancient Earl, with stately grace, 
AVould Clara on her palfrey place. 
And whispei-ed in an undertone, 
"Let the hawk stoop, his prey is flown." 
The train from out the castle dn-w. 
But Marmion stopped to bid adieu : — 
" Though something I might plain," he said, 
" Of cold respect to stranger guest. 
Sent hither by your king's behest, 

'WTiile in Tantallon's towers I stayed, 
Part we in friendship fix>m your land. 
And, noble Earl, receive my hand. ", — 
But Douglas round him drew his cloak. 
Folded his arms, and thus he spoke : — 
" Jly manors, halls, and bowers shall still 
Be ojien, at my sovereign's will. 
To each one whom he lists, howe'er 
Unmeet to be the owner's peer. 
My castles are my king's adone. 
From turret to foundation-stone, - 
The hand of Douglas is his own ; 
And never shall in friendly grasp 
The hand of such as Marmion clasp." — 

Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire. 
And shook his very frame for ire. 

And — " This to me ! " he said, — 
" An 't were not for thy hoary bean.1, 
Such hand as Maimion's had not sivu-ed 

To cleave the Douglas' head ! 
And, first, I tell thee, haughty Peer, 
He who does England's message here. 
Although the meanest in her state. 



May well, proud Angus, be thy mate : 
j And, Douglas, more I tell thee here, 
i Even in thy pitch of pride. 
Here in thy hold, thy vassals near, 
(Xay, never look upon your lord. 
And lay your hands ui>on your swonl,) 
j I tell thee, thou 'rt defieil ! 
I And if thou said'st I am not |ieer 
To any lonl in Scotland here. 
Lowland or Highland, far or near, 

Lonl Angus, thou hast lied ! " — 
On the Earl's cheek the tlusli of rage 
O'ereame the ashen hue of age ; 
Fierce he broke forth. — '• And dar'st thou then 
To beanl the lion in his den. 

The Douglas in his hall ? 
And hop'sl thou hence unscatheil to go ? 
No, by St. Bride of Bothwell, no ! 
Up drawbridge, grooms, — what, AVanler, ho ! 

Let the portcullis fall." — 

Loni Marmion turned, — well was his need ! 

And dashed the rowels iu his steed ; 
Like arrow through the arehway sprung ; 
The ponderous grate liehind him rung : 
To pass there was such scanty room, 
The bars, descending, razed his plume. 

The steeil along the drawbridge flies. 

Just as it trembled on the rise ; 

Not lighter does the swallow skim 

Along the smooth lake's level brim ; 

And when Lorvi Marmion reached his band. 

He halts, and turns with clenched hand. 

And shout of loud defiance pours. 

And shook his gauntlet at the towers. 

" Horse ! horse ! " the Douglas cried, " and 

chase ! " 
But soon he reined his furj-'s pace : 
" A roj-al messenger he came. 
Though most unworthy of the name. 

St. Mary, mend my fierj- mood I 
Old age ne'er cools the Douglas blood, 
I thought to slay him where he stood. 
'T is pity of him too," he cried ; 
" Bold can he speak, and fairly ride : 
I warrant him a warrior tried." 
AVitli this his mandate he i-ecalls. 
And slowly seeks his castle halls. 

SIR Walter scott. 



JAMES FITZ-JAMES AXD ELLEN. 

FROM " THE LADY OF THE LAKE." CA.NTO VI. 

A FOOTSTEP struck her ear. 

And Snowdoun's graceful Knight was near. 

She turned the hastier, lest again 

The prisoner should renew his strain. 



ADVENTURE. 



649 



"O welcome, brave Fitz-Jaines !" she said ; 

" How may an almost orphan maid 

I'ay the deep debt " — " 0, say not so ! 

To me no gratitude you owe. 

Not mine, alas ! the boon to give. 

And bid thy noble father live ; 

I can but be thy guide, sweet maid, 

With Scotland's King thy suit to aid. 

No tyrant he, though iie and pride 

Slay lead his better mood aside. 

Come, Ellen, come ; 't is more than time, 

He holds his court at morning prune." 

With beating heart and bosom wrung, 

As to a brother's arm she clung. 

Oently he dried the falling tear, 

And gently whispered liojic and cheer ; 

Her faltering steps half led, lialf stayed, 

Through gall«ry fair and high arcade, 

Till, at his touch, its wings of pride 

A portal arch unfolded wide. 

Within 't was brilliant all and light, 

A thronging scene of figures bright ; 

It glowed on Ellen's dazzled sight. 

As when the setting sun has given 

Ten thousand hues to summer even, 

And from their tissue fancy frames 

Aerial knights and fairy dames. 

Still by Fitz-James her footing stayed ; 

A few faint steps she forward made, 

Then slow her drooping head she raised. 

And fearful round the presence gazed : 

For him she sought who owned this state, 

The dreaded prince whose will was fate ! 

She gazed on many a princely port 

Might well have ruled a royal court ; 

On many a splendid garb she gazed, — 

Then turned bewildered and amazed. 

For all stood bare ; and in the room 

Fitz-James alone wore cap and plume. 

To him each lady's look was lent. 

On him each courtier's eye was bent. 

Midst furs and silks and jewels sheen 

He stood, in simple Lincoln green. 

The centre of the glittering ring, — 

And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King ! 

As wreath of snow, on mountain breast. 
Slides from the rock that gave it rest, 
Poor Ellen glided from her stay, 
And at the ilonarch's feet she lay ; 
No' word her choking voice commands : 
She showed the ring, she clasped her bands. 
0, not a moment could he brook. 
The generous prince, that suppliant look ! 
Gently he raised her, and the while 
Checked with a gknce the circle's smile ; 
Graceful, but grave, her brow he kissed, 



And bade her terrors be dismissed : — 

" Yes, fair ; the wandering i>oor Fitz-James 

The fealty of Scotbind claims. 

To him thy woes, thy wishes bring ; 

He will redeem his signet-ring. 

Ask naught for Douglas ; yester even 

His prince and he have much forgiven : 

Wrong hath he had from slanderous tongue, 

I, from his rebel kinsmen, wrong. 

We would not to the vulgar crowd 

Yield what they craved with clamor loud ; 

Calmly we heard and judged his cause. 

Our council aided and our laws. 

I stanched thy father's death-feud stem. 

With stout Ue Vaux and gray Glencaim ; 

And Bothwell's Lord henceforth we own 

The friend and bulwark of our Throne. 

But, lovely infidel, how now ? 

Wliat clouds thy misbelieving brow ? 

Lord James of Dougla,s, lend thine aid ; 

Thou must confirm this doubting maid." 

Then forth the noble Douglas sprung. 

And on his neck his daughter hung. 

The Monarch drank, that happy hour. 

The sweetest, holiest draught of Power, — 

When it can say, the godlike voice, 

Arise, sad Virtue, and rejoice ! 

Yet would not James the general ej-e 

On nature's raptures long should pry : 

He stepped between — " Nay, Douglas, nay, 

Steal not my proselyte away ! 

The riddle "t is my right to read. 

That brought this happy chance to speed. 

Yes, Ellen, when disguised 1 stray 

In life's more low but happier way, 

'T Is under name which veils my power. 

Nor falsely veils, — for Stiriing's tower 

Of yore the name of Snowdoun claims. 

And Normans call me James Fitz-James. 

Thus watrfli I o'er insulted laws. 

Thus learn to right the injured cause." 

Then, in a tone apart and low, 

" Ah, little trait'ress ! none must know 

What idle dream, what lighter thought, 

What vanity full deariy bought. 

Joined to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew 

My spell-bound steps to Benvenue, 

In dangerous hour, and all but gave 

Thy Monarch's life to mountain glaive ! " 

Aloud he spoke, — " Thou still dost hold 

That little talisman of gold, 

Pledge of my faith, Fitz-James's ring ; 

WTiat seeks fair Ellen of the King ? " 

Full well the conscious maiden guessed. 
He probed the weakness of her breast ; 



650 



POEMS OF ADVENTURE AND RLUAL Sl'Oin'S. 



But with that consciousness there came 
A lightening of her feai-s for Giienie, 
And more she deemed the nionareli's ire 
Kindled 'g;\inst him, who, lor lier sire, 
Rebellious broadsword boldly drew ; 
And, to her generous feeling true, 
She ctHved the grace of Koderiek Dim. 
" Forbear thy suit ; the King of kings 
Alone can stay life's parting wings. 
I know his heart, 1 know his hand. 
Have slraivil his cheer, and proved his brand. 
My fairest earhlom would 1 give 
To bid Clan-Alpine's Chieftain live ! — 
Hiist thou uo other boon to crave ? 
No other captive friend to save ? " 
Blushing, she turned her from the King, 
And to the Douglas gave the ring, 
As if she wished her sire to speak 
The suit that stained her glowing cheek. 
" Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force, 
And stubborn justice holds her eoui'se. 
Malcolm, come forth !" — And, at the word, 
Down knelt the Gnvme to Scotland's Loixl. 
"For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues, 
From thee may Vengeance claim her dues, 
Who, nurtured underneath our smile. 
Hast pjiid our cai-e by treacherous wile. 
And sought, amid thy faithful clan, 
A refuge for an outlawed man, 
Dishonoring thus thy loyal name, — 
Fetters and warder for the ttneuie ! " 
His chain of gold the King unstrung, 
The links o'er JIalcohn's neck he flung. 
Then gently drew the glittering baud. 
And laid the clasp on F.llen's hand. 

siK Walter Scott. 



KORVAL. 

PROU THE TRAGEDV OF "DOUGLAS." ACT II. SO. I. 

Lady R.wpolph. How fares my lord ? 

Lord R.\ntioi.ph. That it fares well, thanks 
to this gallant youth. 
Whose valor s;\ved me from a wretched death. 
As down the winding dale I walked alone, 
At tlie cross way four armW men attacked me. 
Rovers, I jndge, from the licentious camp, 
■Who would have qiiickly laiil Loi\l Randolph low. 
Had not this brave and generous stranger come. 
Like my good angel, in the hour of fate. 
And, mocking danger, made my foes his own. 
They turned upon him : but his active arm 
Struck to the ground, fron\ whence they rose no 

more. 
The fiercest two ; the others fled amain. 
And left him master of the bloody field. 
Speak, Lady Randolph ; upon beauty's tongue 



Dwell accents pleasing to the brave and bold, 
Speak, noble dame, and thank him for tliy lord. 
Lady Ran. My lord, I cannot speak what 

now I feel. 
My heart o'ertiows with gratitude to Heaven, 
And to this noble youth, who, all unknown 
To you and yours, deliberated not. 
Nor paused at peril, but, humanely brave. 
Fought on your side against such fearful odds. 
Have you yet learnt of him whom we should 

thank. 
Whom call the savior of Lord Randolph's life ? 
Loud R.\n. I asked that ipiestion, and ho 

answered not ; 
But I must know who my deliverer is, {To the 

Stranger. ) 
NoRVAL. A low-born nian, of parentage ob- 
scure. 
Who naught can boast but his desire to be 
A soldier, and to gain a name in arms. 
Lord R.\n. Whoe'er thou art, thy spirit is 

ennobled 
By the great King of kings : thou art ordained 
And stamped a hero by the sovereign hand 
Of nature ! Blush not, flower of modesty 
As well as valor, to declare thy birth. 
Norv. Mv nanio is Norval : on the Grampian 

hills " 
My father feeds his flocks, — a frugal swain. 
Whose constant cares were to increase his store, 
And keep his only son, myself, at home. 
For I had heanl of battles, and I longed 
To follow to the tield some warlike lord : 
And Heaven soon granted what my sire denied. 
This moon which rose last night, round as my 

shield. 
Had not yet filled her horns, when, by her light, 
A band of fierce barbarians from the hills 
Rushed like a torrent down upon the vale. 
Sweeping our flocks and herds. The shepherds 

tied 
For safety and for succor. I alone, 
With bended bow, and ijuiver full of arrows. 
Hovered about the enemy, and marked 
The road he took ; then hasted to my friends. 
Whom, with a troop of fifty chosen men, 
I met advancing. The pursuit I led. 
Till we o'ertook the spoil-encumbered foe. 
We fought and conquered. Ere a sword wa3 

drawn 
An arrow from my Ixjw had pierced their chief. 
Who wore that day the arms which now I wear. 
Returning home in triuni|ih, I disdained 
The shepheni's slothful life ; and having heartl 
That our good king had summoned his bold peers 
To lead their warriors to the Carron side, 
I left my father's house, and took with nie 



AUVKMUKK. 



C5i 



A chosen servant to conduct niy steps, — 
Yon trembling coward, wlio forsook his master. 
Journeying with tliis intent, 1 jiassed these 

towers, 
And, Heaven-directed, came this day to do 
The liajijiy deed that gilds my liumble name. 
LoKi) Kan. He is as wise as brave : was over 
tale 
With suih a gallant modesty rehearsed ? 
My brave deliverer ! thou shalt enter now 
A nobler list ; and, in a monarch's sight, 
Contend with jirinces for the prize of fame. 
1 will present thee to our Scottish king, 
Whose valiant spirit ever valor loved. 
Ha I my Matilda ! wherefore starts that tear? 
Ladv Han. 1 cannot say ; for various affec- 
tions, 
And strangely mingled, in my bosom swell : 
Vet each of them m.iy well command a tear. 
I joy that thou art .safe ; and I lulmiro 
lliin anil his fortunes, who hath wrought thy 

safety ; 
Yen, as my mind predicts, with thine liis own. 
Obscure and friendless, he the army sought ; 
Bent upon jieril, in the range of death 
Hesolved to hunt for fame, and with his sword 
To gain distinction which his birth denied. 
In this attempt unknown he might have perished. 
And gained with all his valor but oblivion. 
Now graced by thee, his virtue serves no more 
Beneath despair. The soldier now of hope, 
He stands conspicuous : fame and great renown 
Are brought within the compass of his sword. 
On this my mind reflected, whilst you spoke, 
And blesse<l the wonder-working hand of Heaven. 
Loud Kan. Pious and grateful ever are thy 
thoughts ! 
.My deeds shall follow where thou |)oint'st the way. 
Next to myself, and equal to (llenalvon. 
In honor and command shall Norval be. 
NoRV. I know not how to thank you : rude 
I am 
In speech and manners ; never till this hour 
Stood I in sueli a presence ; yet, my lord, 
There 's something in my breast which makes 

me bold 
To say that Norval ne'er will shame thy favor. 

JOHN HOMB. 



JOKASSE. 



PROM " ITALV." 



JoRASSE wag in his three-and-twentieth year ; 
Graceful and active as a stag just roused ; 
Gentle withal, and pleasant in his speech, 
Yet seldom seen to smile. He had grown up 
Among the hunters of the Higher Alps ; 



Had (aught their starts and fits of thouglitful- 

ness. 
Their haggard looks, and strange soliloquies. 
Arising (so say they that dwell below) 
From fi-e(iuent dealings with the Mountain- 

Si)irits. 
But other ways liad taught him better things ; 
And now he numbered, marching by my side. 
The great, the learned, that witli him had crossed 
The frozen tract, — with him familiarly 
Through the rough day and rougher night con- 

verse<l 
In many a chalet round the Peak of Terror, 
Uound Tacul, Tour, Well-horn, and Hosenlau, 
And her whose throne is inaccessible. 
Who sits, withdrawn in virgin majesty. 
Nor oft \inveils. Anon an avalanche 
Rolled its long thunder ; and a sudden crash. 
Sharp and metallic, to the startled ear 
Told that far down a continent of ice 
Ha<l burst in twain. But he had now begun ; 
And with what transport he recalled the hour 
When, to deserve, to win his blooming bride, 
Madelaine of Annecy, to his feet he bound 
The iron crampons, and, ascending, trod 
The upper realms of frost ; then, by a cord 
Let half-way down, entered a grot star-bright, 
And gathered from above, below, around. 
The pointed crystals ! — Once, nor long before 
(Thus did his tongue run on, fast as his feet. 
Ami with an eloquence that Nature gives 
To all her children, — breaking off by starts 
Into the harsh ami nide, oft as the mule 
Drew his displeasur<'), — once, nor long before, 
Alone at daybreak on the Mettenberg, 
He slipped, he fell ; and, through a fearful cleft 
Gliding from ledge to ledge, from deep to deeper. 
Went to the under-world ! Long while he lay 
Upon his rugged bed, — then waked like one 
Wishing to sleep again and sleep forever ! 
For, looking round, he saw, or thought he saw, 
Innumerable branches of a cave. 
Winding beneath that solid crust of ice ; 
With hen? and there a rent that show^ed the stars ! 
What then, alas ! was left him but to die ? 
What else in those immeasurable chambers. 
Strewn with the bones of miserable men, 
Lost like himself ? Yet must he wander on. 
Till cold and hunger set his spirit free ! 
And, rising, he began his dreary round ; 
When hark ! the noise as of some mighty river 
Working its way to light ! Back he withdrew, 
But soon returned, and, fearless from despair. 
Dashed down the di.smal channel ; and all day. 
If day could be where utter darkness was, 
Travelled incessantly ; the craggy roof 
Just overhead, and the impetuous waves. 



652 



POEMS OF ADVENTURE AND RURAL SPORTS. 



Nor broad nor deep, yet with a giant's streiigtli, 
Lasliing him on. At last, as in a pool, 
The water slept ; a pool sullen, profound, 
Where if a billow chanced to heave and swell 
It broke not ; and the roof, that long 
Had threatened, suddenly descending, lay 
Flat on the surface. Statue-like he stood. 
His journey ended, when a ray divine 
Shot through his soul. Breathing a prayer to her 
Whose ears are never shut, the Blessed Virgin, 
He jilunged, he swam, — and in an instant rose, 
The barrier passed, in sunshine ! Through a vale, 
Such as in Arcady, where many a thatch 
Gleams through the trees, half seen and half 

embowered, 
Glittering the river ran ; and on the bank 
The young were dancing ('t was a festival-day) 
All in their best attire. There first he saw 
His Madelaine. In the crowd she stood to hear, 
When all drew round, inquiring ; and her face, 
Seen behind all, and varjing, as he spoke, 
With hope and fear and generous sympathy. 
Subdued him. From that very hour he loved. 

SA.MUEL ROGERS. 







THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS. 



King Feancls was a hearty king, and loved a 
royal sport, 

And one day, as his lions fought, sat looking on 
the court. 

The nobles filled the benches, with the ladies in 
their pride, 

And 'mongst them sat the Count de Lorge, with 
one for whom he sighed : 

And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crown- 
ing show. 

Valor and love, and a king above, and the royal 
beasts below. 



Kamped and roared the lions, with horrid laugh- 
ing jaws ; 

They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a 
wind went with their paws ; 

With wallowing might and stifled roar they rolled 
on one another. 

Till all the pit with sand and mane was in a 
thunderous smother ; 

The bloody foam above the bars came whisking 
through the air ; 

Said Francis then, "Faith, gentlemen, we're 
better here than there." 

De Lorge's love o'erheard the King, a beauteous 

lively dame, 
With smiling lips and sharp bright eyes, which 

always seemed the same ; 



She thought, the Count, my lover, is brave as 

brave can be ; 
He surely would do wondrous things to show his 

love of me ; 
King, ladies, lovers, all look on ; the occasion is 

divine ; 
I '11 drop my glove, to prove his love ; gi-eat glory 

will be mine. 

She dropped her glove, to prove his love, then 

looked at him and smiled ; 
He bowed, and in a moment leaped among the 

lions wild ; 
The leap was quick, return was quick, he has 

regained his place, 
Then threw the glove, but not with love, right 

in the lady's face. 
"By Heaven," .said Francis, "rightly done!" 

and he rose from where he sat ; ^--.^^ 

"No love," quoth he, "but vanity, sets love &) 

task like that." 

Leigh hunt. 



PRINCE ADEB. 

In Sana, 0, in Sana, God, the Lord, 
Was very kind and merciful to me ! 
Forth from the Desert in my rags I came, 
Weary and sore of foot. I saw the spires 
And swelling bubbles of the golden domes 
Rise through the trees of Sana, and my heart 
Grew great within me with the strength of God 
And I cried out, " Now shall I right myself, — 
I, Adeb the despised, — for God is just ! " 
There he who wronged my father dwelt in peace, — 
My warlike father, who, when gray hairs crejjt 
Ai'ound his forehead, as on Lebanon 
The whitening snows of winter, was betrayed 
To the sly Imam, and his tented wealth 
Swejit from him, 'twixt the roosting of the cock 
And his first crowing, — in a single night : 
And 1, poor Adeb, sole of all my race. 
Smeared with my father's and my kinsmen's blood 
Fled through the Desert, till one day a tribe 
Of hungry Bedouins found me in the sand, 
Half mad with famine, and they took me uj). 
And made a slave of me, — of me, a prince ! 
All was fulfilled at last. I fled from them. 
In rags and sorrow. Nothing but my heart, 
Like a strong swimmer, bore me up against 
The howling sea of my adversity. 
At length o'er Sana, in the act to swoop, 
I stood like a young eagle on a crag. 
The traveller passed me with suspicious fear ; 
I asked for nothing ; I was not a thief. 
The lean dogs snulTed around me : my lank bones, 
Fed on the berries and the crusted pools. 



ADVENTURE. 



653 



Were a scant morsel. Once a brown-skiuneil gii-1 

Called me a little from the common path, 

And gave me tigs and barley in a bag. 

I paid her with a kiss, with nothing more. 

And she looked glad ; for I was beautiful, 

And virgin as a fountain, and as cold. 

1 stretched her bounty, pecking like a bird 

Her tigs and barley, till ray strength returned. 

So when rich Sana lay beneath my eyes, 

My foot was as the leopard's, and my hand 

As heavy as the lion's brandished paw ; 

And underneath my burnished skin the veins 

And stretching muscles played, at every step, 

In wondrous motion. I was very strong. 

I looked upon my body, as a bird 

That bills his feathers ere he takes to flight, — 

! , watching over Sana. Then I prayed ; 

And on a soft stone, wetted in the brook, 

(1 round ray long knife ; and then I prayed again. 

God heard ray voice, preparing all for me, 

As, softly stepping dowTa the hills, I saw 

The Imam's summer-palace all ablaze 

In the last flash of sunset. Every fount 

Was spouting fire, and all the orange-trees 

Bore blazing coals, and from the marble walls 

Andgildedspires and columns, strangely wrought, 

Glared the red light, until my eyes were pained 

With the fierce splendor. Till the night grew 

thick, 
I lay within the bushes, next the door. 
Still as a serpent, as invisible. 
The guard hung round the portal. Man by man 
They dropped away, save one lone sentinel, 
And on his eyes God's finger lightly fell ; 
He slept half standing. Like a summer wind 
That threads the grove, yet never turns a leaf, 
I stole from shadow unto shadow forth ; 
Crossed all the marble court-yard, swung the door. 
Like a soft gust, a little way ajar, — 
My body's narrow width, no more, — and stood 
ISeneath the cresset in the painted hall. 
I marvelled at the riches of ray foe ; 
I marvelled at God's ways with wicked men. 
Then I reached forth, and took God's waiting 

hand : 
And so he led me over mossy floors. 
Flowered with the silken summer of Shiraz, 
Straight to the Imam's chamber. At the door 
Stretched a brawn eunuch, blacker than my eyes: 
His woolly head lay like the Kaba-stone 
In Mecca's mosiiue, as silent and as huge. 
I stepped across it, with my pointed knife 
Just missing a full vein along his neck. 
And, pushing by the curtains, there I was, — 
I, Adeb the despised, — upon the spot 
That, next to heaven, I longed for most of all. 
I could have shouted for the joy in me. 



Fierce pangs and flashes of bewildering light 
Leaped through my brain and danced before my 

eyes. 
So loud my heart beat, that I feared its sound 
Would wake the sleeper ; and the bubbling blood 
Choked in my throat till, weaker than a child, 
I reeled against a column, and there hung 
In a blind stupor. Then I prayed again ; 
And, sense by sense, I was made whole once more. 
I touched myself ; I was the same ; I knew 
Myself to be lone Adeb, young and strong, 
With nothing but a stride of empty air 
Between me and God's justice. In a sleep, 
Thick with the fumes of the accursed grape. 
Sprawled the false Imam. On his shaggy breast. 
Like a white lily heaving on the tide 
Of some foul stream, the fairest woman slept 
These roving eyes have ever looked upon . 
Almost a child, her bosom barely showed 
The change beyond her girlhood. All her charms 
Were budding, but half opened ; for I saw 
Not only beauty wondrous in itself. 
But possibility of more to be 
In the full process of her blooming days. 
I gazed upon her, and my heart grew soft, 
As a parched pasture with the dew of heaven. 
While thus I gazed she smiled, and slowly raised 
The long curve of her lashes ; and we looked 
Each upon each in wonder, not alarm, — 
Not eye to eye, but soul to soul, we held 
Each other for a moment. All her life 
Seemed centi'ed in the circle of her eyes. 
She stirred no limb ; her long-drawn, equal breath 
Swelled out and ebbed away beneath her breast, 
In calm unbroken. Not a sign of fear 
Touched the faint color on her oval cheek, 
Or pinched the arches of her tender mouth. 
She took me for a vision, and she lay 
With her sleep's smile unaltered, as in doubt 
Whether real life had stolen into her dreams, 
Or dreaming stretched into her outer life. 
I was not graceless to a woman's eyes. 
The girls of Damar paused to see me pass, 
I walking in my rags, yet beautiful. 
One maiden said, " He has a prince's air ! " 
I am a prince ; the air was all my own. 
So thought the lily on the Imam's breast ; 
And lightly as a summer raist, that lifts 
Before the morning, so she floated up. 
Without a sound or rustle of a robe, 
From her coarse pillow, and before me stood 
With asking eyes. The Imam never moved. 
A stride and blow were all my need, and they 
Were wholly in my power. I took her hand, 
I held a warning finger to my lips, 
And whis2)ered in her small, expectant ear, 
" Adeb, the son of Akera ! " She replied 



654 



POEMS OF ADVENTURE AND RURAL SPORTS. 



In a low murmur whose bewildering sound 
Almost lulled wakeful me to sleep, and sealed 
The slettper's lids in tenfold slumber, " Prince, 
Lord of tlie Imam's life and of my heart. 
Take all thou seest, — it is thy right, I know, — 
But spare the Imam for thy own soul's sake ! " 
Then 1 arrayed me in a robe of state, 
Shining with gold and jewels ; and I bound 
In my long turban gems that might have bought 
The lands 'twixt Babelniandeb and Sahan. 
I girt about me, with a blazing belt, 
A scimitar o'er which the sweating smiths 
In far Damascus hammered for long years. 
Whose hilt and scabbard shot a trembling light 
From diamonds and rubies. And she smiled. 
As piece by piece I put the treasures on. 
To see me look so fair:, — in pride she smiled. 
I hung long purses at my side. I scooped. 
From off a table, tigs and dates and rice. 
And bound them to my girdle in a sack. 
Then over all I flung a snowy cloak. 
And beckoned to the maiden. So she stole 
Forth like my shadow, past the sleeping wolf 
Who wronged my father, o'er the woolly head 
Of the swart eunuch, down the painted court, 
And by the sentinel who standing slept. 
Strongly against the portal, through my rags, — 
My old base rags, — and through the maiden's veil, 
I pressed my knife, — upon the wooden hilt 
Was " Adeb, son of Akem," carved by me 
In my long slavehood, — as a passing sign 
To wait the Imam's waking. Shadows cast 
From two high-sailing clouds upon the sand 
Passed not more noiseless than we two, as one, 
Glided beneath the moonlight, till I smelt 
The fragrance of the stables. As I slid 
The wide doors open, with a sudden bound 
Uprose the startled horses : but they stood 
Still as the man who in a foreign land 
Hears his strange language, when my Desert call, 
As low and plaintive as the nested dove's, 
Fell on their listening ears. From stall to stall. 
Feeling the horses with my groping hands, 
I irept in darkness ; and at length I came 
Upon two sister mares whose rounded sides, 
Fine muzzles, and small heads, and pointed ears. 
And foreheads spreading'twixt their eyelids wide. 
Long slender tails, thin manes, and coats of silk. 
Told me, that, of the hundred steeds there stalled, 
My hand was on the treasures. O'er and o'er 
I felt their bony joints, and down their legs 
To the copl hoofs ; — no blemish anywhere : 
These I led forth and saddled. Upon one 
I set the lily, gathered now for me, — 
My own, henceforth, forever. So we rode 
Across the grass, beside the stony path, 
Until we gained the highway that is lost. 



Leading from Sana, in the eastern sands : 
When, with a cry that both the desert-born 
Knew without hint from whip or goading spur, 
We d;ished into a gallop. Far behind 
In sparks and smoke the dusty highway rose ; 
And ever on the maiden's face I saw. 
When the moon flashed u]ion it, the strange smile 
It wore on waking. Once I kissed her mouth, 
When she grew weary, and her strength returned. 
All through then ight we scoured between the hills; 
The moon went down behiiul us, and the stars 
Dropped after her ; hut long before I saw 
A pilanet blazing straight against our eyes. 
The road had softened, and the shadowy hills 
Had flattened out, and 1 could hear the hiss 
Of sand spurned backward by the flying mares. 
Glory to God ! I was at home again ! 
Tlie sun rose on us ; far and near I saw 
The level Desert ; sky met sand all round. 
We paused at midday by a palm-crowned well. 
And ate and slumbered. Somewhat, too, was said : 
The words have slipped my memory. That 

same eve 
We rode sedately through a Hamoum camp, — 
I, Adeb, prince amongst them, and my bride. 
And ever since amongst them I have ridden, 
A head and shoulders taller than the best ; 
And ever since my days have been of gold. 
My nights have been of silver, — God is just ! 

ClZOKGE HENRV BOKER. 



HELVELLYN. 

[In the spring of 1805. a young geinleinan of talents, and of a 
most amiable disposition, perished by losing his way on the moun- 
tain Helvellyn. His remains were not discovered till three months 
afterwards, when they were found guarded by a faithful terrier, Ins 
constant attendant during frequent solitary rambles through the 
wilds of Cumberland and Westmoreland.] 

I CLIMBED the dark brow of the mighty Hel- 
vellyn, 
Lakes ami mountains beneath me gleamed 
misty and wide : 
All was still, save, by fits, when the eagle was 
yelling, 
And starting around me the echoes replied. 
On the right, Striden Edge round the Red Tarn 

was bending. 
And Catehedicam its left verge was defending. 
One huge nameless rock in the front was ascend- 
ing. 
When I marked the sad spot where the wan- 
derer had died. 

Dark green was that spot mid the brown moun- 
tain heather. 
Where the Pilgrim of Nature lay stretched in 
decay. 



ADVENTURE. 



655 



Like tlio corpse of an outcast abamloiiwl to 
weather, 
Till the momituiii wiiiiLs wasted the teiiantless 
chiy ; 
Not yet i|inte deserted, though lonely extended, 
For, fiiithful in death, his nuite favorite attended, 
The niueh-loved remains of her master defended, 
And chased the hill-fox and the raven away. 

Iliuv long didst thou think that his silence was 

slumber ? 
When the wind waved his garment, how oft 

didst thou start I 
I low many long days ami long nights didst thou 

number 
Ere he faded before thee, the friend of tliy 

heart ? 
And, 0, was it meet that — no requiem read o'er 

him. 
No mother to wecj), and no friend to deplore him. 
And thou, little guardian, alone stretched before 

him — 
Unhonored the Pilgrim from life shoidd de- 
part ? 

Wheu a prince to the fate of the peasant has 
yielded. 
The tapestry waves dark round the dim- 
lighted iuill. 
With 'scutcheons of silver the coffin is shielded, 
And pages stand mute by the canopiea pall : 
Through the courts, at deep midnight, the 

torches are gleaming ; 
In the i)roudly arched chapel the banners are 

beaming ; 
Far adown the long aisle sacred music is stream- 
ing. 
Lamenting a Chief of the People should fall. 

But meeter for thee, gentle lover of nature, 
To lay down thy head like the meek mountain 
lamb. 
When, wildered, he drops from some cliff huge 
in stature. 
And draws his la-st sob by the side of his dam. 
And more stately thy couch by this desert lake 

lyiug- 
Thy obsequies sung by thegiay plover Hying, 
With one faithful friend but to witness thy dying, 
In the arms of Helvellyu and Catchedicam. 
SIR Walter Scon". 
• 

FITZ-JAMES AND KODERICK DHU. 

FROM "THE LADY OP THE LAKE." CANTO V. 

" I AM by promise tied 
To match me with this man of jjride ; 
Twice have I sought Clan-Alpine's glen 
In jicace ; but when I come again, 



I come with banner, brand, and bow. 

As leader seeks his mortal foe. 

For lovelorn swain, in lady's bower. 

Ne'er panteil for the appointed hour, 

As I, until before me stand 

This rebel Chieftain and his baud." 

" Have, then, tliy wisli ! " — He whistled shrill, 

And he was answered from the hill ; 

Wild as the scream of the curlew, 

From crag to crag the signal Hew. 

Instant, througli copse and heath, arose 

Bonnets and spears and liended bows ; 

On right, on left, above, below. 

Sprung up at once the lurking foe ; 

From shingles gray their lances start, 

The bracken bush semis forth the dart, 

The rushes and the willow-wand 

Are bristling into axe and brand, 

And every tuft of broom gives life 

To plaidi'd warrior armed for strife. 

That whistle garrisoned the glen 

At once with full live hundred men, 

As if the yawning hill to heaven 

A subterraiu'au host hail given. 

Watching their leailcr's beck and will. 

All silent there they stood, and still. 

Like the loose crags whose threatening mass 

Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass, 

As if an infant's touch could urge 

Their headlong passage down the verge. 

With step and weapon forward Hung, 

Hjion the mountain-side they hung. 

The Mountaineer cast glance of pride 

Along lienledi's living side. 

Then fixed his eye anil sable brow 

Fnll on Fitz-.Iames ; " How say'st thou now ? 

These are C'lau-Alpine's warriors true ; 

And, Saxon, — I am Roderick Dim ! " 

Fitz-James was brave ; — though to his heart 

The life-blood thrilled with sudden start. 

He manned himself with dauntless air, 

Returned the Cliief his hauglity stare, 

flis back against a rock he bore. 

And firmly placed his foot before : — 

"Come one, come all ! this rock shall fly 

From its firm base as soon as I." 

Sir Roderick marked, — and in his eyes 

Respect wjis mingled with surprise. 

And the stern joy which warriors feel 

In foemen worthy of their steel. 

Short space ho stood, — then waved his hand : 

Down sunk the disappearing band ; 

Each warrior vanished where he stood, 

In broom or bracken, heath or wood : 

Slink brand and spear, and bended bow, 

In osiers pale and copses low : 



656 



POEMS OF ADVENTURE AND RURAL SPORTS. 



It seemed as if their mother Earth 

Had swallowed up her warlike birth. 

The wind's last breath had tossed in air 

Pennon and plaid and plumage fair, — 

The next but swept a lone hillside, 

Where heath and fern were waving wide ; 

The sun's last glance was glinted back, 

From spear and glaive, from targe and jack, — 

The next, all unreflected, shoue 

On bracken green, and cold gray stone. 

Fitz-James looked round, — yet scarce believed 

The witness that his sight received ; 

Such apparition well might seem 

Delusion of a dreadful dream. 

Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed. 

And to his look the Chief replied : 

" Fear naught — nay, that I need not say — 

But — doubt not aught from mine array. 

Thou art my guest ; — I pledged my word 

As far as Coilantogle ford : 

Nor would I call a clansman's brand 

For aid against one valiant hand. 

Though on our strife lay every vale 

Rent by the Saxon from the Gael. 

So move we on ; — I only meant 

To show the reed on which you leant, 

Deeming this path you might pursue 

Without a pass from Roderick Dhu." 

They moved ; — I said Fitz-James was brave, 

As ever knight that belted glaive ; 

Yet dare not say that now his blood 

Kept on its wont and tempered flood. 

As, following Roderick's stride, he drew 

That seeming lonesome pathway through, 

Which yet, by fearful proof, was rife 

With lances, that, to take his life, 

AVaited hut signal from a gxiide, 

So late dishonored and defied. 

Ever, by stealth, his eye sought round 

The vanished guardians of the gi'ound. 

And still, from copse and heather deep. 

Fancy saw spear and broadsword peep, 

And in the plover's shrilly strain 

The signal whistle heard again. 

Nor breathed he free till far behind 

The pass was left ; for then they wind 

Along a wide and level green. 

Where neither tree nor tuft was seen, 

Nor rush nor bush of broom was near, 

To hide a bonnet or a spear. 

The Chief in silence strode before, 

And reached that torrent's sounding shore, 

Which, daughter of three mighty lakes. 

From Vennachar in silver break*. 

Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless mines 

On Bochastle the mouldering lines, 



Where Rome, the Empress of the world. 

Of yore her eagle wings unfurled. 

And here his course the Chieftain stayed. 

Threw down his target and his plaid. 

And to the Lowland warrior said : 

" Bold Sa.xon ! to his promise just, 

Vich-Alpine has discharged his trust. 

This murderous Chief, this ruthless man, 

This head of a rebellious clan. 

Hath led thee safe through watch and ward. 

Far past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard. 

Now, man to man, and steel to steel, 

A Chieftain's vengeance thou shalt feel. 

See, here, all vantageless I stand. 

Armed, like thyself, with single brand ; 

For this is Coilantogle ford, 

And thou must keep thee with tliy sword." 

The Saxon paused : " I ne'er delayed, 

When foeman bade me draw my blaile ; 

Nay more, brave Chief, I vowed thj' death : 

Yet sure thy fair and generous faith. 

And my deep debt for life preserved, 

A better meed have well deserved : 

Can naught but blood our feud atone ? 

Aie there no means ? " " No, Stranger, none 

And hear, — to fii-e thy flagging zeal, — 

The Saxon cause rests on thy steel ; 

For thus spoke Fate, by prophet bred 

Between the liring and the dead : 

' Who spills the foremost foeman's life. 

His party conquers in the strife.' " 

" Then, by my word,'' the Saxon said, 

" The riddle is already read. 

Seek yonder brake beneath the clilf, — 

There lies Red Murdoch, stark and stifif. 

Thus Fate hath solved her jirophecy, 

Then yield to Fate, and not to me. 

To James, at Stirling, let us go, 

AVhen, if thou wilt be still his foe. 

Or if the King shall not agree 

To grant thee grace and favor free, 

1 plight mine honor, oath, and word, 

That, to thy native strengths restored, 

With each advantage shalt thou stand, 

That aids thee now to guard thy land." 

Dark lightning flashed from Roderick's eye , 
" Soars thy presumption, then, so high, 
Because a wretched kern ye slew, 
Homage to name to Roderick Dhu ? 
He yields not, he, to man nor fate ! 
Thou add'st but fuel to my hate : — 
My clansman's blood demands revenge. 
Not yet prepared ? — By Heaven, 1 changs 
My thought, and hold thy valor light 
As that of some vain carpet knight. 



ADVENTURE. 



657 



Wlio ill deserved my courteous care, 

And whose best boast is but to wear 

A braid of liis fair lady's hair." 

"1 tliaiik thee, Roderick, for the word ! 

It nerves my heart, it steels my sword ; 

For I have sworn this braid to stain 

In the best blood that warms thy vein. 

Now, truce, farewell ! and ruth, begone ! — 

Yet think not that by thee alone. 

Proud Chief ! can courtesy be shown ; 

Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn, 

Start at my whistle clansmen stern. 

Of this small horn one feeble blast 

Would fearful odds against thee cast. 

But fear not — doubt not — which thou wilt — 

We try this (juarrel hilt to hilt." 

Then each at once his falchion drew. 

Each on the ground his scabbard tlircw, 

Each looked to sun and stream and plain. 

As what they ne'er might see again ; 

Then, foot and point and eye opposed. 

In dubious strife they darkly closed. 

Ill fared it then with Roderick Dhu, 
That on the field his targe ho threw, 
■Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide 
Had death so often dashed aside ; 
For, trained abroad his arms to wield, 
Fitz-James's blade was swonl and shield. 
He iiractised every pass and ward. 
To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard ; 
While less expert, though stronger far. 
The Gael maintained unequal war. 
Three times in closing strife they stood. 
And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood : 
No stinted draught, no scanty tiile. 
The gushing floods the tartans dyed. 
Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain. 
And showered his blows like wintry rain ; 
And, as finn rock or castle-roof 
Against the winter shower is proof, 
The foe, invulnerable still. 
Foiled his wild rage by steady .skill ; 
Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand 
Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand, 
And, backwards borne upon the lea, 
Brought the proud Chieftain to his knee. 
"Now yield thee, or, by Him who made 
The world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade ! ' 
" Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy ! 
l,et recreant yield, who fears to die." 
Like adder darting from his coil. 
Like wolf that dashes through the toil. 
Like mountain-cat who guards her young, 
Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung ; 
Received, but recked not of a wound. 
And locked his arms his foeman round. 
Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own ! 



No maiden's hand is round thee thrown ! 
That desperate gi-asp thy frame might feel 
Through bars of brass and triple steel ! 
They tug, they strain ! down, down they go. 
The Gael above, Fitz-James below. 
The chieftain's gripe his throat compressed. 
His knee was planted in his breast ; 
His clotted locks he backward threw. 
Across his brow his hand he drew. 
From blood and mist to clear his sight. 
Then gleamed aloft his dagger bright ! 
But hate and fury ill supplied 
The stream of life's exhausted tide, 
And all too late the advantage came, 
To turn the odds of deadly game ; 
For, while the dagger gleamed on high. 
Reeled soul and sense, reeled brain and eye. 
Down came the blow ! but in the heath 
The erring blade found bloodless sheath. 
The struggling foe may now unclasp 
The fainting Chiefs relaxing grasp ; 
Unwounded from the dreadful close. 
But breathless all, Fitz-James arose. 

He faltered thanks to Heaven for life. 

Redeemed, unhoped, from desperate strife ; 

Next on his foe his look he cast. 

Whose every gasp appeared his last ; 

In Roderick's gore he dipped the braid, — 

" Poor Blanche ! thy wrongs are dearly paid '. 

Yet with thy foe must die, or live. 

The praise that faith and valor give." 

With that he blew a bugle note. 

Undid the collar from his throat, 

Unbonneted, and by the wave 

Sat down his brow and hands to lave. 

Then faint afar are heard the feet 

Of rushing steeds in gallop fleet ; 

The sounds increase, and now are seen 

Four mounted squires in Lincoln green ; 

Two who bear lance, and two who lead. 

By loosened rein, a saddled steed ; 

Each onward held his headlong course. 

And by Fitz-James reined up his horse, — 

With wonder viewed the bloody spot, — 

" Exclaim not, gallants ! question not, — • 

You, Herbert and Luffness, alight, 

And bind the wounds of yonder knight ; 

Let the gray palfrey bear his weight. 

We destined for a fairer freight. 

And bring him on to Stirling straight ; 

I will before at better speed. 

To seek fresh horse and fitting weed. 

Tlie sun rides high ; — I must be boune 

To see the archer-game at noon ; 

But lightly Bayard clears the lea. 

De Vaux and Herries, follow me." 

SIR Walter Scott. 



tJoS 



rOEMS OF ADVKNTVUE AND lU'RAL SPORTS. 



RURAL SPORTS. 



WAEEN, LORDS AXO LADIES OAY. 

Wakkk, lonls and laities jpiy. 
On tim moimtaiii ilawns the day ; 

All the jolly chase is here, 

With hawk and hoi-se and liuuting-spear ! 
Honnds niv in their conples yelling, 
Hawks aiv whistling, horns ai-e knelliug, 

Merrily, merrily mingle they, 

" Waken, loi\ls and ladies g-ay." 

Waken, loixls and ladies gay, 
The mist has left the mountain gray, 
Springlets in the dawn aiv steaming, 
Diamonds on the brake aiv gleaming. 
And I'orestei's have busy been 
To traek the buek in tliieket green ; 
Now we eonie to chant our lay, 
" Waken, loi\i;s and ladies gay." 

Waken, loi-ds and ladies g-.iy. 
To the greenwood haste away ; 

A\'e can show you wheiv he lies. 

Fleet of tVxit and t.all of size ; 
Wc ean show the marks he made 
When 'gainst the iwk his antlei-s frayed ; 

Vou shall see him brought to bay ; 

Waken, lonls and ladies gay. 

Louder, louder chant the lay. 
Waken, lonls and ladies gjiy ! 

Tell them, youth and mirth and glee 

Run a eoui-se as well as we ; 
Time, stern huntsman, who can bfilk, 
Stanch as hound and fleet as hawk 1 

Think of this, and rise with day. 

Gentle lords and ladies gsiy ! 

SIR Walter Scott, 



THE ST.\0 HrXT. 

PROM "THE LADV OF THE lAKE," CAXTO I. 

TiiE Stag at eve had drunk his fill, 

Wheiv danceil the moon on Monan's rill, 

.\nd dee)! his midnight lair had made 

In lone tilenartney's hazel shade ; 

Hut, when the sun his Ivacou I'ed 

Had kiudUxl on Henvoirlich's head, 

The deeji-mouthed bloixlhound's hejivy bay 

Resounded up the rocky way, 

And faint, from farther distance Ivirne, 

Weiv heai\l the clanging hoof and horn. 



As (.'hief who heai-s his warder call, 

•• To arms ! the foemen storm the wall," 

The antleivd monarch of the waste 

Sprung from his heathery couch in haste. 

But, ere his fleet caiver lie took, 

The dew-drops from his Hanks he shook ; 

Like civsted leailer pitiud and high 

TosstHl his beamed frontlet to the sky ; 

A moment g;ized adown the dale, 

.V moment suulfed the tainted gale, 

.V moment listened to the cry, 

That thickened as the chase drew nigh -. 

Then, as the headmost foes appeared. 

With one biiive Ixiund the coj>se he cleared, 

And, stivtching forward five and far. 

Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var. 

Yelleil on the view the ojvning jMek ; 
Kock, glen, and cavern paid them Imck ; 
To nnmy a mingled sound at once 
The awakened mountain gave ivsjionse. 
A huudivd dogs Iwyed deep aiul strong, 
t'latteivd a hundivd steeds along. 
Their ixmI the nu'rry horns rung out, 
A hundivd voices joined the shout : 
With hark and whoop and w ild halloo. 
No rest Hcnvoirlich's echoes knew. 
Far from the tumult tied the roe ; 
Close in her covert eoweivd the diw ; 
The falcon, from her cairn on high. 
Cast on the rout a wondering eye. 
Till far Wyonil her piercing ken 
The hurricane had swei)t the glen. 
Faint, and moiv faint, its failing din 
Returned from cavern, clitt", and linn, 
And silence settled, wide and still. 
On the lone wood and mighty hill. 

'T were long to tell wliat steeds gave o'er. 
As swept the hunt through Cambus-more ; 
What ivins were tightened in despair. 
When rose Benledi's ridge in air : 
Who (lagged upon R.ichastle's heath, 
Who shunned to stem the flooded Teith, — 
For twice that day, from shore to shore. 
The gsiUaut stag swam stoutly o'er. 
Few were the stragglers, following far 
That reached the lake of Vennachar ; 
And when the Rrigg of Turk was won. 
The headmost hoi-seman ixxle alone. 
Alone, but with unlwted zeal. 
That hoi-seman plied tiie scoui-ge !vnd steel 



UURAL Sl'ORTS. 



G59 



Kor, jiuled iiiiw, iinil spent witli toil, 

ICiiiljuitiicd witli luiiiii, anil itiiik with soil, 

Wliilo every giisii witli hdIih lie iliew, 

Tlio liilMjiiii;; stiiK stmiiu'il lull in view. 

Twii iliiK-s "I Mm k St. lliiliert's liiceil, 

Uiiiimtelifil I'm- eoiimjje, Ijioiitli, iiml »iiei'il, 

Kiust on liis llyinj; tiiiees eiinie, 

And all Iml won that dcmpenite fjanie ; 

For, .soaree a spear'H lenj;th I'limi his haiineh, 

Viiiclietive tiiiled the hlcMidhoiiiiilx stanih ; 

Nor nearer nii;;ht the di>f;M attain, 

Nor I'aither nii^lit the (|uany Htrain. 

Thii.s u|> the margin of the lake, 

Between the preeipice and liiake. 

O'er stock and rock their raee they lake. 

The hunter marked tliat mountain lii;^li, 
The lone lake's western houndury, 
And deemed the .stag must turn to hay, 
Where that huge rampart barred the way ; 
Already glorying in the prize. 
Measured Ills antlers with his eyes ; 
For the death-wound and death-hulloo 
Mustered his lireatli, his whinyard diew ; 
But thundering us he eame jirepared, 
Witli ready arm and weapon liared. 
The wily ipiarry shunned the shoek, 
And turned him from the opposing rock ; 
Then, dashing down a daHcsome glen, 
Soon lust to hound and hunter's ken, 
In the deep Trosaehs' wildest nook 
His solitary refuge took. 
There while, close eouehcd, the thicket shed 
Cold dews and wild-llowers on his liead, 
He lieard the hadled dogs in vain 
Have through the hollow pass amain, 
Chiding the rocks that yelled again. 

CI08C on the hounds the liunter eame, 
To clieer them on the vanished gamo ; 
But, Htumhling in the rugged dell, 
The gallant horse exhausted fell. 
The impatient rider strove in vain 
To rouse him with the spur and rein. 
For the good steeil, his lahors o'er. 
Stretched his stilf limbs, to rise no more ; 
Then, touclied with pity and remorse, 
He sorrowed o'er the ex[iiring horse ; 
"1 little thought, when first thy riyu 
I slacked upon the banks of .Seine, 
That Highland eagle e'er should feed 
On thy fleet limbs, my niatehless steed ! 
Woe worth the cha.se, woe worth the day. 
That costs thy life, my gallant gray ! " 

Then through the dell his horn resounds. 
From vain pursuit to cull the hounds. 



Hack limped, with slow and eiippleil puce, 
The sulky leadei's of the chase ; 
• 'lose to their niastiir's side they pressed. 
With drooping tuil and humbled crest; 
But still thi^ dingle's hollow throat 
I'l'olonged the swi'lling bugle-note. 
The owlets starteil IVom their dreuni. 
The eagles answered willi their scream, 
Itoiind and around the .souinls were cast, 
Till echo sermed an answeiing blast ; 
And on the hunter hied his way. 
To join some comi'iides of the day ; 
Yet often paused, so strange the. rojul. 
So wondrous were the scenes it showed. 

SIR wai.ihu Scott. 



MV HEART'S IN THE HKillEANDS. 

My heart 'b in the Highlands, my heart is not 

here ; 
My heart '» in the Highlands a-chasing the deer ; 
Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe. 
My heart 's in the lliglilunds wherever I go. 
l''urcwell to the Higlilunils, farewell to t)ie North, 
The birthplace of valor, the country of worth ; 
Wherever 1 wander, whi^revcr 1 rove, 
'Die hills of the Highlands forever 1 love. 

Kareivell to the mountains high covereil with 

snow ; 
Farewell to the straths nnd green valleys below ; 
Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods ; 
Farewell to the tomtits and louil-poiiring floods. 
My heart 's in the llighlunds, my heart is not 

hen^ ; 
My heart 'sin the Higlilunils a-eliusing the deer 
Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe, 
My heuit 's in the lliglilunds wherever I go. 

Koar.KT DUR.SS. 



THE STAG HUNT. 

FROM "TMU SEASONS I AUTUMN." 

TiiK stag too, singled from the herd where long 
Hi^ ranged, tlic branching monarch of the shaijes, 
liefore the tempest ilrives. At first, in speed 
He, sprightly, puis his faith ; ami, rouseil by 

fear, 
Cives all his swift aerial .soul to flight. 
Against the breeze he darts, that way the nioie 
To leave the lessening murderous cry behind : 
Deception short ! though llc-eter than the winds 
Blown o'er the keen-aired niouiituin by the north, 
He burats the thickets, glances through the 

glades, 
And plunges deep into the wildest wood, — 



660 



POEMS OP ADVENTURE AND Rt'RAL SPORTS. 



If slow, yot suro, adhesive to the track 
Hot-steaiuiiig, up beliiiul him come iii^ain 
The inhuman nnit, and from the shaily ileptli 
Expel him, eireling through his eveiy shift. 
He sweeps the forest oft ; ami sobhiug si'i-s 
The ghuies, mild opening to the golden day. 
Where, in kind contest, with his butting friends 
He wont to struggle, or his loves eiyoy. 
Oft in the full-descending Hood he tries 
To lose the scent, and lave his burning sides ; 
Oft seeks the lieixl ; the watchful hei\l, alarmed, 
With selfish eaiv avoid a brother's ww. 
Wliat shall he do / His once so vivid nerves. 
So full of buoyant spirit, now no more 
lnspiix> the eoui-se ; but fainting bivathless toil, 
Siek, seizes on his heart : he stands at Iwy ; 
And puts his last weak refuge in des|iair. 
The big ro\ind teal's run down his dappled face ; 
He groans in anguish ; while the givwling pack, 
Blood-happy, hang at his fair jutting chest. 
And mark his beauteous checkered sides with gore. 

jAMbS TUOMSON. 



HAKT-I.KAr WELL. 

" Hnrt.L«ap Well U ■ small spring; of water nlwiil five miles 
from Richmond in Vorlcsliirtf. .tnd ne.ir the side of the wwd th.it 
leads from Richmond to AskriKS. Its name is derived frvmt .-i 
remarkable chase, the memory of which is preseri'ed by the nionu* 
mcnts spoken of in the second j^trt of the foUowiitt; poent. which 
monuments do now exist fiSoo] as 1 have there described them." — 
The author. 

TART FIRST. 

The knight had ridden down from Wensley 

Jtoor, 
With the slow motion of a sunimer's cloud ; 
Auti now, as he approached a vassal's door, 
" Uring forth another hoi-so ! " he mietl aloud. 

"Another horse ! " — That shout the vassal heard, 
-Vnd saddled his best steed, a comely gi-ay ; 
Sir Walter mounted him ; he was the thiixi 
Which he had mounted on that glorious day. 

Joy 9i>arkled in the pi-.mcing eoui'ser's eyes ; 
The horse and hoi'scman are a happy jwir ; 
But, though Sir Walter like a falcon Hies, 
There is a doleful silence in the air. 

A ront tliis morning left Sir Walter's hall. 
That as they g-allopeii made the echoes roar ; 
But horse and man are vanished, one and all ; 
Such race, 1 think, was never seen before. 

Sir Walter, restless .as the veering wind. 
Calls to the few tired dogs that yet remain : 
Blanche, Swift, and llusic, noblest of their kind, 
Follow, and up the weary mountain strain. 



The knight hallooed, he cheered and chid them on 
With suppliant gt'stnivs and npbiiiitlings stern ; 
But breath ami eyesight fail ; ami, one by one, 
The dogs are stretcheil among the mountain fern. 

Where is the throng, the tumult of the race 1 
The bugles tliat so Joyfully were blown ! 
— This chase it looks not like aji earthly chase ; 
Sir Walter and the hart are left alone. 

The poor hart toils along the inountain-.side ; 
1 will not stop to tell how far he llcil, 
Nor will 1 nu'ulion by wlial death he died ; 
But now the knight beholds him lying dead. 

Dismounting, then, he leaned ngjiinst a thorn ; 
He hail no follower, dog, nor man, nor lv\v : 
He neither cracked his whip, nor blew his horn. 
But gazed upon the spoil with silent joy. 

Close to the thorn on which Sir Walter leancil 
Stood his liumli partner in this glorious feat ; 
Weak as a lamb the hour that it is yeanetl. 
And white with foam as if with cleaving sleet. 

Upon his side the hart was lying stretched : 
His nostril touched n spring beneath a liill. 
And with the last deep gruan his breath had 

fetched 
The watere of tJio spring wcre> trembling still. 

And now, too happy for repose or rest, 

(Never had living man such joyful lot !> 

Sir Walter walked all round, north, south, ami 

west, 
And gazed and gsizcil upon that darling spot 

.\ud climbing up the hill (it was at least 
Four roods of sheer ascent\ Sir Walter found 
Three several hoof-marks which the hunted beast 
Had left imprinted on the grassy grouiul. 

Sir Walter wi|icd his face, and cried, "Till now 
Such sight was never seen by human eyes : 
Three leai>s have borne him from this lofty brow, 
Down to the very fountjiin where he lies. 

"I '11 build a pleasure-house upon this spot, 
And a small arbor, made for rural joy ; 
'T will be the ti-aveller's .shed, the pilgrim's cot, 
A place of kn'e for ilanisels that are coy. 

" A cunning artist will 1 have to frame 

A iMsin for that fountain in the dell ! 

And they who tlo make mention of the same, 

From this day forth, shall cidl it Halt- Leap Well. 

"And, gallant stag ! to make thy praises known, 
Another niouuuient shall here be raised : 



ntUAL SPOUTS. 



061 



Tlir<»« Hivonil pilliirH, <w;li ii rougli-lii.'wii Htxiic, 
Ami jiIkiiIimI wlii:ru tliy lioofB llic turf liiivc grazciJ. 

"An>l in the itummnr-timc, when dayi) are long, 
1 will come hitlitr with iriy puriitii'iiir ; 
Ami with th« ilnnrcrs ami the iiiimttrerH Hong 
We will make merry in that plcooant iHjwcr. 

"Till the fuiinilationft of the niountainH fail 
My inan.iioii with itn arlxjr mIiuII eiiiiiiri^ ; — 
The joy of thoin who till llie fieldn of Swale, 
Ami them wlio dwell among the woodn of Urcl" 

Then home he went, and left the hart, otonc-dead, 
With lireathlcfw nostriU (itret<;hefl alxjve the 

apring. 
— Soon did the knight perform what he had naid, 
And far ami wiile the fame thereof did ring. 

Krc thrice the moon int« her jKirt had i<t«ered, 
A cup of Htone received the living well ; 
Tlirec pillars of rude otone Sir Walter r<«ired. 
And built a hounc of pleaaurc in the dell. 

And near the fountain, flowent of ntature tall 
With trailing plantit and trees were intertwined, — 
Which Koon conipowwfa little Bylvan hall, 
A leafy shelter from the nun and wind. 

And thither, when the Hcimrner dayH were long, 
Sir Walter led his wondering paramour ; 
And with the dancers and the niinstrel's song 
Made merriment within that jdeasant Ixjwcr. 

The knight, Sir Walter, died in course of time, 
Ami his bones lie in his ptitemal vale. — 
iJiit there is matter for a second rhyme. 
And I to this would add another tale. 

PART HFXONI*. 

Tub moving accident is not my trade ; 
To freeze the blood I have no ready arts : 
'T is my delight, alone in summer sha<le, 
To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts. 

As I from Hawes ti> liiclirnond did rejiair. 
It chanced that I naw standing in a dell 
Three as|x lis at three corners of a s'jiiare ; 
And one, not four yards dist^int, near a well. 

What this imported I conld ill divine : 
Ami, jmlliiig now the rein my liorw; to stop, 
1 saw three pillars standing in a line, — 
The Uuit stone pillar on a dark hill-top. 

The trees were gray, with neither anns nor head ; 
Half wasted the sr|tiare mound of tawny green ; 
Hf) that you just might say, as then I said, 
" Here iu old time the hand of man hath been." 



I looked upon the hill Ijotli far and near, — 
More doleful [ilace di'l never eye survey ; 
It s<;cmwl as if the spring-time oirne not her», 
And nature here were willing'to decay. 

I stood in various thoughts and fancies lost, 
When one, who was in shepherd's garb attirwl. 
Came up the hollow j — him did I (u;cost, 
And wliat tliU place might be I then inquired. 

The she[ilierd stfjjppe^l, and that same st'jry told 
Which in my fonner rhyme I have rr.hearsed. 
" A jolly place," said he, " in times of old I 
But something ails it now ; the sj^t is curst. 

" You sec these lifeless stamps of aspen-wood, — 
Some say that they arc >x«!ches, others elms, — 
These were the t>owcr ; and here a mansion stood. 
The finest [mlace of a hundred realms I 

"The arbor does its own condition tell ; 
You lUM the st^jncB, the fountain, and the stream ; 
Hut as V) the great lodge ! you might as well 
f lunt half a day for a forgotten drearn. 

"There 's neither dog nor heifer, horsir nor sheep, 
Will wet his lijis within that oiip of sUme ; 
And oftentimes, when all are fast aslw^ji. 
This water doth send forth a dolorous groan. 

" Some say that here a mnrder has been done. 
And blood criisi out for blood ; but, for my f«rt, 
I 'vc guessed, when I 've hum sitting in the sun, 
Tfiat it was all for that unhappy hart. 

" What thoughts must through the creature's 

brain have {ust ! 
Even from the t/jpmost st/>ne, upon the stw-|). 
Are but three bounds, — and look, sir, at this last ! 
master ! it has been a cruel leap. 

" For thirteen hoars he ran a desf>crat<; race ; 
And in my simple rnind we cannot tell 
What cause the hart might have to love this place. 
And come and make his death-bed near the well. 

" Here on the grass perliaj« asleeji he sank, 
Lulled l;y the fountain in the summer-tide ; 
This water was i>ciha]« the first he drank 
When he had wandered from his mother's side. 

" In April here beneath the flowering thorn 
He heard the birds their morning carols sing ; 
Aiirl he, perha|is, for aught we know, was brjni 
Not half a furlong from that s<;lf-same sjiring. 

" Now, here is neither grass nor pheasant shade ; 

The sun on drearier hollow never shone ; 

So will it be, as I have often said. 

Till trees, and stones, aii<l fountain, all arc gone." 



002 



rOKMS OV UiVKNTl'UK AN'D IM 1! M, sroKTS 



" linwlii'.iilcil slu'|ilioi~vl, Uiou Imsl sm>Ki'ii wi'll 
Siuull ililVi'ix'uoi' Ui-» Ih'Umvu tliy I'lvoil m\il ii\im> 
'IMiis Ivaxl iiKl miotvwrvoil l\v iinlmv It'll ; 
His ilonlli WHS niminii'il l>v syiu|ia(liy iliviiio. 

"Tlii< IMi\(t> 111"' i» i" llx' ''loiiil" iiiiil nil', 
'riml is ill llio jjivoii li'iivi'.s tnimii)); llu' unwos, 
M»iiitHiiis :i ili'i'i' :iiiil ivvoiviilinl I'iiix' 
Krti' (ln> iiiuitU>ii>liiiK I'lviitmvM whom lie lnviw, 

"Tlu< i4i';iMiii>i'.|iniiso in (lust ; — luOiiiul, liofoiv, 
Tliis is no I'oniiiiiiii wiislo, iio I'oiiiiiioii nlooiii ; 
Uiil NiiHiix'. ill iliu" I'oill'SK ol' liiiio, oii,'i> moiv 
SliiiU luMv i>\i( i>ii lioi' Immly tiiiil licr lilooiii, 

"Slu> lniiV(>» tUwo olyivts to n slow ilov'iiy, 
Tlirtt wlitil wo iu\\ mill liiivo U'lMi, iiiiiy \v known ; 
Itiit itt llio oviining ol llio niiUU'i' il:iy 
'riioso nioiuinioiits sliiill nil In- ovoi'jJti'owii. 

" Olio lossoii, sUoiilioiil, lot im two iliviilo, 
'I'uii^lit lH>tli liy whiit slio sliows aiiil wlinl con- 

ooiils ; 
Novor to Moinl iiiii- |>loiisiiiv or our niiilo 
With sonvwolMlio nioiinost thing tliut I'ooU." 

WIlllAM WOHl»\WRVH, 



UKTll Oftl.KKT. 

TllK siwinnoii ho;ii\l tho Imjilo soviiivl. 

Ami ohooiily sniiloil tho nioin ; 
Alul nniiiy « l<i-!ioh, iiiul iniiny :> liouinl. 

t>l>t<yoii l.lowoUyn's hinn. 

Ami still ho Wow i\ loiiilov Wast, 

Ami jpn-o » Instior olioov, 
" tViuo, Ooloit, ivnio, wort iio\ or lust 

l.h'wollyn's horn Ivi lio«r, 

"t\ whoiv iUhvs l'iiithl\il t'Jolort iwiin. 

Tho llowor 111" till his iiioo ; 
So truo, so hi-Avo. — « lamb at home, 

A lion in tho ohaso f " 

111 sooth, ho was a (vorloss houiul, 

Tho gil^ v>l' ivy.il John ; 
UiK now no iSolorl ihuiUI Iv I'oiuiil. 

And all tho ohaso i\h1o on. 

That (lay l.lowvllyn littlo Io\ihI 
Tho olias<> of liarl aiul liaiv ; 

Ami soaiit aiul small tho Kvity piMvW, 
For iStMort w«s not llioiv. 

l'n()l<>asrtl, l.lowi>llyii liomowa^l liioil, 
Wlion, noar tho |H>rtal s«it. 

Mis truant iSolorl ho tvsiMiM, 
IWnilinj; his hml to six'ot. 



lUit, whi'ii ho niiiiii'il liis I'asll.' iloor, 

.\j;hast tlio oliiollaiii slooil ; 
Tho hoiiiiil all o'or was snioaivil with mn-o •, 

His Ui>s, his raii)(s, ran lilooil. 

l.lowoUyn (pwod with lloi'i-o siirprlso ; 

I'niisoil siioli looks to moot. 
His I'avorito ohoi'Ki'il his joyl'iil (jiiiso, 

Ami oiMiii'hoil, ami liokoil liis loot, 

thiwai\l, in haslo, l.lowoUyn (lassoil, 

Anil on woiil tiiUorl loo ; 
Ami still, whoixi'or his oyos ho oast, 

Kivsh hlooil j^mt.s shoi'koil his viow. 

l>'orturnoil his infant's IhuI ho foiiiul, 
With hlooilstaiiioil oovort iviit ; 

Ami all ai-oiiiiil llio walls ami jjrouiul 
Willi ivooiit hlooil lHisi>ronl, 

Ho oalloil his ohilil, - no voioo iv|ili<Hl, — 

Ho soaivhi'il with toriMr wilil ; 
lllooil, hlooil ho foniiil on ovoiy siilo, 

lUit mnvhoiv I'ouiiil his o.liiM, 

" llollhouiiil ' my ohilil 's by tlioo ilovourinl, 

Tho iVanlio I'alhor orioil ; 
Anil to llio hill his voiij{ofiil sworvl 

Ho |i|niij;>'il ill liolort's siilo, 

AiMiisoil t>y tiolort's ilyiitji yoll, 
Sonio -.Ininlnivr wakoiioil nijth ; 

What woi-ils iho iwiviu's joy oonlil tx'll 
To liwir his infant's ory ! 

Conooaloil lumoath a tiinihloil hoap 

His hiirriiHl soaivli hail inissoil. 
All jjlottiii); I'lMin his i»sy slooji, 

Tho ohonili Kiy ho kissoil. 

Nor soatho hail ho, nor harm, nor ilixMul, 

Hut, tho siiino ooiioh Ivnoiitli, 
biy a ipmnt wolf, all torn ami lUviil, 

TivnuMidon.s still in iloatli. 

All, what W!is thon l.lowollyn's (Min ! 

Kov now Iho Iriilh was ,'loav ; 
Uis jjallant honiul tho wvlf hail .<lain 

To sa\-o l.lowollyn's lioir. 

William RoimKv srnN-ciiK. 



A lU'NTlNi! WK WU.l. OO, 

Till! ilnsky nijilit riiliw down tho sky, 

.\nd nshoiTi in tho morn ; 
Till- hounds all join in j;lorious ory. 

Tho liuiitMnaii winds his horn, 

.Villi a hnntiiijj wo will jpv 



UUUAL BrUUTtf. 



063 



Tim wifn nr'iiirni linr liiialinriil llirown 

ll'T nriria l<i iiiiikn liliii iiliiy ; 
" My ilimr, It ruin*, It linlU, It hUiwi ; 

Yi<ii niiiiixt liiiiil til iliiy," 

Vnt n liiiiillii;{ Wn will 0), 

Awoy limy lly lo 'wnixi llin tout, 
Tlii'lr «l/ii«N limy noiinilly »wllrl( j 

Hoiim urn llit'iwii In, uii>l wnim tlirriwii (iiit, 
AikI wiiiiit thrown In llm i||l>:li, 

Y<'t u liiiiitlii)( wii will nil, 

Hly lU'ynniil now like. Il;(lilnln(( llli'a, 

Am'I »W("'|n fMToaa titii vulff ; 
An<l when thii liotinilo t/<o tiniir lin nfiim, 

lln >lro|M Ilia himliy lull. 

Thnii n hunting wit will no. 

Kon'l K<'lio v.i'iiio t'l llkn Uiii ii|Mirt, 

Ah'l join llm jovlnl i;ty ; 
Tim w«oi|», ihi' hillii, the Mnirnl r«f/jrt, 

An<l niiiai': lilla tlii' aky, 

Wlifsii n liiinting wo do f^>. 

At 1»«t hia alren^th lo fninlneaa worn, 

I'oor Itiiynnril icnwa Mluhl ; 
TIkii hnnj/ry, honn-wuril wn rittiirn, 

To (<-nat iiwny the ni((ht, 

An<l ii ilrlnklng wn do kh. 

Ve jovjiil hunUira, in the nioni 
I'rejKirn timn for the < |i;ia<' ; 
liia<i nl the a/iiin>linK of the liotn 
Ami hoallh with ajKiM. enil/rnee. 

When n linntinK wn 'In ff), 
Hknti pii't.mitii, 



LIFE IN THK AIJTI'MN WOODH, 

IVIKr.rMU.I 

HCMMKli linn Konn, 
An'l rnillfiil Antiiinn lina lulynnewl m> fur 
That them la wurinlh, not ImnI, In the l/r'Kul Min, 
An>l yon inny iimk, with nnk'!)! nyK, njion 

Tim nr'lora of hi* ciir ; 
riin utealthy froatii, whom hia ajmtit lookn Kin- 
liol'Inn, 

Arn iiMking th<; urinn iMtvm K'ilil«n, 

Whnt n l/riirn aplnn/|(/r 
In In th« <>i:tii\iKr nlr ! how rl/;h, and ninar. 
And \irviun, nml nil j'/yonn ! Wn ninut n^nU-r 
l/>ve lo the H)/tin((-liine. with lt« aiiroutinfta 
tirnder, 

Aa t/< n ehlld ifulto d<'»r ; 
hut Autiinin la n IhinK of iKrfert ((inry, 

A nMnh'KMl not ynt lirMry, 



I love ihe woi^ila, 
In ihia (joinl aeiiaon of thn llherni yi-ur ; 
I lovn Ui annk Iheir lenfy aolltudea. 
And iflvn niyanlf lo nielnneholy ni'/</'U, 

With no Inlrndnr nniir, 
And find Klminit leaaona, im I nit and [tondnr, 

In ovni-y tuttiiral wnnd«r. 

lint not nione, 
Aa Hl(»kna|i<tiirn'a innhineholy eotirllei lovwl 

Ard/imma, 
l/<iv« I thn hrowning forcat ; find I »»wn 
1 would not >ifl huvn inua<»l, im hi, hilt llown 

To hunt with Aniiena 
And little thoiiprht, >M u|i thn Iwild dnnr Itoiindnd, 

Of llm aiiil crwiliirn woiindwl, 

A hrnvn nnd k'""', 
liut world-worn knl;(ht - aoiil-wnnrlml with hia 

fmrt 
In tlila vested llfn k/ivk innn for lolltiidc, 
And hiillt 11 Irxl^e, nii'l IIvikI in Wnntley wood, 

To hniir thn hnllin(( hart. 
It wn* n ((nntin trials, l;ut Ita awi!<'t MidnAM 

YIaIiU Ui th« hiint<!r'a niO'lnxiM. 

Whnt |rtiMlonal« 
And kw:n delij^ht la In tho j/rwid nwlft chiw* ! 
flo out whnt tlinn the lark nt heaven a red j(itn 
Hoara joyoiialy «inj(ln« ijuit^ Infiirlnlo 

With thn hi((>i |<rl<le of hia fiiiui: ; 
Whnt llnm the iintiann aim nrrnya thn inorninjf 

In It* llr«t >n'if(lit tuinniiuK, 

Hark ' thn (|n|(;lt li'rtTi - 
An iiwejil t// hear iw any idari'iri - 
I'inreinx with ailvnr 'nil the ear of mom ; 
And mark the aUK-da, al//nl f -iirtnl and To|/th//rrin, 

And OreyaMI nnd thn Oon ■ 
Koidi onn of Ihnin hln finry mood dla|ilnyln(( 

With jMwiiig nnd with »ni<i{hln|(, 

I'rgn your awlft hora« 
Afli-r thn crying h'/iinda in tliiii frnali hour ; 
V«ti'|iilah high hllln, iit«iii |i«Hloiia atrnnni* furt' 

(iirrn. 
On thn frnn pinin givn frnn winga to yi/iir lumrv. 

And yon will knr/w llm |,</wnr 
Of thn hriivn i.hnm, and hz/wof grl'rfa thn v/rniit 

A '!Ur« In in the f/irnut, 

f>r iit«lk thn de«r ; 
Thn aAfnn rn<l liji of dawn hnx kliHf/l Ihe hilla, 
Thn gln/ldent «/,iinda are (rrowdlnff on ydir nnr, 
Tlinrn I* n llfn in nil the »tino«|ihnT« i — 

Y'/tir very nntnrn filla 
With thn frnah hour, M ii|i thn hill* Mf/lrtng 

Voti ilimi; with limln untiring. 



064 



POKMS OF ADVKNTIUK ANO KUKAl. Sl'DKTS. 



It i$ a lair 
And J^H^^1I\■ sight to soo tlu> :mlli'iv»l staj; 
AViili the loiijt swoi-ii of liis s«iH walk iviwif 
To join his hivt lift's ; oi- tho plolhoiio lv;U' 

I.yiiij; ill soiiio hi,s;li v'liijt. 
With i>iiik.v ovos hair clivsinl, luit ImivuI hojul 
shnkiii^, 

As jpiilllios kooji him waking. 

Aiiil thoso yoii soo, 
Aiul, sooiuj; thorn, you tr.ivol to thoiidonth 
With 11 slow, stoalthy sto]!. fiviii tiw to tiw, 
Notiiij; tho wiiiil, howovoi- taint it K\ 

Tlio hiiutoi- ilniws a bivalh 
III tiiiuvi liko thoso, wliioh, ho will s;iy, ivjvij-s him 

For all oaiv that waylays him. 

A stt\>iij; joy tills 
(A iov Ivvoiiil tho toiijjiio's oxprossiw ih«\i>v) 
Mv'h'oaitiii Autumn woathor -tills and thrills! -^'^l «'1»''' ' '■"*•' '".v aminiius arm to ohook or 
Ami 1 would i-athor stalk tho biwjy hills ^ <'l»'<''' '''.v spml. 

Uos.viidiug to my K>wor ' '^'''^'" ""'"' '• starting, wako to fwl, — thou'rt 

Nightly, hy tho sw.-ot sjiirit of IVuv attoiidod, , -"''''• •".^' -^'-'l' "♦'"''^l ' 

ThiUi nino whoro lifo is splondiil. i 

rmuu- I'li.vinjiiv.v cooku. | Ah ! rndoly tlu'ii, unsoon hy mo, somooniol hand 

niav ohido. 



Shall 1 jj;illoi> thivngh tho dosort jwths, wlion> 
I wo woiv woiit to ho ; 

Ewniiij; shall daikon on tho oartli, and o'or llio 
sandy iilaiii 
', Somo othor stoiil, with sloworstoi>, shall Ixiiriuo 
homo aj;aiii. 

Yos, thou must j?' ! tho wild, fi\H' bi-i>t>io, tho 

hiilliant snu and sky, 
Tliy inastor's lionso, — t'lvni all of thoso my 

oxilod Olio must lly ; 
Tliy invnd dark oyo will jjivw loss (iivuid, thy 

sloji liooomo loss lloot. 
And vainly slialt thou aivh thy mvk, thy mas- 

tor"s liand to nuvt. 
Only in shvn shall I Ivliold (hat ilark oyo, jjlan- 

oiiig bright ; - 
Only in sUvp shall hoar ajpiin that stop so tirni 

and li;;lil : 



Till foiiui-wivalhs lio, liko civstcvl wavos, along 
thy Hiintiug sido : 
TllK. AlvAP. TO HIS FAVOKITF. STEED. And tho iioli bUvd that "s in tho* swells, in thy 

iiidiguant |>aiii. 
My lH>antit^ll ! my lvautit\il ! that stiudcst Till oaivloss ovos. whioli rost on thw, may ooniit 

iiKvkly hy. ,,,^.1, s,,,,,,;,,^, ^.^.j,,. 

With thy i.ix.udly aivli.Hl and glossy nook, and „•,// thov iU-uso t'hoo t If I thought - hut no. 

dark and liory o,n\ ; ;, ;,_,„„^„ ,^._ _ 

Frot not to ixwiii tho dosort now. with all thy Thou art so swil^, vot .visv curW ; so i^nitlo, 

wingvM siHHsl : I ^.p, s,, ,-,.,,,, . ' • 

1 may not nioniit on thoo ;ig!un, - thou 'rt sv^ld, And vot. if haplv, whon thou "it gono, mv hmolv 

my AMb stiHHl ! | i,„,„,, ^i,,;,,,., ^.,.,„,„_ _ 

Fivt not with that imiwtioiit hoof, —snuff not Can tho hand whioh" oasts thoo from it iiowcom- 

tho biwiy wind, - ,„,,„,, „„,,, ,., ,.,.,„„, , 

Tlio farthor that thou lUost now, so far am 1 K>- 

himl ; 



Tho strangi'r hath thy bridlo-roin. — thy luastor 

hath hh gv^Ul, — 
Floot-limlW and lvMutit\il. taivwvll : thou 'rt 

soU, my stiH\l, thou 'rt sold. 



liftHnt .' alas! my A nib sto<>d I what shall thy 

mast or do. 
When thou, who wjist his all of joy, hast vimisho<l 

fivm his viow * 
Wlioii tho dim ilistanoo ohoAts wiiio oyo, and 

thivugh tho gathoring tosu's 
Tliy bright lonii, tor a moment, liko tho false 



FarwwvU ! tluv<<> t'lw, untiiwi limVw ftiU many a 

mile must iwini. i nnmg>> amx-ai^ : 

To rxvioh tho ohill and wintry sky which clouds i Slow and uiimoiint.sl shall I toam, with w<\iiy 

the stranger's homo ; step aloiio. 

Some othor hand, less fond, must now tliy oorn Where, with Ihvt stop and joyous Iwuiid, thou 

and IH-.1 pr«>ivir«', oft hast iMrne mo on ; 

Thy silky luiino, I bnudoil onoo, must Vw fuiothei's And sitting down by that gr«vii well, 1 11 iwuse 

<■««' ! and siidly think, 

Tho morning sun shjUl dawn again, but iiowr- " It W!»s hoiv ho Ivw.Hi his glossy ne»:k whon last 

uior»> with thoo , 1 s;iw him drink ! " " 



RURAL SPORTS. 



«65 



lyhrn liui I taw thee drink I — Away ! tho ffiVcrwl 

(Ircaiii U o'er, — 
I I'oulil iKit livo a liny, anil kiuno that wo iilioulil 

riiciit no more ! 
They t«i/i|iti;<l mo, my beautiful I — for hunger'* 

|K.wi:r i< iilron){, — 
Tliey Xum\i\>:<\ mo, my }jeautifiil ! Init I havo 

IovimI t<KI loii^. 
Who luiid that I hiul K'v«n tliiw up ? who iialil 

that thou WHXt ikjI'I 7 
'Tu faliM!, — 'tin faliwf, my Arab ittw!il ! I flinjj 

thnm l«i;k thi.'ir (("hi I 
Thu», Ihtu, I lonp \\\>tM thy l«ek, and «cour tlio 

ilUtant |ihiiii>i ; 
Away I who ovcrtakoii uh now ahall clolnl thee 

for hi* (min* I 

CAIOLlin eLIZADIITII ««RAH NokTOir, 



THK HOIiSKHACK HI OK. 

WiiEM troubhyl in Hjiirit, when weary of lifi-. 
When 1 faint 'neath it* bunk-mi, anil ahrink from 

itii dtrife. 
When itH fniitit, tamed to ajiheii, are mocking my 

\mU:, 
And itii laire»t icx'nn neernii Ijut a dcwjlat<; wojiti:, 
Thirn i;omo ye not mar me, my nod licart to 

cheer 
With frii-niliihip'ii ii^jft accents or nyrnpathy'v tear. 
No pity 1 oak, and no counnel I need, 
But bring me, O, bring me my gallant young 

With hill high archM neck, and hb novtril Kpread 

wide, 
HiH eye full of fire, and hi* iitep full of priile ! 
A* I ajiring to hia ba':k, aa I aeize the Ntrong 

rein, 
Tlio utrength to my npirit rctumeth aj^ain ! 
The l*nilii arc all broken that fctt'.-red my mind. 
And my care* borne away on the wing* of the 

wind ; 
My pride liflu ita hea<l, for a wsMfin Ixiwed down. 
And the i|Ui;en in my nature now piitn on her 

crown ! 

Now we 're off — like the wind* t/j the plainii 

whence they came ; 
And the rapture of motion in thrilling my frame I 
On, on ii[K-i-<l« my rAmxnKX, ncarce printing the *tA, 
8(*rc« cninbing a daisy t/» mark where he trwl ! 
On, on like a de<;r, when the boiind'H early bay 
Awaken the wild echoea, away, and away ! 
Htill fatter, »till farther, ho Icaj* at my cheer. 
Till the ru«h of the iitartle<l air whirx in my ear 1 
Now 'long a clear rivulet lieth hi» track, — 
8«e bin glancing hoofa totaing the white (lebblea 

back! 



Now o glen dark aa midnight — what matter ? — 

wo 'II down. 
Though iihwiowa aro round ua, and r(x;k* o'er ua 

frown ; 
Tho thick branchea aliake a» we 're hurrying 

through. 
And d<-.ck ua with apnnglea of ailvery dew ! 

What a wild thought of triumph, tliat thia girliah 

hand 
Huch a «tc<;<l in tho rnlglit of hia atrength may 

ivnnma.n'\ ! 
What tt glorioua creature I Ah I glance at him 

now, 
Aa I chwjk him a while on thU green bilhjck'a 

brow ; 
How he topi«;a hia mane, with a dlirill joyou* 

neigh. 
And jiowa tho flnn earth in hU [iroud, »tat<-ly 

play ! 
llurrali ! off again, d;uibing on m in ire, 
Till the long, flinty [lalhway ia floahing with fire ! 
Ho ' a dit/;h ! — Hhall we [lauae f No ; the l*ld 

leap wo dare, 
Like a awift-wingJ-^l arr'/w we nmb through the air! 
O, not all the \i\itaH\iri:H that [Kjeta may praiae, 
Not the 'wildering waltz in the l/iill-room'a blaze. 
Nor the chivalr'/iia joiiat, nor the daring ra';e. 
Nor the awift rcgatt/i, nor merry cliaae. 
Nor the aail, high heaving wal^.-m o'er, 
Nor the rural dam* on the mw^nlight ahorc. 
Can the wild and thrilling joy exited 
Of a fearleaa leap on a fiery atewl I 

Kama JAHK lA^nnuxtl {Grau Orunv/txMl), 



A CANADIAN KOAT-HONfJ. 

Faintly aa tolla the evening chime, 
Our voic<!» kiicp tune, and our oara keep time. 
Soon aa the wwhIh on ahore Iwjk dim. 
We'll aing at St, Ann'a our jiarting hymn. 
l£//w, brothiim, row I the atn^am nina faat. 
The rapida are near, and the daylight'* i>aat ! 

Why ahoold we yet ouriail unfurl ? — 
There i* not a breath the blue wave to curL 
But when the wind blow* off the ahore, 
0, nwcitly we 'II r<«t our weary «ir ! 
Blow, })Ti-J:TfM, blow ! the utr'ram ruiia foat, 
The ra|>iila are near, and the dayligtit 'a port t 

L'tawa'a tide ! thia trembling mofjn 
Shall »<;c u» flfjat over thy «urge» vxiii. 
Saint of thia green iaie, bear our (irayera, — 
O, grant ua vxA heaven* and inviimm air* ! 
lilow, l/reezea, blow I the «tri»in ran* faat, 
Tlie rapida aro near, and tho daylight '* [>aat ! 

Thomas Mooaa. 



(j()() 



I'OKMS OK ADVlONTUltK AND II THAI, STOUTS. 



TIIK SNOWS.* 

OVK.Il lIlK SllllWS 

lliiiiyiiiilly fjiu'H 
Tim liiiiilK>niiH' Imik cmioo ; 

l.if;lilly tlii'.V Hwi'ii)), 

Wililm- cMcli li'iip, 
UimclliiK lliii wliilr-i'iipM llin>Uf;li. 

Awiiy I Away I 
Willi llui N|ii'i'(l 111' II sliiilli'il ilocr, 

Wliili' llii' sli'i'iHiimii (nio 

Am! IiIm liiii^lilnft' fixw 
Kiii>; of llirlr wilil ciinn'r ; 

" Miuiiiiirn ),'liilo 

I''m1' ii'iT llli' liiln 
111 .'<lii|>s tliiil 1110 nIiiiu'Ii mill sIroiiK: 

Siil'rly ii« limy 

S|H*i'il wo nwiiy, 
\V liking tlio wiiiiils willi Hoii^'." 

Awiiy ! Awiiy I 

Willi lllO MllOOll ("I'll slllllll'll iUh'I', 

Wliilo llio liiiinliiiif; iiow 

or lllO SWil'l I'lUlOO 

Hiiij( 111' llio raritiiiion'.s I'lioor ; 

"TliriiiiKli I'lii'osl iiiul limko, 

O'or I'lipiil mill liiko, 
\\'i''ro Himrl loi' tlio siiii mill iiiiu ; 

l''ii'o im llio oliilil 

or llio Arali Willi, 
llmiloiioil to toil iiml |iiiiii. 

Awiiy I Awiiy 1 
Willi llio spooil of II slmlloil iloor, 

\Vliilo our Inioymil llif;lil 

Anil llio iii;iiil'.s iiiiglil 

lloii;llllll Olll' Mwil'l OIII'OOI'." 

Ovor llio Snows 

Hiioymilly noos 
Tlio IiiiiiInmoin' Imik oiiiioo : 

l,if«lilly llioy swoo]!, 

Wililor I'lioli loii|i, 
Toiuiiig llio wliilo-oii|is lliixiiij'h. 

Away I Awiiy ! 
Willi llio Hpooil of a slui'lloil ilooi'. 

'I'lioi'o '» a loiii'losM oi'ow 

111 I'aoli lij;lil omiiKi 
To Hllig of llio laflMiiion's ilioor. 

('IUKI.IIS SANCmiU. 



'I'lIK I'l.KAsriiK llOAT. 

CuMK. Iioisi Uio sail, llio lasl lot j;o 1 

'I'lloy 'I'o Moaloil aiilo liy siilo ; 
Wavo olnisos wavo in |iloasmil llow ; 

Tlio liny is fair ami wiilo. 

• Tllft llftUlBylvfU U> M l.'niulut; r.ll'lil oh tlif l'i»potOnjiw.l Utvoi, 

In Cmid«tA< 



'I'lio lipiilos linlilly la|i llio luial ; 

l.oosii ! Uivo lii'i' 111 llio winil ! 
Sill' hIiiiuIs alioiiil ; llioy 'ro all iilliiat ; 

Tlio Nliaiiil is fill' lii'liiiiil. 

No iliiiiijoi' loaoli Mil fair a orow I 

TIioii goililoMs of llio foiiiii, 
I '11 MVMi' [my tlioo wiii'slit)i iliio, 

If tlioii will liriii;-; llioiu lioiiio. 

fair liiilioM, I'liiri'i lliiiii llio M|iriiy 

'I'lio |iniw is ilasliin^ wiilo, 
Soil liroo/.os liiko you on your way, 

Siil'l llow Uio lil'oMsoil liilo. 

O, niijjlil 1 liko llioso liroo/os lio, 

Ami loiii'li Hull ai'i'liin^ lii'ow, 
I 'il ilwi'll I'oi'ovor on tlm son 

Wlioio yo mo lloiilinj^ now. 

TIio Itoiil i^ooH tilling oil tlm wavos ; 

Till' wavos no lilliiiK I'y ; 
Tlii'io ilips llio iliii'k, lioi' liaok slio lavi's ; 

( ''oi'lii'iiil Uio .soa-giills lly. 

Now, liko tlio jjiiUs Uial. darl for proy, 

Tlio littlo vossol Hliiiips ; 
Now, lisiii^, sliools aloii^ lior way, 

l.iko tlioiii, ill oasy swoops. 

Till' sunlifflit I'liUin^ on lior slioot, 

IfKliltoi's liko llio lllift. 
Spark liiifi;, in .sooin of suninmr's lioiil, 

lli^li up soiiio nuiunliiin lift. 

Tlio wiiiils ail' I'losli ; sIio'n driving fast 

Upon llio lioiiiliii^ tido ; 
Tlio oi'iiikliiiK sail, and oiiiikliiij; iniist, 

(ill with lior sido liy sido. 

W'liy dios Uio I'l'oo/o away so soon t 
Wliy liaii){s llio pan nan 1 down * 

Tlio soil is nlass ; llm sun at noon. — 
Nay, lady, do not frown ; 

Koi', soo, tlio wiiij;i''d ri.sliol''M lillimo 

Is painted on llio .soa ; 
lli'low, a oliook of lovoly lilooni. 

Wlioso oyos look up to tlioo I 

,Slio sniili's ; I lion nood'sl uiiist sniilo on lioi'. 

And soi', liosidi' lior faoo, 
A rii-li, wliilo olond tlial doth not. stir : 

W'lial lioaiily. ami svliiil ijrai'o I 

.\nd piilnrod lioaoli of yollow .sand. 

.\iul poaki'd rook and hill, 
I'haiiiio Uio sinimlli son lo faiiy-liuid j 

llow Kivoly itiid how .still I 



UrilAl, SI'(JHT.S. 



067 



ri'iiiii tlml far ixli' tlm llin'Hlict'H iluil 

SlrikrH <'lciHi' ii|Hiii I III' I'lii' ; 
Till' li'iipiii); i'mli, till' HwliiKiii^ Mill 

or V'lxli'i' nli>ii|i, Hiiiiiiil iii'ur. 

Till' |iHi'tiiiK Niiii hi'imU mil II kIiiw 

AiniHH till' |iliiriil liiiy, 
TiiiirliiiiK Willi kI"I.V "II tl"' mIhiw. — 

A bi'diizi' I rp lii'liii I Awiiy I 

('m/i'iiniiiK 111 till' wliiil, limy rruili, 
With liiii^'li mill ntll, tliii hIiiii'i'. 

7 lii'y 'vi' li'lt tlirir I'lMitiuiiiU mi llin limiili, 
But thrill I lii'iir no iiimi'. 

Kli;ilAllt) MrNUV DANA. 



TIIK yVNfil.KU'.S TKY'STINd-TUKK. 

HiNd, Nwcut tliniHJii'H, forlli mill hIii^ ! 

Mi'«t lliu iiimii iipiin till! Ii'ii ; 
Ar« tliu oiiii'i'iiliU III tliK npiiiig 

Oil till! iiiikIi'i'" tiyHliiigti'im ) 

Tl'll, NWI'I't tlll'IIHlll'H, ll'll to Mill I 

Ai'K tlii'i'i! IiiiiIh mi our wlllow-tritii ) 
lliiiU ami binlii on our tryHtiiig-troo 7 

HIiiKi HWi'i't tliniHlii'H, Tiirtli ninl hJii^ I 

lliivii ymi iiii't llin limii'y-lii'i', 
Ciri'lliiK upon riiplil wiii^, 

Koiinil till' miKli'r'n tiy»tin«tri'i! ? 

U]i, nwi'i'l tliruxlK'H, up mill himi t 

Aro tinrii Ih'om iit our wlllow-liuo ? 

HlrdH niid Ihikh ul Hut tryiitliig-tnio ? 

Hing, Hwi'i't tliniHlii'H, fiirtli itiul hIii({ I 
An- till' fountiiinH ^iinliliiK Iri'ii ' 

Ih till' MMitli-wliiil wiiiuli riiix 
Tlirmi^li till' mi){liir'ii liyHlln«triii! 1 
Up, Hwiicl tliriitilii'H, tl'll to nut ! 
Ih llinro wiml up mil willow-tri'ii ? 
Wind or I'liltii lit our tryntinK-lruii 1 

Hlng, HWTO't tliruHlii'H, I'urtli and hIiik I 
Willi iiH with a iiH'iry gli'o 

'I'o till' llowi'iy liiiiiiitH of Hpriiig, — 
To till! nnglm'H tryHting-lrm!. 
Tl'll, Hwcvt tliniHlicH, tl'll to inn I 
Aro tlnTi' (loworii 'ni'iitli our willow-trcit 
Spring mid llowcrn at tliii tryntiiig-lr™ ? 

TiioUAH Tod muuiMiiu. 



IN I'lJAIHK OK ANOMNO. 

•iiilVF.iilMi fiiirn, liiiarllcming curcH, 
AnxloiiH Hi){liH, untiiiK'ly ti'uiN, 

Kly, My lo I'ourtH, 

Fly to fond wmldliiig«' »\h)TIi>, 



Wlii'ii' Htiaini'il Hiu'ilmili' niiilli'H iini k'o/Iiik hIIII, 
Ami ^rirl' Ih I'mri'il to \niin\i iiKaiiiHt linr will, 

Wlinrii niii'tli 'h lint iiiuiiiiiinry, 

Ami Hiii'i'iiWH only rinil \m. 

Vly I'roiii our i-oiiiilry paiiliiiini, lly. 
Had ti'iiopH of liiiriiiui iiii«i'ry ; 

* 'mill', Hi'i'i'iiM loolui, 

I 'li'ar iiM till' I'l'yHlal lirookH, 
<ir Ih" piii'ii ii/iiri'd lii'avnn that miiiliM to hco 
Till' rii'li atli'iulaiiitii mi our piiviirty ; 

Tnai-i' mill a ki'i'Iiim iiiiiiil, 

VVIiii'll all liM'll Hi'i'll, wi' only liiiil. 

Aliiiiii'il iiiiirtiilii ' did you liiinw 
Wlii'rnjoy, linm I'm ciihi', and rmni'oilH (^row. 
You 'il Mi'iini prmid towi'ia 

And Hl'l'k tlll'lll in lIlrHIt llllWrlH, 

Wlmrn wiiiiU, Honii'tlini'H, our woodit pnrliapii may 
hIihIii', 

Hut liluHtnrlnx I'arii rould iirviT li'inpi'iil niakii ; 
Nm' iiiiiriiiiirH n'l'r I'liiin' iiimii iih, 
Hiving III' roiiiitainH tliatgllda liy im. 

Ili-ri' 'h III) rmitaMlir. niuhk oi iliuii'.n. 
Hut of our kidn that fiink anil pntniMi ; 
Nor wai'M aril mii'ii, 
UiiliiHH iipmi I III' f^riiMii 
Two hiirinli'HN Imnlin am liuttin;{ orii' llii< nlliin', 
VVIiii'hilmii'.liiitli lilratiii).; riin,i'arli luliiiiiiMillirr', 
And woiiiidH all' iii'ViT I'oiiml, 
Havii what tin' pliiU({liiilMMit ^iVi'ii tin- f/rniiiid. 

Ilnrii am no I'litriippin^ liiiltM 
To liaiili'ii to, too liMvly I'atim ; 

lltlll'HH it III' 

Thu fond rri'diility 
or Hilly IIkIi, whii'h (wmidliiiK llkn) ntill look 
rpmi tliii liait, hut iii'Vi'r oil tliii hook ; 

Nor iiiivy, 'hiHH ainmix 

Tim IiIiiIh, fur pririi of tliiilr Hwoiit Koiig, 

(ill, li't till' diviliK lii'^riii iii'i'k 

I'or gi'iiiH, hid in koiih' I'orlmii I'li'i'k : 

Wo all pcarlH Hi'mii 

Havi' what tlii' diwy morn 
(.'migoalH upon caili littlo Hpim of ({i'iihk. 
Which cai'oloHH Hlii'plmrdN hoiit down lui thoy 
piiHH ; 

And ;fiild iii'ir hoio iippoarH, 

Savo what tlu' yi'llow Coron lioarH, 

llli'Ht kIIoiiI «rovi'H, (), may you In', 
Torovor, inirlli'H limt iiiiiMiry I 

May piiiii ronlinlH 

I'liiuvi'i pilidi timir tiuitii 



668 



POEMS OF ADVENTUHE AND RURAL SPORTS. 



I'piin (licsp downs, tlioso moiuls, tlu-si' rocks, 

tlioso mountiiiiis I 
Ami pi'iu'o still slumlu'i' l\v llu'si' purling I'omi- 
liiiiis, 
Wli'u'h wo may iivoiy yoi'i' 
Mwl, whi'ii \vf ronu- n-lisliiiix lii'io. 

blU 111 NKV WolTON. 



THK ANOI.KU. 

Tiir. jtiiUiVUl lisliiM''s lilV. 

It is llic best of itny I 
"r is full of (ili'ssiMV, voiil of slrifc. 
Ami 't is lu'lovoii liy inaiiy ; 
Otlior joys 
A 10 liiil toys ; 
Only this 
I, awful is ; 
Kor oui' slvill 
Hivoils no ill, 
n\it I'ontcnl !iiul jiloHsniv. 

In a nioniing, up wo riso, 
Kro Aiiiiira's jicopinj; ; 
Drink ii cup to wnsli onr oycs, 
liOiivo tlio slu}«f;iinl sli'opiiig ; 

'I'lu'ii \V1> l^> 

To ■•uul fro. 

With our kniioks 

At our Ku'ks, 

To such stivums 

As the ThiuiiM, 
If wo have the loisiin<. 

When wo plciisc to walk aluivnl 

Kor onr iH'civatiou, 
In the tichls is onr iiliodo. 
Full of ilolcctiition, 
Wliciv, in A bi-ook, 
With a hook, — 
Or a lake, — 
Fish wo take ; 
Thciv wo sit. 
For a bit. 
Till wo lish ontanglo. 

Wo have Rcnth's in a horn. 

Wo have paste ami worms too ; 
Wo can watch Inith nij;lit and luoril, 
Sutfor vain ami storms too ; 

Nono do hoii> 

Uso to swoiir : 

Oaths do fr.iy 

Fish away j 

Wo sit still, 

Watch our tiuill : 
Fishers must not wrangle. 



If the sun'.s cxeossive heat 
Make o\ir bodies swelter. 
To an osier hedj;e we get, 
For a friendly shelter ; 
Where, in a dike, 
I'eifh or I'iko, 
Roach or dace, 
We do chase, 
Uleak or gndgnon, 
Without giiulj;in); ; 
Wo arc still contented. 

(V we soiuetiines pass an hour 

I'luler a green willow, 
Tlnit defends us from n shower, 
JIaking earth our |iillow ; 
Where we may 
Think and pray, 
Hefore death 
Stops onr breath ; 
iMhcr joys 
.\re but toys. 
And to be lamented. 

lolIN CllALKHlLU 



THE A Nt; LEU'S WISH. 

I IN these tlowery meads w'ould he, ^ 

These crystal si reams should solace me ; 

To whose harmonious bubbling noi.se 

1, with my angle, would ivjoice. 

Sit heiT, and see the turtle-dove 
Court his chaste mate to acts of love ; 

Or, on that bank, feel the west-wind 
llivalhe health and plenty ; iileaso my luiud. 
To see sweet dew-ilrops kiss the.-^e llowers. 
And then washed oil' by Api il showere ; 
Here, hear my Kenua* sing a song : 
Tlu'iv, see a blackbinl food her young, 

Or n laverock build her nest; 

Heri>, give my weary spirits ivst, 

And niise my low-pitched thoughts abov» 

Earth, or what poor mortals love. 

Thus, five from lawsuits, and the iioiso 
0( princes' courts, I would njoicK ; 

Or. willi my Uryan and a book. 
Loiter long davs near Sliawi'oixl brook ; 
'riieiv sit by him, and cat my meat : 
There see the sun iwlh rise and set ; 
Then> bid good morning to next d»y ; 
There meditate my time away ; 

And angle on ; and U'g to have 
.\ iiuict passage to a welcome grave. -j 
ij**K Walton. 

• " Kenn.i." the nitmo of hts siiepospil mtstwss. scemi to hav^ 
been (oniiCAt fl-oiu (he nanio i^f hU witc, which was Kcii. 



KIJIIAI. 8l'OItT8. 



669 



ANOUNO. 

PROM "TIIK nl(Am)Ntlt ^PHINf.." 

JimT In tlie iltilii'iiia point, wlinrn vvltli lln' piKil 
1h iiiixi'il llin trKlnliliii^ Htniitiii, nr wliiini it lioiln 
Aroiiriil tliii Htoiir, or Iroiii lli« IioIIowimI liiiiik 
Uiivitrti.'it pliiyH in iin<liiliil,in){ How, 
TliiTu tlirow, ni(:ii-jucl){inK, Uin ili^luKivu fly ; 
And, UK y<Mi li^iid it roiinil In iirlf'iil curve. 
With uyo iitt'ntivii murk tljn H|iringin){ ;{iitn<]. 
Htrni({l>t iw iiliovx tliu Hiir('iii:i! of tin: llooil 
Tlii'y wnnton nun, or iirgnl hy Inin^nr li'iip, 
Tlii'ii fix, uritli ({fiiiljii twil^di, tliri liiirlilMl liook ; 
Honiii lightly toHiiIri^ to llu^ K""*"y l>'>nk, 
AikI U) tlin i<liirlvin){ Hlioni hIow ilrii^)(hig Honio, 
With viiriouN hand projiortiorK'd to lln'lr Uirr.i:. 
]f yot loo young, imd inmlly diM'eived, 
A worthhwH pruy nrnrm Imndit your pliant rod, 
llirn, pltooiiH or hill youth, iirid the Hhort Hpiu:o 
Ilv hiiH unjoyitil the vitid light of heaven, 
Hoft diiu^ngage, and liai^k into the Hlreani 
TheHpeekleil infant throw, lint hIiouM yon lure 
From IiIh dark haunt, liineath the tangliMl rooln 
or (wndunt trem, the nioniireh of thii lirook, 
liehooveH you then to jily your liiieHt art. 
Long time he, following ealitiouH, Heaim the fly ; 
And oft utt<;mptH to Hel/,e it, hnt a>i oft 
'I'he ilinjpled water H|«'akM hi»i jenloUH fear. 
At hiHt, while haply o'er the ahadeil huh 
I'aHMeH a eloud, liedeHperate tJikea the death. 
With Hidlert plunge. At one« he dartM along, 
I)r;ep-Htrii<:k,and ninHoutall the lengtheneil line ; 
Then i«wk» the fartlieiit ooze, the Mhellering weed, 
'I'hr: eaverned hank, Win olil Kei:iire alKide ; 
Anil IlieH aloft, and lloiineeH round the pool. 
Indignant of the guile. With yielding hand. 
That feeln him Ktill, yet to hin furiouH cimrm 
OivnH way, you, now retiring, following now 
AcroHH the ntreain, exhaUHt hin idle rage ; 
Till, floating lirond upon IiIk hreathlenH nido. 
Anil li) Ilia fate aliaiidoiied, to the Hlioni 
You gayly drag your iinreNiHting prize. 

JAHIIS TllOMI«->H, 



THK ANOLKU. 

Hut look I o'er tho fall hi:i- the angler Ktand, 
Hwingiiig hill nxl with Hkilfiil hand ; 
The tly at the end of lii« goxHamer line 

SwiiiiH through the himi liki: a Hummer moth, 
Till, dropt with a larefiil pieiiiion finu. 

It Vjui'lie* the (luol Ixiyond the froth. 
A-audden, thu a|ie(:kli!'I hawk of the lirook 
Oarta from hia covert and luHzen tin; hook. 
Hwift npiiiH the re«l ; with eaay iilip 
Tho lino iKiya out, and the nxl, like a whip, 



liithe and arrowy, tapering, hIImi, 
Ih lieiil to a liow o'er the lirooklel'H hrirn. 
Till the trout leajiH up in the huh, and flinga 
'file Hjiray from the ftiiHli of IiIh lliiiiy wingn ; 
Then f'allH on hiii aide, and, dnniken with fright, 
la towed to the Mlioie like a Bliiggering liarge. 
Till lieaehed at liiHt on the aandy marge. 
Where hedieawith Ihehiieaof the morning light. 
While Ilia aidea with a eliiatJU' of at^ira aro hiHght. 
The angler in hia Inwket liiya 
'I'ho cuimlvllation, and goiia hia waya. 

Tmomah hucimnan Ukao. 



HWIMMINO. 

I'k'iM "nil' rwo MosrAMl," 

How many a time have I 
Cloven, with arm alill luatiir, lirermtmore daring, 
The wave all riiiigliened ; with aawimmer'a Htroko 
Klinging the hilloWH Imek from my ilniielied hair. 
And laiigliing from my lip the nudaeioiia lirine, 
Whieh klHHed it like ii, wine-eiip, riningo'er 
The wavea iia they aroae, and prouder atill 
The loftier they uplif'l.ed nie ; and oft. 
In wantonneHH of Hfiirit, plunging down 
Into their green and glanuy giiifa, and making 
IVIy way t.o ahella and aea-weeil, all uijaeen 
I'.y thoae aliiive, till they waxed fearful ; then 
iieturning with my griMp full of Hueh tokena 
Ah Hliowed that I hiul aearehed the deep ; exillt- 

>"K. 
With a fiir-doahlng Btroke, and drawiiif; d<ip 
The long-HUHpeiided breath, again I Hpurned 
The foam which liroke around me, and piiraued 
My traek like a Hcaliinl. I waa a hoy then. 

I.Oai> IIVKON. 



ItATIIINO. 

rhoM "71111 HnAMrjNai kommkh." 

TifK Hprighlly youth 
Spneda tfi the wellknowii pool, wlioae cry«tttl 

depth 
A Handy liottoni ahowa. A whilo hi; atnnda 
fiazing lli' inviTliril landaeape, half afraid 
To medilatj: the hlue profound lielow ; 
'I'hen pliingeH heo/llong down the circling flood, 
Ilin elioii trenHirH and hin rony cheek 
Inatant emerge ; and lluoiigli the ohedicnt wave. 
At ea<;li aliort breathing liy lii» lip npelled. 
With anna and Icga lu'cording well, he mukea. 
Ah humor leada, an eaay-wiinling path ; 
While from hia poliahed aidea n dewy light 
KiruaoH on the pleaaed H|»'ctatora round. 



070 



POKMS OK ADVliMXllK AM) Ul K.VL SrOUTS. 



This is the puivst oxi-iviso of lu-allli, 

Tlu> kiiui ivl'ivslu'i' of till' suumu'i'-lu'ats : 

Niir, wlioK ooUl wind'!- kcoiis t!u' lii\^;Iitouiiij 

llooil, 
WouUl I \voak-sl\ivoi'iiij; liiijti'r on the liiiiik. 
Thus Mil' viHloublos, ami is ol'l luvsorvi'il, 
Hv thi' boM swiiunu'r, in th<" swilt olapsc 
Of aooidcnt ilisastrous. Uoni'i' tho liuilis 
Knit into I'oivo ; and tho sanio lionian ann. 
That niso victorious o'or tho oonc|UoiYil oarth, 
Kii-st U'ainoil, wliiU' touilor, to sululiio tlio wave. 
Kvou I'l-om tlio body's puiity, tlio mind 
Keceives ;i socivl syniptithetic aid. 

jAMiis Thomson. 



GUI} SKATER liKLLE. 

Aloxd tho frozoii hiko sho oonios 
In linking oix'soonts, light and lloet ; 

Tho ioo-inipiisonod UnJino hums 
A woloonio to hot' little feet. 

I see tho jannty hat, tho iilunio 

Swoi'vo biixUiko in tho joyous galo, — 

Tho oliooks lit up to buniing bloom. 
Tho young oyos sparkling through tho voil. 

Tho ipiick bivatli parts hor laughing lips, 
Tho whito nook shinos through tossing curls ; 

Hor vosturo gently sways and dips. 
As on sho siR'ods in shell-like whirls. 

JIoii stai) and sniilo to see her go ; 

They gaze, they smile in pleased surprise ; 
They ask hor name ; they long to show 

Some silent friendship in thoir oyos. 

Sho glances not ; she passes on ; 

Hor steely footfall ipiioker riitgs ; 
Siio guesses not tho bonisoii 

Which follows hor on noiseless wings. 

Smooth Ik> hor ways, secuiv liev trrad 

Along the devious linos of life, 
From grace to grace successive led, — 

A uublo maiden, nobler wife ! 

ANONVMOl'S 



SLEIGH SOXG. 

, JlxoLv:, jingle, clear the way, 
J T is the merry, merry sleigh ! 
As it swiftly sends along, 
Hoar the btirst of happy song ; 
Seo tho gleam of glances bright. 
Flashing o'or tho imthway white ! 
.1 ingle, jingle, p;ist it tlios. 
Sending shafts from hooiled eyes, ■ 



lioguish airhoi-s. 1 '11 be bound, 
l.iltlo hooding whom they wound ; 
Soo ihem, with capricious pranks, 
I'loughing now tho drifted Uinks ; 
.'iiiglc, jingle, mid the gleo 
Who among them caivs for me ? 
.linglo, jingle, on they go, 
(.'apes and bonnets white with snow. 
Not a single robe they fold 
To protect them I'rom the cold ; 
.Hnglc, jingle, mill the slorm, 
Fun ami frolic keep them warm ; 
.'ingle, jingle, down the hills, 
t>'or the uu'adows. past the mills. 
Now t is slow, and now 't is fast ; 
Winter will not always last. 
Jiuglo, jingle, clear tho way ! 
"r is the merry, merry sleigh. 

G. \V. PETTEIS. 



FU.VmiKXTS. 

The Soi'i, ok .ViiVF.NiruE. 

Fioive warres, and faithfuU loves shall monUiza 
my song. 

Fiitftt QurtHtt /i\v* i , PrMm, SPENSER. 

Scud danger from the east unto the west. 
So honor oross it fi-om tho north to south, 
.\nd let them grapple : t) ! the blood more stiis 
To rouse a lion than to start a hare ! 

By Heaven, mcthinks. it were an easy leap. 
To pluck bright honor from tlio jialo-facod moou. 
Or dive into the bottom of the deep, 
WluMX< fathom-line could never toueh thegi-ound. 
And pluek up drowuM honor by the locks. 

A'iNi' Mfury /I *.. /\iyf /. .v./ i. Sr. J. SMAKUSPKAKB. 

Ain'KNTlKOfS Dauinu. 

On his bold visjigo middle jige 

Had slightly pivssod his signet sagt>. 

Yet had not i|Uenched tho open truth, 

And tiery vehemence of youth ; 

Forwaiil and fixilic glee was tlioiv, 

Tho will to do, the soul to daiv, 

Tho siwrkling glanee, soon blown to fiiv 

Of hasty love or headlong iix>. 

rJu La4y iflMt LaJtt, CiMt. i. SCOTT 

Dar'st thou, Cassius, now 
Leap in with mo into this angry Hood, 
And swim to yonder jnnnt .' — I'pou tho woi\l, 
.VoooutixHl as I was, 1 plunged iu, 
And bade him follow. 

ynJim Crfjor, Wrt i. iV, a. SHAKESPEARB. 



FKAGMENTS. 



071 



TlimiiKli tliif'k iiml tliin, Uitli over Kink ami liuitli, 
III U(>\»! her to attain liy liiiok or crook. 

/■'lUeu Qmftiu, Bank 111. i:^nt. I SI'UHKKK. 

Tlio iutont and not the Jcol 

In in our fK>wi-r ; and therefore who dnrcii greatly 

I)o<;it greatly. 

Hatbaroita j. DKOWN. 

Out of tliin nettle, danger, we pluck thiji flower, 
wifely. 

k'lttg HtHr^ IK Parti. /ItlW St \ ffllAKHAfflAKK. 

" You fool I I tell you no one rneanii you lianii." 
"So much the l«tt<!r," Juan iiaid, "for them." 

A>» yuan. lillUlH, 

IlolUtKMA.S'HIIIC. 

I unw young Horry, with hix Ix-aver on. 

His cuiwcs on hix thifflm, ^^.illaiitly ariiieil, 

itiM; from the ground like fe.itlicrol Mermiry, 

And vaulted with nucli ciute into hix H(;nt, 

Ax if an angel dro|i|M;d down from the vloiidx, 

To turn anil wind a fiery I'egaxux, 

And witch the world with nolile honemanxliip. 

Klig HlHry /K. Part I. 4tt \t. St. I. X»f AKKttKRARI'.. 

" Stand, Bayard, xtand ! " The xteed obeyed, 

With arching neck and landed liisid. 

And glancing eye, and (|uivering ear, 

A» if he lovul hix lord to licfir. 

No foot Fitz-JamcH in Htimiii xtaid, 

No graxp upon the xaddle laid. 

But wr<^-ithe<l hix left hand in the mane, 

And lightly Ijoundcd from the plain, 

Tunicd on the horxi; hix aniied heel. 

And xtinol liix wurage with the xt<:cl. 

Ii<junde<l the fiery xtee^l in air, 

The rider Kate en;ct ond fair, 

Then, like a Iwlt from xteel croxx-bow 

Forth launched, along the plain they go. 

Tlu Lailt tj/tlu Lakt, CttiU v. SCOTT. 

After many xtrainx and hcavijx, 
He got up to the xaddle eavex. 
From wbcnc<! he vaulted into th' scat 
With xo much vigor, xtrength, and heat. 
That he hail alnirmt tumbled over 
With bin own weight, but did recover. 
By laying hold of tail and mane. 
Which oft he uaed inxtea<l of rein. 

Iludlltrai. DR. S. BUTLF.H. 

HUNTISO, 

Better to hunt in fields for health unbought. 
Than fee the do<:tor for a nauxeoux draught. 
The wise for cure on cxercix*; dejKnd ; 
Ood never niaile hix work for man to meiid. 

Qymanartd Ifhtgttla. DKVIiKN. 



Hunting ix the noblext cxercixi!, 
.Makex men lalxirioiix, active, wise, 
ISriitgH health, and doth the xpirilx delight, 
It hel|n the hearing ami the sight; 
It teacheth artx tliat never xlij) 
The meiiioiy, good honHMnanxliip, 
.Search, xhai pnexx, rmiirage and defence. 
And chaHcth all ill liabitx hence. 

Maiiiiui. IJKN JOXSOfi 

My lioarx<;-K<;unding horn 
Invitex thee to the chiuM-, the xiir^rt of kings; 
Image of war without itx guilt. 

TluCHtiK. W. SoMKkvil,I.K, 

Contusion hauirding of neck or spine. 
Which riiril gentlemen call xport divine. 

NuMtti jllarn. COWPtC 

■My hawk is tired of perch and h'joil. 
My idle greyhound b«tliex his fowl 
My horxe is weary of liix stall, 
And I am xick of captive thrall. 
I wish I were ;lx I have bc<;n 
Hunting the hart in forests green, 
With bended liow and blofxlhound free. 
For that 's the life ix meet for me ! 

I^y ^ th* I tnfrttoiiitl Ihttilirnati : Ihi tuidy o/ tht Lakt, 
Cant. «. SCWTT. 

The healthy huntsman, with a cheerful honi, 
Summonx the dogs and greets tlie dappleil mom. 

KuralSfoni. ), OKI, 

Why, let the struekcn deer go weep, 

The hart ungalli-d |ilay ; 
For some must wati.h, while some muxt sleep ; 

Thus runs the world away. 

llamUl, Mil lU. St. i. SlIAKESrKAKI!. 

SHOfrriNf*. 

S<;c from the ><rake the whirring pheavint sjiring*, 
And mounts exulting on triumphant wings ; 
.Short is hix joy ; he feels the fiery wound, 
Klutfmi in bl'HMl, and junting beats tlTc ground. 

IVIndiDT Form, I'OPB. 

But as some rnuskets so contrive it. 
Ah oft to miss the mark they drive at, 
Ami though well aimed at duck or plover, 
IJi;ar wide, and kick their owners over. 

>ltl'tfititl,Caiit.\ ;. TKUMeULU 

.SwiMMI.sr;. 

The torrent roared ; and we did l/iilTet it 

With lusty sinews, throwing it aside. 

And stemming it with hearts of Wintrovemy. 

yullHI Ctliar, /lit I St. >. SMAKStrKAXI!. 



672 



I'OEMS OF ADVENTURE A\D lU'UAT. SPORTS. 



I snw him beat the surges under liiui. 
Ami rkio ujiou their backs ; he trod the water, 
Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted 
The surge most swoln that met him. 

The Ttmptstt Aet]i. Sc. i. SHAKESPEARE. 

Angling. 

All 's fish they get 
That Cometh to net. 

Five HHHdrtd Points <>fG,K<tUHst'atutry. T. TUSSER. 

In genial spring, beneath the quivering shade. 
Where cooling vapors breathe along the mead, 
The patient fisher takes his silent stand, 
Intent, his angle trembling in his hand ; 
With looks unmoved, he hopes the scjily breed, 
And eyes the dancing cork, and bending reed. 

tt'iHttsar Forest. POPE. 

Now is the time, 
While yet the dark-brown water aids the guile, 
To tempt the trout. The well-dissembled fly. 
The rod tine fa|iering with elastic spring. 
Snatched from the hoary steed the floating line. 
And all thy slender wat'rv stores prepare. 

Th( Seasons : Sfring. THOMSOtM. 

His angle-rod made of a sturdy oak ; 
His line a cable which in storms ne'er broke ; 
His hook he liaited with a dragon's tail. 
And sat upon a rock, and bobbed for whale. 

l7foH It GitiHt's An£liftf^. W . KING. 



Skating. 

All shod with steel. 
We hissed along the polished ice, in games 
Confederate, imitative of tlie chase 
.\nd wooiiland pleasures, — the resounding horn, 
Tlie pack loud-chiming, and the hunted hare. 
So through the darkness ,and the cold we Hew, 
.\nd not a voice was idle ; with the diu 
Smitten, the precipices rang aloud ; 
The leafless trees and every icy crag 
Tinkled like iron. 

Itiflnena •^Natural Objects. WORDSWORTH. 



EuuAL Life. 

Etistic mirth goes round ; 
The simple joke that takes the shepherd's heart. 
Easily pleased ; the long loud laugh sincere ; 
The kiss snatched hasty fron\ the sidelong maid, 
On purpo.ie gnardless, or pretending sleep ; 
The leaji, the slap, the haul : and, shook to notes 
Of native nmsic, the ves]iondeut ilance. 
Thus jocund fleets with them the winter night. 

The Seasons : It'inter. THOMSON. 

God made the country, and man made tlie town ; 
What wonder then, that health and virtue, gifts 
That can alone make sweet the bitter draught 
That life holds out to all, should most abound 
And least be threatened in the fields and groves. 

The Task, Boot i. : The Sofit, COWPER. 



EMERSON 



Con iki) 



" KAKiHKk horizons every year." 

O tossing pines, which surge and wave 

Above the poet's just made grave, 

And waken for his sleeping ear 

The music that he loved to hear. 

Through summer's sun and winter's 

chill. 
With purpose staunch and dauntless 

will. 
Sped by a noble discontent 
You climb toward the blue firmament : 
Climb as the winds climb, mounting liigli 
The viewless ladders of the sky ; 
Spurning our lower atmosphere. 
Heavy with sighs and dense with night, 
An<l urging upward, year by year. 
To ampler air, diviner light. 

" Farther horizons every year." 
r.eneath you pass the tribes of men ; 
Your gracious boughs o'ershadow them. 
You hear, but do not seem to heed, 
Their jarring speech, their faulty creed. 
^'our roots are firmly set in soil 
Won from their hummijig paths of toil ; 
Content their lives to watch and share, 
To serve them, shelter, and upbear. 
Yet but to win an upward way 
And larger gift of heaven than they, 
Ik-nignant view and attitude. 
Close knowledge of celestial sign ; 
Still working for all earthly good. 
While pressing on to the Divine. 



" Karther horizons every year." 

So he, by reverent hands just laid 

lieneath your layers of waving shade, 

Climbed as you climb the upward way, 

Knowing not boundary nor stay. 

His eyes surcharged with heavenly 

lights. 
His senses steeped in heavenly sights, 
His soul attuned to heavenly keys, 
How should he pause for rest or ease, 
(')r turn his wingtd feet again 
To share the common feasts of men ? 
He blessed them with his wort) and 

smile 
liut, still above their tickle moods. 
Wooing, constraining him, the while 
lieckoned the shining altitudes. 

" Karther horizons every year." 
To what immeasurable height. 
What clear irradiance of light, 
What far and all-transcendent goal. 
Hast thou now risen, O steadfast soul ! 
We may not follow with our eyes 
To where the further pathway lies ; 
Nor guess what vision, vast and free, 
Ciod keeps in store for souls like thee. 
Hut still the sentry pines, which wave 
Their boughs above thy honored grave. 
Shall be thy emblems brave and fit, 
VWm rooted in the stalwart sod ; 
IJlessing the earth, while spurning it. 
Content with nothing short of Ood. 



/l/oc 31, 1882 



Susan Cooi.nj(;E 



Publhhcrs : Houghton, MiJJftin £?• Co., Botton 







$::A 



KMKKSONS HOME AT CONCORD. 




DHSCRIPTIVi: POIwMS. 




DESCRIPTIVE POEMS. 



A THING OF BEAUTY IS A JOY 
FORKVER. 

FROM •• ENDYMION," BOOK I. 

<_A THING of beauty is a joy forever : 
lis loveliness iuoieases ; it will never 
Pass into nothingness ; but still will keep 
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep 
Full of sweet dreams, aud health, and quiet 

breathing. 
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wi-eathing 
A flowery band to bind us to the earth. 
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth 
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days, 
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkeued ways 
Made for our searching : yes, in spite of all. 
Some sliape of beauty moves away the pall 
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon, 
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon 
For simple sheep ; and such are dalfodils 
With the green world they live in ; and clear rills 
That for themselves a cooling covert make 
'Gainst the hot season ; the mid-forest brake, 
Kich with a sprinkling of fair nmsk-ro.se blooms : 
And such too is the gran<leur of the dooms 
We have imagined for the mighty dead ; 
All lovely tales that we have heard or read : 
An endless fountain of immortal drink. 
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink. 

JoH.N Keats. 



MELROSE ABREY. 

.-BOM "THR LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL," CANTO II, 

If thou wouldst view fair Melrose aright, 
Go visit it by the pale moonlight ; 
For tile gay beams of lightsome day 
Gild, but to Hout, the ruins gray. 
When the broken arches are black in night, 
Aiid each shafted oriel glimmers wliite ; 
When tlie cold light's uncertain shower 
Streams on the ruined central tower ; 
When buttress and buttress, alternately, 
Seem framed of ebon aud ivory ; 



When silver edges the imagery, 

And the scrolls that teach theo to live and die ; 

When distant Tweed is heard to rave, 

Aud the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's grave, 

Then go, — but go alone the while, — 

Then view St. David's ruined pile ; 

And, home returning, soothly swear. 

Was uever scene so sad and fair ! 

The pillared arches were over their head. 

And beneath their feet were the bones of the dead. 

Spreading herbs and flowerets bright 
Olistened with the dew of night ; 
Nor herb nor floweret glistened there, 
But was carved in the cloister-arches as fair. 
The monk gazed long on the lovely moon, 

Then into the night he looked forth ; 
And red and bright the streumers light 

Were dancing in the glowing north. 
So had he seen, in fair Castile, 

The youth in glittering sijuadrous start. 
Sudden the Hying jennet wheel, 
And hurl the unexpected dart. 
He knew, by the streamers that shot so bright, 
That spirits were riding the northern light. 

By a steel-clenched postern dooi-. 

They entered now the chancel tall ; 
The darkened roof rose high aloof 

On pillars lofty and light and small ; 
The keystone, that locked each rilibed aisle, 
Was a flenr-de-lys, or a quatre-feuille : 
The I'orbulls were carved grotesque and grim : 
And tlie pillars, with clustered shafts so trim, 
With base and with capital flourished around, 
Seemed bundles of lances which garlands liuii 
bound. 

Full many a scutcheon aud banner, riven. 
Shook to the cold night-wind of heaven. 

Around the screened altar's ]iale ; 
And there the dying lamps did burn. 
Before thy low and lonely urn, 
gallant Chief of Otterburne ! 

And thine, dark Knight of Liddesdale ! 



67il 



Lil';siUll'l'l\ K I'OKMS, 



ruvliiij; lionoi's of tlii> ilcail ! 
lujjli iimUlioii, lowly luiii ! 

Tho iiuH'ii on tlu' oust oiii'l t^houo 
Tlu\>nj;li sloiuli'i sluiKs of slmjH'ly stv>iu\ 

I5_v tolii\j;i>il tmi't'iy ooinbiiuHl : 
Tlum wovililsl liiivo tlioujjlit soiin> l'iuiy"s liiiiul 
'Twixt iKiiiliiiti stiiiij;lil tho osit'V wimil 

lu uituiY n l^'o<tki.■ih knot liail twinoil ; 
Then tmuiotl i» siu'll, wlion llio work was done, 
Anil ilitinj^Hl tliti willow wivaths to stoue, 
Tlio silvri- lij;lit, so jvilo ami taint, 
Showt'd many a (nviihot, ami many a stunt, 

W liiKso imaj^i on t ho jjlass was ilyoil ; 
Full in tho midst, his I'uxss of lied 
'riium|>haut Miohaol hiiuulishod. 

And tnuuplod tho AiHistato's piido. 
Tho moonlH'am kissed tho holy [nino, 
ind tliix'W on tho i»avomoiit a bloody stain. 

SIR WALlliK SCOTT. 



NOIUIAM CASTLE. 

KKOM "MAKMIO.N." CANTO I. 

fThc niinous c*slle of Norham (anciemlv cnUcil VblwifoMl) is 
uittAt^l ^w the svHiihorn l\»nli i.t" the Twe^t alHmt six lutles nKn-e 
Wcrwivk. AwX where that liver W sx\\\ the tKHiiulaty Ivtw^een liitf 
Wul «ii.l S.A^Uu.l. Vhe e\tei)t v>f its ruiits. «s weU to. its hi^twKitl 
iui|<v«itAiKe, »h,»ws it to h*\e Ikvu a |>U,'v oi' lUA^uili.'ettv'e as wvU 
*s streivith. Evirtjiul I, iesivl^*\l there when he w*s cre.*teil tuiiv^le 
of the ths^^ute e^nteeittiitj;; the Se\«ttish sueeessivM). It w\ts iepc«t. 
e\lly tAkeii jn,t iet.\keit vluiuv; the wat. between t'ltj^Uitd ttiM 
S.AtUtml. Aiul. iii.l,-e\l, scwvc «uy hav't^ltett in whi.h it hail not 
« ^^in.iivtl shaie. Nvvhaiu t.'ast)e t> situate^l iin a steep Liank 
whieh overllaniis the liver. The luins i>f the castle aie at (Vesont 
CMisi.WiaHe. as well as )>ls't\iiesi)ue. fhey eoitii^ of a tai^ 
»luilteiesl tv'wei, wtth iiianv v,vutts. ami tia>:inents of other etlt&.'es 
euiku.est unhin an inttwaisl w.ill ot' ):ivat ciisult.J t 

Pay sot on Norham's oastlwl stooji, I 

-iud 'IVtHsl's fair livor, biViXiI and tlt>oj>, I 

And Cheviot's mountains lone : 
The ItattUnl towel's, the doiyon ktH'ii, 
The hwp-hole flutes whei\< oaiitives wwi>. 
The tlaiikiiij; walls that ivuml it swet>l>. 

In yellow lustit" shone. 
The wanioi-s oh the tunvts hij;h, 
Moviiij; athwart the eveninj; sky, 

Sofunxl tonus of jtiaiit lieij;lit ; 
Their armor, as it oaujjht the rays, 
yiaslu^l hiiok again the western blaw 

In lilies of daz.:liiis; lijjht. 

St. Civrj^^'s Itanner, bixwd ami jpw, 
Now fadtnl, as tho lading ray 

Less bi\s;lit, ami lt>ss, was tluiij; ; 
The eveuinj; jpilo liatl soaiw the jKiwor 
To wave it on the doujou tower. 

So heitvily it kuugv' 



The soonts liiul iwrted on tlieir soaitjh, 

The oastle jpites weiv Iwrivtl ; 
Above the gloomy )H>rlal aivli, 
Tiiuiiij; his footsteiis to a maivh, 

The waitler kept his j;uanl ; 
Low liiiiiiiniiiL,', us he ivaoed aloii}*. 
Some amieiit ISoi'vler-gatherius song. 

.\ distant tnimiiling sound he heare ; 
lie looks ubivitd, ami soim apjioai's, 
OVr Uoruolilf hill, a |>liimii of speai's. 

Beneath a iHiinon ipiy ; 
A horsemaii, dartiiij; livm the I'lwvil, 
Like lijjhtiiiiij; fi-om a sinniner eloud, 
Spnrs on his inettltHl oonrser pivud 

Bel'oiv the ilark array. 
IViieath the sjible i>alistule. 
That ehvsetl the oastle Imrrioade, 

His biii;le-horii he blew ; 
The wanler hasteil fivm the wall, 
Anil wariuHl the oaptaiii iu the hall, 

For well the blast he knew ; 
And joyfully that kiiij;lit did oall 
To sewer, siiuiiv, and seiiesehal. 

" Now bi\«i'h ye a (liiHi of Malvoisie, 

Urinj{ (lasties of tlie diH<, 
And i|uiokly make the entranoe fiw. 
And bid my heralds ivady Ih', 
And every uiinstivl sound his gleo. 

And all our trumiH>ts blow ; 
.\ud, fiMin the iihitform, sjxuv ye not 
To liiv a noble salvo-shot : 

Loni Marmiou waits KUow." 
Then to the castle's lower wiuxl 

SjHxl forty y»\iiueu tall. 
The iivnstudiled spiles iinlviriwL 
l\aist\l the |H>rtinllis' |K>nilerv)us guard, 
The lofty jwli,-.;ide unsiviriwl, 

And let the dr;iwbriilK<> fall. 

Along the bridge Loi\i Marmiou ivde, 
TivuiUy his rt\l-i\«ui oharip-r tivde, 
llis helm hung at the siuldle-Kiw ; 
Well by his visiigx' yon might know 
He was a stalworth knight, and ket.ni. 
And had in many a Ivittle Kh-ii. 
The sear on his bivwii olieek it>v«iltKl 
A token true of l>i>sworth field ; 
llis eyebrv>w dark, and eye of fiiv, 
Showtnl spirit pivud. and i>i\imi>t to ire ; 
Yet lines of thought ujvn llis ehi-ek 
Oil! deep design and oonnsel sfioak. 
His foivhead, by his oasiiue woru bare. 
His thiek mustaehe, and ourly hair, 
Cvwl-blaek, and griiilt\l her«' and there. 
But more tJirough toil than «g« ; 



DESCRIPTIVE POEMS. 



077 



Hia wiiiare-tumod joiiitH, ami »tratigtli of limb, 
Sliowuil liiiii no I'liriMit-kni^lit H» trim, 
ISut ill clow; li^lit a <'lmin|iioii grim, 
III cuinps II liNiilur wif<c-. 



AVi'll WHS lie aiiiii.il fioiii liciiil to liei;l, 
III muil mill jiluti! oi' Miluii nUii^l ; 
Uiit lii» HlroiiH lieliii, of miglity coHt, 
Wii» nil witli liiiniinliod gold «mlHiiu«»l ; 
Amid till! |iluiiiiigc of tin; crKHt, 
A fulcoii lioiriid on lier ln'sl, 
With wiiigM oiit«|iread, iiml forward brcaiit ; 
K'"Mi Hui.li a falcon, on IiIm hliield, 
I'd wililo ill an azure Held : 
;,'oldcn legcml JKiri! HI'igllt, 

IU\]0 ci;cch8 at me to Dratt) is biglit. 

Illiii- wa.i llie i|iaiK''i''» Ijioi.liicd rein ; 
Hlue rililioiiH decked liiH arcliing mane ; 
Tlio knightly LoiUiing'H ainjile fold 
Was velvet blue, and trupt^J with gold. 

Behind him roile two (gallant ii>|uircM 
Of noble name and knightly Bii'<:ii ; 
Thi-y bunied the gilded npurH It) claim ; 
Kor well could each a war-lioiiie tame, 
Could draw the Ixjw, the nword could «way, 
And lightly liear the ring away ; 
Nor IcHH with couileonii pr(M;ei)tH Htored, 
Could dance in hall, and carve at Iward, 
Anil fniiiie love-diltieji [Kuwing rare, 
Aud uing them to a lady fair. 

Four men-at-anii« came at their backs. 
With hallxirt, bill, aii<l l>attle-axe ; 
They bore I-<jrd .Marrnioii'n lance no strong. 
And led his Mum|iter-niuleH along, 
And ambling palfrey, when at need 
Ilim listed caw; his liattle-stced. 
The hist and tnistiest of the four 
On high liis forky |s;niioii bore ; 
Like swallow's tail, in sha|ie and hue, 
Fluttered the streamer glossy blue. 
Where, blazon«4l sable, as txjfore. 
The towering falcon seemed to soar. 
Last, twenty ycjnien, two and two. 
In hosen Uai:k, and jerkins blue. 
With falcons broiijcrwl on each breast. 
Attended on their lord's U'hest : 
Each, chosen for an archer goo<l. 
Knew hunting-craft by lake or wood ; 
Each one a six-foot bow couM Ix-nd, 
And far a cloth-yard shaft could wMid ; 
Each held a b«ar-spe!ir tfiugh and strong. 
And at their Ijelts their quivers rung. 
Their dusty palfreys and array 
Showed they had marched a weary way. 

Silt Waltik Scott. 



ALNWICK CASTLE. 



HoMKof the I'eny's high-born race. 

Home of their Ijcaiitifiil an<l brave. 
Alike their bii-tli anil burial jilace, 

Their cradle and their grave I 
Htill sternly o'er the castb- gate 
Their hoiisi;'s Lion stands in state. 

As ill his prouil depailed hours ; 
Anil warriors frown in stone on high. 
And feudal banners " llout the sky" 

Above hui princely towers. 

A gentle hill its side inclines. 

Lovely in England's fadeless green. 
To meet the quiet stream which winds 

Through this romantic scene 
As silently and sweetly still 
As when, at evening, on that hill, 

While summer's wind blew soft and low, 
.Seated by gallant Hotspur's side. 
His Katherine wxs a happy bride, 

A thousand years ago. 

1 wandered through the lofty halls 

Troil by the Percys of old fame. 
And ti-iccd ujsjii the chajs-'l walls 

iCach high, heroic name, 
From him who once his standard set 
Where now, o'er rnos(|Ue and minaret, 

(ililter the Sultan's crescent mooim, 
To him who, when a younger son, 
Fought for King George at Lexington, 

A major of dragoous. 

Tluit last half-stanza, — it has ilasliwl 

From my warm lip the sparkling cup ; 
The light that o'er my eyelx;aiii Hashed, 

The jiower tliat bore my spirit up 
Aliove this Ijank-nott; world, is gone ; 
And Alnwick 's but a market town, 
And this, ahu) I its market day. 
And b<Kihts and borderei-s throng the way ; 
Oxen and bleating laml»s in lots, 
Xorlhumbrian Iwoi-s ami phiided .Scots, 

Men in the coal and cattle line ; 
From Teviot's l)ard and hero lanil. 
From royal IJerwick's Ijeacli of sand. 
From Wixjller, Mor|Hfth, Hexham, and 

Newcastle-ujion-Tyuc. 

These are not the romantic times 
So Is-autiful in S|)eii8<.'r's rhymes, 

.So ilazzling to tin; dreaming twy ; 
Ours are the days of fact, not fable, 
Of knights, but not of the round table. 

Of Bailie .Jarvie, not I^)b Hoy ; 
'Tis what "Our President," Mouroii, 



G78 



UESCUU'TIVE I'OEMS. 



Il;is oiilUtd " llio iMM 111" jjoiul IVi'linj; ; " 
Till' lii^liliuuK'i', till' liittcivst I'oi' 
'I'o luoiloni liuvs, lins toll tlii'ir blow, 
Coiisoiitinl to lu> tiixoil, mill voto, 
Ami imt oil ]>iintiilooiis ami oosit, 

Ami li-avo otV i'allli'-t.traliii}; : 
l.oixl Slalloiil mini's I'or I'oal aiiil salt, 
Till' Oiiki' ol' Noi'l'olk ili'als in malt, 

Till' Uonj;las in ivil lu'iriiigs ; 
Ami iioMi' uamo ami I'liltnivil laml, 
I'alaoo, ami (laik, ami vassal baml, 
Aiv iiowi'i'U'ss til till' iioti's of liaml 

or UotlisohiUl or tin- Ivarings. 

Tho a)ti> of luirfpuiiiiis. saiil Burko, 
lias oomo : to-ilay tho tniKinoil 'riiik 
(Sloop, Kiolianl oftlio lion lioart ! 
Sloop on, nor t'lvin your ooivmoiit.s starts 

Is Kiij-laml's frioiul aiul fast ally ; 
Tho Mosloni tiiimplos on tho CSivok, 

Ami on tho I'lvss ami altarslono, 

Ami ChristonJom looks tamoly on. 
And horn's tho Christian imiiilon sliriok, 

Ami soos tho Cliristian I'athor ilio ; 
Ami not a s;iliiv-lilo\v is givon 
Kor tlivooo ami tamo, fur faith ami hoavon, 

By EniiijHi's omvon chivalry. 

You 'U ask if yot tho Pon'V livoa 

In tho arnu'il piMiip of fomlal state. 
Tho pivsont ivpivsontativos 

t^f Hotspur ami his "gt'ntlo Kato," 
Aiv soino half-ilo/.on sorviiii;-nion 
In tho ilrab oojit of William roiiii ; 

.\ ohaniK'rniaiil, whoso lip ami oyo, 
Ami ohook, ami hiMwn hair, bright and ouiling, 

Spoko iirtt mil's aristooraoy ; 
.■\iul Olio, half giMOiii, half soiiosohal, 
\\'lio bowoil 1110 tliiviigli oourt. Iwwor, ami hall. 
From donjon koop to tunvt wall, 

For ton-aiid-sixpoueo storliiig. 

I'lTI-URUBNB IIALLBCK. 



No'or saw I, novor folt, a oalin so doop ! 
Tho rivor glidotli at his own swoot will ; 
Doar lioil ! tlio vory honsos soom ttsloop ; 
And all that mighty lioart is lying still ! 

Wll I.IAM WOKDSWOKTII- 



SONNET. 

COUHOSBD UPON WIISTUINSTGK 8R1DGB. LONDON. iSOtt. 

F.-ikUTH has not anything to show inoro fair ; 
OiiU would ho Ih' of sonl who ooiild [wss by 
A sight so touohing in its majosty : 
This oity now doth, liko a gsunioiit, woar 
Tho Ix'anty of tho nioriiiiig ; siloiit, Kuf, 
Ships, towoi-s, ilonu>s, thoativs, and toniplos lio 
(^IH'n unto tho tiolds, and to tho sky. 
All bright and glittering in tho sinokoloss air. 
Novor did sun iiioix" iH'antifnlly stwp 
In his first splondor vallov, iwk, or hill ; 



In tho valloy of tho I'ognitz, wlioiv aoi'oss broad 

nioadow-laiids 
Uiso thobluo Frsrnooiiian monntains, Nniviiiborg, 

tho aneiont, stands. 

tjtiaint old town of toil and traHio, unaint old 

town of art ami song, 
Momorios haunt thy pointod gables like tho rooks 

that Riund thorn throng ; 

Meniorios of the Middle Ages, whon the oni- 

poiMi's rough and bold 
Had tlioir dwellings in thy eastlo, time-dofyiiig, 

couturios ohl ; 

And thy bnivo and thrifty burghoi's Kiastod, in 

their nnoonth rhyme. 
That their groat, imporialoity .stretched its hand 

to every clime. 

In the court -yai\l of the castle, IhhiihI with many 

an iivn Ivunl, 
Stands the mighty linden planted by Qiioon 

Ciuiignnde's hand ; 

On the sipiaiv, the oriel window, where in old 
lieivic days 

Silt the poet Molchior, singing Kaiser Maximil- 
ian's praise. 

Everywhere I see anniml me rise tho wondrous 
world of art ; 

Fouutains wivught with richest sculpture stand- 
ing in the conunoii mart ; 

And alnive cathedral doorways siiints and bishops 

carved in stone, 
By a former age commissioned as apostles to our 

own. 

In tlie ehureli of sjiiutcd Sebold slecj^s enshrined 

his holy dust. 
And in bivnze the Twelve Apostles guaixl from 

age to age their trust ; 

111 the chnivlr of sainted Lawrence stiuids a pi.'c 

of scnlptiuv nuv. 
Like the foamy sheaf of fountains, rising thlxmgli 

the glinted air. 



UE8C'Un»T]VE POEMS. 



079 



iluro, when art wait Ktill rcligiuii, with a xiniitlo 

revuri'iit heart, 
Lived and hilicund AlbriM.'ht liiiriT, thi: Kviin- 

gidiHt of Art ; 

iU'iicc in Mih^niw ami in mrrow, tuiling Htill with 

huHy hand, 
Like an enii){runt lie wandered, necking fur the 

lictter I>and. 

Kmigravil \» the inHcription on the tonilmt<jne 

where he lieH, 
Dead lie in not — but departed — for the artut 

never dicN : 

Fairer HccniH the ancient city, and the Hunxliino 

HeeniH more fair 
That he once ban trod it« pavement, that he once 

hoK breathed itit air. 

Through tliew; strectH ho broad and ittntcly, tlieno 

olmcure anil dinnial lancx. 
Walked of yore the Mantcntingem, chanting ruilc 

[loetie HtruinM ; 

From remote and aunleiM Huburbo came they to 

the friendly guild, 
Building neHtH in Fame'* great temple, ait in 

iiI>outii the HWallowH build. 

A-t the weaver plied the Hhuttle, wove he too the 

myatic rhyme, 
And the itmith his iron nieaitures hammered tii 

the anvil'H chime, 

Thanking CuA, whone iKiundleHH wiitdom maken 

the llowem of [K»eHy blrxjin 
In the forge'rt duiit and cindeni, in the tiiwueii of 

the Itjom. 

Here Hanii SachH, the cobbler-poet, laureate of 

the gentle craft, 
Winciit of the Twelve Wiitc Hantent, in huge 

folios aang and laughed. 

Itut IiIh houw: iit now an alehoiuie, with a nicely 

fiaiided iloor. 
And a garland in the window, and hin face above 

the door, 

Tainted by Home humble artixt, aa in Adam 

I'UHchnian'it Kong, 
An the old man gray and dovelike, with hia 

great Ijeard whit4; ami long. 

And at night the Hwart me<:hanic cornea to drown 

hi* cark and care. 
Quaffing ale from [M;wter tankarda, in the mait- 

ter'ii antiijue chair. 



Vaniahed '\» the ancient aplcndor, and before my 

dreamy eye 
Wave thcM; jningling aliapea and flgurcM, like a 

faded taiMixtry. 

Not thy Councilx, not thy KaitterM, win for tluje 

the worM'M reganl, 
Uut thy |iainter, Albrecht l.)Urer, and liana 8aclu, 

thy cobbler-bard. 

Thua, Nuremberg, a wanderer from a region 

far away, 
Aa he pa<:cd thy Htreeta ami court-yarda, aang in 

thought Ilia carcleHH lay ; 

tiathering from the [lavcment'a crevice, a« a 

(lowerel of the (toil, 
The nobility of labor, — the long pedigree of toil. 

llENkV WAWIWORTH 1.0NCPSLL0W. 



ITALY. 



PROM " rTALV." 



Italy, how beautiful thou art ! 
Yet 1 could weep, — for thou art lying, alaa I 
l/ow in the dual ; and they who come admire 

tliee 
At we admire the lx;autiful in death. 
'I'liine waH a dangerous gilt, the gift of Ijcauty. 
Would thou liaddt Ichii, or wert iui once thou waat, 
Innpiring awe in thow; who now enslave thee ! 
But why ilespair ? Twice hast thou lived alrea^iy, 
Twice shone among the nations of the worhl, 
As the sun shines among the less<;r lights 
Of heaven ; and slialt again. The hour shall 

come. 
When they who think to bind the ethereal spirit, 
Who, like the eagle cowering o'er his prey. 
Watch with i|uii:k eye, and strike and strike again 
If but a sinew vibrat<:, shall confess 
Their wisdom folly. 

SAMUEL Kocaiu. 



VENICE. 



PKOM "ITALV." 



TllKUE is a glorious f.'ity in the Sea. 
The .Sea is in the broad, the naiTow streets, 
?<bbing and (lowing ; and the siilt sea-weed 
Clings to the marble of her |<alaces. 
No traiik of men, no footsteps to and fro, 
Ijcad to her gatejt. The ]iath lies o'er the Sea, 
Invisible ; and from the lanil we went, 
As to a floating City, — steering in. 
And gliding up her streets as in a dream, 
So sniwjthly, silently, — by many a dome 



680 



DESCRIPTIVE POEMS. 



Mos(jxic-likf, and many a stately iwrtico, 

Till' 8tatui's ranged alonj; an iizui-e sky ; 

By many a pile in more than Kasteru splendor, 

or old the residence of merchant kings ; 

The fronts of some, though Time had shattered 

them, 
Still glowing with the richest hncs of art, 
As tliough tlie wealth within them had run o'er. 

A few in fear, 
Flying away from him whose boast it was 
That the gr.iss grew not where his horse had 

tixxi. 
Gave birth to Venice. Like the waterfowl. 
They built their nests among the ocean waves ; 
And wheiv the s;uids were shifting, as the wind 
Blew frem the north, the south ; where they that 

came 
Had to make sure the giwuud they stood upon, 
Kose, like an exhalation, from the dtvp, 
A vast Metropolis, with glittering spires, 
With theatres, Iwsilicas adorned ; 
.\ scene of light and glory, a dominion. 
That has endui-ed the longest among men. 

And whence the talisman by which she rose 
Towering / 'Twas found there iu the Uure'u sea. 
Want led to Knterprise ; and, far or near. 
Who nu't not the Venetian ? — now in Cairei ; 
Ere yet the I'alifa canu', listening to hear 
Its Wlls appivachiug fivm the Ked Sea coast : 
Now on the Knxine, on the Sea of .\zoph. 
In convei-se with the Tei'sian. with the Kuss, 
The Tartar ; on his lowly deck receiving 
Pearls from the gulf of Ormns, gems from H;igilftd, 
Eyes brighter yet, that shed the light of love 
From Oeorgia. fi-om Oireassia. Wandering nnmd, 
When in the rich baza;ir he Siiw. displayed, 
Treasures fivui unknown clinu's, away he went, 
.■\nd. travelling slowly upward, drew erelong 
Fuuu the well-head supplying all below ; 
Making the Imperial City of the East 
Herself his tributary. 

Thus did Venice rise. 
Thus flourish, till the unwelcome tidings came. 
That in the Tagus had arrived a licet 
Fivm India, from the region of the Sun, 
Fnigraut with spices, — that a way was found, 
A cliauuel oin-ned. and the golden stream 
Turned to enrich another. Then she felt 
Her strength deiwrtiug, and at last she tell, 
Fell in an instant, blotted out and ra/ed ; 
She who had stooil yet loug»'r than tin longest 
Of the Four Kingiloms, — who, as in an .Vrk, 
Had tloatinl down amid a thous;>nd wrecks. 
Uninjurenl. from the Old World to the Xew. 

SAMCKl. KoGEKS. 



ROME. 



FROM " ITALY.' 



I .VM in Rome ! Oft as the morning ray 
Visits these eyes, waking at once I cry, 
Whence this excess of joy ! What has befallen 

me? 
And from within a thrilling voice replies. 
Thou art in Koine ! A thous;ind busy thoughts 
Kush ou my mind, a thousand images ; 
And I spring up as girt to run a race ! 

Thou art in Home ! the City that so long 
licigiu'd absolute, the mistress of the world ; 
The mighty vision that the prophets saw. 
And trembled ; that from nothing, from the 

least. 
The lowliest village (what b\it here aud there 
A reed-roofed cabin by a river-si'le ') 
Grew into everything ; and, year by year. 
Patiently, fearlessly working her way 
O'er brook and field, o'er continent and sea, 
Not like the merchant with his merchandise. 
Or traveller with stalf and scrip exploring, 
But hand to hand and foot to foot through hosts, 
Through nations numberless in battle array. 
Each Iwhind each, each, when the other fell. 
Up and iu arms, at length subdued them .ill. 

SAUUEL ROGERS. 



COLISEUM BY MOONLIGHT. 

FROM *' MANFRED." ACT MI. SC. 4. 

The stars are fortli, the moon above the tops 
Of the snow-shining mountains. — Beautiful ! 
i 1 linger yet with Nature-, for the night 
' Hath been to me a more familiar face 
Than that of man ; and in her starry shade 
Of ilim aud solitary loveliness 
I learned the language of another » orld. 
I do remember me, that in my youth. 
When I was wandering, — upon such a night 
I stood within the Coliseum's wall, 
Jlidst the chief ivlies of almighty Koine. 
The trees which grew along the broken arches 
Waved dark iu the blue midnight, and the star? 
Shone tlirenigh the rents of ruin ; from afar 
The watch-dog b;>yed beyond the Tiber ; and 
More- near, from out the Ci«s;u-s' ivilace came 
The owl's long cry, and, interruptedly. 
Of distant sentinels the titful song 
Begun and died upon the gentle wind. 
Some cypivsses beyond the time-worn bre'aci 
ApiH>ared to skirt the horizon, yet they stood 
Within a Iviwshot, — where the Caesars dwelt. 
And dwell the tuneless birvis of night, amidst 



DESCRIl'TIVK POEMS. 



681 



A groVO which SJH-illgS lluoU^ll Irvcllcil l]:lttlc- 

ini'iit!*, 
Ami twiiii's its routs with thd iinpi rliil hciirtlis. 
Ivy lislH'lis the laiin I's [iliirr of growth ; — 
liut thu glmliiilorV liluoily CinMis stniuls, 
A iiolilu wiTck ill niiiioiis pi^rfcctioii, 
Whih' Ciusiir's chiiiiiixTH uiid thu Augustan hulls 
<!r<ivcl oil piirtli ill iiidistiiict dtciiy. — 
Ami thou (liilst shine, thou rolling moon, upon 
All this, iiiiil cast a wiihi and tcnilcr light. 
Which softened down the hoar austerity 
Of rugged ilesolation, and lillcd up. 
As 't were anew, the gaps of centuries, 
Leaving that beautiful which still was so. 
And making that which was not, till thu place 
Hucanie religion, and the heart ran o'er 
With silent woi-ship of the great of olil ! — 
Thu dead, but sceptred sovcruigus, who still rulu 
Our spirits from tlieir uriin. 

LORP BVKUN. 



THE COLISEUM. 

FROM "CHtLUB IIAROI.O." CANTO IV. 

AnciiKH on arches ! ns it were that Romu, 
t'ollecliiig the chief trophies of h(^r line. 
Would build up all lu^r triumphs in one dome, 
Her (.'oli.seuin stands ; the inoonbi'ani.s shine 
As 'twere its natural tinches, for divine 
Should bu the light which streams here, to 

illume 
This long-exiilorud, but still exhan.stless, mine 
Of contemplation ; and the azure gloom 
I or an Italian night, where the deep skies assume 

Ilufs which have words, and speak to yo of 

heaven, 
Floats o'er this va-st and wondrous monument. 
And shadows forth its glory. There is given 
rutotlietliingsof earth, whiidi Time hath bent, 
A spirit's feeling, and wlieri^ he hath leant 
His hand, but broke his scythe, there is a power 
And magic in the mined luttlcment, 
Kor which the palace of the |)reseiit hour 
JIust yield its pump, and wait till ages are its 
dowor. 

And hero the buzz of eager nations ran, 
III murmured pity, or loud-roared applause. 
As man was slaughtered by his follow-inan. 
And wherefore slaughtered ? wherefore, but 

because 
Such were the bloody Circus' genial laws, 
And till' imperial pleasure. — Wherefore not ? 
What matters where we fall to till the maws 
Of worms, — on battle-plains or listeil spot? 
Both arc but theatres where thu chief actors rot. 



I see before ine the (ihuliator lie ; 
He leans upon his hand, — his manly brow 
Consents to death, but con(|uers agony. 
Anil his drooped head sinks gradually low, — 
And through hisside the last drops.ebbingslow 
Kroiii tho red gash, fall heavy, one by one, 
Like the lirst of a thunder-shower ; and now 
Thu arena swims arouml him, — he is gone, 
Ere cea.sed the iiilinman shout which hailed the 
wretch who won. 

He heard it, but he heeded not, — his eyes 
Were with his heart, and that was far away. 
He rei'ked not of the life he lost nor [irize, 
IJut whcri! his rude hut by the Danube lay. 
There were his young barbarians all at |ilay, 
Therc^ was their Dacian mother, — he, their sire, 
liuttrhered to make a Koman holiday ! — 
All this rushed with his blood. — Shall he 

e.vpiro. 
And unavenged 'I Arise, ye Goths, and glut your 

ire I 

But hero, where Murder breathed her bloody 

steam. 
And here, where buzzing nations choked the 

ways. 
And roared ormnrmnreil likeamountain stream 
Dashing or winding as its toiTent strays ; 
Here, where tin; Koman millions' blame or praise 
Was death or life, IIkj playthings of a I'lowd, 
My voice sounds much, —and fall the slar.s' 

faint rays 
On thu arena void, seats crushed, walls bowed, 
And galleries, where my steps seem echoes strange- 
ly loud. 

A ruin, — yet what ruin ! from its moss 
Walls, palaces, half-cities, have been reared ; 
Yi:t oft the enormous skeleton ye pass, 
And marvel whi^n^hesiioil could have appeared. 
Hath it indeed been plundered, or but cleared ? 
Alas ! ih'veloped, opens thu decay, 
When the colo.s.sal fabric's form is nearcd ; 
It will not b(«r the brightness of the dfy. 
Which streams too much on all year.s, man, have 
reft away. 

But when the ri.sing moon begins to climb 
Its topmost arch, and gently jiauses thc'ic ; 
When the stars twinkle through tlic loops of 

time. 
And the low night-breeze waves along the air 
Till' garland-forest, which the gray walls wear, 
Liki^ laurels on the bald Mist f 'lesar's head ; 
When the light shines surunu, but doth not 

glare, — 
Then in this magic circle rai.se the dead ; 
Heroes have trod this spot, — 't is on their d-st 

ye troad. 



682 



DUSlKll-riVK I'OKMS. 



■" Whilo stands tl>orv>lisi'um, Komo shall shviul; [ 
Wlu'ii falls tl»> IVlisomu, K»mo >lii>U lall : 
Ami wlioii K<>m<> fulls — the WoiUl. " Ki\mi 

o>n- own lain! 
'riiKs si«ki' tlio niljfiims o'or this i\uj;Ul,v wall 
In Jvixxu times, which wo aiv «»nt t» oall 
Anoiont : ami thoso thivo mcital lliniirsii(\>still 
Ihi thoir fouutlatioiis. ami uiialtowil all ; 
Kon\ii ami hor Kuiu (visl luAJompt ion's skill, 
riu> WovKl, tho Siu>v<> wiilo vlon — of thiovo.s or 
what yo will. 



THK rANTHKOX. 

KRv^ "CmLOK MAKlU-lX," CANtV IV. 

SlMl'lK, onvt, sovt'tx", awsfoiv, s>il>limo, — 
Slu'iiit> of all stiiiits ami toniplo of all gvnls. 
From .lov<i to.losus, — sjwiwl and Most by timo; 
l.ookiii,i; tniihiuillity. whilo falls or ihhIs 
Arvh, omniiv, iv>oli thing ixniml tluH<, aiul man 

jxUhIs 
His way thixnigh thorns to ashos, — glorious 

iU>im> ! 
Shalt thou not last ? Timo's scythe ami tyrants' 

>\h1s 
Shivor iijMU thw, — sjuiotuary and homo 
Of art and inoty, — I^tnt}tolMl I — prido of Kouio ! 

RoUo of noWor da^x-s and noWost arts ! 
IVvsiHnUM yot {wrl'wt, with thy oiivlo sjnvads 
A holinoss ainH\iliM_< to all hoarts. 
To art a minloJ ; and to him who tivads 
Komo for tho sako of ajp>s, Olory sIuhIs 
Hor light thrvnigh thy Mile ajn-rtniv : to thoso 
Who worsliii^ hort' aro altars for thoir Ivads : 
And thoy w ho f«>l lor g<-nius may iy(hv>o 
Thoir oyos on honortsl fonns, wluiso Imsts arvuud 
tlioin oJos«. 

l.OKD BYRO,N. 



A IWV IN THK rAMKU.l IHMJIA, 

Tiioioii tho hills aiv i\>M and snowy, 
And tho wind drives ohill to-»lay. 

My heart gvx-s Iviek to a spring-time, 
Kar, far in the jvist away. 

And I !!o« » qnaint old rity, 

Wtvary and worn and hivwn, 
Whorv the spring and tho l>ii\ls aro so o«rly, 

And tho siui iu such light goos down. 

1 roniombor that old-time villa 
Where our attornivns went by, 

Whero tho suns of Maivh tlusliwl w;>rmly. 
And spring w»s in wxrth and sky. 



Out of the mouldering oily, — 
Movildering, old, and jimy, — 

Wo siK>d, with a lighlsonu> hrart-thrill, 
For a sunny, gl.idsonu' day, — 

For a ivvol of tH'sh spring wwluiv. 
For a r!Ut> mid sprinjting lUnvers, 

For a vision v>f plashing lountains, 
0( Wilis and blossoming liowors. 

Thetv weiv violet Kmks in tho shadows. 

\'iolets white and blue ; 
And a world of brijjht anemones. 

That over the termee givw, — 

KUie and or!ing<< and purple, 

Kosy and yellow and white, 
Kising in niinlvw bnbhle.s. 

Streaking tho lawns with light- 

And down fivm the old stoi\e-pine trees, 

Thivio far-otf islands of air. 
The bii\ls a>v llinging the tidings 

l^f a joyful ivvel up theiv. 

And now for the gmnd old fountaius, 

Tvvssinj; their silvery spray ; 
Those fountains, so unaint and so many. 

That art lo<ii>iiig ami singing all day : 

Thiwt> fountaius of stnuigo weii\l senlpluiv. 
With liohensand tni^ss o'orgr\>wn, — 

Aro they marble giwning in mivss-wivaths. 
Or mi>ss-wi\Mths whitening to stone ! 

Down many a wild, dim jvathway 
Wo ramble fivin morning till nixm ; 

Wo ling<-r. unherHling tho hours. 
Till oveniug iviues all tiKi soon. 

And fivin out the ilex alleys, 

Whert- lengthening shadows play. 

We Uvk on the diwuny l."amj>;igua, 
.\11 gUnving with »<tting day, — 

All melting in Iwiids of purple. 
In swathings and foldings of gvild. 

In riblvns of ajure and lilae. 
Like a primvly Kuiner unrvtlled. 

And the stmike of ivu-h distant cottage. 
Ami tho tlash of eaeh villa white, 

Shines out with an oi\>l glimnu>r, 
Uke gems in a casket of light. 

And the dome of old St. Totor's 
With a str!ing«< n-anshuviu"e glows, 

like a mighty bubble of ameth\-st 
FU\«ting in waves of r\>se. 



DESCBIPTIVB POEMS. 



683 



In u traiico of dreamy vttguviii'Hii, 
We, naiinn ami yi'ur'iiiii|{, Ih^IiuIiI 

TIml city iM'tivM liy tliu |iio|ili>'t, 
WlioM) wulU were trttii8|»arerit gold. 

Ami, dro|)|iiii){ ull nolcmii uiid Klowly, 

'I'd llilllow ilic Hol'ti'llillg h|H:ll, 
There I'allit on the dying twilight 

Thct Ave Mnriii Ml. 

With u iiiiiurnrul, iiiutlierly HoftiieiHi, 

With a wi-inl mid weiiry i:ur«, 
Thiit ntniiige niid iiN<:ii'iil i.ity 

.SeeiiiH culling the nutionH to prayer. 

AikI the wordH that of old the angel 
To the mother of .leHim brought 

Hiw; like u new evangel, 
To huUow the trance of our thought. 

With the itmoko of the evening inecmtfj 
Our thoughtK are uw.'oniling then 

To Mary, the mother of .lesuii, 
To JcHUH, the .Mnxter of M.en. 

city of prophetH and niartynt ! 

O HhrineH of the Huinte^l deiwl ! 
When, when iihall the living day-Hpring 

Once more on your t'lwers be Mpreud 'I 

When He who in meek ami lowly 

Sliull rule in those lordly halU, 
Ami Hhall Htand and feed on a iihepherd 

The llwk which hiii mercy callit, — 

0, thiMi to thow! nolile <.'hnri.'hcii, 

To picture and »lutuc ami gem, 
To the pageant of iwilenin woiiihip, 

.Shall the meaning come back again. 

And thU Btrango and ancient city. 
In that reign of Iuh truth and love, 

Shall 6e wlut it nroiui in the twilight, 
The type of that City alxive. 

llAhKIUT UeOCHER STOWf!. 



A VIEW 



ACmWS THK 
CAMI'AONA. 



ROMAN 



Ovp.ii the dumb cani|>iigna-Hca, 

Out in the olfing through miHt and rain, 
St. I'et"'r'» '.'hnrch heavex Hilently 

Like a mighty Khip in |iain. 

Facing the t«mp<»t with ati-uggle and atrain. 

Motionleaa waifii of ruine<l t<iwerH, 
.Souudlewt breakerii of dewilate land ! 



The Mullen Kurf of th« mlitt dcvoum 
That mountain-range ujion either hand, 
VmU-m uw/iy Ironi itn outline grand. 

And over the dumb campagna-Heu 

Where the nhip of the Church heaven on to 
wr(!ck. 

Alone and HJlent ux Ood muxt Ix: 
The 'hrinl wulkn ! — Ay, hut Pctcr'n nei.k 
Ix Htilf U> turn on the lounilering dcilc. 

I'cter, Pct<:r, if xuch Ixj thy mime, 

Now leave the xliip for another Ut »U:i:r, 

And proving thy lailli evermore the itame 
Come forth, tread out through tlui dark and 

drear, 
Since He who walkxon the ma. ix here ' 

I'eter, I'eter ! — lie iloex not Hpi:ak, — 
He in not ax nmh ax in old Calilc;. 

Safer u xhiji, though it toxn and leak, 
Than a reeling loot on a rolling nea ! 
— And he 'x got to Ix; round in the girth, 
tbinkx he. 

I'ct«r, Peter ! — he doca not xtir, — 
llix netx are heavy with silver fixh : 

He reckons bin gaiiix, and ix keen to infer, 
"The broil on the xhoie, if the J>jrd xhouhl 

wbih, — 
Hut the Hturgeon gocx to the Cacxar'H diiih." 

I'et<;r, Pet/:r, tliou fisher of men, 

Fixher of fixh wouldxt thou live inxtcad, — 

Haggling for \ii:ni-M with the other Ten, 
Cheating the market at xo much a hea<l, 
Oriping the bag of the trait'jr dead f 

At the tri|)le crow of the Gallic c(K;k 
Thou wcep'xt not, thou, though thine eyex !« 
<hi/.(:d : 

What bird comeM next in the iA:m\tii»t xhock ? 
Vultuicx ! See, — ax when Komulux gazed. 
To inaugurate Itonie for a world ama/.e<l ! 

ElJZAIlKTH llAKkll'I'f UUOWNINC. 



NAPLES. 



PROM "ITALV." 



Thih region, surely, ix not of the earth. 
Wax it not dropt from heaven ? Not a grove. 
Citron or pine or CJ«lar, not a grot 
.Sea-woni anil mantled with the gadding vine. 
Hut breathen enchantment. Not a cliffbut flingH 
On the clear wave B<jnie image of delight, 
.Some cabin-roof glowing with crimxon llowerx. 
Some ruincl t<;ni|ile or fallen monument, 



('iS4 



nr.scKii'rivK roicMs, 



To iiiuso on as the Iwrk is gliiiing liy, 

Ami 111' it mii\t> to muse tlit'iv, iiiiiu' to gliilp, 

Kioni ilayluoak, when the uunnitiiiii iialcs liis liiv 

Yi'l iiioiv luul moiv, mill from the iiioimtain-top. 

Till tlu'ii iiivisiliU', n siuoUo nsooiuls, 

Soli'iiiii ami slow, as oi'st IVoiu Aiaval, 

WIkmi 111', llio ratriaivli, wlio oscapwl the Flood, 

Was with his liousi'lioKl saiTilioiiij; thoiv, — 

1'" 10111 ihvyliivaU lo that hour, Iho last ami host, 

Whi'ii, oiu' liy one, tho li>luiig-lu>als conic foith, 

Kacli wilh its gliiiinu'riiij; laiili'iu at Iho jnow, 

Ami, wlioii the iii'ts all' lliiowii, the I'voiiiiii; hyimi 

Steals o'or llu> trciuliliug wntfi-s. 

Kvoiywhi'ie 

l'"alih' ami Tnith have >heil, in rivalry, 

Kaeh her peeuliar iiillueiiee. Kahle eaiiie, 

Ami laiiiihed ami suiii;, arrayiiij; Truth in llowei-s. 

Like a young ehilil her giiimhini. I'ahle eaiiie ; 

Karth, sea, ami sky relleetinjj, as she Hew, 

A thousjiml, thousaiitl eoloi-s not their own; 

Aiiil at her hiihliiii;, lo ! a dark ileseeiit 

To Tartarus, aiul those tliriee hap)iy liehls. 

Those liehis with other |>nre ami jiurplo light 

Kver invested, soonos by him deserihed 

\Vlio lioiv was wont to wander and reeord 

Wliat they revealed, mid on the western ^llOlv 

Sleeps in a silent giiive, o'orlooking tlieo, 

Helovod I'artheuope. 

Yet hero, nielhiuks. 

Truth wants no ornanient, in her own shape 

Killing Iho mind by turns with awe and love, 

Hy tnrns imlining lo wild oestasy 

And solwivst medilatioii. 

Samuhl Rogers 



nuirriNO. 

nRIy soul to-day 

Is far away, 
Silililig the Vosnvian Riy ; 

My wiugi^d Kwt, 

A biixl alloat. 
Swims iMund tlie purple peaks ivmote 

Kound purple peaks 

It sails, and seeks 
Blue inlets and I heir crystal creeks, 

Wheiv high iwks throw. 

Through deeps below, 
A duplicated golden glow. 

Far, vague, and dim 

The inouiitiuns swim : 
AVhile, on Vesuvius' misty brim, 

Wilh outstivlchod hands. 

The giiiy smoke stands 
O'orlooking the volcanic lands. 



Hero Isehift smiles 

O'er liipiid miles ; 
.\iid yonder, bluest ot the isles, 

t'ahu I'apri waits. 

Her sapphire gates 
Ueguiling lo her bright estates. 

1 heed not, it" 

iMy riiipling skill' 
Float swill or slow IVoiii clilT to clifT; — 

With dreainl'ul eyes 

My spirit lies 
I'lidcr till' walls of Pariulise. 

Under the walls 

Where swells and falls 
The Hay's deep breast at intervals, 

At peace 1 lie, 

Hlowii softly by, 
.\ cloud upon this Ihiiiid sky. 

The day, so mild. 

Is Heaven's own child. 
With F.aitli and Ocean ivoonciled ; — 

The aii-s 1 feel 

Around me steal 
.\re murmuriug to the imirmuriug keel. 

Over the rail 

My hand 1 trail 
Within the shadow of the s;ul ; 

.\ joy intense. 

The cooling sense 
Glides down my drowsy indolence. 

Wilh dreamful eyes 

My spirit lies 
Wheiv Summer sings and never dies, — 

iVerveilod wilh vines, 

She glows and shines 
Among her future oil and wines. 

TTer children, hid 

The clill's amid. 
Arc g.imbolliug wilh the gambolling kid ; 

t1r down the walls. 

With tipsy calls, 
Uiugh on the rocks like waterfalls. 

The fislier's child, 

With tivsses wild, 
I'uto the smooth, bright sand beguiled, 

With glowing lips 

Sings as she skips. 
Or gjizes at the far-olf ships. 

Von deep Iwik goes 
Wlieiv Ti-allic blowis. 
From lands of sun to lands of snows ; — 



-^'- 



11 



Ti***'' 





THK I'.ROOKI.YN i!Kii)(;r;. 

A (jr.initc- cliff on < ithcr shore: 

A hij;liway poisctl in air; 
Mjovi-, the wheels of traffic roar; 

IJclovv, the fleets sail fair; — 
And in and out, forever more, 
The surfjint; tides of ocean pour, 
And past the lowers the wliite ^ulls soar, 

And winds tlic sea-clouds bear. 

O peerless this majestic street. 

This road that leaps the brine ! 
''pon its heiglith twin cities meet, 
And throng its grand incline, — 
To east, to west, with swiftest feet, 
rhoujjh ice may crash and l>iliows beat, 
riiou(;h blinding fogs the wave may greet 
Or ^,'olden summer shine. 

Sail up the B.iy with morning's bearii. 

Or rocky Hellgatc by, — 
Its columns rise, its cables gleam, 

Great tents athwart the sky 1 



And loiK; ii looms, august, supreme. 
When, with the splendor of a dream, 
Its blazing cressets gild the stream 
Till evening shadows fly 

liy Nile stand piniiil llie pyramids, 

Hut they were for the dead ; 
The .iwful gloom that joy forbids. 

The mourners' silent tread, 
The crypt, the coffin's stony lids, - 
Sad as a soul the maze that thrids 
Of dark Amcnti, ere it rids 

Its way of judgment dread. 

This glorious arch, these climbing towers. 

Are all for life and cheer! 
Part of the New World's nobler doaers; 

Hint of millennial year 
That comes apace, though evil lowers,-- 
Wlicn loftier aims and larger powers 
Will mould and deck this earth of ours. 

And heaven at length bring near! 

Unmoved its cliffs shall crown the shore; 

Its arch the chasm dare; 
Its network hang the blue before, 

As gossamer in air; 
While in and out, forever more, 
The surging tides of ocean pour. 
And past its towers the white gulla soar 

And winds the sea-clouds bear! 

ErjNA Dka.v Proctor 




Athwart the sky a lowly sigh 

From west to east the sweet wind cairied ; 
The sun stood still on I'rinirose Hill; 

His light in all the city tarried : 
The clouds on viewless columns Ijloorned 
Like smoulderintr lilies unconsumed. 



"O sweetheart, see ! how shadowy, 
Of some occult magician's rearing, 

Or swung in space of heaven's grace 
Dissolving, dimly reappearing, 

Afloat upon ethereal tides 

St. Paul's above the city rides ! " 

A rumor broke through the thin smoke 
Enwreathing abbey, tower, and palace. 

The parks, the squares, the thoroughfares. 
The million-peopled lanes and alleys, 

An ever-muttering prisoned storm, 

The heart of London beatintr warm. 



John Davi:ison. 



DESCRIPTIVE POEMS. 



685 



This happier one, 
Its course is niii 
From lands of snow to lands of suu. 

no happy ship, 

To rise anil dip. 
With the blue crystal at your lip ! 

happy crfw, 

My heart with you 
Sails, and saib, and sings anew ! 

No more, no more 

The worldly shore 
Upbraids me witli its loud uproar ! 

With dreamful eyes 

My spirit lies 
Under the walls of Paradise ! 

In lofty lines, 

Mid palms and pines, 
And olives, aloes, elms, and vines, 

Sorrento swings 

On sunset wings, 
Where Tasso's spirit soars and sings.* 

Thomas buchana.n read. 



WEEHAWKEN AND THE NEW YORK 
BAY. 

FROM " FAN.SV.** 

'Weeiiawke.n ! In thy mountain scenery yet. 

All we adore of Nature in her wild 
And frolic hour of infancy is met ; 

And never has a summer's morning smiled 
Upon a lovelier scene than the full eye 
Of the enthusiast revels on, — when high 

Amid thy forest solitudes he climbs 

O'er crags that proudly tower above the deep, 

And knows that sense of danger which sublimes 
The breathless moment, — when his daring 
step 

Is on the verge of the cliff, and he can hear 

The low dash of the wave with startled car. 

Like the death-music of his coming doom. 
And clings to the green turf with desperate 
force. 

As the heart clings to life ; and when resume 
The currents in his veins their wonted course. 

There lingers a deep feeling, — like the moan 

Of wearied ocean when the storm is gone. 



* The Ust fUnxa was written )tut before the author's death, and 
pubU&hed shortly after in the Ctitciitnati Catiiu, 



In such an hour he turn.s, and on his view 
Ocean and earth and heaven burst before him ; 

Clouds slumbering at his feet, and the clear blue 
Of summer's sky in beauty bending o'er him, — 

The city bright below ; and far away. 

Sparkling in golden light, his own romantic bay- 

Tall spire, and glittering roof, and battlement. 
And banners (loatiug in the sunny air ; 

And white sails o'er the calm blue waters bent. 
Green isle, and circling shore, are blended 
there 

In wild reality. When life is old. 

And many a scene forgot, the heart will hold 

Its memory of this ; nor lives there one 

Whose infant breath was drawn, or boyhood's 
days 

Of happiness were passed beneath that sun. 
That in his manhood's prime can calmly gaze 

Upon that bay, or on that mountain stand. 

Nor feel the prouder of his native land. 

FlTZ-GRtENE HALLECK. 



CALM AND STORM ON LAKE LEMAN. 

FROM "CHILDE HAROLD." CANTO III. 

Clear, placid Leman ! thy contrasted lakf, 
With the wild world I dwelt in, is a thing 
Which warns me, vvith its stillness, to forsake 
Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring. 
This <|uict sail is as a noiseless wing 
To waft me from distraction ; once 1 loved 
Toi-n ocean's roar, but thy soft mumniring 
Sounds sweet as if a sister's voice reproved. 
That I with stem delights should e'er have been 
so moved. 

It is the hush of night, and all between 

Thy margin and the mountains, dusk, yet 

clear. 
Mellowed and mingling, yet distinctly seen. 
Save darkened .Jura, whose capt heights appear 
Precipitously steep ; ami drawing near, 
There breathes a living fragrance from the 

shore. 
Of flowers yet fresh with childhood ; on the ear 
Drops the light diip of the suspended oar, 
Or chirps the grasshopper one good-night carol 

more : 

He is an evening reveller, who makes 
His life an infancy, and sings his fill ; 
At intervals, .some biid from out the brakes 
Starts into voice a moment, then is still. 



686 



riESlMUlTlVK I'OEMS. 



Thow siH'Uis a flontiiig \vhisiK>r on tl»> lull, 
liiit tliut is I'ani-y ; for tlu> stailijjht dows 
All sili'ntly llu-ir toars of Uno instil. 
\V(H'i>inj; tht'uist'lvi-s awiiv, till llu'V iiifusi* 
Ooop into Natmv's liii>i>st the spiiit of lior luuvs, 

Th* sky is chtwgtHl ! — ami suoli n ohtuig« ! 

iiijsht. 
And storm, ami daikwoss, yo aiv woiidivus 

stixnijt, 
Yot lovoly ill your stwiigth, as is Ui« light 
Of a dark t\vo in woiuuu ! Far iiloiijj, 
Kiviu iH'ak to (vak, tlic nittliiig i-nigs aiiiou|; 
Li\>(is llu» live tliundor ! Not fixnit oiu> lone 

oloud. 
But ovory momitaiu now hath fomul a tonijuo, 
Aiiil ,lum answt'i-s, thivugh her misty shivuvl, 
I5ai-k to tlu> joyous Ali>s, xvlio oall to lu<r aloud ! 

And this is in tho iiij;ht : - nuwt jtl^riotis 

nij;ht I 
Thou wort not sont for slumln-r ! lot mo K' 
A sliaivr in thy lioivo and fur vlolight, - 
A portion of tho tom|><-sl and of thw ! 
How tho lit lako shines, a iilnisphorio swi, 
And tho bij; niin oomos dancing to thooartli ! 
And now again t is blaok, — and now, thogloe 
Of tho loud hills shakos with its mountain- 

mirth. 

As if thoy did itgoiw o'or a y>>mig t<artlii)uako's 

liirth. 

Lord Bvro.>i. 

THE lUKKIOAXE. 

tiORP of the winds ! 1 feel thee nigh, 
1 know thy l>ivatli in tho burniug sky ! 
Aiiil 1 wait, with a thrill in every vein. 
For the i-omiug of the hurrioano ! 

And lo ! on tho wing of the lustvy gsiles, 
Throngh the lKnuullos.s aivh of heaven he stiils. 
Silent and slow, and terriWy strvuig. 
The mighty slnulow is K>rne along, 
lake the dark eternity to vvnie ; 
While the world U'low, disniaytnl and dumb, 
Thivujih the oahn of the thiok hot atmosjjiero 
lAHiks up at its gloomy folds with l\\'»r, 

Thoy darken fiist ; and tho gvddon Idaje 
tM"tho sun is «iue»oln\l in tho lurid ha«'. 
And he son>ls thivugh the shade » funoi-al Kiy- 
A glar<< that is neither night nor day, 
A Kamthat touohes, with hu<>s of death. 
The clouds aK>vo and the earth K'neath. 
To its iMvert glides the silent birvl. 
While the hurricane's distant voiiv is luvu\l 
I'pliftoil among the mountains ivund. 
And the foivsts hoar and ajiswer the sound. 



He is eomn ! ho is ooiiw ! do ye not beho\d 
His ain|i1e wlvs on tho wind nnndled •' 
liiaiit of air ! we bill thee hail I — 
How his gray >kirts tov; in the whirling gale ; 
llow his luigi' and wrilliing arms arv> Ivnt 
1 To clasp the rone of tho lirniament, 
': And fold at length, in their dark embrace, 
Frv>in mountain to mountain the visible s|>iico ! 

I Parker, — still darker I the whirlwinds liear 
The dust of the plains to tho middle air ; 
And hark to the crashing, long and loud, 

I Of tho chariot of OihI in tho thundcr-clo\id I 
You may ti-ace its jvitli by the Hashes that start 
Fivm the r:\pid wheels whoiv'er they dart. 
As the liiv-lH>lts leap lo tho world 1h>1ow, 
And IUhhI the skies with a lurid glow. 

I What iwir is that '— 't is tho rain that breaks 
In torivnts away fivm the airy lakes. 
Heavily ixnutHl on tho shuddering gi\>uud, 
And sliitlding » nanioloss horror ivund. 
All! well-known woods, and mountains, and skies. 
With tho very clouds ! — ye ar»> lost to my eyi>s. 
I se»>k ye vainly, and see in your place 

1 The shadowy toinpesi that swoojvs thivugh sjxu'O, 
A whirling wean that fdls tho wall 

, Of tho crystal heaven, ami bnrios all. 
And 1, cut olf fivm the world, ivmain 

I Alouti with the terrible hurricaiitt. 

I W'lLLlAU Cl'LLRN URVANV 



THE nK.SEKTED Yll.l.AOE. 

SwKKT Auburn ! loveliest villag»> of the plain,\ 

Wheiv health and plenty clu>en\l the laboring 

sxciiin, 
Wher<> smiling spring its earliest visit jviid, 
I Ami jvuting summers lingx-ring bUvnis ilolayeil. 
I IVar lovely Ivwers of innocence and ejxso, 
. Seats of n>y youth, «hon every sivrt could please. 
How often have 1 loitoixnl o'er thy gr«H>n, 
Wheix' humble happiness ondoaitHl each scene ! 
How olV'ii have I jwxiswl on every charm, 
The shelteixsl c^it, the cultivate*! farm. 
The never-failing bivok. tho busy mill. 
The dei-ont cIiuiyIi that topiwl tho neighl<oriug 

hill. 
The hawthorn-bush, with sesits K-neath the 

sliado. 
For tiUking age and whisiH-riiig lowrs made I 
! How oltou have 1 blosse»l tho ivming day, 
i When toil ix'initting lout its turn to pl,-»y. 
And all the villag\> train, from lalwr fiw. 
1.<'»1 up their sjHirts K'uoath the spivading tive. 
While many a ]»stiino ciivlotl in the shade. 
The voung ctmtonding as the old suni"eve<.l ; 



UKSCKli'TIVK I'CJKMS. 



687 



Ami iijiiiiy a ^iitiiliol frolicknl i/i'i- lln'. ^roiiml, 
Ami Mli'igliU III iirt uml ImU of Htr<'ii|{tli went 

ruuriil ; 
Anil atill, iM i!a':li r(f\tir,xlit>\ \t]i:nHun tiriMl, 
Hiirainliii); n|HirU tin; iiiirtlif'iil liiiii>l ilin|jlr<;<l ; 
TIk- <liiri<:lii){ [luir tlint HJiiqily wiii^lit nninwii, 
lly Inilillii^ nut, to tini mkJi other ilowii ; 
Till! HHiiiii iiiixti'iintlirHH of Imh Hiiiiitt'Ml (iu:e, 
Wliili' w-i.Tftt l(iii«lit<;r tlttennl loiiml tlie pliu* ; 
The liiiBlifiil virgili'it HiileluiiK lookn of love, 
The iimtroii'M ({laiiM tliut would ttioM! lookx re- ' 

|irove, — { 

ThoiK! were thy eharrnn, Hweet viUiige ! NlKirtit like i 

tliew, 
With HWeet niieeeKiiioii, tiiu){lit e'en toll l/j [ileiuw! ; 
Tlieiie roiiriil thy Ijowem their elieerful iiiMueiiee 

Hhe'l, 
ThcMC were thy chamu, — but all tbeito cbamiit 

arc lied ! 

Sweet Hiiiiliii); villii;;e, lovelieitt o( the lawn. 
Thy H|iortH are ileil, ami all thy ehurnm with- 
drawn ; 
AniidHt thy Itowem the tyrant'it linnd Ik mum. 
And deiwjlation mtddeiiM nil thy green ; 
One only niiixter i^raHjiH the whole domain, 
And half a tillage ntintH thy HUiiling plain ; 
No more thy gliumy hrook relleitH the iluy, 
lint, choked with wdgeii, workH itx weedy way ; 
Along thy ghulen, a itolilary giieHt, 
The hollow-Hoiinding hittern giiardit itH nent ; ' 
Aniiddt thy desert walks the lapwing flies, , 

And tires their eehwis with unvaried erics. 
>iiink are thy Ixiwcrs in Hha|Kdess ruin all, 
And the long grjois o'ertojw the mouldering wall, 
A ml, tn^mlil i ng, sh ri 11 k i ng from the spoi ler'x hand, 
Kar, far away thy children leave the land. 

Ill fares the land, U) hastf^ning ills n prey, 
Where wisilth aeeiimuhitts and men diijiy : 
I'lineen and lords may llourish, or may fade ; 
A breath ean make them, as a hriuith liaJi made ; 
lint a bold iH'as!intr>', their country's pride, 
When onec destroyed, ean never Ixj sujipliMl. 

A time there wan, ere England's griefs began. 
When every ro'xl of ground maintJiiiied its man ; 
For him light ljilKjrsprea<l her wholeHfjuie st'ire, 
.lust gave what life re<|uired, but gave no more ; 
Ills Ixnt eom[Kinions, innrjeenee and health ; 
And hU best riehes, ignoramxi of wealth. 

liut times aie altered ; tnule's unfeeling train 
I'surp the land and disfioss'rHS the swain ; 
Along the lawn, where scaltereil liamlets rose, 
I'nwieldy wealth and cumbrous [Mmp re|iose, 
And every want to liijcury allii^l, I 

And every jtang that folly |iay« to pride. I 



Thos<; gentle hours that jih iity Uule t'l bloom, 
Thow! calm desires that asked but little r<Jom, 
Tliow: healthful s[H>rtii that graiicl the ptau^ful 

scene, 
Lived in each look, and brightj^ned all the 

green, — 
Thes<!, far departing, vrk a kinder shore. 
And rural mirth and manners are no more. 

Hweet Auburn ! [larent of the blissful hour. 
Thy glades forlorn confess the tyrant's jiower. 
Here, us I take my solitary rounds. 
Amidst thy tangling walks and .-uinrMl ground*, 
And, many a year elu|me<l, return U> view 
Where once the cottage nUiisii, the hawthorn grew, 
ib^menibraniM: wakes, with all her busy train, 
ijwellii at my breast, and tunut the [Hut U) i>ain. 

In all my wanderings round this world of care. 
In all my griefs ■ - and Goil has given my share — 
I still li;i/| hoiKjs my lali.-st hours to crown. 
Amidst these humble Uiwers to lay me down ; 
To husttand out life's tap<rr at the closJ;, 
And kM!p the (lame from wiisting by re|K«<i ; 
1 still lia/l hoiKfs — for pride att<:nds us still — 
Amidst the swains to show my liook-learned skill, 
Around my fire an evening group to draw, 
And tell of all I felt and all I saw ; 
And, ax a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue, 
I'ants to the place from whenw at first she flew, 
I still lia/l hois;s, my long vexations j/ast, 
Here U> return, — and die at home at laat. 

blest retirement I friend t*) life's df^rdine, 
llelreats from care, that never must lie mine, 
How bliMt is he who crowns in sha<les like the«e 
A youth of laVjr with an age of eaw; ; 
Wlio (|uitB a world where utrong temjitations try, 
And, sinia; 't is harl to comlmt, learns to fly ! 
For him no wretches, Ijom to work and w<«p, 
Kxplore the mine, or t';mpt the dangerous dw;p ; 
No surly [Kjrtijr stambi in guilty stall;. 
To spurn imploring famine from the gate : 
Hut on he moves to meet his latt<;r end. 
Angels around tiefrii-nding virtue's friend ; 
.Sinks to the grave with un|)<;rceived decay, 
While resignation gently slojies the way ; 
And, all his pros|i<;ct» brightening to the last. 
His heaven commences ere the world lie pa«t. 

Sweet wan the wjund, when oft, at eveuiiig'H 
clone. 
Up yonder hill the village inunnur rose ; 
TiK'rc, as I |iaiise/l with careless stirjis and slow. 
The mingling not<!S came softeneil from Ixdow ; 
The swain responsive as the milkmaid sung, 
The soljer herd that lowed to meet their young ; 



(>S,S 



DKSCRUTIVE POEMS. 



'riu' noisy givso tluit giiMik'il o'oi' tlio imol, 
Tilt" [iluyfiil chiliiivn just li-t loose from soliool ; 
The wntch-dogs voico tlint Imyi'il tlic whisiieriiig 

wiiul, 
And the Unul lungli that spoke t hi' vacant mind, — 
Tliese all in sweet eonl'usion scnight the slnide, 
Aud lilk'd eaeli pause the iiiglitingak' h;ul made. 
But now the sounds of popuhitiou faih 
No eheerful uuuiuui's Ihietuate in tlie gah', 
No busy steps the grass-grown loot -way tread, 
But all the bloomy Hush of life is lied. 
All but yon wiiiowinl, solitary thing, 
That feebly bends beside the plashy spring ; 
She, wrotehed matron, foreed in age, for bread, 
To strip the brook with niautling erosses spread, 
To piek her wintry fagot from the thoru. 
To seek her nightly shed, aud weep till morn ; 
She only left of all the harmless train. 
The sad historian of the jiensive plain. 

Near yonder eopse, where onee tlu' garden 
smiled. 
And still whei'o many a ganieu-llower grows wild; 
There, where a few torn shrubs the plaee disclose, 
The \'illage preacher's modest mansion rose. 
A mail he was to all the country dear, 
And ])nssing rich with forty pounds a year; 
Remote from towns he ran his godly race, 
Nor e'er had chuuged, iior wished to change, his 

place ; 
Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for power, 
By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour ; 
Far other aims liis heart had learned to prize, 
More bent to niise the wretched than to rise. 
His house was known to all tlie vagrant train. 
He chid their waudcrings, but relieved their pain ; 
The loug-remembeivd beggar was his guest, 
■\Vhose beard deseeudiug swept his aged breast. I 
The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud. 
Claimed kindred there, and had his claims al- 
lowed ; 
The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay, j 

Sate by his tire, and talked the night away ; [ 
Wejit o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done. 
Shouldered his crutch, and showed how fields j 

weix' won. 
Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to 

glow, 
And ipiitc forgot their vices in their woe ; 
Caivless their merits or their faults to scan, 
His pity gave ere charity begjiu. 

Thus to iidievo the wretched was his i>ride, 
Aud e'en his failings leaned to Virtue's side ; 
But in his duty prompt at every call. 
He watched ami wept, he prayed and felt for all ; 
And, as a bird each fond endeariueut tries. 
To tempt its new-Hedged olfspring to the skies. 



He tried each art, reproved each dull delay. 
Allured to brighter worlds, and led tlic way. 

Beside the bed wlicre parting life was laiil, 
And sorrow, guilt, and pain by turns dismayed, 
The reverend chamiiion stood. At his control, 
Uesiiair aud anguish lied the struggliug soul ; 
( 'luufort came down the trcnibling wretch to raise. 
And his last faltering accents whispered [iraise. 

At church, with meek and nnalVected grace. 
His looks adorned the venerable place ; 
Truth from his lips prevailed with ilouble sway. 
And fools, who came to scolV, remained to priiy. 
The service past, around the pious man. 
With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran ; 
K'en childrcu followed with eudi'aring wile. 
And plucked his gown, to share the good man's 

smile. 
His ready smile a parent's warmth expressed. 
Their welfare pleased him, ami their cares dis- 

tivssed ; 
To them his heart, his love, his grid's were given. 
Hut all his .serious thoughts had rest in heaven. 
As some tall dill', that lifts its awful form. 
Swells from llievale,aud midway leaves the storm, 
Though round its breast the rolling clouds are 

s]ii'ead. 
Eternal sunshine settles on its head. 

Beside yon straggling ffiice that skirts the way. 
With blossomeil furze unprofitably gay. 
There, in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule, 
The village master taught his little school ; 
A man severe he was, and stern to view, 
I knew him well, aud I'very truant knew ; 
Well had the boding tremblers learned to tmc& 
The (lay's disasters in his morning face ; 
P\lll well they laugheil with counterfeited glee 
At all his jokes, for many a joke had he ; 
Full well the busy whis]ier circling ixiuud 
Conveyed the ilismal tidings when he frowned ; 
Yet he was kind, or, if severe in aught. 
The love he lunv to learning was in fault. 
The village all declared how much he knew, 
'T was certain he could write, and cipher too ; 
Lauds he could measure, times and tides presage, 
.\nd e'en the story ran that he could gauge ; 
In arguing too, the pai-soii owiieil his skill. 
For, e'en though vampiished, he could argue still. 
While words of learned length ami thuiideriiij^ 

sound 
Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around ; 
And still they gazed, aud still the wonder grew 
That one small head could carry all he knew. 

But past is all his fame. The very spot 
Where many a time he trinniphcd is forgot. — 



DESCRIPTIVE POEMS. 



689 



Near yonder thorn, tliiit lifts its heiiil on liigli, 
Where otico the uign-post cuiiglit the passing eye, 
Ixjw lies tliat house where nut-brown draughts 

inspired, 
Where graylwanl mirth and smiling toil retired. 
Where village stutcsnicn talked with looks pro- 
found. 
Ami news much older than their ale went round. 
Imagination fondly stoops to traee 
The parlor spliMidors of that festive plaei;, — 
The whitewashed wall ; the nicely sanded floor ; 
The varnislied eloek that tiekcd Ijehind the door; 
Till! idlest, contrived a double debt to pay, 
A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day ; 
The pii.tures placed lor ornament and use ; 
The twelve good rules ; the royal game of goose ; 
The hearth, except when winter chilled the day. 
With aspen boughs and flowers and fennel gay ; 
While broken teacups, wLsely kept for show. 
Hanged o'er the chimney, glistened in a row. 

Vain, transitory splendor ! could not all 
lieprieve the tottering mansion from its fall ? 
iJbsinire it sinks, nor shall it more im|iart 
An hour's im|)ortance to the poor man's heart ; 
Thither no more the js'iisant shall repair 
To sweet oblivion of his daily care ; 
\o more the farmer's news, the bai'ber's tale. 
No more the woudnmn's ballad shall |)revail ; 
No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear, 
Relax his pomlerous strength, and lean to hear ; 
The host hiin.self no longer shall be found 
Careful to see the mantling bliss go nnind ; 
Nor the coy maid, half willing to be prest, 
Shall kiss the cup to piLss it to the rest. 

Yes ! let the rich deride, the proud disdain, 
These simple blessings of the lowly train ; 
To me more dear, congenial to my heart, 
One native chanii, than all the gloss of art. 
S|)ontaneous joys, where nature has its play, 
The soul adopts, and owns their first-lxjrn sway ; 
Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind, 
Unenvicd, unmolested, unconlined : 
Kut the long pomp, the midnight masquerade, 
With all the freaks of wanton wealth arrayed, — 
In these, ere trillers half their wish obtain, 
The toiling pleasure sickens into pain ; 
And, c'eu while fashion's brightest arts decoy, 
The heart, distrusting, asks if this lie joy. 

Ye friends to truth, ye statesmen, who survey 
The rich man's joys increase, the [loor's decay, 
'Tis yours to judge, how wide the limits stand 
Between a splendid and a happy land. 
Proud swells the tide with loads of freighted ore. 
And shouting Folly hails them from her shore ; 



Hoards e'en beyond the miser's wish abound, 
And rich men flock from all the world around. 
Yet count our gains. This wealth is but a name 
That leaves our useful products still the aamo. 
Not so the loss. The man of wealth and pride 
Takes up a sjiace that many poor su[ipliid ; 
Space for his lake, his park's extended bounds, 
.Space for his horses, ci|iiipage, and hounds : 
The robe that wraps his limbs in silken sloth 
Has robbed the neighboring lields of half their 

growth ; 
His seat, where solitary sports are seen. 
Indignant spurns the cottage from the green ; 
Around the world each needful product flies, 
For all the luxuries the world supplies : 
While thus the land, adorned for pleasure all. 
In barren splendor feebly waits the fall. 

Aa some fair female unadonied and plain. 
Secure to please while youth confirms her reign. 
Slights every borrowed charm that dress supplies. 
Nor shares with art the triumiih of her eyes, 
But when those channs are past, — for charms 

are frail, — 
When time advances, and when lovers fail. 
She then shines forth, solicitous to bless, 
In all the glaring impotence of dress ; 
Thus fares the land by luxury betrayed, 
In nature's simplest charms at first aiTayed, 
But verging to decline, its sidendors ri.se, 
Its vistas strike, its palaces surprise ; 
While, scourged by famine from the smiling lanJ, 
The mournful peasant leads his humble band ; 
And while he sinks, without one arm to save, 
The country bloonis, — a garden and a grave. 

Where then, ah ! where shall poverty reside, 
To '.scape the pressure of contiguous pride ? 
If to some common's fenceless limits strayed 
He drives his flock to pick the .scanty blade, 
Those fenceless fields the sons of wealth divide, 
And e'en the bare-worn common is denied. 
If to the city sped, — what waits him there ? 
To see profusion that he must not share ; 
To see ten thousand baneful arts combined 
To pamper luxury and thin mankind ; 
To see each joy the sons of pleasure know 
Extorted fiom his fellow-creature's woe. 
Here while the courtier glitters in brocade. 
There the pale artist plies the sickly trade ; 
Here while the proud their long-drawn pomps 

display. 
There the black gibbet glooms beside the way. 
The dome where Pleasure holds her midnight 

reign, 
Here, richly decked, admits the gorgeous train ; 
Tumultuous grandeur crowds the blaiing square. 
The rattling chariots clash, the torches glare. 



690 



DESCUUTIVE I'OK.MS. 



Siiiti seonos like tlioso no tiimblos o'er luiiiov 1 

Sure these iK'Uote oiu> imivoi'Siil joy ! 

Ai-e these thy serious thoughts .'— Ali. timi 

thine eyes 
Wheiv the poor houseU'Ss shivering feniixK' lies. 
She onee, perliajis, in \ilhige (iK'nty hU'st, 
Has wept lit tales of iiiuoeenoe lUstiest ; 
Her nuuiest looks the eottago niig"lit aihnii, 
Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn ; 
Now lost to all ; her IViemls, her virtue lied, 
Near her betniyev's door she lays her head, 
And, pinehed with eold, and shrinking from the 

shower. 
With heavy heart deploivs that luekless hour, 
When idly lirst, ambitions of the town, 
She left her wheel and roK's of eountry brown. 

iV> thine, sweet Auburn, thine, the loveliest 
train, 
Do thy fair tribes partieiimte lier pain ? 
E'en now, perhaps, by eold and hunger led. 
At prouil nu'u's doors they ask a little breail I 

Ah, no ! To distant elimes, a divary scene, 
Where half the convex \vorld intrudes Iwtween, 
Through torrid tmcks with fainting steps they go, 
Wliero wild Allama uuirmui's to their woe. 
Far dilleivnt theiv from all that charmed before. 
The various terrors of that horrid shoiv, — 
Those blazing suns that dart a downwaui ray. 
And fiercely shed intolerable day ; 
Those nnitted woods wheiv bii\ls forget to sing, 
Ihit silent bats in drowsy clusters cling ; 
Those poisonous lields with niuk luxuriance 

crowiunl. 
Where the dark scorpion g-athei's death arouml ; 
Where at each step the stranger fcai-s to wake 
The rattling terroi's of the vengeful snake ; 
Where crouching tigere wait their hapless prey. 
Ami savage men more muixlerous still than they ; 
While oft in whiils the mad tornado Hies, 
Mingling the ravaged landscaj»? with the skies. 
Far ditlVrent these from every former scene. 
The cooling brook, the grassy vested green. 
The breezy covert of the warbling grove. 
That only sheltered thefts of harmless love. 

Oooil Heaven ! what sorrows gloonn-d that 

ptirting day 
Thst called them from their native walks away ; 
When the poor exiles, every pleasure jwst. 
Hung round the bowei-s, and fondlv looked their 

last. 
And took a long farewell, and wished in vain 
For seats like these beyond the western main ; 
And shuddering still to face the distant deep, 
Keturned and wept, and still re'turne*.! to weep. 



1 The good old sire the lii'st prepared to go 
To new-found worlds, and wept for othei's' woe ; 
Ihit for himself in conscious virtue brave, 
lie only wished for worlds beyond the grave. 
His lovely daughter, lovelier in her teal's, 
The fond companion of his helpless years, 
Silent went next, neglectful of her charms. 
And left a lover's for her father's arms. 
With louder plaints the mother spoke her woes. 
And blessed the cot where every pleasure rose ; 
And kissed herthoujihtlcss babeswith manyatear. 
And clasped them close, in sorrow doubly dear ; 
Whilst her fond husband strove to lend relief 
111 all the silent manliness of grief. 

O Luxury ! thou curst by Heaven's decive. 
How ill exchanged are things like these for thee ! 
How do thy potions, with insidious joy, 
Pilluse their pleasure's only to destroy ! 
Kingiloms by thee, to sickly givatness grown. 
Boast of a llorid vigor not their own. 
.\t every draught more large and large they grow, 
A liloated mass of rank, uuw ieldy woe ; 
Till, Slipped their strength, and every part un- 

-sound, 
Down, down they sink, and spread a ruin round. 

Even now the devastation is begun, 
.Viid half the business of destruction done ; 

' Even now, mclhinks, as pondering here I stand, 

[ 1 sec the rural virtues leave the land. 
Down wheiv yon anchoring vessel spivads the sail 

I That idly waiting Haps with every gale, 
Pownwaixl they niovi\ a melancholy band. 
Pass from the shoiv, and darken all the strand. 
Contented toil, and hospitable caiv, 

! And kind connubial tenderness, aix> there ; 

I And piety with wishes placi'd above. 
And steady loyalty, and faithful love. 
And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid. 
Still firat to tly wheiv sensual joys invade ; 
I'nlit. ill thciie degenerate times of shame. 
To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame ; 
Pear charming nymph, neglected and decried. 
My shame in crowds, my solitary pride ; 
Thou source of all my bliss and all my woe. 
That found'st me poor at lii'st, and keep'st mo so ; 
Thou guide, by which the nobler arts excel, 
Tliou nui'se of every viitue, fare thee well ! 
Faivwell ; and 0, where'er thy voice be trieil, 
0\i Torno's clill's. or raml«maiva's side. 
Whether where equinoctial fervors glow, 
l"lr w inter wraps the iH>lar world in snow. 
Still let thy voice, pivvailing over time, 
Keiiivss the rigvn's of the inclement clime : 
.■\id slighted truth with thy pei-suasive strain ; 
Teach erring man to spurn the rage of gain ; 



DESCUIPTIVE I'OKMS. 



G91 



Ti'fti'h him, tliiit states of native Btrength ]>088est, 
Tliiiii^^h very poor, may still lie very bli-st ; 
That tniile'» jiroiid iiii|iire liaste.s to Hwil't decay, 
Ax o<;eail swei'ps tlie laliureil mole away ; 
While Hclf-ilipeiideiit power laii time ilefy, 
As rocks resist the billows and the sky. 

Olivier gouosuitii. 



TIIK FI.SHKIfS fOTTAGE. 

We sat by the fisher's cottage, 
And looked at the stormy tide ; 

The evening mist eame rising, 
And floating lur and wide. 

One by one in the light-house 

The lamiis shone ont on high ; 
And far on the dim horizon 

A ship went sailing by. 

We spoke of storm and shipwreck, — 

Of sailors, and how they live ; 
Of journeys 'twixt sky and water. 

And the .sorrows and joys they give. 

• 

We spoke of distant countries, 

111 regions strange and fair. 
And of the wondrous beings 

Aud curious customs there ; 

Of perfumed lamps on the Ganges, 
Which are launched in the twilight hour ; 

And the dark and silent Hrahniins, 
Who worshij) the lotos Mower. 

Of tlie wretched dwarfs of Lapland, — 

Broad-headed, wide-rnontheii, and small, - 

Who crouch round their oil-lires, cooking. 
And chatter and scream and bawl. 

And the maidens earnestly listened. 

Till at last we spoke no more ; 
The ship like a shadow had vanished. 
And darkness fell deep on the shore. 

From Ihe Gcrnun of lleiNRlcil HpjN'e. Traniifatir 
of CllARLBS O. LBLAND. 



THE ISLAND. 

PROM "THE BUCCANRHR." 

xHE island lies nine leagues away. 

Along its solitary shore. 
Of craggy rock and sandy bay, 
No sound but ocean's roar. 
Save where the bold, wild sea-bird makes her 

home. 
Her shrill cry coming through the sparkling foam. 



But when the light winds lie at rest. 

And on the glassy, heaving sea 
The black duck, with her glossy breast, 
Sits swinging silently. 
How beautiful ! no ripjjles break the reacli, 
Ayd silvery waves go noiseless up the beach. 

And inland rests the green, warm dell ; 

The brook comes tinkling down its .side ; 
From out the trees the .Sabbath Udl 
Kings cheerful, far and wide, 
Mingling its .sound with bleatings of the flock.s. 
That feed alxjut the vale among the rocks. 

Nor holy bell, nor pastoral bleat, 
In former days within the vale ; 
Flajjped in the bay the; pirate's sheet ; 
Curses were on the gale ; 
Rich goods lay on the sand, and murdered men ; 
Pirate and wrecker kept their revels then. 

Hut calm, low voices, words of grace. 

Now slowly fall upon the eai- ; 
A qui(!t look is in each face, 
Sulxlued and holy fear : 
Eacli motion 'n gentle ; all is kindly done ; — 
Come, listen how from crime this isle was won. 

UlCIIAKD lle.VRV bA.NA. 



SMOKE. 

LioiiT-wiNokh Smoke ! Icarian bird. 
Melting thy pinions in thy upward llight ; 
Lark without song, and messenger of dawn, 
Cin-ling above the hamlets as thy nest ; 
Or c-lse, departilig dream, and sliadowy form 
Of midnight vi.sion, gathering up thy skirts ; 

I'y night star-veiling, and by day 
Darkening the light and blotting out the sun ; 
Go thou, my incense, upward from this hearth, 
Anrl ask the gods to pardon this clear flame. 

hehrv Oaviu Thoreau. 



MIST. 

LOW-ANX'lIOBED cloud, 
Newfoundland air. 
Fountain-head ami source of rivers, 
Dew-cloth, dream drapery. 
And napkin spreail by fays ; 
Drifting mi'adow of the air, 
Where bloom the daisied banks and violets. 
And in whose fenny labyrinth 
The bittern Imoins and heron wades ; 
Spirit of lakes and seas and rivers, — 
Bear only perfumes and the scent 
Of healing herbs to Just men's fields. 

HHNRY DAVtO THOREAU' 



692 



nnsriuiTiVK pokms. 



TllK KVKNMXi! iLonv 

A I'l.m'ii lay I'linlU'il \w.\v thi' wtlins' smi, 

A jiU'Mw i>r crimson tiiignl its lnuiilfil snow : 
l.oU({ liiul 1 W!\li'lit'il till' ftloiv moving on 

O'lM' du' still Vinliiinco ol' llio liiUo lu'low. , 
Tl'iiniinil its s]m'\l swniwl, iiml lloalnl slow ! 

Kvon in its vorv n\olion ihiMo wiis ivst ; 
AVhilo ovi'i'V liivnili of I'vo Unit cluincoil to Mow 

Wiil'tod thi> tmvoUi'r to tlu> lioand'ous wost. 
KmliU-m, niiMlioujflit, of tl\o ili'iwiloil soul ! 

To whosi' wliilo iiilu' lln' nlwini ol' Miss is givon, 
Anil liy till' Inviith ol'moivy niiulo to ivll 

liiglit on\v;ii\ls to (ho ({oUti'n g;itO!< of houvoii, 
Wlu'iv to tin' oyo of faith it ju'aiofiil Uos, 
Anil ti'lls to mim his glorions ilivstinios. 

John Wlson {Clu-istrfMrr AVM). 



NKwrour UK.u'ii. 

AVavk nftof wave successively rolls on 

Anil ilics along the slioiv, until n\oiv louil 

One billow with i-onionlrale lol^•l' is heaixl 

To swell iiiMi>hetii', ami exultant ivai-s 

A lucent form ahove its pioneeis, 

Ami lushes |insi them to the I'aithest giwl. 

Thus our uiuitteivil feeliugx lise ami fall, 

And thought will follow thought in enual waves, 

I'ntil ivUeetion nerves ilesigu to will. 

Or seiitiineut o'ec ehanee emotion feigns, 

Ami all its waywai\l nmlulations blemls 

In one o'erwhelmiug sni'ge I 

lll-NRV TniiOnORK TeCKKRMAN. 



A STU,1. DAY IN AUTUMN. 

(l I.OVK to W!uuh>r thiMugh the wooillauils hoary 
In the soft li,ght of an autumnal ilay, 
When S\imnier gjithers up her ivbi's of glory, 
And like « dresuu of In-auty glides away, 

llow thiMUgh eaoh loved, familiar |wth she ling\'i-s, 
Seivnely smiling Ihivngh the gi>lJeu mist, 

Tinting the wild gnme with her dewy lingi-rs 
Till the e(H>l emerald turns to amethyst ; 

KiiutUug the faint stitrs of the haxel, shining 
To light the gli>on\ of Autuu\n's nuntldvriiig 
halls. 

With hivirv jilnmas the clematis entwining 
Wheiv o'er the iwk her withered g;uland falls. 

\Varu\ lights arc on the sleepy uplands waning 
Heueath sotY clouds along the liorijoit n>lled, 

i'ill the slant snnlx>anis through their iViuges 
tntining 
Bathe all the hills iu melauchol}' gold. 



The moist wiinls hivalhe of crisped leaves and 
Ihnvers 

In the damp hollows of the woodland sown, 
Mingling the IVcshness of antniunal .showers 

Willi spicy iiii-s IVoiii ccdarn alleys Mown. 

Hesiile the hiwik and on the nmlieivd meadow, 
Wheiv yellow fern-tufts llecU the faded giomnl. 

With folded liils lieueath their |ialiny shadow 
The gi'iitian nod.s, in dewy shimhers hound. 

Upon those soli, IVingi'd lids the bee .sits brooding, 
liike a fond lover loath to say farewell, 

(^r with shut wings, thivugh silken folds in- 
truding, 
Croei>s near her heart his drowsy tale to tell. 

The little bii-ils upon the hillside lonely 
Klit noiselessly along from spray to spniy. 

Silent as a sweet wandering ihoiiglu that only 
Shows its bright witigs and softly glides away, 

SAKAU KliLUN WniTMAN. 



TllK lilUCH SrivEAM. 

.\t noon, within the dusty to\vnV\^ 
When' the wild river rushes down. 

Ami tlinmlers hoarsely all day long, 
1 think of thee, my hermit slivam. 
Low singing in thy summer dream 

Thine idle, sweet, old, tranquil .song. 

Northw!\i\l, Katahdin's ehasmed pile 
Looms thniugh thy low, long, leafy aisle : 

Kastwanl. tMamon's summit shines ; 
.\ud I upon thy gra.ssy shor»>. 
The divamfnl, happy child of yoiv, 

Woi'ship K'for>> mine olden shrines. 

Again the sultry noontide hush 
Is sweetly bivkcn by the thrush, 

Whose clear M\ rings ami dies away 
Reside thy Kinks, in coverts deep, 
Wheiv nodding buds of oivhis sleep 

In dusk, and divain not it is day. 

Again the wild cowdily lliwts 
Her gvlden-fivightiHl, tented K»ats 

In thy cool coves of sotteni\l gloom, 
O'ershadowed by the whispering ived. 
Ami purple plumes of pickeivl-weed. 

And nn>ado\v-s\vcet in tsMigled bloom. 

The startli>d mini\ows dart in flocks 
Beuftith thy glimmering amlwr iveks. 

If bnt a lephyr stilus the brake ; 
The silent s\v.»llow swoo|vs a Hash 
Of light, and leaves, with dainty ptiksh. 

A ring of ripples in her wake. 



DBMCUII'TIVB I'OKMS, 



m:i 



Wllli'iiit, tliii liiml Ih Iml mill iliiii ; 
Tli» li'vi'l lii'Mii In liiiiKU'ir hwIiii, 

Tlicir nliilililiiKmNWH liiiiwii n» ilimt ; 
AihI all ii\iiUK lli'i ii|iliini| Iiiiikh, 
WInTii aliiuliOi'iiii iiii'iii ii|i|ii<'Mivii r<ti)(nH, 

l)«iwl rnwD wiiur llii'ir i^kiwiik iit niitl, 

WItliiii, In iKiltlinr lili^lil nor iloiitli ; 
TliM l|i'i>:<i mill wiMii'ii Willi nnliiiit IuimiIIi, 

tint <'itiiiiiit will tijy Hylfiiii lii'iii't. 
Only lliii rjiilil wlio Iiivi'h IIiimi I'Mik. 
Willi liiillifiil wi>nilii|i ]>iiru iiinl Hilling. 

(Jiiii kiHiw how iliiiir iiikI KWcot lliou urt, 

H<i liivi'il I iIk'ii in 'Inyo ({unn liy, 

Ho liivii I yi't, lli'iii)(li liMiKiiiin niiiy liii 

I'H-twi'cn iia, anil llm ycurn iliviiln ; 
A liri'iilli of I'oiilni'iiH, iluwii, nnil iluw, 
A .i"y liii"rvi:r (rimU iiiiil Iriii', 

Tliy iiiviiiury iJotli willi mo uliiilo. 

Anna IK/Vnion AvfiKiLL. 



TIIK l;l,A'Kr.tl!l). 

Illow Dwiwl \\iii liiiinioniiTK of nrt'^nioon I 

Tli'i I'liii'kliinI i<lii)(ii iiloii|{ till! niiiiny \irM/.i' 
llin iiiii:ii'nt nonK of li;iivi'ii, ninl Htiinini^r loioii ; 
l(ii:li liri'iitli of hnyflolilH Ntn.'iiinH tliroii^li wIiIh- 
IH!riii« tri'iM ; 
Awl liinln of'inoi'iiinKtrliM tliirir tiimtllrig wiii^, 
Anil livtcii fondly — wIiIIr tlio liloiikliird ningN, 

Jlow wift till! lovnli((lit of llm wi:«l rf\iimi;n 

On tliix «riwn viilli^y'ii rliiwiy Holitinln, 
Oil llm trim itoltiixi! with iU Hi:ri«n of rowM, 

On llm K">y li'll'ry willi iti< ivy lioo<l. 
Ami tniiriiinrin)( nilll-riu:«, niiil llm wln'ij tliut 

iliii;;)! 
Jin l)iililillii({ frBnlinodii — [wliili! tlur liliickhinl 
niiiK'. 

Tliii very illal on llm villa((n cliiircli 

Si-i-rnn i« 't wito <li'i!iiiiiin(( in u ilo/y r<«t ; 

TIm' xriliMi'il iN'nolmii iiinii'rni'tilli lln; |ior';li 
liiixk ill till! kimlly wi^lionm of lln; wimt ; 

Itiit llii! Iiroiul iriiiwnii'niii of llm olil 'I'liriK! Kiiifc 

I'AitM like u funiiu:!! — wlilli; llm ltlii/:kliir<l iiin({n. 

Anil iIkti- iK^imnlli llm initneinorini elm 
Tliriii ro«y levellern loiinil n Inlile nil, 
Ami lliioii((li gray douilfi ifivu Inwn iinl'i llie 
renlin, 
''iirw ((oixl iiml ((reiil, hut woriilii|i llnirowri wit, 
Anil ronr of fiKliti, nml fiiim, anil jiinkeliiix*, 
'oni, coltn, anil curn — Uin wliile tlin lilitck bird 
«in«ii. 



Define Iter lioine, III Imr Iiei:ilnl/IMIB<I Kent, 
Tim llily Kruiidiim ii|iiii<< iMiientli llio uliiwln 

Of llm o|i| liuiieyHinklii, ill liir feel 

Tim ilii'iiininK |><i« iilnl |iMnin;{ Inlil^ liiid ; 

To lier low elmli ii lillle iniiiileii i'liii|{i<, 

Ami ii|ielU In Hilenee wliile tlie liliu:kMl'il niligfi. 

Hometimeii the nIiiiiIow of u lii/,y eloml 

liieiil lien o'er the h/iliilel with il,<i;<iiii|eliK;(riin, 

While llm fill' fiehU with niinlijflit oveilloweil 
I jke )(ii|i|en KhoieH of Kiiiryhiml iirn Mxm ; 

A^iiiii the miimhine on the hIiwIuw HiiHii|f(i>, 

Anil lireii th« Uiivkvt — wliure ttm liliuikliinl 

niligll. 

Tim wooiN, the hiwii, the |ie(ik(!<l mnnor-lioiiiw!, 

With it« (leiieheovereil wiill«, nml rookery loiiil, 
Tim trim, i|iiiiint ((/irilen-iilleyii, Hcreeneil with 
ImiiikIiii, 
The lioii'heiuleil gntci), no ^Hrn nml |irotiil, 
The moHity fountnlii with itit miiriniirlii;(t, 
i/le ill wiinii HUiiHliine — while the lihukhinl 
HlnKN, 

Tim riii;< of nilver voieesi, iinil the dheen 

Of fenliil ((itrinentM, nml my ludy ntreiimil 

Willi her «iiy loiirl neroim Ihe ;{iirilen K""''"" > 
Hume luii^fh nml ilniiee, itoiiie w)iifi[>er their 
love-ilreniiiH ; 

And one iiiilln for n little [itige : he hIt'iiihh 

tier lute lieMdv her while the Itliu;khiril oingx. 

A little while, - nml lo I the ehnrin in henrd : 
A yontli, wliiMe life liiiH lienn nil niimmer, Nl^ialM 

Korlli from the noiny ((inwlii ttroiiml the lionrd, 
Crecjm by her willly, nt her footnljiol kiieeU, 

Ami, when Hlie |<niiHeK, miiriniirii t^^mler Hiiiinn 

liiU) her foml enr — while the r>lii<:kbiril k'liiit/t. 

The iimoke-wreathit from the ehimneyit eiirl np 
lii({li«r. 
And dizzy lhin({M of eve tie((lii t<i (lout 
IJlKiii llm lixlit ; the \iti:i:/j: l«!){imi to tire. 
Ilttlf-wuy Ui Miniiel with n drowny note 
Tim ttiieicnt elock from out the vulley nwinjjn ; 
Tim grnndaiii noitit — and niiil the lilnekbird 
nlngii, 

KttmhonU «nd Iniigliter from tlie farin-nt'^iul jx^al, 
Where the great nliiek in (liliiig in the mm ; 

ThroiiKh iinrrow gnt<;H o'erlnden wngonn reid. 
And Imrking eiiru inl^i the liiiiinll run ; 

While the ineonnlaiit wind U^nrii olf, and bringn 

The merry t<!m|<<!iit - and the lihu^kbird niiign. 

On the high wold the laiit look of llm ann 
ltiim«, like a Ik'Iuoii, over dule and ntritam ', 

ThenhoiilH haveeeiiwd, the huight<!r and the fun ; 
The grnmlam Hlee|m, nml |K:iu:«fiil l« her ilrenm ; 



G94 



UliSCKll'l'lVj!; I'OKMS. 



I'lily a hnniiiu'r on an iiiivil liu^s ; 

Till' iliiy is il.vinj; — still ll»' lUarUbiiil .siiijpi. 

Now tlu> goml vii'iu' [wussos IVoiii his );ati', 
Si'ivno, with long whitu luiir ; luul in his ryo 

linrns tho olwif s|iint tliiit hiitli romiui'ivd Kuto, 
Ami I'l'lt tln> wings of innnortnlily ; 

Mis ln'iM't is thi'ongfil with jjiviit inuigininjjs 

Anil tiMuli'inu'rcios while lhi> Ulaikhinl sings. 

Oown hy tin' hronk \\o hi'iids his steps, aii.l 
through 
A lowly wii'ki't ; ami at last ho stanils 
Awl'ul hosiilo till' hi'il of oni' .vhogiTW 

Fivm lioyhooil with liiin, who with lil'liil 
liiinils 
Ami I'yi's si'i'ins listening lo I'ai' woU-oniings 
Ami swi'i'tiT niusii' — than tho Hlai'khinl sings. 

Two gohli'H stars, like tokens IVoni the hlest, 
Strike on his ilini orlvs I'nmi the setting sun ; 

His sinking lianils seem pointing to the west ; 
Uo smiles as though he sjiiil, "'riiy will he 
ilone ! " 

His eyes they soe not those illnminings ; 

His em's tJiey hear not — what the Ulaekbinl sings. 

I'KhUUKlCK TUNNYSUN. 



Till' riiii.ttsoriiKi; toxw 

{ Down ileep in a hollow, so ilamp ami so eolil. 
Where oaks aiv by ivy o'ergiiiwii. 
The gniy moss and liehini eii'ep over the moulil. 

Lying loose on a pouiieiiins stone. 
Now within this huge stone. like a king on 

his tluviie, 
A tiMil has been sitting more years than is 

known ; 
Anil, stmngi' as it seems, yet he eoustantly 

ileeuis 
The world standing still while he's dreaming 

his ilivams, - - 
rWs this wonderful tiiad. in his eheert'ul abode 
In the innermost heart of that llinty old stone, 
liy the gray-haired moss and the liehen o'ergrown. 

Down deep in the hollow, I'lvui morning till 

night. 
Pun shadows glide over the giinmd, 
Wlii'iv a wateivourse onee, as it sparkled witJi 

light. 
Turned a ruined old luillwheel aivnnd ; 
Long years have |>assi'd by sime its bed beeame 

dry, 
And the trees grow so close, seaive a glimpse 

of the sky 



Is seen in the hollow, so dark and so damp, 
Where the glow-worm al noonday is trinnning 

his lamp. 
And hardly a sound from the thirkel around, 
Wheiv the rabbil and sipiirrel leap over the 

ground. 
Is heard by the load in his spaeious abode 
In the innermost heart of that ponderous stone, 
IJytho gray-haired moss and the Ueheu o'ergrown. 

Powu deep in that hollow the bees never eonie. 

The shade is too blaek for a llower ; 
And jewi'lwingi'd birds, with their musieal 
hnui. 
Never Hash in the night of that bower ; 
lint the eold-blooded snake, in the edge of the 

brake. 
Lies amid the iiink grass, half asleep, half 

nwakj ; 
And the ashen-white snail, with the slime in 

its trail. 
Moves wearily on like a life's tedious tale. 
Yet disturbs not thetoad in his s|iaeious abode. 
In the innernu'st heart of that llinty old stone, 
liy thegray-hailvd moss and the lieheu o'ergrown. 

Down deep in a hollow some wiseaeres sit, 

Like a toad in his eell in the stone ; 
Around them in daylight the blind owlets Hit, 
And their ereeds aiv with ivy o'ergrown ; — 
Their stivams may go dry, and the wheels 

eeaso to ply, 
And their glimpses be few of the sun and the 

sky. 
Still they hug to their bivast every linu'- 

bonoivd guest. 
And slumber and do.^e in inglorious rest ; 
For no progress they liml in the wide sphere 

of mind. 
And the world 's standing slill with all of their 

kind ; 
Contented to dwell deep down in the well. 
Or move like the snail in the ernst of his shell, 
Or live like the toad in bis mirrow abode. 
With their souls elosely wedged in a ihiek wall 

of stone, 
l>y the gniy woods of pivjndieo raiikly o'ergrowu. -->( 
KuimccA s Nichols. 



THE MUSICAL DUEL. 

FROM "THK LOVER'S MELANCHOLY." 

Mkn.M'IIon. Passing from Italy to Gweoe the 
tales 
Whieli poets of an elder time have feigned 
To glorify their Tenipe, bivd in me 
Desire of visiting that iiiinulise. 



DESCRIPTIVE POEMS. 



To Thcualy I came ; niid, living prirntc, 
Witliuiit nc(|iiaiiitiiiic'c of iriiiri; hwuH <'oiri|iftnioiiH 
Tliuii till; 1)1(1 iiiiiiiiU-H til my love, my tlioufjhtN, 
I liny liy iliiy lri''|iii;iiteil silrnt ki'ivl'H 
Anil Militjiry wulkn. One tnuiiiiiiK early 
TIiIh niTJilunt ciii.'iiiinCcTcil nii; : I lii-unl 
Tlir Hwiieteiit anil iiioiit luviHliin;; com ttn lion 
TliMt art anil nature ever were iit strife in. 

Amktiiik. I cannot yet conceive wlmt yon 
iiifir 
By art lunl nature. 

Mr.s. I hIiuII noon resolve you. 

A wiuml of nuwic touchei] mine earn, or ratlier, 
Imlee'l, entranced my houI. A» I (itole nearer, 
Inviteil by the melamlioly, I Haw 
Thin yoiitli, tills I'uir-faceil youtli, upon IiIh lute, 
■With HtniinH of strange variety ami lianiiony, 
Proclaiming, as it scemeil, so Uilil a iliullengc 
'I'll the ilear choristers of tlie woods, the birds, 
Tliat, as they flocked atigut him, all stood silent, 
W'onderinf,' at what they lieunl. I wondered Uio, 

Am. And so do I ; good ! — On ! 

Mks. a nightingale, 

Nature's best skilled musician, undertakes 
The challenge, and, for every s<;vcral strain 
The well-shaped youth could touch, she sung her 

own ; 
fie could not nin division with more art 
L'[Kjn his ijuaking instrument than she. 
The nightingale, did with her various note* 
lie[ily to ; for a voice, and for n sound, 
Ametlms, 't is much easier to Udieve 
That such they were than hope to hear again. 

Am. How did the rivals part ? 

Mbn. Vou term them rightly ; 

For they were rivals, and their mistress. Har- 
mony. — 
.Some time thus spent, the young man grew at last 
Into a pretty anger, that a bird 
Whom art had never taught clefs, niooils, or 

notes, 
.Should vie with him for mastery, whose study 
Had busied many hours to |K.'ifect practice : 
To end the lontrovemy, in a rapture 
UjHin his instrument he plays so swiftly, 
Sfi many voluntaries, and so ipiick. 
That till re was curiosity and cunning. 
Concord in disi.'ord, lines of dilfering incthwl 
Meetin;,' in one full centre of delight. 

Am. Now for the bird. 

Men. The bird, ordaincil to Ijc 

.Music's fimt martyr, strove to imitate 
These several sounds ; which, when her warbling 

till oat 
Failed in, for grief, down dropjied she on hix lute. 
And broke her heart ! It was the i|Uaintest sad- 



To nee the conrpieror upon her hearse 

To weep a funeral elegy of tears ; 

That, tnist nic, my Amcthiis, I could chide 

Mine own unmaniy weakness, that made me 

A fellow-mourner with him. 

A.M. I believe thee. 

Mks. He looked upon the trophies of his art, 
Then sighed, then wijs^d his eyes, then sighed, 

and cried, 
"Alas, (Kior creature ! I v.dll soon revenge 
This cruelty ujioii the author of it ; 
Henceforth this lute, guilty of innocent blood, 
.Shall nevermore U^tray a harmless |Kace 
To nn untimely end ;" and in that sonow. 
As he was pasliing it against a tree, 
I suddenly slept in. 

JOHN FORD. 



THE CANTEHHIJP.Y PILGRIMS. 

PKOH "THP. CAKTBKIJURV TALKS-. I'MOUOCC'i;."* 

WifAN that Aprillc with hise shoures sootc ' 
The droghte of .March hath jiercfcd to the rootc, 
And bathed every veyne in swich ^ liiour. 
Of which vertue engendred is the flour ; 
Whan Zephinis eek with his swete breeth 
Inspired hath in every bolt 'and heeth 
The tenilre croppi.s, and the yonge sonne 
Huth in the Ham his half?: coiirs y-ronne. 
And small: I'oweles maken rneloilye 
That slepen al the nyght with open eye, — 
.So prikclh lieni nature in hir corages,* — 
Thanne longen folk to goon on jiilgrimagcs, 
And [lalmcrcH for to sekeii straunge strondeB, 
To feme halwes,' kowthe' in sondry londes ; 
And specially, from every shires ende 
Of Engelond, to Caiinterbui-y they welide 
The liooly blisful inaitir' for to sf;kc. 
That hem hath liolpen whan that they were 8eeke. 

liilil that, in that sesoii on a day, 
In Soiithwerk at the Tabard as I lay, 
Rcdy U) Wendell on my pilgrymage 
To 'auntcrbury with ful devout corage, 
At nyght were come in-to that ho»tel|-)c 
Wei nyue-and-twenty in a conipaignyc. 



I »wfel. 


a tuch. 


■J wood. 


4 their hcarlt 


5 aiicteiil utntk 


ti renowned 


1 TliuiiHtk Bvtkct. 







• Tile fodowliiK |>a%Mitct from the Prohgut lo The CnuttrbHry 
Taiet k'»c cicellciil itM:citiicii« o( Cliaueer** tlo« »iti*crvrtli<rti of 
tuiure, itien, an<l tiisiiiK;r*, and of III* cieiir. ;;rjpliic, dcurii'iivc 
fctyle. T1icte»! VA^rmtd itlhat ofilie " KivcfM-i": Hdilion," edlied 
by Mr. Arthur Giliiuii, which U baud chiefly on that of (he inantj 
tcrtpt In po**<rrtk»n of l^/rd Mlle«mere, pubh*lied by the Chaucer 
SfiCieiy of I^m«lon T|i.it edition, h'/wever. it not re^t>on%ibl<r for 
th« et|jlaii4tory iiote%. nor tm the .iddilion ui the tfravc accent, uved 
to Indicate aylhblc^ which the rhythm retjuirei to l>e )/roiiounced. In 
frr'lL-r to Oiii|>liry the rejdinff for tlunc untccuMomcd lo the old-liiite 
irre^uliritick of t^ellinK. 



096 



DESCRIPTIVE POEMS. 



Of souiliv folk, liy nvcntuiv y-lullo 

In I'l'lawi'slupe, niul iiilsiyinos were tlu'i alio, 

Thiit tiuviutl Cnuntt'ilmrv woUU'ii lyiU'. 

A IvNYiarr tlior was, aiul tluit a wortliy man, 
Tliut IVo tlu' tyiiU' that lio Ill's! higaii 
To liilon out, ho lovi'il oliivalrii', 
Tiinithc ami honour. I'lviloiii ami curtoisio. 
Kill worthy was he in his lonli'S wi>rn>, 
Ami tluMto haiMo lu' liilcii, nomaii I'erre,' 
As wt'l in cristi'mloni as in hothcnesso, 
And I'veiv lioiiouivvi for his worthynesse. 

Ami tlioiigli that lu' weiv worthy, ho was wys, 
Ami of his jioit as niooko as is n niiiyilo. 
lie novoi-o yot no viloyiiyo - no saydo 
In al his lyf unto no manor wight. 
Ho was a voriay parlit, gentil knyght. 

■With hyin tiler was his soiio, a yoiig SquieK, 
A lovyoro ami a lusty liaoholer, 
With lokk^s oriiUo ' us thoy woro loydin prosse. 
(If twenty yoor of ago ho was I gt>sse. 
Of his staturo ho was of ovone longtho. 
And woiidorly delyvoro,* and of givot strengtlie. 
Ami ho haddo lion somtymo in oliyvaohio,' 
111 Klaumlros. in Artoys, and rycaixiio, 
And born hym wool, as of so litol sjiace, 
111 ho(io to stondon in his lady gnioo. 
Eniliromlod "' was lio. as it woiv a mocde 
Al fill of frossho llouios whyte ami roodo. 
Syngyngo ho was. or lloytyngo,' al tlio day ; 
Ho was as fix'ssh as is tho monthe of May. 
Short wasliisgowno, with sieves loii.gi> and wyde. 
AVel cowdo he sitto on hoi's, and faiie lyde. 
lie koud6 songi'S make and wol endito, 
Juste and oek daunee, ami wool purtreyoS and 

write. 
So lioote he lovetle, tliat by nyglitertalo " 
He sloop nomoro tlian dooth a iiyglityngalc ; 
Oiirteis lie was, lowoly and scrvysablo. 
Ami earf "^' bilbru his fader at the table. 

'l^lier was also a Nonne, a PnionEssE, 
That of liiro sniylyng was I'ul syinple and coy ; 
lliiv grettoste ootU no was bnt by soiiit Loy ;'' 
And she was clepod madaiiie Egiontyno. 
Fill weel she soong>' the servioe dyvyiie, 
I'jitimod in liir nose ful semeely ; 
And I'lvnssh she s^iak fill faiiv and fotisly.''' 
Alter the scole of Stratfoui-att^-Bowe, 
For Freussh of Parj-s was to hire unknowe. 



. farther. 
3 curled. 

5 a iiitliMry expedition. 
7 plftyint; on a flute. 
9 niKht.tiiiie. 
II |>ro)Mbl)' St. Louis. 



a nothing umuounetly. 

4 active. 

6 embroidered. 

5 portray —draw. 
to carvetl 

^9 (eatly — neatly. 



At niotii ' wel ytaiight was she with alli', 
Slie leet no morsel from liir lippes falle, 
No wotto liiro fyngres in hire saiioi' doepe. 
Wel komlo she oarie a inorsol and wel kepe. 
That no dropt' no lillo up-oii hire broste ; 
In ourteisie was sot fill niiuhol liir losto.'' 
Hiro ovor■lipp^ wypi^d she .so eleno. 
That in hir ooppe thor was no fertliyug" seno 
Of greet', whan slio dronkeii liadde hir draughte. 
Fill .soiiiMy after hir mete she rauglite,* 
Ami siki'rly ' she was of greet disport. 
And fill jilesaunt, and amyablo of port. 
And poynJ'd hir '' to eoniitiofoti! elioero 
Of Court, and to ben estatlieli of manere. 
And to bon holdoii digiie of revorenee ; 
But for to spoken of hire conseienee, 
She was so eharitablo and so jiitous, 
Slio wold6 wepi' if that she .saiigh a mous 
ICauglit in a tiiippo, if it woiv deed or blodde. 
Of sinal6 houndt's haiklo she, that she foddo 
With rosted Hossh, or mylk and wastol-bived ;' 
But sooiv wopte slie if any of lioni wore deed. 
Or if men smoot it with a yordi' * smerto ; 
And al was ooiisoieneo and teiidre herfe. 

Ful soniely hire wynipul pyneh^d was ; 
Ilii-e nose trotys," hire oyeii greyo as glas, 
Hir month fill snial. and tlier to softe and reed. 
But sikorly she haiUlo a fair forheed ; 
It was almoost a spanll^ brood, i tixiwe. 
For haitlily she was iiat undorgrowe. 
Ful fotys was hir cloke, as i was war ; 
Of smal eoml abouto hire arm slie bar 
A peiix> of bedt's gaudod '" al witli grene ; 
.Vnd tlior-on lieng a brooh of gold ful seliene, 
On which ther was fii-st write a crownM A, 
And after, Amor rincil omnia. 

Another Noiiii6 witli hire lladd^ she. 
That was hire Chapeloyne, and Pivest^s thre. 

A Ci.KnK ther was of Oxenfoitl also 
That uii-to logyk haddo longo ygo. 
And loen^ was his hors as is a rake. 
And lie nas iiat right fat, I iimiortake, 
But looked liolwe, and ther to sobroly ; 
Ful thivdbai'O was his ovoivste courtopy,'' 
For he iiadilo geton hym yot no bonelioe, 
Ne was so worldly to have office ; 
For hym was levere have at his Ix'ddes heed 
Twenty bookos. clad in blak or ivoti, 
Of Aristotle and his philosophic. 
Than itibos rioho, or titholo,'- or gay sautrie." 
15ut al be that ho was a philosophiv. 
Yet haddo lie but litel gold in oofre ; 

I me.lt — t.ible. 2 ple.v^ure. 

3 morsel 4 reached. 

5 surely. 6 took pains. 

J cake (i.'aitcau) bread 8 rod. 

9 strais.'hl. lo Thei'.ifi,ft'«were the l.ir(:er beadii- 

ti uppermost sliort cloak, is Uddle. 13 ps.iltery. 



DESCRIPTIVE POEMS. 



G97 



But al that he iiiiKlitP of lii» frceiidis hcnte,' 
On bookts ami liis Icmyiig'' In- it »iiPiito, 
And liisily gim for tin' sdiilcs prcyr 
Of hciM tlmt gttf liini wIiit with to Bcoh-yci," 
or stndie took lie Nioost diro and inoo«t heedc, 
Noght o word Hpak li<: uioorJi tlian was ncedc, 
And that was scyd in fornio and rovorctice 
And short and fjnyk and fill of hy sentence. 
Sownyiige in ' moral vertu was his Bpcche 
And gladly wolde he lerne, and gkdly teche. 

A SBitoBASr OF TiiK Lawk, war* and wys, 
That often hadde hen at the I'arvys,' 
Ther was also ful riehe of excellence. 
Discreet lie was and of greet reverence ; 
He seni&d swich, his(! viordta weren so wise. 
Justice he was ful often in Assise, 
By patcnte, and by pleyn coniinissioun, 
For his science and for his heigh renoun. 
Of fees and robes hadch- he many oon ; 
So gret u purchasonr" was nowher noon. 
Al wa.s fee symplc to liym in ell'ect, 
His purchasyng myghle nat ben infect.' 
Kowher so bisy a man as he ther nsis," 
And yet he senied bisier than he was. 

A good man was ther of religioun. 
And was a Povitk I'KKSofs » nK A TorM ; 
But richc he was of hooly thoght and werk ; 
He was also a lemed man, a clerk 
That Cristfcs Gospel trewMy wolde preche, 
Hise parisshens devoutly wolde he teche. 
Bcnygne he wa.s, an<l wonder diligent, 
And in adversitee ful pacicnt ; 
And such he was y-prevtd oftt sithes.''' 
Ful looth were hym to curse for his tythes, 
But rather wolde he j^even," out of doute, 
Un-to his povre parisshens alx)utc. 
Of his otfryng and cek of his substaunce. 
He koude in litcl thyng have sulhsaunce. 
Wyd wa.s his parisshe, and houses fer a-sonder, 
But he ne laftc '^ nat for reyn ne thonder, 
In siknesse nor in meschief to visite 
The ferrestf; " in his parisshe muclie an<l lite '* 
Up-on his feet, and in his hand a staf. 
This noble ensamplc to his sheeiK; he gaf," 
That firste he wroghte, and aftei-nard he taughte. 

A bettre preest, I trowe, that nowher noon is ■ 
He waitcth after no pomjie and reverence, 
Ne makfed him a spiced conscience. 



1 get. 9 itudy. 

3 tendinf; toward. 4 *.»'/ — prudent. 

5 portico of St Pauli, where Uwyert met. 

6 pro*eculor. 7 tainted. 

• ne wu — wat not. 9 Poor FarM>n. 

10 limes. 11 Kive. 

19 cea«cd. IJ farthMl. 

14 threat and unal] 15 |f«vc. 



But CristJis loore, and his Apostles twelve, 
He taughte, but first hi folwcd it liyin sclvo. 

Now have I tooM you shortly in a clause 
Thestiuit, tliariiiy, the, nonilire, and cek the cause 
Why that as.senibleil was this compiii;,'nye 
In .Soiilhwcik at this gentil hosteliye. 
That highle tlie Tabanl, faste V)y the liellc. 
But now is tyini to yow for to tclli; 
How that we bareii us that ilke ' nyght, 
Whan we wcn^ in that liostelrie alyght. 
And ii(U:r wol I telle of our viage. 
And al the rcmenaunt of oure pilgrimage. 

But first, I l)i-ay yow of your eurteisye, 
That ye narette it nat my vileinye,''' 
Thogh that I pleynly speke in this mateere. 
To telle yow hir wordes and hir cheere ; 
Ne thogh I speki; hir wordts proprely. 
For this ye knowen al so wel as I, 
Whoso shal telle a tale after a man, 
lie moot<; relierce, as ny as evere he kan 
Everich a word, if it be in his charge, 
Al speke he ni^ver so rudeliclie ' or large ; ♦ 
Or ellis ho moot telle his tale untrewe. 
Or fcynJ; thyng, or fynd!; woriles newe. 
He may nat sjiarc al thogh lie were his brother. 
He moot as wel seye o word as another. 
Crist spak hym self ful brode in hooly writ 
And wel ye woot no vileynye is it. 
Eek riato seith, who so can hym rede, 
" The wordes mooti; be cosyn '' to the dede." 

Also I prey yow to forgeve it me, 
Al have I nat set folk in hir degree 
Heere in this tale, as that they scholdt stonde ; 
My wit is short, ye may wel undeistonde. 

Greet chierfc made oure host us everichon. 
And to the sojier sette he us anon 
And servtd us with vitaille at the bcste. 
Strong was the wyn ami wel todrynkc us leste.' 

A semely man OiniB Hoosr he was withalle 
For to han been a marchal in an lialle ; 
A large man he was with eyen stepe, 
A fairer burgeys was ther noon in rhepe : 
lioold of his speche, and wys and wel ytaught, 
1 And of manhod hym lakkedi; right naught. 
I Eck therto he was right a myrie ' luiin, 
! And after soper pleyeii he bygnii, 
And spak of myrtlife amonges othere thinges, 
Whan that we hadile maad our rekenynges ; 
And seydfe thus : " I-o, lordynges, tiewily 
Ye ben to me right welcome lieitely : 
For by my trouthe, if that 1 shal nat lye, 
I saugh nat this yeer so myrie a compaignye 
Atones in this herberwe* as is now. 

I tame. a that ye ascribe It not to my III breeding. 

3 rudely. 4 free. 

S ifcrinaiie. 6 pleawd. 7 merry. 8 liarloraije— Ino 



09S 



OKSOKIPTIVE rOKMS. 



Kayn WviUlc I »Uh>ii ' y»w inyitl»6, \visti< 1 how. 
Aiulofji inyrtho 1 am rijilit now l>ythoi;lit, 
To vKhmi you oso, ami it shiil oivito nosjlit. 

Yo ipioii to (.'aiitoibury, tlod you sihihU-, 
'riu< blisl'ul luai'tir nuitji yow youiv iuihhIo I'' 
Aiul wol 1 woot as y<< goon by tlio woyo 
Yo slia|i(>n yow ' to tali'u • auil to ployo ; 
For tit'wMy <.'oiil'ort iu> uiyitUc is uihui 
To ii>lt> by tlio wfyo liouiub as thi< stiH>n ; 
Ami tlioivfoiv wol 1 miikcn you »lis|Hiit, 
As 1 soydo oi'st, and iUhiu you soiu otnifort. 

That «oh of yow to shorts with oun' wi\vo. 

In this viajo shal tolU"> tal^s twoyo,* — 

To (."avintorbuvywiiixi, \ moan it so. 

And honiwai\t he shul tclh-n othoiv two, — 

Of avoutuivs that whiK>m hail bil'alh>. 

Ami whioh of yow that Ivivth liym Kist of alio. 

That is to soyn, that toUotli in tliis oaas 

Tal^s of Ivst sontonoo.* and in>vtt solajis,' 

Shal havo a sopor at onn> allor iHvst, 

H<H'rx> in this plaoo, syttyng<> by this (Hwt, 

AVhan that wo ivmo agayn fiv I'auntorbuvy. 

And, for to niako you tho uuHir<> mnry, 

1 wol n\y-solft' j;ladly with yow rydo. 

Right at inyn owon^ i\>st. and Iv youiv g\'do. 

And who so wolo my jugs^mont withsoyo * 

Shal jwyo al that w»> sjvndon by tho woyo. 

And if y* vouoh^-s;u^f that it Iv so, 

Tol mo anon, with-outon wor^l^s mo. 

And I wol orly shai>i-' uio thorfoiv." 

This thyiisiwasgnumtoil, andouiv otll^s sworp 
With ful glad horto, and pivydou hym also 
That ho would vouoh^-siiur for to do so. 
And that ho wold^ K-on ouiv govoriiour, 
And of ouiv tal^s jui^' and n'lHirtonr, 
And sotto a sojvr at a oortoyn j>ris 
Aiivl wo wol ivnU'^d Ihvii ''^ at his dovys 
lu hoigli and lough ; and thus by >H>n jissout 
Wo Kvn aoonUnl to his juggi'inont. 
And thor-uj>-on tho wyn was lot anon : 
AVo diviikon and to lvst^ wiuito wlion 
With-outon any long»>r taryyiigo. 

OKOKKRKY CHAl'CER. 



CHRISTMAS IN THE OLPEN TIMK. 

FROM "MARMKWTINTItOO TO CANTO Vt. 

HK.\r on more wochI ! — tho wind is chill ; 
But, lot it whistlo as it will. 
Wo '11 ko<'j> our Christmas morry still. 
Eaoh .Hgv has doomod tho new-born yoar 

t iiulce. t reu«M, 

S »wv\ ^ >t-iis« 

9 Umv^ ut>' Atl^ini — i>R(>Ar«. to Ik lutevl. 



Tho littost time for fostnl olioor: 

Kvon, hoathon yot, tho savagi- Oauo 

At lol moiv doop tho moad did dviiiu ; 

High on tho Invuh his g;dloys drow, 

.\nd foastrtl all his pimlo on'w ; 

Tlion iu his low and pino-built hall, 

WlioiX' shiolds and axos dookod tho wall, 

Thoy giirgod upon f ho half-divssod stoor ; 

Caivusod iu soas of sjiblo Ivor ; 

Whilo ivnnd, in brutal jost, woiv tlir<.>wn 

Tho halfguawinl rib and marivw-Knio ; 

Or listourtl all. in grim dolight, 

Whilo soalds yollod out tho joys of light. 

Thon forth in I'lvn/y would thoy hio, 

Whilo wildly looso thoir ii'd looks tly ; 

.\iul, dancing ivimd tho bla/ing pilo, 

Thoy mako siuh IvirKmius mirth tho whilo, 

.\s lH>st might to tho niiiul ivoall 

Tho KnstoiMus joys of Odin's hall. 

And woll our Christian siivs of old 
Lovod whon tho yoar its ooni'so had rolled 
And bivught blitlio l^hristmas Vwok again 
With all his luwpitablo train. 
Pomostio and ivligious rito 
Gave honor to tho holy night : 
On Christmas ovo tho Ih'Us worx> rung ; 
On Christmas ovo tho mass was sung ; 
That only night, in all tho yoar. 
Saw tho stohnl priost tho olmlice rear. 
The damsol domuHl lior kirtlo shivn : 
Tho hall was dr\>ssod with holly given ; 
Fvirth to tho wikhI did inerry-mon go. 
To gsithor in tho mistletw. 
Thon opoiunl wide tho liiiivn's hall 
To vassid. tenant, serf, and all : 
Tower laid his i>hl of rule .aside, 
.\nd Coivmony vlotl'od her pride. 
Tho hoir, with ivsos in his shot's. 
That night might villagi' (vutnor oho<»se ; 
The lonl. iindoivgsiting. shaiv 
The vulgar giimo of " [Hist and jvxir." 
.\ll hailrti, with unooiitivlhsl dolight, 
-Vnd g»>neK»l voiiv, the happy night 
That to tho eottag>>, as tho oivwii, 
brought tidings of s;>lvatioii down. 

Tho tirv, with woll-driitl logs suppliotl. 
Wont iwiring np tho ohimnoy wide ; 
The huge hall-tablo's vxikon face, 
Serublvsl till it shone, tho day to graoe, 
Uoiv then uinni its massive KvanI 
Xo mark to [virt tho s.jniiv and loi\I. 
Thou was bivught in the lusty bniwn, 
Ry old bluo-ovvittHl sorving-niau ; 
Thou the grim Kwr's-hoad fivwneil on high 
t^vstod with lw\-s and i\v<oniaiy. 
Woll can tho giwii-gaiKxl ranger tell 
How, whou, suid wheiv tho monster fell ; 



IIESCKII'TIVK i'OK.MS, 



699 



What <loj;» Ijfforc liw ileath he tore, 

Ami all the iKiitiiig »r tin.' Iioar. 

The WMHuiil roiiinl, in ^'ood tuown liowU, 

CnrniHlii'il witli riMjoiih, lilitliely tl'uwln. 

There tli<? hiiK'' xirloin reekeil ; hanl by 

J'liiiM-[K)rri'lj5e «t/x)<l, mnl ('liruitiimH [lie; 

Nor laili'il oM SiotUn'l lo prwiiHx-, 

At iiuch hiKh-tiile, her »avory gooHC. 

Then came tin- nieiry iiiankeri) in, 

AikI earolH roar<-il with blithexorne din ; 

Jf unmelwlioiiit wan the k«ii^, 

It wax a hearty iiute, ami iitrong. 

Who Until may in their iniiinming ace 

TraeeK of Hin.ieMt niy»t<frj' ; 

White hkirtx HUpiilieJ the inajH|uera<le, 

Anil Hinutteil eheeka the v'wtTH niiuli: : 

Hut, O, what iiiaxkern richly ilight 

Can IxxiKt of Ixjwjiiiit halT nn light ! 

Kngland wa» merry Knglaml, when 

OM Christniaa brought IiIh H|iortH again. 

"V wax ''hriKtrnaa broa<hed the mightiest ale ; 

"V wax ChrixtmaH told the nicrriext tale ; 

A Christrnax gambol oft wjuld che<;r 

The [XKjr man's heart through half the year. 

SiK Walter Scott. 



O, THE PLEASANT DAY.S OF OLlJ I 

O, TliK pleaxantdaysofold, which so often peojile 

[iraixv ! 
True, they want«<l all the luxuriex tliat grace our 

nio<ierii dayx : 
Bare flo<jrx were xtrewed with nuhe«, the wallx 

let in the cold ; 
O, how they must liave shivered in those pleasant 

days of old I 

O, tlioxe ancient lord* of old, how magnificent 

they were I 
They threw down and ini|)risone<I kings, — to 

thwart them who might dare ? 
They rulwl their serfs right st«rnly ; they took 

from Jews their gold, — 
Alwve )x>tli law and c'|uity were those great lords 

of oM ! 



O, the gallant knights of old, for their valor so 

renowned '. 
With swoni anil lance and arnioi strong they 

scoure<l the countr}' round ; 
And whenever aught to tempt them they met by 

wood or wold, 
l!y right of xword they seized the prize, — those 

gallant knightx of old t 



O, tlie gentle dames of old ', who, quit« free from 

fear or fiain, 
Could gaze on joust and t'jumament, and see 

their vliampions xlain ; 
They lived on goo<l Ufelst^-'aks and ale, which 

made them strong and Ixdd, — 
0, more like men than women were thoxc gentle 

dami-K of old ! 

0, those mighty towers of old I with their turrets, 

moat, and keep, 
Tlieir Ixittlementx and bastions, their dungeons 

dark and deep. 
Full many a Ijaron held his court within the 

castle hold ; 
And many a i^aiitive languishe'l there, in those 

strong towers of ohl. 

0, the trouWlours of old ! with the gentle inin- 

strelxie 
Of hope and joy, or deep desjtair, whiche'er their 

lot might !« ; 
For years they x'.-rvwl their lailye-loves ere they 

their |>as»ionx t^dd, — 
0, wondrous i>aticiii:c must have had those trou- 

Ijadours of old ! 

0, those blessed times of old, with their chivalry 

and Stat* I 
I love to read their chronicles, which such brave 

deeds relate ; 
I love to sing their ancient rhymes, to hear their 

legends t'ild, — 

But, Heaven >je thanknl ! I live not in those 

blessed times of old ! 

Frances Brown 



THE TRUMPETS OF DOOLKARXEIX. 

fin Eattrm history arc two KkandfT^. or Altwrndrrt, wKo ar« 
V>iti«1inic« cz/nfr^ri'lcl, »tvi tKrtfi of wh'jfn are caMct f XioMkarnciri, 
or the Two-Hwnrd, in tUuMon to th«rir Mibjuj^aiiofi 'A £*« and 
We^, horm ^tinif an OrurniAi symbol 'A pjwer. 

One </ IhcM hcroev i* Akunrlcr ol MiiCcdon ; the 'Hher s con* 
qucror t/t more ancient tiiiio, wlio iMill the ma/veliouv Mrrie^ of 
r^inpan^ on Mount C«ucjiwv kn'/wn in fublc »% llie wall of f>>ic 
atvi MatC"V. Ihal i^ Vj wy. of il»e |M;oi/le of the Nf/rth. It re^tlwl 
frotii (he Euiine Sea lo ilie C»%iA»n. where it« Aankk oriyinAied the 
Mibvequetii a|>pelUiio«i of the Caspian Cate^.J 

With awful walU, far glooniing, tliat yxm^enwd 
The i>flSMM 'twixt the biiow-fed Casiiiau fouu- 
taiiJH, 
Uoolkariit;iii, tht ilr^ad lord of V^ht ami Went, 
Shut up the iiorthcra iiatiouH in their niouu- 
tfluiH ; 
Ami U|K)ii platfoniDf where the oak-trcen j(r<;w, 
Truiii]>etJi he »»et, huge beyond dreani<t of 
wonder, 



700 



DESOKll'TlVK POEMS, 



(.'iiiftily imriios<<tl, wlioii liis n\ius willnlivw. 
To nirtko hiin tluuij^lit sliU liovisoil llu'iv, like 
tlu> thm\(U>r: 
Ami it 80 loll : for when Iho wiiuls blow iij;lil, 
Tlioy wok<> thoso tnimiiots to tlioiv onlls of inight. 

I'nsoon, but hoaivl, thoir oalU tho tmmpotsblow, 
Hiiijjiiis; llio ijraiiilo iwks, tlioir only botiivi-s. 
Till tlio loiij; foivi- into i-oUj;ioii jjivw, 

AikI iiovoiinoiv thoso lioijjhts li;ul luimun 
ilmvi's. 
Oiviulful P«H>lk«ruoin \v:>s an oaithly s>h1 ; 
His Willis but shiuUnvoil foilU his mightier 
fivwiiinj; ; 
Armios of slants at his biiUlinj; tiwl 

KiMui ivahu to ivalni, king aftor king dis- 
oiMwninj;, 
^Ylll<n (Imuilor s|Hiko, or whon Iho oaitlniuako 

sliriYil, 
Thou, nmttoring in aoooi\l, his host was hoaixl. 

liul whon tho wiiitoi's niarix-il Iho mountain 
sholvos. 
And softor ohangivs oamo » ilh vornal mornings, 
Somothinn hail touolnnl Iho trnmiiols' lolty solvos. 
Ami loss ami loss i-ang forlh ihoiv sovoivign 
warnings ; 
Fowor anil fivblor ; as whon silonoo sjm>«ds 
In ulagno-strnok touts, whoiv hanglity ohiofs, 
loft dying. 
Kail by dogivos upon thoir angry Ivds, 

Till, ono by ono, ooasos Iho last storn sighing. 
t">no by ono, thus, thoir bivath Iho lrnnii>ols divw, 
IMIl now no moiv iho iniporious inusio blow. 

Is ho then doad » Can grt^at Poolkarnoin dio? 

t"lr oan his ondloss luvsts olsowhoiv Iv uoihUhI ' 
Woiv Iho givat bivalhs thai blow his n\inslivlsy 

riiantoms, that fadod as himsolf iwtnlod ! 
l^r is ho angi'ix-d ' Suivly ho still oon\os; 

This silonoo nshoi's tho divad visitation : 
Suddon will bni'st tho lorivnt of his drums, 

And'thou will follow bloody dosohition. 
So did l\>ardivam : though now, with not a sound 
To si'aiv gvKHl hojH', summor had twiit> oivpt 
ivund. 

Then gsithoiiHl in a lv>nd, with liftod oyos, 
Tho noighbjrs, and tlioso silent heights as- 
comlod, ! 

Oiant, nor aught blasting thoir Kdd ompriso, 
Thoy luol, though twice thoy haltwl, bu<ath 
susiK-udinl . 
Onco, at a oomiug like a god's in ragi> 
AVith thundoivns loajvs, — but 't wjis the inhnl 
snow, falling ; 
And omv, whon in tho w>hv1s an iv>k, for agx>, , 
Fell do;id, the silejioe witUitsgixum ainwUing. ] 



.\t last thoy oamo whoiv still, in divad arrsy, 
.\s though tliov .still might spoak, Iho Irumin-ta 
liy, 

I'nhnrt thoy lay, like oavorus above ground, 
Tho rifled rooks, for hands, about Ihom oling- 
inj!. 
Their IuIh's ivs straight, thoir mighty mouths as 
ixnimi 
And firm as whon iho moks woiv lii-sl sot 
ringing. 
Fn>sh fix>m Ihoir unimagiiiablo monld 
They might have soomod, .save that the storms 
had stained Ihom 
AVilh a rioh rust, that now, with gloomy gold 
In Iho bright .sun.shiiio, boauloously iugniined 
them. 
Itix-athloss the giuors looked, nigli faint for a\v>'. 
Then leajwd, then laughed. What was it now 
they si\w i 

Myriads of biixls. Myriads of binls, that tilled 
Tho trum|iots all with nosts and iioslling 
voioos ! 
Tho gitwt, huge, stormy niusio had boon stilled 
By the soft \ieods that nursed those small, 
sweet noises ! 
thou Ooolkaruoiu, whoiv is now thy wall ? 

AVhoiv now thy voice diviiu' and all thy fon'os 1 
Ort<at was thy cunning, but its wit was .small 
Oomiwivd with nature's least and gentlest 
coni'ses, 
Keai^ and false onnnls may fright the i-oalms 

awhile ; 
But heaven luid earth abide their time, and snnle. 

UVilGIl HCNT. 



MAHMorn. 

Thkrk enmo a man, making his hasty moan 
IVfoiv the Sidtan Mahmond on liis throne. 
And crying out, " My sori\>w is my right. 
And 1 irill see tho Sultan, and to-uight," 
" Sorrow," sjiid Mahmoud, " is a ivveivnd thing : 
1 rotH\guiio its right, as king with king : 
SiH>ak on." " A liend has got into my house," 
Kxclainirtl the staring man, "and tortnivs us. — 
One of thine ollioei-s ; he ivmos, the abhorivd. 
And takes jHisst'ssion of my house, my l>Oi\i\l, 
My K'd ; — 1 have two daughters and a w ifo. 
And tho wild villain comt>s and makes me mad 

with life," 
" Is he theiv now ? " said Mahmoud. " Xo : ho 

loll 
Tho house whon 1 did, of nty wits K-ivft, 
Anvl lauglnnl mo down the stiwt, l>eeausi" I vowwl 
I 'd bring the prino« himself to lay hhu iu his 

shroud. 



DESCniPTIVE I'OEMS. 



701 



I 'ill iiiiiil witli wiiiit, i 'rn miul witli iiiiiiery, 
Aiiit, () tli»u Hultuii Maliinouil, (>o<J cric-H »ut for 
llieo I " 

'I'lii: Hiiltnii coiurciiii')! tlin iimii, nn<l iui'v\, 
" (Jo lioiiii', hikI I will wikI llj(;e will'- mill lirciul" 
(I'or 111: wiw ]i«oi) "mill oilier <;oiiifi)rlii. fio ; 
Ami hIiouIiI the wr>-t<'li n-tuni, let Hiiltaii Muli- 
muud know." 

Ill tlirMtilnyn' tiiiic, witli liaf{;;iinl Kyemiinl liourd, 

Aii'l nlmkvii voile, the Hiiitur reiii<i)(:iiieil, 

And Hai'l, "He'* conic." Malirnuuil nuid not a 

woril, 
I'lit ri'iw; ami took four kIuvch, each with u hwopI, 
And went with the vexol man. They ri;iu:h the 

|)ljtce, 
And hear a voice, and nee a woman'i) fiuvi, 
That to the window (lutU-reil in iilfri^^ht ; 
"(ioin," Hiiii] .Malinioiiil, "ami |ii]t onl the li){ht; 
lint tell the feiiialeH firHt to leave the room ; 
And when the drunkard I'oIIowh them, we come." 

The man went in. Tliere wtoi a cry, and hark I 
A tJilile lallN, till- window IH Htruck dark : 
Korth runh the hreathlewi women, and behind 
With cumeH loineii the liend in deHjwrate mind. 
Ill vain : the Mihreit m>oii cut nhoil the xtrit'e, 
And chop the nhricking wrct<;h, and drink Imh 
bliKidy life. 

" Now lif/IU the light," the Sultan cried aloud : 
"r wan done : he took it in liix liand and bowed 
Over the eorinic, and looked U|ion the l'a<;e ; 
Then turned and knelt, and U> the throne of gr!u« 
I'lit uj> a prayer, and from liii; lipH there crept 
Home gentle wonln of jileaMure, and he wept. 
Ill reverent nilcm.e the Iwholdem wait. 
Then bring him at hix call tK>tli wine and meat ; 
And when he hail refreHh<»l hix noble heart, 
lie VxuJe hill hoitt )x: bleat, and roue up to dejiart. 

The man amaz<;d, all inildneHs now and ttian, 
Kell at the .Siiltan'n feet with many prayem. 
And Ix'^tged him to voiiiliHafe Vi Udl bin Hlave 
The reanoii Hrxt of that command he gave 
About the light ; then, when he Maw the face, 
Why he knelt down ; and lastly, how it wan 
That fare no jioor a* hix detained him in the place. 

'I'he HuItJin xaid, with a tx-nignant eye, 

" .Since (imt I xaw thee come, ami heard thy cry, 

I could not rid me of a drca/1, that one 

I'.y whom xuch daring villaniex were done, 

M uxt be xoine lord of mine, — ay, e'en [wrliafM a 

ton. 
For thix I ha<l the light put out : but when 
I xaw the fu/je, and found a xtranger xhtin. 



I knelt and thunkc'l the xovereign Arbiter, 
Whoxo work I hod ]>eiforme<i through ]iain and 

fear ; 
And then I roxc and wax rcfrcxhial witli fixni. 
The lirxt time xinus thy voii:e hail iimrred my 

xolitude," 

I.IMGII HUNT, 

—» — 

TIIK ;.i,rKit. 

" Room for the leper ! ri«jni ! " And at he came 
The cry pax>«!<l on, " Kooin for the leper! iwjiu 1 " 

And axidc tli«y xtood, 
.\fatron, and child, and pitileux inanho'xl, —all 
Who met him on hix way, — -and let him |>axx. 
And onward through the open gati; he came 
A lefxT with the axhex on hix brow, 
8a<;kcloth alxjut hix loinx, and ou hix lip 
A covering, xU-pping jiainfiilly and xlow. 
And with a difficult iittj^rance, like one 
Whoxe heart ix with an iron nerve put down. 
Crying, " Unclean I iinclejin ! " 

iJay wax breaking 
When at tlic altar of the temiile xt<j<xl 
The holy priext of Ood. The incemte-lamp 
liiiriied with a xtruggling light, and a low chant 
.Swelled through the hollow arclien of the roof, 
Like an articulate wail, and there, alone, 
Waxtwl t'j ghaxtly thinnexx, Helon knelt. 
'I'he eclioex of tlie melancholy xtrain 
Died in the dixtint aixlex, and he rox<; uj). 
Struggling witli wcaknexx, and Ixjwwl down hix 

hea<i 
IJnV) the xiirinkldl axhex, and put off 
llix ';o»tly raiment for the leper'x garb, 
And with the Ma<;kcloth round him, and his lip 
Hid in a loatlix<jrne covering, xtood xtill. 
Wailing t/} hiMir liix drxjui : — 

" Dcjiart I de[iart, child 
Of Ixnud, from the t4;mple of thy Oo<l, 
For he liux xmot/; thee with hixclioxleiiingrod, 

And Ut the dexert wild 
From all thou lov'xt away thy feet inuxt flee, 
Thjit from thy jilague hix people may be free. 

" Dejiart ! and come not near 
The buxy mart, the crowdial city, more ; 
Nor H<!t thy Ujot a human threxhold o'er ; 

And xtay thou not to hear 
Voiced that call thee in the way ; and fly 
From all who in the wildemexx {Huin by. 

" Wet not thy burning lip 
In itreamx that to a human dwelling glide ; 
Nor rext thee where the wjvert fountailix hide. 

Nor kneel thee down to dip 



ro2 



DKSCKlPriVE POEMS, 



The watov whi'iv tlio pilsrim IhmuIs to drink, 
By ilosi'i't woU. or livor's grassy brink. 

"Aiul [wss not tliou K-twooii 
Till" woniy tnivollor ami tho ooolinj; Ihvo.to, 
AikI lit- not down to sKh'ji K'ltoatli tlic tiws 

Wlioiv luiiuaii tf.u'ks aiv si>oii ; 
Nor milk tlio gxmt that browseth on thi>i>laiH, 
Nor pluck tUi> staiuUiig com or yellow grjiiu. 

" Ami now doivtrt ! and wlioii 
Tliy heart is hoavy. ai\d tliino eyos aiv dim, 
Lift »!> thy ursiyor Ivsoivhiiijcly to Him 

Who, from tho trilvs of nu'ii, 
Sehvtrtl thoo to fool his ohastonins; i\xl. 
Poi^rt I U'lvr ! and loi-got not IuhI ! " 

And ho wont forth — alono ! not ono of all 
TUo nuii\y whom ho lovisl, nor sho wluwo mune 
Was wovon in tho tibros of tho hoart 
Biwikinj; within him now, to oonio and sjvak 
Comfort unto him. Ywi, ho wont his way, 
Siok and hoartbivkon and lUouo, — to dio ! 
For OxhI had ourswl tho loiH>r 1 

It W!is nixm. 
And Holon knolt Ivsido a stjigiiant \Kvd 
In tho lono wildornoss. and Ivithod his brow, 
Hot with tho burninj! lopiwsy, and tonohtnl 
Tho hvithsomo wator to his fovoriHl li|>s, 
Ti-aying that ho might lx> so blost. — to dio ! 
FiHilstoivs apjiiwiclusl, luul with no strongtli to 

tlw, 
Ho drow the iw^riug closer on his Up. 
Crying, " rnoloan ! uncl«>n ! " and in tho folds 
Of tho AVirsc sackcloth shivuding up his face. 
Ho foil ujwn tho earth till thoy should jviss. 
Nofxror tho str;ing<>r came, and, landing o'or 
The leper's pixwtmte form, pivnonuiHHl his name. 
— " Holon ! ■■ — tho voic»' \\-.»s like tho mastor- 

tmie 
Of a rich iustrumeut, — most stnuigely sweet ; 
And the dull puls»>s of dist>ase awoke. 
Ai>d l"or a moment Ivat Ivneath the hot 
And leprous scales with a restoring thrill. 
•' Helon ! arise I " and ho forgvit his curst>, 
And r«se and stoo^l lx>fore him. 

Love and awe 
Minghxl in the ixxgsvrvl of Helon's eye 
As he Ivhold the stranger. He was not 
In c»v-:tly raiment clad, nor on his brow 
The symbol of a princely lineage wore : 
No followers at his Iwok. nor in his hand 
Buckler or swoi\l or sjvar. — yet in his mien 
Oommaud s;it thrviui\l son-no. and if he smiled, 
A kingly condescension grsico^l his lijvs 
The lion would have croucluHl to in his lair. 
His garb w-.i* simple, and his saudals worn : 



His statuiv modelled with a ivrfoct gmce j 

His countenance, tho impress of a Ood, 

Touched with tho open innocence of a child ; 

His eye was blue and calm, as is tho sky 

In tho seii'uost noon ; his hair unshorn 

Fell to his shoulders ; and his curling Kaiil 

Tho fulness of [HMlectod nianhiiod bore. 

Ho lookovl on Helon earnestly awliilo. 

As if his hoart was moved, and, stooping down. 

He took a little wator in his hand 

And laid it on his bivw, and s;>id, " Ue clean ! " 

And lo ! tho scales loll from him, and his bloinl 

Coni-sod with delicious ciHiliu-ss through his veins. 

And his dry imlms grow n\oist, and on his brow 

The dewy softness of an infant's stole. 

His leprosy was cleansed, and ho loll dowi\ 

Prostrate at Jesus' feet, and woi-shippod him. 

' .NATHANISL IWKKUK WILLIS. 



OOIMV.V. 

Not only we, tho latest seed of Time, 
New men. that in tho Hying of a wheel 
Cry down tho jvist : not only wo, that prate 
Of rights and wrongs, have lovinl tho jvople well, 
I And UwtliiHl to soe them ovortaxtnl ; but she 
I Did moro. and underwent, and overoame. 
The woman of a thou.sjind s\iinnu"rs l>ack, 
luxlivji, wife to that grim Ejirl who ruled 
In Coventry ; for when he laid a tax 
r(Kin his town, and all tho nunhors brought 
Their childrou, chunoring, " If we jwy, we 

starve ! " 
She sought her loi\l, and found him, whcro he 

stnxle 
About tho hall, among his dogs, alone, 
His Wai\l a f>Mt Ivforo him, ai\d his hair 
j A yaixl K'hind. She told him of their tears. 
And prayed him, " If they jvxy this tsix, tliey 

starve." 
Whoroiit he stared, replying, half amajml, 
" You would not lot your little linger ache 
For such as /Af.«" ,' " "l^ut I woulddie," .sjiid slie. 
He laugheil. and swor*- by Feter and by Faul : 
Thou lilliiXHl at the diamond in her ear ; 
" 0, ay, ay. ay, you talk 1 " " Alas ! " she said, 
" But prove me what it is 1 would not do." 
And fronr a heart as rough .is Es:>n's hand, 
He answoix'tl. " Kido you nako»l through the town. 
And 1 rojHwl it ; " aiul noildiug. as in sa<rn. 
He jwrted. with gn>at striiles anumg his d>>gs. 

S<> loft alono, the jwssions of her mind. 
As winds Irom all the i\mu|v>ss shift and blow. 
Made war nixm each v^thor for an hour. 
Till pity won. She sent a herald forth. 

And Ivide him cry, with sound of trumpet, all 
The hai\l condition ; but that she woidd loose 



UE.SCn(PTIVE POEMS. 



703 



Till' jK''i|i'i'' : tlKTi'for'', iiH tliiy lovKil tier wi'll, 
Kr'itii tliiii till li'xili ii'i Uxil nlioiilil [inr* the dtrcet, 
No i')'n Irxik ilowii, nil'' ]aMit\iin ; t<iit that all 
MhiMilil k>M-|> within, 'Inxmhiit anil wimlow linrrwl. 

Then ll>'<l nh).' to Ikt inniont Uiwer, anil there 
Uni'laii|>(:i| the w«|i|e<] i3i»<li-pt of her lielt, 
The ((rim Fjirl'H (^ift ; hut ev^r at a hrealh 
Hhe linK<'re<l, |iyikin({ like a Hiiiiiiiier ni'»in 
lluir<li|it in ejiiuil : anon iihe iih««k her h>^, 
Ami iihowerryl the rii>|>lei| ringletn U> her knee ; 
Unelail herwdf in haul'! ; whrnn the »tair 
Mtole on ; an<l, like a creeping; iinnheani, iiliil 
From jiillur unto iiillar, until «he rem.hed 
The ((ati:way ; there »he fouml her |>alfrey trapt 
111 piiriile |j|a%oiie<l with armorial gol<l. 

Then nhe nxle forth, elothejl on with ehantlty : 
The ileep air linUniinl rounil her ax »he rwle, 
An<l all the low wind hanlly hreathwl for fear. 
The little wiile-inoiithol heailii n|ion the Himnt 
Hail <'nnnin;{ eyeH u> we : the Uirkiiig eur 
.M.ule her eheek (lame ; her (Kilfrey'n footfall iihot 
1,1^1'' horront through her pulix-ii ; the blind walln 
Were full of ehinkH and holeH ; and overhiaul 
Kantiwtie gahlex, crowding, ntared : hut nhe 
Not lewi through all Ixire u|>, till, laitt, iihe naw 
The white-dowered elder-thieket from the held 
Cileani through the 'Jothie arrdiwayn in the wall. 

Then Hhe nxle l«i<:k, elothed on with ehaatity ; 
And one low eliurl, eomi>ii<:t of thanklfXM earth, ' 
The fatal hyworil of all year» U> eotnc, 
Brjring a little auger-hole in fear, 
Pe*]K''l — Ijut Ilia cyea, Iwforc they luwl their will, 
Were nhrivelhwl int/> darkneiw in hi» hea<l, ' 

And dropt Ix^fore him. .So the I'owert, who wait 
On nohle rlee'ht, caneelled a aenwr miiiuiw;d ; , 

And Hhe, that knew not, jiaHi(e<l ; and all at once, ' 
With twelve great Hhoeka uf Mound, the Nhflmelem 

noon 
Wa«<;la»he<l and hammered froniahumlredtowere, 
Oue aft«r one : hut even then hhe gain>»l 
Her bower ; whence reianiiing, roU'd and crownc'l, 
To meet her lo^I, »he took the tax away, 
And built hemelf an everhwting name. 

AI.PkP.TI TeMffVlOM. 



TIIK TKISONKK OF CHILLON. 

ETKKNAr. Kpirit of the ehainleHH mind ! 
iirightent in diingeonii, l.ilierty ; thou art. 
For there thy hal/itation h the h'-art, — 
The heart whiidi love of thee alone can bind ; 
And when thy winM to fett^-n* are conHigneii, — 
To fettem, and the damp vaiilt'n daylemi gloom, — 
Tlieir country con<|ueni with their martynlom. 
And Freedom's fame findx wingH on every wind. 
Cbillon '. thy priwju ia a holy place. 
And thy tad ll'xjr an altar, — for 't wan trrxl. 



I'ntil hia very i<t«[Mt liave left a tra/»! 
Worn, aa if thy colil {nvenient were a nod, 
Uy IJonnivard '. — .May none thow; niariu efface I 
For they uinx'jil from tyranny to <iwl. 

Mv hair la gray, but not with yiairn, 
-N'or grew it whit<; 
In a Hingle night, 
Aa inen'ii have grown frrjm audden feani : 
My limt« are txiwed, though not with toil. 

Hut niat/r^l with a vile rejiow;, 
For they have tx-en a dung<yjn'it h]m\. 

And mine haa )x.-«n the fate of th'Me 
To whom the g'xxlly earth and air 
Are Ixiniii^l, and liarre/l, — forbidden fare ; 
Hut thia wax for my father'n faith 
I aufferwl chain* and lAiurUA death ; 
That father |x:riahe<l at the utake 
For tenet* he would not fonake ; 
And for the name his lineal ra/* 
In darkneaa found a dwelling-place ; 
We were w;ven, — who now are one, 

Mix in youth, and one in age, 
Finiahnl aa they ha/I lx:gun, 

I'roud of I'erH<«;ution'B rage ; 
One in fire, and two in field, 
Their )x-lief with bhxxl have Healed t 
Dying ax their father di«l. 
For the Otxl their ffXM deniefl ; 
Thiw; were in a dungeon caat. 
Of whom thix wrtek i« left the laat. 

ThCTe are «evcn pillara of Gothic rnonld 
In Chillon'H diingeonH dceii and old, 
Tliere are wven coliimnx, rnawty and gray, 
^y^m with a dull imi(rifM)ne<l ray, — 
A siinlx-ain which hath loat it* way. 
And through the crevirw and the cleft 
Of the thick wall ix fallen and left, 
f'rwping o'er the fl'x<r mj damp. 
Like a mamh'* met/ror lamp, — 
And in •■luh pillar there ix a ring. 

And in kuM ring there i* a 'diain ; 
Tliat iron ix a 'yinkering thing. 

For in the*'; liml« it* teeth remain 
With mark* that will not wear away, 
Till I have done with thix new day, 
Which now ix fiainful t/» th<9«; eyea. 
Which have not xeen the «tin to rixe 
For year*, — I cannot count them o'er, 
1 lofit their long and heavy iv-jnis 
When my laxt brother dr'X)f>ed and died. 
And I lay living by hix Hide. 

They chained n* each to a wdurnn xtone. 
And we were three, yet ea/di alone ; 
We (uni\i\ nfit move a xingle Jiace, 



704 



1)KSC'KU>T1VK I'llKMS. 



\Vi' I'diiM not SIX' I'lu'li otlicr's I'iU'o, 
l!ut with tliiit inilo iiiui livid lij,'lit 
'I'liiit lUiulo lis striiiij^'i's in our sifjlit ; 
Ami thus togi'thi'r, vol aiwit, 
I'Vttoivil iu luiMil, but jiiuwl in hoiiit ; 
'r WHS still sonic soUu'i', in tho doiii'th 
Of tho puRi I'li'uuMits of t'lirth, 
To hi'iii'kon to wuh othoi's spi'in'li, 
And oiK'li tuin I'oinl'ortov to oiu'h 
With sonio ni'W hopi', oi' Icij^'ud old, 
Or song hoioii'iilly hold ; 
Hut ini'U tlu'si' lit h'ligth j;ivw cold. 
Oui' voices took 11 dii'iii'v toiu'. 
All t'l'lio of till' dungiHin-stoiu', 

A ^'iiitinj; sound, — not full mid freo 
As thi'V ofjoiv woiv wont to bo ; 
It might Ih> tiiiu'v, — but to mo 
riicy lu'voi- sounded like our own. 

1 WHS tin' I'ldost of the thivo, 

.\iid to uphold mid I'hoor tlio ivst 
1 ought to do - mid did — my host, 
And oiioli did well in his doglvo. 

Tlu' youngost, whom my fnthi-r lovid, 
IV'i'iUiso our mothor's biwv was given 
To him, with eyes us blue as heaven, — 
Kor him my soul was soivly moved ; 
.Viid truly might it be distivst 
To sw sueh bini in sueh n nest ; 
For he was Ix-antiful as day 
(AVheii day was beautiful to me 
As to young eagles, being five), — 
A polar day, which will not seo 
A sunset till its snininer's gone. 

Its sleepless siiiinner of long light. 
The snow-clad otVspring of the sun ; 

And thus he was as piiiv and bright. 
And in his natural spirit guy, 
With tears for niinglit but othei-s" ills, 
And then they tlowcii like mountaiii rills. 
Unless he could asnngi' tlie wiw 
'Which he abhorivd to view below. 

Th» other was as puiv of mind. 
Rut formed to eouihit with his kind ; 
StiMiig in his fi-iime. and of a nnv>d 
Which 'gainst the world in war hud stood. 
And piiished in the foivmost rank 

With joy ; — but not in chains to pine : 
His spirit witheivd with their clank, 

I saw it silently decline, — 

And so ]H'ivliaiice in sooth did iniiio ; 
l$ut yet 1 foived it on to cheer 
Those ivlics of a home so dear. 
He was a hunter of tho hills. 

Had follow rtl theiv the deer and wolf; 

To him this dungeon was a gulf 
And fetteri'd feet the woi-st of ills. 



Lake Leiiian lies by Ohillon'a walls : 
.\ thousand feet ill depth below 
Its massy walei's meet and tlow ; 
Thus much the fathom-lino was sent 
From I'hillon's snow-white battloinont. 

Which round about the wave inthialls ; 
A double dungi'oii wall and wave 
Have made, - and like a living giiivo. 
Hclow tho surface of the lake 
The dark vault lies wherein we lay, 
\\'e heard it ripple night and day ; 

Sounding o'er our heads it knocked ; 
.\ud 1 have felt the winti'i'sspniy 
Wii.sli through the burs when winds woix' liiijli 
And wuiiton in the liuppy sky; 

And then the very rock liutli rocked. 

And I hiive felt it sliuke, uiisliocked, 
Uecauso 1 could liuve smiled to see 
The death that would have set me free. 

I suid my ncHivr brother iiinod, 
I said his mighty heart declined, 
He loathed and put uwiiy his food ; 
It was not that 't waseoai-se and rude, 
Kor wo were used to hunter's faix>, 
And for the like hud little euro ; 
The milk diiuvii from the mountuiii goat 
Was climiged for water from the moat. 
tliir broad was snch as captives' teui-s 
Have moistened many a thousund yours. 
Since man lii'st pent his fellow-men 
Like brutes within un iron den ; 
But wliut wero these to us or him ? 
Those wiisted not his heart or limb ; 
Jly brother's soul was of that mould 
Which in u puluce had grown cold. 
Hud his five breathing been denied 
The i-uiige of the steep mountuin's side ; 
Ihit why deluy the truth ? — ho died. 
I saw, uiid could not hold his lioud, 
Nor ivuch his ilying huiul, — nor deud, — 
Though hard I strove, but strove in vain. 
To roiid and giia.sh my bonds in twain. 
Ho died, — und they unhnkcil his cliuiu, 
And scooped for him u sliuUow grave 
Even from the cold earth of our cuve. 
I begged them, us u Kion, to luy 
His coi'se in dust whcrooii the duy 
Might shine, — it wius a foolish thought, 
l?ut then within my brain it wrought, 
That even in death bis fivo-borii bivast 
In such u dungeon could not ivst. 
I might huve sjvaivd my idle piiiyor, — 
They coldly lunghed, und luid him thero. 
The tint ami turtless earth ulwve 
The being wo so much did Ku-e ; 
H is empty chain alwe it leant, 
Such muixlcr's litting monument ! 



DESCRIPTIVE POEMS. 



705 



Hut lie, tlic favoritu aiiil tliu lluwcr, 
Most vlinri»li<'<I HiiK,'!! Iiix iiuUl hour, 
IIJH inotlier'H imaK<! iu fair fuc«, 
Tlu^ iiifuiil love of all liJH ra/M,-, 
lli.i irinrtyrcd father'* dcantHt tliouglit, 
My luli'Kt c.iirr, ffjc wlioiii I wiiight 
To lioarl my lifi-, that liis iiiiglit he 
I^i'itH wi<!t';hifil now, arnl oikj ilay fi<;c ; 
111:, too, who y<!t hail hcjil uiitireil 
A Hiiiiit natural or InHjiiri'd, — 
He, too, wnM struck, ami ilay by day 
Wa« wilhere"! on the Btalk away. 

(Joil '. it JH a fearful thing 

To nee the human houI take wing 
In any Hhajx;, in any mowl : — 

1 'vo Keen it rushing forth in hlwxl, 
I 've seen it on the breaking ocean 
Strive with a swoln convulsive motion, 
I 've seen the sick and ghastly bed 

Of .Sin ilelirious with it« dread : 

But these were horrors, — this waa woe 

Unmixed with such, — but sure and slow : 

He faded, and ho ealm and meek, 

•So softly worn, so sweetly weak, 

So tearless, yet so tender, — kind, 

Ami grieved for those lie left Ijehind ; 

With all the while a cheek whose bloom 

Was as a mockery of the tomb. 

Whose tints as gently sunk away 

An a de|nrting rainlxjw's ray, — 

An eye of most transparent light. 

That altnost moile the dungeon bright, 

And not a word of murmur, — not 

A groan o'er his untimely lot, — 

A little talk of better days, 

A littli; hop<: my own t« raise, 

Kor I waa sunk in silence, — lost 

In this last loss, of all the most ; 

And then the sighs he would supprcM 

Of fainting nature's feebleness. 

More slowly drawn, grew less and lens : 

1 listened, but I could not hear, — 

I called, for I was wild with fear ; 

I knew't was ho[)<dess, but my dread 

Would not Ijc thus lulmonished ; 

I called, ami thought I heard a sound, — 

I burst my chain with one strong bound, 

And rushed to him : — I fnunri him not, 

/ only stirred in thia black h[K)t, 

/ only live<J, — / only drew 

The accur>ii:d breath of dungeon-dew ; 

The la»t — the solo — the dearest link 

Between me and the eternal brink, 

Which iKiund me to my failing race, 

Waa broken in this fatal place. 

One on the earth, and one lK;neath, — 

My brothers — both hail ceased to breathe. 



I took that hand which lay so still, 
Alaa ! my own was full us chill ; 
I ha<l not sti'engtli to stir or strive, 
But felt that i Wiis still alive, — 
A frantic feeling when we know 
That what we love shall ne'er Ijc so. 

I know not why 

I could not die, 
I had no earthly hope — but faith. 
Ami that forbade a selfish death. 

What next befell me then and there 
i know not well — I never knew. 

First came the loss of light and air. 
And then of darkness too ; 

I had no thought, no feeling — none : 

Anjong the; stones I stood a stone, 

And wua, scarce conscious what I wiat, 

As shrabless crags within the niiat ; 

For all was blank and bleak and gray ; 

It waa not night, — it waa not ilay ; 

It waa not even the dungeon -light, 

.So hateful to my heavy sight ; 

But vacancy alworbing space. 

And fixedness, without a phu.c : 

There were no stare — no earth — no time — 

No check — no change — no good — no crim* : 

But silence, and a stirlesa breath 

Which neither waa of life nor death : — 

A si;a of stagnant idleness, 

Blind, Ixjundless, mute, and motionlegg ! 

A light broke in upon my brain, — 

It waa the carol of a bird ; 
It ceased, and then it came again, — 

The sweetest siing f«r ever heard. 
And mine was thankful till my eyea 
Kan over with thegla<l suqiria*;. 
And they that moment could not see 
I was the mate of miaery ; 
But then by dull degrwjs carne back 
My senses to their wonted track, 
I saw the dungeon walls and floor 
Close slowly round me as before, 
I aaw the glimmer of the sun 
Creeping as it before ha<l done. 
But through the crevice where it came 
That bird was perched, aa fond and tame. 

And tamer than nfon the tree ; 
A lovely bird, with azure wmgs, 
And aong that said a thousand things, 

And seemed to say them all for me , 
I never saw its like before, 
I ne'er shall see its likeness more. 
It seemed, like me, to want a mate, 
But was not half so desolate. 
And it waa come to love me when 



700 



DESCRIPTIVE POEMS. 



None livoil to U'vc mo so ii^uiii, 
And cluH'i'ing IVoni niy diMij;t'Ou's brink, 
Hiul brought nio buck to IVcl nnd think. 
1 know not if it Into wcio froo, 

(,>!• bi-oko its cage to jii'ivli on mine, 
But knowing well onjitivity, 

Swct't bird ! I could not wish lor thino ! 
Or if it w<'n>, in wingi'd guise, 
A visitnut fnini rmiidiso : 
For — Hfiiven lorgivo tlmt tliougbt ! tliowhiU 
AVhioh niiidi' nir both to wicji nud sniik' — 
I sonii'tinu'S dirnii'd that it niiglit bo 
.My brother's soul couic down to nio ; 
Hut then at last away it IK'w, 
And then 't was mortal, — well I knew, 
For he would never thus have llown, 
And left me twiee so doubly lone, — 
Lone — as the eoi-se within its shroud. 
Lone — as a solitary eloud, 

A single eloud on a sunny day, 
AVhile all the rest of heaven is clear, 
A fivwn upon the atmosphere. 
That hath no business to appear 

When skies are blue and earth is gay. 

A kind of change came in my fate, 
Jty keepers grew compassionate ; 
1 know not what had made them so. 
They weiv inuivd to sights of woe. 
But so it was : — my broken chain 
With links unfastened did renniin, 
And it was liberty to stride 
Along my cell from side to side. 
And up and down, and tlien athwart. 
And tread it over every part ; 
And round the pillars one by one, 
Keturning whei'e my walk begun. 
Avoiding only, as I trod, 
Jly brothel's' gmves witliout a sod ; 
For if 1 thought with heedless tread 
Jly step profaned their lowly bed, 
Jly breatli eame gaspingly and thick. 
And my crushed lieart fell blind and sick. 

I made a footing in the wall, 

It was not therefrom to escape, 
For 1 had buried one and all 

AVho loved me in a linnnin shape : 
And the whole earth would henceforth be 
A wider (iiison unto me : 
No child, — no sire, — no kin had I, 
No partner in my misery ; 
I thought of this and 1 was glad, 
For thought of them had made nie mad ; 
But I was curious to ascend 
To my bari-ed windows, and to bend 
Once moiv, upon the mountains high, 
The (juiet of a loving ey^ 



I saw them, — and they were the same. 
They were not diangcd like me in frame ; 
I saw their thoiisaud years of snow 
On high, — their wide long lake below. 
And tlie blue Uhone in fullest How ; 
I heard the torrents leap and gusli 
O'er channelled rock and broken bush ; 
I saw the wliitcwallcd ilistaiit town. 
And whiter sails go skimming down ; 
And then there was a little isle, 
Wliieh in my very face did smile. 

The only one in view ; 
A small green isle, it seemed no more. 
Scarce broader than my dungeon lloor, 
But in it there were three tall trees. 
And o'er it blew the mountain breeze. 
And by it there weiv watei's llowing, 
And on it there were young llowers growing. 

Of gentle breath and hue. 
The tisli swam by the castle wall. 
And they seemed joyous each and all ; 
The eagle rode the rising blast, 
Mcthought he never Hew so fast 
As then to me he seemed to tly. 
Ami then new tears came in my eye. 
And 1 felt troubled, — and would fain 
I had not left my recent chain ; 
And when I did desceml again. 
The darkness of my dim abode 
Fell on mc as a heavy load ; 
It was as in a new-dug grave 
Closing o'er one we sought to save. 
And yet my glance, too much oppi-essed. 
Had almost need of such a rest. 

It might be months, or years, or days, 

1 kejit no count, — 1 took no note, 
I had no hope my eyes to raise. 

And clear them of their ilreary mote ; 
At last men came to set me free, 

I asked not why and recked not where. 
It was at length the same to me. 
Fettered or fetterless to be, 

I learned to love despair. 
And thus when they appeared at last. 
And all my bonds aside were cast, 
These heavy walls to me had grown 
A herinitagi", and all my own ! 
And half 1 felt as they were come 
To tear me from a second home ; 
With spidi'i's I had friendship made, 
And watched thi'm in their sullen trade. 
Had seen the mice by moonlight play. 
And why should I feel less than they ! 
We were all inmates of one place. 
And I, the monarch of each race. 
Had power to kill, — yet, strange to tell i 
In ipiiet we had learned to dwell, — 



DESCUII'TIVE I'OKMS. 



707 



My very chains and I grew friendji, 
So much a long coininunioii tends 
To make us wlikt wu are : — even I 
Regained my freedom with a sigh. 

LOKD OVKOM. 



DIVINA COMMEDIA. 

Ofi' have I seen, at some catliedral door, 
A hiborer, jmusing in tlie dust and lieat. 
Lay down his burden, and with reverent feet 
Enter, and cross himself, and on the lloor 

Kneel to lepeat his iiaternoster o'er ; 
Far off the noises of the worl<l retreat ; 
The loud vociferations of the street 
Become an undistinguisliable roar. 

So, as I enter here from day to ilay, 

And leave my burden at this minster gate. 
Kneeling in prayer, and not luthanied to pray, 

The tumult of the time diw.'onsolate 
To inarticulate murmura dies away, 
While the eternal ages watcli and wait. 

Mow strange the sculptures that adoru these 
towers ! 
This crowd of statues, in whose folded sleeves 
birds build their nests ; while canopied with 

leaves 
Parvis and portal bloom like trellised bowers, 
And the vast minster seems a cross of flowers ! 
But fiends and dragons on the gargoyled eaves 
Watch the dead Christ Ijetween the living 

thieves. 
And, underneath, the traitor Judas lowers ! 
Ah ! from what agonies of heart and brain. 
What exultations trampling on ilespair, 
What tendcniess, what tears, what hate of 
wrong. 
What passionate outcry of a soul in jiain. 
Uprose this jjoem of the earth and air. 
This mediaival miracle of st^ng ! 

1 enter, and I see thee in the gloom 
Of the long aisles, O i>oet saturnine ! 
And strive to make my steps keep ])ace with 

thine. 
The air is filled with some unknown perfume ; 

The congregation of the dead make room 
For thee to jiass ; the votive tJipers shine ; 
Like rooks that haunt liavenna's groves of [line 
The hovering echoes fly from tomb to tomb. 

From the confessicnals I hear arise 
Rehearsals of forgotten tragedies. 
And lamentations from the crypts below ; 

And then a vnin- celestial, that titgins 

With the pathetic words, "Although your sins 
As scarlet be," and ends with "as the snow." 



With snow-white veil ami gannents aa of Uamc, 
.She stands befoie thee, who so long ago 
Filled thy young heart with passion and the woe 
From which thy song and all its splendors came: 

Anil wliile with stern i idjuk<; slic' speaks tliy uann', 
The ice about thy heart melts as the snow 
On mountain heights, and in swift overllow 
Comes gushing from thy lips in sobs of shame. 

Tliou inakest full confession ; and a gleam. 
As if the clawii on some dark forest cast. 
Seems on thy lifted forehead to increase ; 

LethJ: and Euiioe — the rememljered dream 
And the forgotten sorrow — bring at last 
That perfect [lardou which is perfect peace. 

1 liit mine eyes, and all the windows blaze 
With forms of saints and holy men who died, 
Here martyred and hereafter glorified ; 
And the great I'ose upon its leaves displays 

Chiist's Triumph, and the angelic roundelays. 
With splendor upon sjilendor multiplied ; 
And Beatrice again at Dante's side 
No more rebukes, but smiles herworda of praise. 

And then the organ sounds, and unseen choirs 
Sing the old Latin hymns of peace and love, 
And benedictions of the Holy Ghost ; 

And the melodious bells among the spires 
O'er all the house-tops and through heaven 

above 
Proclaim the elevation of the Host ! 

stir of morning and of liberty ! 

bringer of the light, whose splendor shines 
Above the darkness of the Apennines, 
Forerunner of the day tlrnt is to be ! 

The voices of the city and the sea. 
The voices of the mountains and the pines, 
Repeat thy song, till the fandliar lines 
Are footpaths for the thought of Italy ! 

Thy fame is blown abroad from all the heights. 
Through all the nations, an<l a sound is heard, 
Ah of a mighty wind, and men devout, 

Strangers of Rome, and the new proselytx^s. 
In their own language hear thy wondrous word, 
And many are amazed and many doubt. 

HENRY WadSWOKTH LO.NGFELLOW. 



THE VILLAGE SCHOOLMISTRES.S. 

FROM "THF. SCHOOLMISTRKSS." 

In every village marked with little spire, 
Embowered in trees,and hardlyknowH to fame. 
There dwells, in lowly shed and mean attire, 
A matron old, whom we .Schoolmistress name ; 
Who boasts unruly brats with birch to tame : 
They grieven sore, in piteous durance pent. 
Awed by the power of this relentless dame ; 



708 



DESCRIPTIVE POEMS. 



Ami ofttimes, on vagaries idly bent, 
For unkompt him; or task uiK'nmifi-l, are sorely 
shout. 

Her cap, fur wliitor than the ilrivi'ii snow, 
Embloiii right nit'ct of ileccui'V ilucs yii'Ul : 
Hit iijiroM ilyod in grain, as bUio, I trowo, 
As is the hareboU that adorns tho tiold : 
And in her hand, for scoptro, she does wield 
Tway bindu'n sprays ; with an.xions fear en- 
twined, 
With dark distrnst, and sad ri'])enlan('e tilled ; 
And steadfast hate, and sliarji alllietion joined, 
And fury uncontrolled, anil ehastisement unkind. 

A russet stole was o'er her shoulders thrown ; 
A russet kirtle feneed the nipping air ; 
'T was simple russet, but it was her own ; 
'T was her own country bred the lloek so fair, 
'T was hi'r own labor did the fleece prepare ; 
And, sooth to say, her pupils, ranged around, 
Through pious awe, did term it passing rare ; 
For they in gaping wonderment abound. 
And think, no doubt, she been the greatest wight 
on ground. 

Albeit ne (lattery did corrupt her truth, 
Ne jwuipous title did debauch her ear ; 
t"!oody, good-woman, gossip, n'aunt foi'sootli. 
Or dame, the sole additions she did hear ; 
Yet these she challenged, these she lu'ld right 

dear : 
Ne wouUI esteem him act as mought behove, 
AVho should not honor eld with these revere ; 
For never title yet so mean could prove. 
But there was eke a mind which did that title love. 

In elbow-chair (like that of Scottish stem, 
By the sharp tooth of cankering eld defaced, 
In which, when he receives his diadem. 
Our sovereign prince and liefest liege is placed) 
The nnitron sat; and some with rank she giaeed, 
(The sonrceof children's and of court iers' pride ! ) 
Redressed affronts, — for vilo alVronts there 

jiassed ; 
And warned them not the fretful to deride. 
But love each other dear, whatever them betide. 

Right well she knew each temper to descry, 
To thwart the proud, and tlic submiss to raise ; 
Sonu" with vile copper-prize exalt on high. 
And some entice with pittance small oi' praise ; 
And other some with baleful sprig she 'frays ; 
Even absent, she the reins of power doth hold, 
While with ipiaint arts the giddy crowd she 
sways ; 
, Forewanu'd, if little bird their piuuks behold, 
' T will whisper in her ear, and all the scene unfold. 



Lo ! now with state she utters her command ; 
Kltsoons the urchins to their tasks repair. 
Their books of stature snndl they take in hand, 
Which with pellucid horn secured arc. 
To save from finger wet thi! h'tters fair : 
The woi'k so gay, that on their back is seen, 
St. George's high achievenu'nts does declare ; 
On which Ihilk wight that has y-gazing been, 
Kens the forthcoming rod, — unpleasing sight, I 
weeu ! 

But now Dan Phoebus gains the middle sky, 
And Liberty unbars her jirison door ; 
And like a rushing torrent out they fly ; 
And now the grassy circino ban covered o'er 
With boisterous revel rout and wihl uproar ; 
A thousanil ways in wanton rings they run. 
Heaven sliield their short-lived pastimes, I im- 
plore ; 
For well may freedom erst so dearly won 
Appear to British elf more gladsonu< than the sun. 

Wn.LlAM SUKNSTONE. 



TlIK ,101. l.Y 0I;0 PKOACOfiUE. 

'T w.\s a jolly old pedagogue, long ago,—-/ 

Tall and slender, and sallow and dry ; 
His form was bent and his gait was slow, 
His long thin hair was as white as snow, 

But a wonderful twinkle shone in his eye ; 
And he sang every night as he went to bed, 

" Let us lie happy down here below ; 
The living should live, though the dead be dead," 

Said the jolly old pedagogue, long ago. 

Ho taught his scholars the rule of three. 

Writing, and reading, and history too ; 
Ho took the little ones up on his knee, ^, 
For a kind old heart in his breast had he,\ 

And the wants of the littlest child he kUew; 
" Learn while you 're young," he often saiii, 

"There 's nuieh to enjoy down heiv below; 
Life for the living and rest for the dead ! " 

Said the jolly old pedagogue, long ago. 

With the stupidest boys he was kind and cool. 

Speaking only in gentlest tones ; 
The rod was hardly known in his school, — 
A\'hipping, to him, was a barbarous rule, 

And too hard work for his poor old bones ; 
"Besides, it is painful," he sometimes said ; 

"We should make life pleasant down hero 
below. 
The living need charity nuu'c than tlu- dead," 

Said the jolly old pedagogue, long ago. 



DESCRIPTIVE POEMS. 



709 



He lived in the house by the hawthorn lane, 

With rosea and woodbine over tliedoor ; 
His rooms were (jiiii'l anil neat and plain, 
But a spirit of comfort there ludd rei;^, 

And made him forget he was old and poor ; 
" I need so little," he often said ; 

" And my friends and relatives here below 
Won't litigate over me when 1 am dead," 

Said the jolly old pedagogue, long ago. 

But the pleasantest times that he had, of all. 
Were the sociable hours he used to pass. 

With his chair tipped back to a neighbor's wall. 

Making an unceremonious call, 
( Over a pijie and friendly glass : 

This was the finest pleasure, he said, 
< If the many he tasted here below ; 

" Who has no cronies had better be dead," 
Said the jolly old pedagogue, long ago. 

Then the jolly old pedagogue's wrinkled face 

Melted all over in sunshiny smiles ; 
He stirred his glass with an old-school grace. 
Chuckled, and sipped, and prattled apace, 

Till the house grew merry, from cellar to tiles. 
" I 'm a pretty old man," he gently said, 

" I have lingered a long while here below ; 
But my heart is fresh, if my youth is fled," 

Said the jolly old pedagogue, long ago. 

He smoked his pipe in the balmy air 

Every night when the sun went down. 
While the soft wind played in his silvery hair, 
Leaving his tenderest kisses there, 

On the jolly old pedagogue's jolly old iTown ; 
And feeling the kisses, he smiled, and said, 

VT was a glorious world, down here below ; 
'IWhy wait for happiness till wc are dead ? " 
[Said the jolly old pedagogue, long ago. 

He sat at his door, one midsummer night, 
After the sun had sunk in the west. 

And the lingering beams of golden light 

Made his kindly old face look wami and bright, 

N. While the odorous night-wind whispered, 

, ■' "Rest!" 

Gently, gently, he bowed his head, — 

There were angels waiting for him, I know ; 

He was sure of hai)piness, living or dead, — 
This jolly old [wdagogue, long ago ! 

Ceorcb ar.sold. 



THE SETTLER. 

/His echoing axe the settler swung 
Amid the sea-like solitude, 
And, rushing, thundering, down were flung 
The Titans of the wood ; 



Loud shrieked the eagle, as he dashed 
From out bis mossy nest, which crashed 

With its supporting bough. 
And the lirat suidigbt, leaping. Hashed 

On the wolf's haunt below. 

Rude was the garb and strong the frame 

Of liiiM who plied his ceaseless toil : 
To form that garb the wildwood game 

Contributed their spoil ; 
The soul that warmed that frame disdained 
The tinsel, gaud, and glare that reigned 

Where men their crowds collect ; 
The simple fur, untrimmed, unstained. 

This fori;st-tamer decked. 

The paths which wound mid gorgeous trees. 

The stream whose bright lips kissed their 
flowers. 
The wintls that swelled their harmonies 

Through those sun-hiding bowers, 
The temple vast, the green arcade, 
The nestling vale, the grassy glade, 

Dark cave, and swampy lair ; 
These scenes and sounds majestic made 

His world, his pleasures, there. 

His roof adorned a pleasant spot ; 

Mid the black logs green glowed the grain, 
And herbs and plants the woods knew not 

Throve in the sun and rain. 
The smoke-wreath curling o'er the dell. 
The low, the bleat, the tinkling bell. 

All made a landscape strange, 
Which was the living chronicle 

Of deeds that wrought the change. 

The violet sprung at spring's first tinge, 

The rose of summer spread its glow. 
The maize hung out its autumn fringe, 

Rude winter brought his snow ; 

And still the lone one labored there, 

I His shout and whistle broke the air, 

I As cheerily he plied 

His garden-spade, or drove his share 

Along the hillock's side. 

He marked the fire-storm's Hazing flood 

Roaring and crackling on its path, 

i And scorching earth, and melting wood, 

I Beneath its greedy wrath ; 

He marked the rapid whirlwind shoot. 

Trampling the pine-tree with its foot. 

And darkening thick the day 
I With streaming bough and severed root, 
' Hurled whizzing on its way. 



710 



DESCRIPTIVE POEMS. 



His gaunt hound yelled, his rifle flashed, 

The grim bear hushed his savaije growl ; 
In blood and loam the ])antlier gnashed 

Ilis I'angs, with dying howl ; 
■ The fleet deer ceased its living luniud, 
Its snarling wolt'-lbe bit the ground. 

And, with its moaning ery, 
The beaver sank beneatli tlie wouiul 

Its [lond-built Venice by. 

Humble the lot, yet his tlie race, 

When Liberty sent forth her cry, 
AVho thronged in conflict's deadliest place, 

To tight, — to bleed, — to die ! 
Who cumbered Hunker's height of red. 
By hope through weary years were led. 

And witnessed Yorktown's sun 
Blaze on a nation's banner spread, 

A nation's freedom won. 

ALFRtU B. STREET. 



THE CLOSING SCENE. 

Within the sober realm of leafless trees. 
The russet year inhaled the dreamy air ; 

Like some tanned reaper, in his hour of ease. 
When all the fields are lying brown and bare. 

The gray barns looking from their hazy hills, 
O'er the dun waters widening in the vales. 

Sent down the air a greeting to the mills 
On the dull thunder of alternate flails. 

All sights were mellowed and all sounds subdued, 
The hills seemed further and the stream sang 
low. 

As in a dream the distant woodman hewed 
His winter log with many a nnittled blow. 

The embnttled forests, erewhile anned with gold, 
Tlicir banners bright with every martial hue, 

Now stood like some sad, beaten host of old. 
Withdrawn afar in Time's remotest blue. 

On slnmb'rous wings the vulture held his flight ; 
The dove scaive heard its sighing mate's com- 
plaint ; 
And, like a star .slow drowning in the light. 
The village ohurch-vane seemed to pale and 
faint^ 

The sentinel-cock upon the hillside civw, — 
Crew thrice, — and all was stiller than before ; 

Silent, till some replying warden blew 

His alien honi, and than was heanl no more. 



Where erst the jay, within tlic elm's tall crest, 
Made garrulous trouble round her unfledged 
young ; 

And where tlic oriole hung her swaying nest. 
By every light wind like a censer swung ; — 

Where sang the noisy nuirtens of the eaves, 
The busy swallows circling ever near, — 

Foreboding, as the rustic mind Ixdieves, 
An early harvest and a pU'ntcous year ; — 

M'liere every bin! which charmed the vernal feast 
Sluiok the sweet slumber from its wings at 
morn. 

To warn the reaper of the rosy east : — • 
All now was sunless, empty, and forlorn. 

Alone from out the stubble piped the quail. 
And croaked the crow through all the dreamy 
gloom ; 

Alone the pheasant, drumming in the vale. 
Made echo to the distant cottage-loom. 

There was no bud, no bloom upon the bowers ; 
The spiders moved their thin shrouds night by 
night. 
The thistle-down, the only ghost of flowers. 
Sailed slowly by, — passed noiseless out of 
sight. 

Amid all this — in this most cheerless air, 
And where the woodbine shed upon the porch 

Its crimson leaves, .is if tlie Year stood there 
Firing the floor with his inverted torch, — 

Amid all this, the centre of tin" scene, 

The white-hailed matron with monotonous 
tread 

Plied the swift wheel, and with her joyless mien 
Sat, like a fate, and watched the flying thread. 

She had known Sorrow, — he had walked with 
her. 

Oft supped, and broke the bitter ashen crust ; 
And in the dead leaves still she lieanl the stir 

Of his black mantle trailing in the du.st. 

While yet her cheek wa.s bright with summer 
bloom. 

Her country summoned and she gave her all ; 
And twice War bowed to her his sable plnme, — 

Re-gave the swords to rust upon the wall. 

Re-gave the swords, but not the hand that drew 
And struck for Liberty the dying blow ; 

Nor him who, to his sire and country true. 
Fell mid the ranks of the invading foe. 



DESCRIPTIVE POEMS. 



711 



Long, but not loud, the droning wheel went on, 
Like iho low niunniir nl'a hive ut noon ; 

Lung, but not loud, the nienioiy of the gone 
Breathed through her lips u Siul and tremulous 
tune. 

At last the thread wua snapped ; her head was 
bowed ; 
Life dropt the distal!' through his hands se- 
rene ; 
Aad loving neighbors smoothed her careful 
shroud. 
While Death ami Winter closed the autumn 
scene. 

THOMAS BUCHANAN READ. 



SEVEN AGES OF MAN. 

PROM "AS YOU LIKE IT," ACT H. SC. 7. 

All the world 's a stage, 
And all the men and women merely playera : 
They have their exits and their entrances ; 
And one man in his time plays many parts. 
His Acts being seven ages. At lirst tlie Infant, 
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. 
Then the whining Sohool-boy, with his satchel 
And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
Unwillingly to school. And then the Lover, 
Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad 
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a Soldier, 
Full of strange oaths, and beanled like the pard ; 
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in ijuarrel, 
Seeking the bubble reputation 
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the 

Justice, 
In fair round belly with good capon lined, 
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, 
Full of wise saws and modern instances, — 
And so he plays his part. The si.fth age shifts 
Into the lean and slippered Pantaloon, 
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side ; 
1 lis youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide 
For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice, 
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes 
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, 
That ends this strange eventful hLston,', 
Is second childishness, and mere oblivion, — 
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. 

SHAKESPEARE. 



A plant with some leaves unfolded, and the rest 
a.sleep at its root. 
To deck with their future sweetness the fairest 
thing ou the earth. 

Womanhood, wifehood, motherhood — each a 
po.ssible thing, 
Uimly seen through the silence that lies be- 
tween then and now ; 
Something of each and all has woven a magic 
ling. 
Linking the three together in glory on girl- 
hood's brow. 

ANONYMOUS. 



GIRLHOOD. 

At exquisite incompleteness, blossom fore- 
shadowing fruit ; 
A sketch faint in its beauty, with promise of 
future worth : 



SONG. 



How near to good is what is fair, 

Which we no sooner see, 
But with the lines and outward air 

Our senses taken be. 
We wish to see it still, and prove 

What ways we may deserve ; 
We court, we piaise, we more than love, 

We are not grieved to serve. 



BEN JONSON. 



ADAM AND EVE. 

PROM " PARADISE LOST." BOOK IV. 

Two of far nobler shape, erect and tall, 
(Jocllike erect, with native honor clad 
In nuked majesty, seemed lords of all : 
.And worthy seemed ; for in their looks divine 
The image of their glorious Maker shone. 
Truth, wisdom, sanctitude severe and pure, 
(.Severe, but in true filial freedom placed,) 
Whence true authority in men ; though both 
Not ec[ual, as their sex not equal seemed ; 
For contemplation he and valor formed ; 
For softness she and sweet attractive grace ; 
He for God only, she for God in him : 
His fair large front and eye sublime declared 
Absolute rule ; and hyacinthine locks 
Hound from his jiarled forelock manly hung 
Clustering, but not beneath his shoulders broad ; 
She, as a veil, down to the slender waist 
Her unailorned golden tresses wore 
Dishevelled, but in wanton ringlets waved. 
As the vine curls her tendrils, which implied 
.Subjection, but rei|uii-eil with gciith; sway, 
And by her yii-lded, by him best received. 
Yielded with coy submission, modest pride. 
And sweet, reluctant, amorous delay. 

So passed they naked on, nor shunned the sight 
Of God or angel ; for they thought no ill : 



DESCKIPTIVE POEMS. 



So Imml in Imnd thoy pnssml, tlic loveliest pair, 
Thivt ever sinee in love's einliriu'es met : 
Adniii the gooiiliest mini of men since liorn 
His sons, the I'liirest of her dangliters l'"ve. 
Ihuler a tnl't of shaile that on « j»reeM 
Stood wliispei'in); soft, by a fresh luiuil:iin side 
They sat them down : and, al'ler no nmie toil 
Of their sweet jjardeniiLj; labor than sulliced 
To reoomnu'nd eool Zephyr, and nnide ease 
More easy, wholesome thirst ami appetite 
More jjratefnl, to their snpper-IVnits they fell, 
Neetarine fruits whieh the eompliaiit boiifjlis 
Yielded them, sideloni; as llu'y sat reeline 
On Ibe soft downy hank damaski'd witli llowers : 
The savory pnip they chew, ami in the rind. 
Still as they tldrsteil, seoop the brimininfjstreani ; 
Nor gentle purpose, nor endearing sndles 
Wanted, nor yo\ithful dalliam'e, as beseems 
Fair eouple, linked in happy nuptial h'ague, 
Aloiu^ as they. About them fiisking played 
All beasts of the Kaith, sinee wild, and of all ehase 
In wood or wilderuess, forest or den ; 
Sporting the lion ramped, and in his paw 
Dandled tlie kid ; bears, tigers, ounces, pards, 
Oambidloil before them ; the unwieldy elephant. 
To make them mirth, used all his might, and 

wreathed 
His little pndioscis ; close the serpent sly, 
Insinuating, wove with Uordian twine 
His braided train, and of his fatal giulo 
Gave proof unheeded ; othei'S on the grass 
Couched, ami now liUeil with (lasture gazing sat, 
Or bedwanl ruminating ; for the Sun, 
Pocliiu'd, wius hasli'uing now with i)roin' career 
To tlu' ocean isles, and in the asceialing scale 
Of Heaven the stars that usher eveinng rose. 

MIL ION. 



CLEOPATRA. 

FROM "ANTONY AND CLUOPATRA," ACT II. SC. 3. 

Enobahhi's. The barge she sat in, like n bur- 
nished thi-om<, 
Huriu'd on the water : the poop was beaten gold ; 
Purple the sails, and so perfumed that 
The winds \veit> lovesick with them ; the oars 

were silver. 
Which to the tune of flutes kepi stroke, and made 
The water, which they beat, to follow faster. 
As lunorous of their strokes. Forher own person, 
It beggarr'd all description : she did lie 
In her pavilion (cloth-of-gold of tissue), 
O'erpiotiiriiig that Venus, wliere we see 
The fancy outwork nature ; on each siile her 
Stood ]iretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cnpids, 
With divers-colored fans, wjiose wind did seem 



To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool. 
And w'hat they undid, did. 

AoimTA. O, rare for Antony t 

Eno. Her gentlewoincn, like the Nereides, 
So many mermaids, tended her i' the eye.s, 
And nnide their bends ailornings : at the helm 
A seeming nuM'maid steers ; the silken tackle 
Swell with the touches of those llower-soft hands. 
That yarely frame the ollice. Krom the barge 
A strange invisible perfume hits the sense 
Of the luyacent wharfs. Thi> city I'list ' 

Her people out upon her ; and .Vutony, 
l'',nthroned in the market-place, did sit alone, 
Whistling to the air ; whieh, hut for vaciiiu'y. 
Had gone to gaze on I'leopatra too, 
And made a gap in nature. 

Aoi!. hare Egyptian ! 

Eno. Upon her landing, Antony sent to her, 
Invited her to supper : slie re|ilied. 
It should be better he became her guest ; 
Which she entR'ated. Our conrteous Antony, 
Whom ne'er the word of " No " woman heard 

speak, 
Heing bailiered ten times o'er, goes to the feast ; 
And, for his ordinary, pays his heart 
For what his eyes eat oidy. 

Ann. Hoyal wench ! 

M KC.KN .vs. Now Antony must leine her utterly. 

Eno. Never ; he will not : 
Ago cannot wither her, nor custom stale 
Hor inlinite variety : other women cloy 
The appetites they feed, but she makes hungry 
Where most .she satisties. For vilest things 
Become themselves in her ; that the holy priests 
Hless her when she is riggish. 



SHAKl-:sn;ARl!. 



TllK VANITY OF TIIK r.K.\UTlFUL. 

They course the glass, and let it take no restf) 

They pass and spy who ga/eth on their face ; 

They darkly ask whose beauty seenu'th best ; 

They hark and mark who market li most their 
i graoe ; ^ 

They stay their steps, and stalk a stately pace ; 
I They jealous are of every sight they see ; 
I 'I'hcv strive to seem, but never care to be. 

What grudge and grief cnir joys may then sup- 
press, 
To see our hairs, wliich yellow wei-e as gohl. 
Now gray as glass ; to feel and lind them less : 
To scrape the bald skull which was wont to hold 
Our lovely locks with curling sticks contronl'd ; 
To look in glass, and spy Sir Wrinkle's chair 
Set fast on fronts which erst were sleek and fair 

GEOKC.n C.ascoignb 



DESCKIPTIVK I'OK.MS, 



713 



THE T(MI-ET. 

PROM "Tint RAI'K OP THE LOCK," CANTO L 

Ami now, tinvcile'l, the toilet dUimJh displayed, 
Each iiilver va»e in iiiyiitic ordiT laid. 
First, robfrd in white, the nymph int'int adorcH, 
With head unc-oveied, the i.oHnietlc ijowere. 
A hiaivenly image in tht ghuot ap|K;an(, 
To that she bends, to tliat lii;r eyes she ream ; 
The inferior \iri)-sU-m, at hi.T altar's side. 
Trembling logins the stu.red rites of priile. 
I/iiiiiimbered treasuriat oj* at onee, and here 
Tlie various offerings of the world apjx^r ; 
From each she nicely culls with curious toil. 
And deckH the goddess with the glittering s|K)iL 
This casket India's glowing gems unlocks. 
And all Arabia breathiat from yonder ix)X. 
The t<jrtoi«e here and elephant unit);, 
Transfonned to comt», the speckled and the white. 
Here fdes of pins cxt<;nd their shining rows, 
I'ulfs, [lowders, pat<;hes, bibles, billet»-doux. 
Xow awful beauty puts on all its anns ; 
The fair each moment rises in her clianns, 
Kf-jKiirs her smiles, awakens every graire. 
And calls forth all the wonders of her face ; 
Sees by degrees a purer blush arise, 
And keener lightnings (juicken in her eyes. 
The bu»y sylphs surround their darling care. 
These set the head, and thow; divide the hair, 
Sfjme fold the sleeve, while others plait the gown ; 
And Betty 's praised for lalxjrs not her own. 

ALP.XA.NDER Pope. 



An erriug lace, which here and there 

Inthrallt the crimst^n Kfjrnaeher ; 

A cuff neglectful, and tliereVjy 

Uiblxjns to (low confuwvUy ; 

A winning wave, deserving noU;, 

In the tcm]x;Htuous j>etticoat ; 

A careless shoestring, in whtjsc tie 

I see a wild civility ; — 

Do more lx:wit<:h me than when art 

Is too precise in every part 

KOSeaT HBRRICK. 



FREEDOM IN DRVHH. 

FROM "■PICanEi OR. THE SILE.ST WOMA.N." ACT I. SC. I. 

'still to be neat, still to be drest. 
As you were going to a feast ; 
Still to }>e jjowdered, still |>crfume<l, — 
La<ly, it is to be presumed. 
Though art's hid causes are not found. 
All is not sweet, all iii not sound. 

i^Give me a look, give me a face, 
That makes simplicity a grace ; 
Robes l<x«ely flowing, hair as free, — 
Such sweet neglect more taketh me 
Than all the adulteries of art : 
They strike mine eyes, but not my heart. 

BEH JOMSOH. 

« 

DELIGHT IN DISORDER. 

A SWEET disorder in the dress 
Kindles in clothes a wantonnewi ; 
A lawn about the shoulders thrown 
Into a fine distraction ; 



SILLY FAIR. 

When Lcsbia first I saw, so heavenly fair, 
With eyes so bright and with that awful air, 
I thought my heart which durst m high aspire 
As bfjld as his who snatched celestial fire, 
liut soon as e'er the beauteous idiot spoke. 
Forth from her coral lijw such folly broke. 
Like Iralm the trickling nonsense healed my 

wound. 
And what her eyes intbralled her tongne un- 
bound. 

WILLIAU CONCKEVe. 



CONSTANCY. 

O.SE ere of beauty, when the sun'' . _^ 

Waa on the streams of Ouadalquivcr, 
To gold converting, one by one. 

The ripples of the mighty river. 
Beside ine on the l»ank was seated 

A .S<;ville girl, with auburn hair. 
And eyes that might the world Jiave cheated, — 

A wild, bright, wickol, diamond pair ! 

She stoofK^d, and wrote upon the sand. 

Just as the loving sun was going. 
With such a s'jft, small, shining hand, 

I could have sworn 'twas silver flowing. 
Her words were three, and not one more, 

What could Diana's motto be ? 
The siren wrote ufion the shore, — 

" Dctth, not inconxUinq/ .' " 

And then her two large languid eyes 

So turned on mine, tliat, devil take me ! 
I get the air on fire with sighs. 

And was the fofjl she chow; to make me ! 
Saint Francis would have been deceived 

With such an eye and such a hand ; 
But one week more, and I believed 

As much the woman as the sand. 

AKOXVMOUS. 



714 



DKSl'IMlM'lVK l-UKMS. 



TO lANTIIK, Sl.EKriNC. 

1 KvtM "(.HUiUN MAll" 1 I, 

I low womlortul is Doatli ! 

I'l'iitli uiul liis liiollu'i' Slt'i'p ! 
One, |iiili' as y'nnli'r wniiiiij; moon, 

With lips of hniil Miio ; 

Till' otlicr, rosy iis tlic tiioni 
When, thiomui on oofan's wave, 

It liluslii's o'or llio woi'M : 
Yi'l liotli so juissing woinl.'il'iil ! 

Hath tln'n tin' jjlooniy Power, 
Wlioso ri'iijn is in tlic lainli'il si'iniK'hns, 
Si'i/ril on hor sinless soul I 
Must I lion that pwrU'ss I'onn 
iVliii'li lovo ami ailniiration onnU'it view 
WitlumI a lu'atiuj; heart, those azmv Veins 
Wliieh steal like stii'ar.'.s aloni;a liohl of snow. 
That lovely outline, whieh is lair 
As lireathinj{ marble, perish ! 
Must [Mitrelaetion's hreatli 
Leave nothing; of this heavenly sight 

Unt loathsomeness and ruin ! 
S]iare iiolhiiij; hnt a gloomy theme. 
On whieh the lightest heart miglit nioralizo ? 
Or is it only u sweet shnuher 
Stt'nliug o'er sensation, 
Whieli the hreath of mseato morning 
t'haseth into ihirkness? 
Will lanthe wake again. 
Ami give that faithfnl bosom joy. 
Whose sleepless spirit waits to eateh 
Light, life, ami rapture fnun her smile ? 

Yt'9 ! slio will wake ngnin. 
Although her glowing liinlw are motionless. 
And silent those sweet lips, 
Oneo bivathing olo<|ueneo 
That might have soothed ii tiger's rage. 
Or thawed the eold heart of a eompu'ror. 
Her dewy eyes niv closed. 
And on their lids, whoso textuiv tine 
Seaive hides the dark blue orKs K'lieath, 
The Kiby Sleep is pillowed : 
Her golden tresses shade 
The Kisom's stainless pride, 
Curling like tendrils of the parasite 
Annmd a marble eolumu. 

A gentle st.-irt eoiwiilsinl lantlie's fniiup : 
Her veiny eyelids <piietly nnelosed ; 
Mviveless awhile the dark bhu' orlw irmained, 
Sho looked annind in wonder, and beheld 
Henry, who kneeled in silenee by her eonoJi, 
Watehing her sleep with looks of speeohless love, 

And the bright- beaming stars 

Thi>t tlirongh the easement shone, 

raiicv r.vssHK shi>llby. 



TlIK llKld.S. 

Hkai: the sledges with the Ivlls — 
Silver bells I 
What a world of merriment theirmelody foretells I 
How lliey tinkle, tinkle, tiid<le. 

In the icy air of night ! 
While the stars that oversprinklo 
All the heavens seem to twinkle 
With a erystalline delight, — 
Keeping time, tinu'. tinn'. 
In a sort of Kunie rlivme. 
I To the tintinnabnlaticm tlial so musieally wells 
Kroin the bells, hells, bells, bells, 
Uells, bells, bells, — 
Kroin the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. 

Hear the mellow wedding liclls — 
(iohlen hells ! 
What a world of ha|ipiness tlu'ir harmony fore- 
tells ! 
Through the balmy air of night 
How they ring out their ih'light ! 
Knmi the molten-golden notes. 

And all in tuiu', 
What a liiiiiid ditty lloats 
To the turtle-dovo that listens, whilesho gloats 
On tlio moon ! 
O. from out the .sounding eells. 
What a gnsli of euphony voluminously wells I 
How it swells ! 
How it dwells 
l>ii the Future ! how it tells 
Of the rapture that impels 
To the swinging and the ringing 

t>f the bells, bells, bells, 
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells. 
Hells, iH'lls, bells, — 
To the rhyming ami the ehiiniug of the Ih'Us. 

Hear the loud alarnm Ih'IIs — 
Hrayen bells I 
What a tale of tenxir, now, their turhnleuey tells ! 
In the startled ear of night 
How they seream out their atl'right ! 
Too nineh liorritied to speak. 
They can only shriek, shriek. 
Out of tune. 
In theelamoivnsappealing to the mercy of the tire. 
In a nnul expostulation h ith the deaf ami frantie 
tire 
Leaping higher, higher, higher. 
With a despi-rate desire. 
And a resolute omleavor. 
Now — now to sit, or never, 
Ry the side of the pale-faeed moon. 
O the bells, Ivlls, Ivlls, 
What a tale their terror tells 



DESCRIPTIVE POEMS. 



715 



Of despair I 
How thc'y diiiig and cliisli and roar ! 
What a liorror llii-y outpour 
On the bosom of tln^ iialpil.iting air ! 
Yet the car it fully knows, 
By the; twanging, 
And thc^ <'lanKiiin, 
How tin? danger ebbs and flows ; 
Yet tlie ear distinctly tells, 
In the jangling. 
And the wrangling, 
How the ilanger sinks and swells, 
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of 
the bells, — 
Of the bells, — 
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, 
Bells, bells, bells, — 
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells ! 

Hear the tolling of the Ijells — 
Iron bells ! 
What a world of solemn thought their monody 
compels ! 
In the silence of the night, 
How we shiver with affright 
At the melancholy menace of their tone ! 
For every sound that floats 
From the rust within their throats 

Is a groan. 
And the jieople — ah, the people — 
They that ilwell u]) in the steeple, 

All alone, 
And who tolling, tolling, tolling. 

In that muHled monotone, 
Feel a glory in so rolling 

On the human heart a stone, — 
They are neither man nor woman, — 
They are neither brute nor human, — 

They are ghouls : 
And their king it is who tolls ; 
And he rolls, rolls, rolls, 
Rolls, 
A peean from the bells I 
And his merry bosom swells 

With the pa:an of the bells I 
And he dances and he yells ; 
Keeping time, time, time, 
In a sort of Runic rhyme, 
To the paian of the hells, — 
Of the bells: 
Keeping time, time, time. 
In a sort of Kunic rhyme. 

To the throbbing of the Ijells, — 
Of the bells, bells, bells, — 

To the sobbing of the bells ; 
Keeping time, time, time, 
Ai he knells, kncirs, knells, 



In a happy Kunic rhyme. 

To the rolling of the bells, — 
Of the belLs, bells, bells, — 

To the tolling of the bells, 
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells — 
Hells, bells, bells, — 
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells. 

IiOGAK ALLAN POE. 



THE BELLS OF SHANDON. 

Sabbata pan^o ; 
Funera planKo ; 
Solciimia claiiijo. 

INSCRIPTION ON AN OLD BELL 

With ileep afl'ection 
And recollection 
1 often think of 

Those Sliandon bells. 
Whose sounds so wild would, 
In the days of childhood, 
Fling round my cradle 

Theii- magic spelbj. 

On this I ponder 
Where'er 1 wander, 
And thus grow forjder, 

Sweet Cork, of thee, — 
With thy bells of Sbandon, 
That sound so grand on 
The pleasant waters 

Of the river Lee. 

I 'vc heard bells chiming 
Full many a clime in, 
Tolling sublime in 

Cathedral shrine. 
While at a glib rate 
Brass tongues would vibrate ; 
But all their music 

Spoke naught like thine. 

For memory, dwelling 
On each proud swelling 
Of thy belfry, knelling 

Its bold notes free. 
Made the bells of Shandon 
Sound far more grand on 
The pleasant waters 

Of the river Lee. 

I 've heard bells tolling 
"Old' Adrian's Mole" in. 
Their thunder rolling 

From the Vatican, — 
And cymbals glorious 
Swinging uproarious 
In the gorgeous turrets 

Of Notre Dame ; 



(16 



DESCRIPTIVE POEMS. 



But thy sounds were sweeter 
Th.in the dome of Peter 
Flings o'er the Tiber, 

Pealing solemnly. 
0, the bells of Shandon 
Sound far more grand on 
The pleasant waters 

Of the river Lee. 

There 's a bell in Moscow ; 
While on tower and kiosko 
In St. Sophia 

Tlie Turkman gets, 
And loud in air 
Calls men to prayer, 
From the tapering summit 

Of tall minarets. 

Such empty phantom 
I freely grant them ; 
But there 's an anthem 

More dear to me, — 
"f is the bells of Shandon, 
That sound so grand on 
The pleasant waters 

Of the river Lee. 

FRANCIS Mahony (Fatiur ProuJ). 



CITY BELLS. 

FROM '■ THE LAV OF ST. ALOV'S." 

Loud and clear 
From the St. Nicholas tower, on the listening 
ear, 
With solemn swell, 
The deep-toned hell 
Flings to the gale a funeral knell ; 
And hark ! — at its sound. 
As a cimning old hound. 
When he opens, at once causes all the young 

whelps 
Of the cry to put in their less dignified yelps. 
So the little hells all. 
No matter liow small. 
From the steeples both inside and outside the 
wall. 
With hell-metal throat 
Respond to the note. 
And join the lament that a prelate so jiious is 
Forced thus to leave his disconsolate diocese. 
Or, as Blois' Lord May'r 
Is heard to declare, 
" Sliould leave this here world for to go to that 
there. " 

KlC^RD HARRIS BARHAM. 



THOSE EVENING BELLS. 

Those evening bells ! those evening bells ! 
How many a tale their music tells 
Of youth, and home, and that sweet time 
When last 1 heard their soothing chime ! 

Those joyous hours are passed away ; 
And many a heart that then was gay 
Within the tomb now darkly dwells. 
And hears no more those evening bells. 

And so 't will be wheu I am gone, — 
That tuneful peal will still ring on ; 
While other hards shall walk these dells. 
And sing your ]uaise, sweet evening hells. 

THOMAS M00R& 



CARILLON. 

Ik the ancient town of Bruges, 
In the (juaint old Flemish city. 
As the evening shades descended. 
Low and loud and sweetly blended. 
Low at times and loud at times, 
And changing like a poet's rhymes. 
Rang the beautiful wild chimes 
From the Belfry in the market 
Of the ancient town of Bruges. 

Then, with deep sonorous clangor 
Calmly answering their swei^l anger, 
When the wrangling bells had ended, 
Slowly struck the clock eleven. 
And, from out the silent heaven, 
.Silence on the town descended. 
Silence, silence everywhere. 
On the earth and in the air. 
Save that footsteps here and there 
Of some burgher home returning. 
By the street lanijis faintly burning. 
For a moment woke the echoes 
Of the ancient town of Bruges. 

But amid my broken slumbers 
Still 1 heard those magic numbei's. 
As they loud proclaimed the flight 
And stolen marches of the night ; 
Till their chimes in sweet collision 
Mingled with each wandering vision, 
Mingled with the fortune-telling 
Gypsy-bands of dreams and fancies. 
Which amid the waste expanses 
Of the silent land of trances 
Have their solitary dwelling. 
All else seemed asleep in Bruges, 
In the quaint old Flemish city. 



DESCRIPTIVE POEMS. 



717 



And I thought how like these chimes 
Are the poet's airy rhymes, 
All his rliyiiii's iiml roundelays, 
His conceits, and songs, and ditties, 
From the belfry of his brain. 
Scattered downward, though in vain. 
On the roofs and stones of cities ! 
For by night the drowsy ear 
tTnder its curtains cannot hear, 
And by day men go their ways. 
Hearing the music as they pass, 
But deeming it no more, alas ! 
Than the hollow sound of brass. 

Yet perchance a sleepless wight, 

Lodging at some humble inn 

In the narrow lanes of life, 

When the dusk and hush of night 

Shut out the incessant din 

Of daylight and its toil and strife, 

Hay listen with a calm delight 

To the poet's melodies, 

Till he liears, or dreams he hears, 

Intenningled witli the song. 

Thoughts that he hiis chcrishwl long ; 

Hears amid the chime and singing 

The bells of his own village ringing. 

And wakes, and linds his shuuburous eyes 

Wet with most delicious tears. 

Thus dreamed I, as by night I lay 
In Bruges, at the Fleur-de-Bl(S, 
Listening with a wild delight 
To the chimes that, through the night, 
Bang their changes from the Belfry 
Of that quaint old Flemish city. 

Henry wadswokth Longfellow. 



THE CUCKOO CLOCK. 

PROM "THE BIRTHDAY." 

Btn" chief — surpassing all — a cuckoo clock ! 

That crowning woiidei ! njiracle of art ! 

How have I stood entranced uncounted minutes, 

With held-in breath, and eyes intently fixed 

On that small magic door, that when complete 

The expiring hour — the irreversible — 

Flew (jprn with a startling suddenness 

That, though expected, sent the rushing blood 

In mantling (lushes o'er my upturned face ; 

And as the bird, (that more; than mortal fowl !) 

With jierfect mimicry of natural tone, 

Note after note exact Time's message told. 

How my heart's pulse kept time with the charmed 

voice ! 
And when it ceased made simultaneous pau.se 
As the small door clapt to, and all was still. 

CAROLINE Bowles (Mrs. Southey). 



OZYMANDIAS OF EGYPT. 

I MET a traveller from an antique land 
Who said : Two vast and trunkless legs of stone 
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand. 
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown 
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command 
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read 
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless 

things, 
The hand that mocked them and the heart that Ted ; 
And on the pedestal tlnjse words appear : 
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: 
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair ! " 
Nothing beside remains. Hound the decay 
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, 
The lone and level sands stretch far away. 

I'KRCV BVSSHE SHELLEV. 



ADDRESS TO THE MUMMY AT BEL- 
ZONI'S EXHIBITION. 

And thou hast walked about (how strange a 
stoiy !) 

In Thebes's streets three thousand years ago, 
When the Memnonium was in all its glory, 

And time had not begun to overthrow 
Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous. 
Of which the very ruins are tremendous. 

Speak ! for thou long enough hast acted dummy ; 
Thou hast a tongue, — come, let us hear its 
\ tune ; 

Thou 'rt standing on thy legs, above ground, 
mummy ! 
Revisiting the glimpses of the moon, — 
Not like thin ghosts or disembodied creatures. 
But with thy bones and flesh and limbs and 
features. 

Tell us — for doubtless thou canst recollect — 
To whom should we assign the Sphinx's fame ? 

Was Cheops or Cejihrenes architect 

Of either pyramid that bears his name? 

Is Pompey's Pillar really a misnomer ? 

Had Thebes a hundred gates, as sung by Homer ? 

Perhaps thou wert a Mason, and forbidden 
By oath to tell the secrets of thy trade, — 

Then say wliat secret melody was hidden 

In MciHiion's statue, which at sunrise played ? 

Perhaps thou wert a priest, — if so, my struggles 

Are vain, for priestcraft never owns its juggles. 

Perhaps that very hand, now pinioned flat. 
Has hob-a-nobbed wif h Pliaraoli, gla.ss to glass ,- 

Or (li(i|ipi'd a halfpenny in Homer's hat ; 
Or doffed thine own to let Queen Dido pass; 



718 



UKSCUU'l'lVE I'OK.MS, 



Or hi'lil, l>y Solomon's owii invilatioii, 
A toivli at tho givj\t tiMuiilc's lU'.lii.itiwn. 

1 luvii not ask tluv if dial liaiv.l, wliiii aniii'il, 
lias any Konian soUlii'in\anloil aini kiini'kloil ; 

Koi' lliou wort iloail auvl bucitvl ami oinluhnwl 
Kiv lionniUis auil Konins hail boon suokloj : 

.\nti.(nity apiwii-s to havo bojinii 

Iahvj! al\i>r thy jniiuoval i-aoo was iiui. 

Thon oonhist dovoloji - if that withoivil tonjjno 
Mijihl It'll ns what thoso sijiUtloss oiKs have 
si'on — 

llowthowMiUUookwiwlu'nil wasl'ivsh aiul youivjj, 
And Ihi'sivat dolil^i' still had loft it giwn ; 

Or was it thon so oUI that history's l\ts\"s 

ContaiiUHl no ivooixl of its oarly ajjos < 

Still silont ; inooniinmiioativo olf ! 

Art sworn to sivivoy t thon koop thy vows ; 
\\\\t prilhoo toll ns somothinj; of thyself, 

Kovrtd tht sooivts of thy prison-honso ; 
Siiioo in tho \vv>rUl of spirits thon hast sUiniK'ivd, 
What hast thon swn, what straiigi' advontiiivs 

ItUmlHTlHl > 

Siiioo lirst thy form W!«s in this box oxtondod 
\Vi> have, i»l>ovo givniul, soon somo strango 
ntntations : 
Tho Konian oinpiiv has Ivgnn and ondod, 

New worlds luivo risen, wo have lost old na- 
tions ; 
And oountlesskinjjs have into dust Ih'oi\ hnniWod, 
While i\ot a frsijjnient of thy llosh has ernnibled. 

Pivlst thou not hesjr the jwther o'er thy lnvad, 
When the j{r<>at Tersian ooniinonir, Cainliysos, 

Maivlunl armies o'er thy tomb with thundering; 
tivad, — 
O'erthww Osiris, ftrns, Ajiis, Isis ; 

And shook tho pyi-.univls with fe;>r atid wonder, 

When tho gijpintio Me\ni\on fell asunder ? 

If tho tomb's stvr<>ts «\ay not Ih> ovMifessoii, 
The natniv of thy private lite nnfold : 

Ahoart has thi\d>lH>d Ivnoatb thatloathevn br»>ast. 
And tftirs adown that ilnsty ohook have ivUod ; 

Have ohildrt-n oUmKsl thoso knees, and kissi\l 
that faiH> ? 

What W!>s thy natno aiul station, agi' and raoo • 

Statue of llesli, — immorhU of the dead I 

Imiwisliablo tyiH> of e\-a\nvsoenoo ! 
Vosllwimons man, — who ipvit'st thy nanvw Ixsl, 

And standost nndivayini withit\ onr pivsonoo ! 
Thou wilt boar nothing till t he judjsmont morniiij;, 
Vhen tho Rivat trump shall thrill tlu-o with its 
WiU-uiug. 



! Why should this worthless toguniont onduit.'. 
If its undyin){ jjuost bo hvsl foivver ( 
V\ lot us keep the soul oinKilniod and puiv 

In liviiij; virino, that when Kith mnsl sever, 
Althonj;h ooirnption may our fi-aiue oonsume. 
The immortal spirit in the skies may bloom ! 

Hv^RACI. SMIVtt. 



0\^V. ON A O.KECIAN l^KN, 

Tlior still unravishetl bride of nuietness I 

Thou faster-child of Silenoo and slow Time, 
Sylvan historian, who oanst thus expivss 

A tlowoiy tale moiv sweetly than our rhyme : 
What loaf-friugo<l leg>>iul haunts alniut thy shape 

Of doilies or mortals, or of Kith, 
In 'reniiH> or the dales of .\ivady f 

What men or gvnls are thi>se ! What maidens 
loath ? 
What mad pursuit t What strujQtles to osoaiH- 1 

What pipes and timbivls ! What wild ecstasy f 

lloaixl melodies aiv sweet, hut thi<se niiheai\l 
' Aiv swwter ; theixfoiv, ye soft pipes, play on ; 
Not to the sensual ear, but, ntoix' ondoaivd, 

ri|H' to the spirit ditties of no tone. 
Fair vonth K'noath the tives, thou eanst not 
' ' leave 

Thy song, nor over can those tives Iv Ivire. 
UoUl lovor, never, never oanst thou kiss, 
^ Though winning near the gvvil, — yet do not 
' grieve : 

She oanuot fade, thougli thou hast not tJiy 
bliss : 
Foivwr wilt tJiou love, and she K> fair ! 

Ah, happy, happy Iwnghs ! that cannot shed 

Your h>!>vivs, nor ever bid the spring ailiou ; 
And hai>py mehnlist, nuwi<{\ri»si, 

Vor<'ver piping songs foivver now : 
A[oiv happy love I inoiv happy, happy love I 

Foivver warm and still to Ih' oiyoyed, 
For»'ver ivtnting and foivver young : 
All Invathing human (vission far alwve. 

That leaves a heart high-sorix>wful and oloyoii, 
A buniing forehoiul, .-uid a i>!uvhiiig tougue. 

Who ar<- tlies<' comiiig to the sjicrilioe ? 

To what giiHMi altar, O mysterious priest, 
l.*ad'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies. 

And all her silken llanks with g:irlaiids drest ( 
What little town by river or soa-shoiv. 

Or mountaiii-bnilt with iwioefnl citadel, 
Is oinptiwl of its folk, this pious morn? 
And. little town, thy stivots foivvennore 

Will silont Iv, and not a soul to tell 
Whv thou art desolate can e'er ivtiirii. 



FUAGMKNTD. 



719 



O Attic iiliaiM! ! Fair nttitii'Ic I witli lirnln 

Of inarljji: iwu iitni iiini>li:ii« ovi:rwroii({lit, 
Willi tuTKnl braiiclii;"! «fii| tin; trixl'lcu w<*il ; 

Tliou, nilriit tnnii ' 'I'Mt tcoM 11)1 »ut of th'/Ug)it 
Aji 'I'iIIi fttimiity. <'(M I'ttntz/ral ! 

Wlnii old ii^i! iitiall tliix ;{>;riertttion wantA, 
Tliou alialt r<:riiaiii, in irii'ljit of otli>,'r won 

Tliaii oiim, a frietul to man, to wli'mi thou 
u/iit, 
*' IVaiity in truth, truth Jienuty," — that f* all 

Ye Icnow on earth, an<l all yi: uecl to know. 

J'jUK KKA'M. 



FRAGMENTS. 

TiiK Kixo 01- Dav. 

O thou that, with mirfraaiin^ ((''"T '.'r'rwnwl, 
lyxilc'iit from thy ikjIk iloniinion liki; the <i(A 
<)t thii new worM, at whow; iiiKht all th<; utarii 
Hi'l« their >limiui«htr<l hca/ln . . . 
O Hun ! 

ftradllt Ull, Boot Ir. MlLTCW. 

Fireii the irrou'l Ut\m ti^ th« ea«tem pinRd. 

Jlrtni' KUJurd II,. All\». St. a kllAKaiir'KAIIt. 

Th« iMwening cloii't, 
Th» kin'lling azure, an<l the mountain'* f/row, 
Illume<l with tlui'l Kolil, hin near a|<]<roa<:h 
fietoken gla/l. l>j ! now, aj>[iarent all 
Aiilant the 'lew-bright larth, ami cjAnTfA air. 
He lo<;k)i in Ixiumili-fw maj'^ity ahr'<a/l ; 
An'l «he<l« the nhininjjilay, tliat huniinhe/l jdayn 
On rock*, and hilU, and towem, and wand'ring 

atreanu. 
High gleaming fr'/rn afar. 

Tiu i<«<.«« iummtr. THcnam. 



HVJiHKT tH TUB Mor»TAI!<». 

The we<it«ni waven of ehWng day 
K<ille<l o'er the glen their level way ; 
Ka/di jdirjde jx«k, each flinty ii|/ire, 
Wan t/athe<l in flo'i'ln of living fire, 
lifit not a (kitting Ixsim w<uld gl'/w 
Within the ilark ravine* Jx-low, 
Where twined the jiath in ahadow hi/J, 
hound many a r'y:ky pyramid, 
-Shrioting al/ruirtly h'm> the dell 
It* thunder-»f)lint«re<l |/inna«:le j 
i{//und many an iruulateyl ma**, 
The native bulwark* of the !«««, 

Th«ir ro<:ky (Ufninit*, (filit and rent, 
Fcrrmed turret, dotoe, or lattleinent, 



f Or «««in«l fantaiitically »et 

' With eujiola or minaret, 
Wild creat* a* ixig'/il ever de'^ke'l, 
Or moiK|iie of Kant/.Tn «r';hil«<;t. 
Nor were the«: <arth-l/orn >:a*tle* l«re. 
Nor la/'ki'd they many a banner fair ; 
For, froij^ their »hivere<l brow* disj/laye'l, 

i Far o'er the unfathomable gla/le, 
All twinkling with the dew-drojV *he.en, 
The \ir\i-t-tiiv; fell in streamer* green, 
And ereejiing *hrul«, of thoinand dye*, 
Waved in the weat-wind'* »iimmer aigh*. 

7lu ImJ/ v/lfu ImIu, Cant. 1. %C/1't 



\rHllkT( Hl.'MMKC 

From gold Vi gray 

Our mild »weet (lay 
Of Indian aunimer Mi^ Uxi nmm ; 

Hut t'indcrly 

Abfjve the aea 
Hang*, white and r»!ilm, the hant«r'K moon. 
7iu I'.vt »/ liUtium . ;. o. wiiiTTiaa. 

Tiff, POKT** liKfJBBMKST. 

Fair Quiet, have I found thee here, 
And luiin<J:wj:, thy »i*t*r dear f 
Mistaken long, I xiught you then 
In bu*y eom|>anie» of meii. 
Your *a/;red plant*, if hCTe bel/jw, 
Only among the pl/int* will grow ; 
fkxMcty i* all t<ut rude 
To tfaU delicimu Wilttu'ie. 

Here at the fountain'* »liding f'xit. 
Or at v/mc fruit-tree'* rn.'.wiy nxit, 
Casting the Wly'* vest a*ide, 
.My s'rtil intt the l<oiigh* d(je» glide : 
There, like a Mrd, it *it* and *ing*, 
Then whet* and r:lai«i it* *ilver wing*, 
And, till jireiwrwl for longer flight. 
Wave* in it* plume* tli/; varion* light. 

Tilt Cardin ( Tratulaudy A. M/rnvklX. 

Zvm. 

Yea, m'/re, 
A heaven on earth ; for bliwiful f;aradi*e 
Of Orxl the garden wa*, l/y him in tlie ea*t 
Of K<li;n plant/!il, 

Paradtu tj)if. ll^k Iv. MfLTOK* 

ATHEKi. 

On the Jfj^Knn tthnTu a dty utarul*, 
Built nobly, fmre the air, and liglit the urAl, 
Athen*, the eye of Greece, mother of art* 
And t\onoence. Dative to famoa* wit*, 



720 



DESCRH'TIVE POEMS. 



Or hospitable, in her sweet reeess, 

City or suburban, studious walks and shades ; 

See there the olive grove of Academe, 

Plato's retirement, where the Attic- bird 

Trills Iier thiek-warbled notes the summer long. 

J'arjJist A'<i-.il/«./. iVvJ iv. MlLTON. 

KoMi:. 
O Kome ! my country ! city of the soul ! 
The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, 
Lone mother of dead empires ! 

The Niobe of nations ! there she stands. 
Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe ; 
An emi>ty urn within her withered hands, 
"Whose holy dust was scattered long ago. 

C)liU<Han)U.CaHl. it. BYRON. 

Temple of the Olitumnus. 
But thou, Clitumnus I in thy sweetest wave 
Of the most living crystal that was e'er 
Tlie haunt of river nymph, to gaze and lave 
Her limbs where nothing hid them, thou dost 

rear 
Thy grassy banks. . . . 
And on thy happy shore a temple still. 
Of small and delicate proportion, keeps. 
Upon a mild declivity of hill. 
Its memory of thee ; beneath it sweeps 
Thy current's calmness ; oft from out it leaps 
The finny darter with the glittering scales, 
Who dwells and revels in thy ghissy deeps ; 
While, chance, some scattered water-lily sails 
Down where the shallower' wave still tells its 
bubbling tales, 

Cht:ji HjrvlJ. Caul. iv. BVRO.\-. 

Thk Fall of Terni. 
The roar of waters ! — from the headlang height 
"Velino cleaves the wave-worn precijiice ; 
The fall of waters ! rapid as the light 
The flashing mass foams shaking the abyss ; 
The hell of waters ! where they howl and hiss. 
And boil in endless torture. 

CHiUf HarcU, Cant. iv. BVRON. 



An Italian Ravine. 

Beneath this crag. 
Huge as despair, as if in weariness. 
The melancholy mountain yawns ; below. 
You hear but see not an impetuous torrent 
Kjiging among the caverns, and a bridge 
Crosses the chasm ; and high above there grow, 
With intersecting trunks, from crag to ei'ag, 
Cedai's and yews and pines, whose tangled hair 
Is matted into one soliil roof of shade 
By the dark ivy's twine. At noonday here 
'T is twilight, and at sunset blackest night. 

rju CeHCi. S H U L L E Y. 



Venicb, 
I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs ; 
A palace and a prison on each hand : 
I saw from out the wave her structures rise 
As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand : 
A thousand years their cloudy wings expand 
Around me, and a dying glory smiles 
O'er the far times, when many a subject land 
Looked to the winged Lion's marble piles, 
AVhere Venice sate in state, throned on her hnn- 
di'ed isles ! 

CJtiUt HitrtU, Cant. iT. BYKON. 



The River Thames. 

My eye descending from the Hill, surveys 
Where Thames among the wanton valleys strays. 
Thames ! the most loved of all the Ocean's sons. 

Though with those streams lie no resemblance 

hold. 
Whose foam is amber, and their gi-avel gold : 
His genuine and less guilty wealth to explore, 
Search not his bottom, but survey his shore. 
O'er which he kindly spi-eads his spacious wing 
And hatches plenty for the ensuing spring. 

No unexpected inundations spoil 

The mower's hopes, nor mock the ploughman's 

toil; 
But godlike his unwearied bounty flows ; 
First loves to do, then loves the good he does. 

Coeftr's HitL SIR J. DENHAM. 

Macbeth 's Castle. 

Duncan. This castle hath a ]4easant seat : the 
air 
Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself 
Unto oiu' gentle senses. 

Banquo. . . . The heaven's breath 
Smells wooingly here : no .iutty, frieze. 
Buttress, nor coigne of vantage, but this binl 
Hath made his pendent bed and procreaut cmdle .- 
Where they most breed and haunt, I have ob- 
served, 
The air is delicate. 

MiUbttk. .4cl 1. He. 6. SHAKESrEARB. 

Personal Atpearance. 

Who hath not proved how feebly woi-ds essay 
To fix one spark of Beauty's heavenly ray % 
Who doth not feel, until his failing sight 
Faints into dimness with its own delight. 
His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess 
The might — the majesty of Loveliness ? 

T)\e Bride (^f.Ht'ydM, Cant. i. BVROH* 



KKAti .MEM'S. 



721 



Framed in the prodigality of nature. 



A'liv Kuhant Ul.^ Atl i. ^. a. 



SHAKESPEARE. 



First likes the whole, then separates what he sees ; 
On several parts a several praise bestows, 
The ruby lips, the well-proportioned nose, 
The snowy skin, and raven-glossy hair, 
The dimpled cheek, and forehead rising fair. 
And e'en in sleep itself, a smiling air. 
From thence his eyes descending viewed the rest, 
Her plump round arms, white bands, and heaving 
breast. 

Cymanandlfkigtnia. DRYDEN. 

That whiter skin of hers than snow. 
And smooth as monumental alabaster. 

OfhelU, Act V. Sc. 3- SHAKESPEARE. 

There she sees a damsel bright, 
Drest in a silken robe of white, 
That shadowy in the moonlight shone : 
The neck that made that white robe wan, 
Her stately neck, and arms were bare ; 
Her blue-veined feet unsandalled were. 
And wildly glittered here and there 
The gems entangled in her hair. 
I guess, 't w!Ls frightful there to see 
A lady so richly clad as she, — 
Beautiful exceedingly ! 

ChrUiabtt. S. T. Coleridge. 

Rich and rare were the gems she wore, 

And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore. 

/tick and Ran. MOORE. 

Her beauty hangs open the cheek of night 
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear. 

^«MW» mtui yuliet. Act i. Sc. 5. SHAKESPEARE. 

Alas ! how little can a moment show 

Of an eye where feeling plays 

In ten thousand dewy rays ; 

A face o'er which a thousand shadows go. 

The Triad. WORDSWORTH. 

Stabbed with a white wench's black eye. 

XimiM and yuJUt, Act iL Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE. 

The fringed curtains of thine eye advance. 

TAc Temfest, Act i. 5r. 3. SHAKESPEARE. 

Heart on her lips, and soul within her eyes. 
Soft as her clime, and sunny as her skies. 

Btpfc. BVRO.N. 

As she fled fast through sun and shade. 
The happy winds upon her played. 
Blowing the ringlets from the braid. 

S*r LmuMoUt and Queen Guinevere. TBmfVSON. 



And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace 
A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace, 
Of finer form, or lovelier face. 

What though no iiile of courtly grace 

To measured mood had trained her pace — 

A foot more light, a step more true, 

Ne'er from the heath-tlower dashed the dew. 

TMe Lady o/tke Lake, Cant. \. SCOTT. 

Her pretty feet 

Like snailes did creep 
A little out, and then. 
As if they played at bo-peep, 
Did soon draw in agen. 

Uf on her Feet. R. HERRICK. 

No longer shall thy bodice, aptly laced. 
From thy full bosom to thy slender waist. 
That air and harmony of shape express, 
Fine by degrees, and beautifully less. 

Henry and Emma. M. PRIOR. 

A rosebud set with little wilful thorns, 

And sweet as English air could make her, she. 

The PriHCesi. TE-VNYSON. 

It was a lovely sight to see 
Tlie Lady Christabel, when she 
Was praying at the old oak-tree. 

Amid the jagged shadows 

Of mo8.sy leafless boughs. 

Kneeling in the moonlight. 

To make her gentle vows ; 
Her slender palms together prest, 
Heaving sometimes on her breast ; 
Her face resigned to bliss or bale, — 
Her face, 0, call it fair, not pale. 

Chrittabel. S. T. COLERIDGE. 

Look here, upon this picture, and on this ; 
The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. 
See, what a grace was seated on this brow : 
Hyperion's curls ; the front of Jove himself ; 
An eye like Mars, to threaten and command ; 
A station like the herald Mercury, 
New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill ; 
A combination, and a fonn, indeed. 
Where every god did seem to set his seal. 
To give the world assurance of a man. 

Hamlet, Act iii. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE. 

HOR. I saw him once : he was a goodly king. 
Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all, 
I shall not look upon his like again. 

Hamlet. Acti. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE. 



Ay, every inch a king. 

Kinf Lear, Act iv. Sc. 6. 



SHAKESPEARE. 



722 



DESCKU'TIVE POEMS. 



The ftlass of fashion, and tlie mouki of form, 
The observed of all observei's ! 

NamM, jlctiii. Sc. i. SHAKESPtAKE. 

The wealthy curled darlings of our nation. 

Otheiic. Act i. Sc, 2. SHAKESPEARE. 

We '11 have a swashing and a martial outside. 

As I'UJ4 Ltlic It, Act I Sc. 3. SHAKF.SPEARE. 

Costly thy liabit as thy pui-se ean buy. 

But not e-xjiressod in fancy ; rich, not gaudy : 

For the apiiarel oft proclaims the man. 

/Y,im:.t. ActL Sc, 3. SHAKESPEARE. 

They brought one Pincli, a hungiy lean-faced 

villain, 
A mere anatomy, a mountebank, 
A threadbare juggler, and a fortune-teller, 
A needy, hollow-eyed, sharp-looking wretch, 
A living-dead man. 

Comedy of Errors, AcfwSc.l. SHAKESPEARE. 

Mislike me not for my complexion, 

The shadowed lively of the burnished sun, 

To whom I am a neighbcu', and near bred. 

Bring me the fairest creature northward born. 

Where Phivbus' tire scarce thaws tlie icicles. 

And let us make incision for your love, 

To prove whose blood is reddest, liis or mine. 

McrcManto/ yemce. Act li. Sc, i, SHAKESPEARE. 

Falstatf sweats to death. 
And lards the lean earth as he walks along. 
Were 't not for laughing, 1 should pity him. 

^'itt£ Henry /**., Part /. Act ii. Sc, a. SHAKESPEARE. 

\ond' Cassius has a lean and hungry look ; 
He thinks too much : such men are dangerous. 

•Juiius Casar, ,-tct i, Sc, 3, SHAKESPEARE.^ 

The ornament of beauty is suspect, 

A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air. 

Sonnet L.WV, SHAKESPEARE. 

My tables, my tables, — meet it is, 1 set it down, 
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain. 

Harniel, Acii.Scs. SHAKESPEARE. 

Conditions of Life. 

My nature is subdued 
To what it works in, like the dyer's hand. 

Sonnet CXI. SHAKESPEARE- 

1 saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus, 
The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool. 
With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news ; 
Who, with his shears and measure in his hand. 
Standing on slippere (which his ninilile haste 
Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet). 
Told of a many thousand warlike Fivnch 
That were embattailed and ranked in Kent : 



Another lean, imwashed artificer 

I'uts olf his tale and talks of Arthur's death. 

AV«i- yohn. Act \\; Sc, a. SHAKESPEARE. 

Mechanic slaves 
With greasy aprons, rules, and haunnei-s. 

Antony and C/eo/atra, Act v. Sc, a. SHAKESPEARE. 

The charge is prepared, the lawyers are met, 
The judges all ranged ; a terrible show ! 

7'Ite /><i'^ir'j Opera, .4ct iii. Sc. 2. J. GAY. 

The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling. 
Doth glance from lu'aven to earth, from earth to 
heaven. 

,\lidsunttner Night's Dream, .-let v. Sc I. SHAKESPEARE. 

O, now, forever 
Farewell the tranipiil mind ! farewell content ! 
Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, 
That make ambition virtue ! 0, farewell ! 
Farewell the neighing steeil, and the shrill trump. 
The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife. 
The royal banner, and all ipiality, 
Piide, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war ! , 
And, you mortal engines, whose rude throats 
The inunortal .love's dread clamore counterfeit, ' 
Farewell ! Othello's occupation 's gone ! 

OtheUo, Act Hi, Sc, 3, SHAKESPEARE. 

Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast 
Heady with every nod to tumble down. 

AV«^ liicltttrti III., Act iii. .Sc 4. SHAKESPEARE. 

Xot all the water in the rough nide sea 
Can wash the balm from an anointed king. 

hJist^ Richard 11,, ,^ct\\., Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE. 

There 's such divinity doth hedge a king, 
That treason can but peep to what it would, 
.A.cts little of his will. 

Hamtel, Act iv. Sc. 5. SHAKESPEARE. 

Besides, the king's name is a tower of strength. 

Kifts Ricluird III., .4ct v. Xi". > SHAKESPEARE. 

High on a throne »f royal state, which far 
("•ntshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind, 
I >r where the gorgeous East with richest hand 
Showere on her kings barbaric pearl and gold, 
Satan exalted sat, by merit raised 
To that bad emiueuce. 

Paradise Lost. Book \\, MILTON. 

PeKSON AI. Cn.\K.\crERI.STICS — WOMEK. 

A maid 
That paragons description and wild fame ; 
One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens 
And in th' essential vesture of creation 
Does bear all e.xcelleney. 

Othello, ACt\\.Sc.Z, SHAKESPEARE. 



FRAGMENTS. 



I liave marked 
A thousand blushing appavitiuus 
To start into her face, a thousand innocent 

shames, 
lu angel whiteness, beat away those blushes. 

Mit<h Ada about Nothini:, Act iv. Se, t. SHAKesPEAKE. 

Ladies like variegated tulip.9 show, 

'T is to their changes half their charms we owe. 

Fine by defect, and delicately weak, 

Their happy spots the nice admirer take. 

tfjrat Ltiajt. Part II. POPE. 

Or ere those shoes were old 
With which she followed my poor father's body, 
Like Niobe, all tears ; — why she, even she 
(0 God ! a beast that wants discourse of rea.son 
Would have mourned longer) married with my 

uncle, 
My father's brother. 

HamUt. Act I. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE. 

I have no other but a woman's reason ; 
I think him so because I think him so. 

Tw> titnttemtn of yerona. Act i. Sc. a. SHAKESPEARE. 

Had she been true. 
If heaven would make me such another world 
Of one entire and perfect chrysolite, 
I 'd not have sold her for it. 

Ollullc. Act V. Sc. J. SHAKESPEARE. 

Iago. Come on, come on ; you are pictures 
out of doors. 
Hells in your parlors, wild-cats in your kitchens, 
Saints in your injuries, devils being offended. 

For I am nothing, if not critical. 

I)E8DE.M0XA. . . . But what praise couldst 
thou bestow on a deserving woman indeed ? . . . 

I.\ori. .She that wa.s ever fair and never proud. 
Had tongue at will and yet wa.s never loud. 
Never lacked gold and yet went never gay. 
Fled from her wish, and yet said, — " Now I 

may ; " 
She that being angered, her revenge being nigh. 
Bade her wrong stay and her displeasure fly ; 
She that in wi.sdom never was so frail 
To change the coil's head for the salmon's tail ; 
She that could think and ne'er disclose her mind. 
See suitors following and not look behind ; 
She was a wight, — if ever such wight were, — 

Des. To do what ? 

I AOO. To suckle fools and chronicle small beer. 

Drs. 0, most lame and impotent conclusion ! 

OfhHte, Atli\.Sc.i. SHAKESPEARE. 



Her voice was ever soft, 
Gentle, and low, — an excellent thing in woman. 

King Liar, Act V. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE. 

Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty. 

Romto and ytttict. Act iv. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE. 

Shalt show us how divine a thing 
A woman may be made. 

To a Young Lady. WORDSWORTH. 

Earth's noblest thing, a woman perfected. 

Ireni. J, R_ LOWELL. 

Personal Characteristics — Men. 

Patience, my lord ! why, 't is the soul of peace ; 
Of all the virtues 't is nearest kin to heaven ; 
It makes men look like gods. The best of men 
That e'er wore earth about him was a sufferer, 
A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit, 
The first true gentleman that ever breathed. 

The Hottest IVharc, Part I. Act i. Sc. 1>. T. DEKKER. 

0, could I flow like thee,* and make thy stream 

My great example, as it is my theme ! 

Though deep yet clear, though gentle yet not 

dull; 
Strong without rage, without o'erflowing full. 

Cooper'i H(U. SIR J. DENHAM. 

He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one ; 
Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading : 
Lofty, and sour to them that loved him not ; 
But to those men that .sought him sweet as 
summer. 

Kittg Henry yill.. Act iv. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE. 

Delivers in such apt and gracious words, 
Tliat aged ears play truant at his tales, 
And younger hearings are quite ravished, 
So sweet and voluble is his discourse. 

Love't Lattor Lost, Act ii. Sc. i. SHAKESPEARE. 

Frank, haughty, rash, — the Rupert of debate. 

The New Tittum. Part I. E. BULWER-LYTTON. 

For though I am not splenetive and rash. 
Yet have I in me something dangerous. 

Hatnlet, Act v. Se. I. SHAKESPEARE. 

Turn him to any cause of policy. 
The Gordian knot of it he will unloose. 
Familiar as his garter : that, when lie speaks. 
The air, a chartered libertine, is still. 

King Henry *'.. Act\. Sc i. SHAKESPEARB. 

A Daniel come to judgment ! . . . 
wise young judge ! 

Merchant 0/ yinlct. Ael iv. 5c i. SHAKESPEARE. 

• The river Thaioev 




PESCKIPTIVE POEMS. 



A miTiii-r miui, 
M"itluii the limit of booomiiig mirth, 
I never spent au hour's tnlk witluil. 

Lttf's r.a\^r LiVSt. .ia ii. .y*-. i. SHAKESPEARB. 

As iiii'rry iis the lUiy is long. 

Much A<ii? ^tboht XatAl'm:, ..ft/ ii. Sc. I. SHAKESPEARE. 

In nil thy hunioi's, whether grave or mellow, 
Thou 'rt such a touehy, testy, jileasant fellow ; 
Hast so niueh wit ami mirth and spleen about 

thee, 
There is no living with thee, nor without thee. 

S^tcAltor, A'l'. 68. J. ADDISON. 

Who the silent man can prize, 

If a fool he bo or wise ? 

Yet, though lonely seem the wowl, 

Therein may lurk the beast of blood ; 

Ofti'n basliful looks eoneeal 

Tongue of tiiv and heart of steel ; 

And deem not thou in forest gray, 

Every dappled skin thy prey. 

Lest thou rouse, with luekless spear, 

The tiger for the tallow-deer I 

TAg CutistitH. Bishop HE£er. 

A shallow brain behin<I a senior's mask. 
An oniele within an empty cask, 
The solemn fop ; significant and budgi' ; 
A fool with judges, amongst fools a judge. 

CffnvtrMtifiH. COWPER. 

A snapper-up of unconsidered trifles. 

Itmtrr's Ta^e, .HctW. Sc. a. SHAKESPEARE. 

Dubious is such a scrupulous good man — 
Yes — you may cateli him tripping if you can, 
He would not, with a peremptory tone. 
Assert the nose upon his face his own ; 
With hesitation admirably slow, 
He humbly hopes — presumes — it may be so. 

Ctftvrrtati^H, COWPER. 

Seemed washing his hands with invisible soap 
In impereeptible water. 

Miss KitmaHSfg^. T. Hood. 

In a bondman's key. 
With 'bated bretUh, and whisp'ring humbleness. 

AffprAant ,ir t'ffiitf, Act i. Sc. 3. SHAXESPEARE, 



I am the very pink of courtesy. 

Rattu^^ ii»J yuiift^ Act ii, Sc. 4. 



Shakespeare, 



Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep, 
And in bis simple show lie harboi-s treason. 
The fox barks not, when he would ste:U the lamb. 

X'i»r Henry yi.. Part it. Art iii. Se- I. SHAKESPEARE. 



All was false and hollow ; though his tongue 
Dropped manna, and could make the worss 

appear 
The better reason, to perplex aiui dash 
i[aturest counsels ; for his thoughts were low ; 
To vice industrious, but to nobler deeds 
Timorous and slothful ; yet he pleased the ear. 
And with pei-sunsive accent thus began. 

Pairadist Lostt SmU ii. M I LTO.N. 

A little more than kin, and less than kind. 

NamM. Act I Sc. .-. SHAKESPEARE. 

Vet do 1 fear thy nature : 
It is too full 0' the milk of human kindness. 

MacivtA, Act X.-Sc. s- SHAKESPEARE. 

Of mannei-s gentle, of affections mild ; 
In wit a man, simplicity a child. 

A safe companion and an easy friend 
Unblamed through life, lamented in thy end. 

Epitiiph OH Cay. POPE. 

Here lies David Garriek, describe me who can. 
An abridgment of all that was plcivsant in man. 

R<tatiatiOH. GOLDSMITH. 

He hath a tear for pity, and a hand 
Open as chiy for melting charity. 

A'iNjt' Henry ti '.. Part H, Act iv, Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE. 

He was the mildest mannered man 
Tliat ever scuttled ship or cut a throat. 

DcH yntSH, Clint, iii. BVRON, 

An idler is a watch that wimts both hands ; 
I .\s useless if it goes as if it stands. 

Retirtment. Cowper. 

A lazy lolling sort, 
' Unseen at ehureh, at senate, or at court, 
t1f ever-listless idlei-s, that attend 
No cause, no trust, no duty, and no friend. 
There too, my Paridell ! she marked thee there. 
Stretched on the rack of a too easy chair, 
.\nd heard thy everlasting yawn confess 
The jmins and penalties of idleness. 

The Duna\ui, 8i\'t i\ t POPE. 

I pray you, in your letters. 
When you shall these unlucky dieds relate. 
Speak of me as I am ; nothing extenuate, 
Xor set down aught in malice : then, must you 

speak 
Of one that loved, not wisely, but too well ; 
Of one not easily jealous, but, being wrought. 
Perplexed in the extreme ; of one, whose Imnd, 
lake the base Indian, threw a pearl away, 
Kicher than all his tribe ; of one, whose subilued 

eyes. 



FRAGMENTS. 



725 



Albuit unused to the melting niou<l, 
Drop team as fast lu the Arabian trees 
Their meilicinal gum. Set you down this. 

OIktUo. Act V. Si. J. SlIAKBSPeARB. 

Unpaek my lieart with words, 
And Tall a curaing, like a very drab. 
A scullion ! 
Fie upon 't ! Fob ! 

H^mUl, Act ii. Sc. 1. SHAKBSPEARB. 

I am very sorry, good Horatio, 
Tlmt to Laertes I forgot myself. 

But, sure, the bravery of his grief did put mc 
Into a towering passion. 

Hamttl, Act v. Sc. j. SHAKESPEARE. 

A womoii moved is like a fountain troubled. 
Muddy, ill-.'seeming, thick, bereft of beauty. 



Taming o/ttu SHreiu, Act v. Sc. 3. 



SHAKESPEARE. 



Had it pleased Heaven 

To try nie with affliction ; had he rained 

All kinds of sores and shames on my bare head. 

Steeped me in jKiverty to tlii; very lips, 

Given to captivity mc and my utmost hopes, — 

I shi>uld liave found in some part of my soul 

A cirop of patience : but, alas, to make me 

A fixed fiKUre, for the time of scorn 

To point his slow uninoving finger at ! 

OlluUo, Act Iv. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE. 

But tliat I am forbid 
To tell the secrets of my prison-bouse, 
I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word 
Would harrow up thy soul, freez* thy young 

blooil. 
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their 

spheres. 
Thy knotteil and combined locks to part. 
And eacli particular hair to stand on end, 
l.ike quills ufKin the fretful porcupine : 
But this eternal blazon must not bo 
To ears of flesh and blood. 

/famUt, ActL Sc. s. SHAKESPEARE. 

I feel my sinews slacken with the fright. 

And a cold sweat thrills down o'er all my limbs. 

As if I were di.ssolving into water. 

r/ic Tem^tl DRVDEN. 

.''nspicion always haunts the guilty mind : 
The thief doth fear each bush an offircr. 

King Richard II., Ad v. Sc. 6. SHAKT- SPP.ARE. 

I cannot speak, tears so obstruct my word.s. 
And choke me with unutterable joy. 

Catut .Variul. T. OTWAV. 



Men met each other with erected look. 
The steps were higher that they took. 
Friends to congratulate their friends made liaste ; 
And long-inveterate foes saluted as they passed. 

T/trcHOdta Attgustatti. DRVDE.S". 

There is a mood 
(I sing not to the vacant and the young). 
There is a kindly mood of melancholy 
That wings the soul and points her to the skies. 

Rnins 0/ Rome, J. Dviik. 



Baitlk. 
By Heaven ! it is a splendid sight to see 
(For one who hath no friend, no brother there) 
Their rival scarfs of mixed embroidery, 
Their various arms that glitter in the air ! 
What gallant war-hounds rouse them from 

their lair. 
And gnash their fangs, loud yelling for the prey ! 
All join the cha-se, but few the triumph share ; 
The grave shall bear tlie chiefest prize away, 
Aiid liavoc scarce for joy can number their array. 
ChiUU Harold, Cant. L uvron. 

From the glittering staff unfurled 
Th' imperial ensign, which, full high adv.anced. 
Shone like a met<^or, streaming to the wind, 
With gems and golden lustre rich imblazed. 
Seraphic arms and trophies ; all the wliile 
Sonorous metal blowing mai'tial sounds : 
At which the universal ho.st up sent 
A sliout that tore hell's concave, and beyond 
Frighted the reign of Chaos and old Night. 

Parotitic Lott, Book i. MILTON. 



Pahic. 

Such a numerous host 
Fled not in silence through the frighted deep. 
With ruin u|K)n ruin, rout on rout. 
Confusion woi-sc confounded. 

Paradise Lost, Book Ii. MILTON. 

Distance. 

How he fell 
From heaven they fabled, thrown by angry Jove 
Sheer o'er the crystal liattlements ; from morn 
To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, 
A summer's day ; and with the setting sun 
Dropt from the zenith like a falling star. 

Paradise l^tt. Book i. MILTON. 

What ! will the line stretch out to the craok of 
doom? 

Uacitlh.Aclil.Sc.t. SHAKESPEARE. 



726 



DESCRIPTIVE POEMS. 



St. Peter's at Rome. 
Vastness which grows, but grows to harmonize, 
All musical in its immensities ; 
Rich marbles, richer painting, shrines wliere 
flame 

The lamps of gold, and haughty dome which 

vies 
In air with earth's chief sti'uctures, thou.'h 

their frame ° 

Sits on the firm-set ground, — and this the cloud 

must claim. 

Here condense thy soul 
To more immediate objects, and control 
Thy thoughts until thy mind hath got by heart 
Its eloquent proportions, and unroll 
In mighty graduations, part by part. 
The glory which at once upon thee did not dart. 

Ch>l<it Hdrold. Cant. iv. „, 

BVRON. 



A Lady's Chamber. 
The moon shines dim in the open air, 

And not a moonbeam enters here. 

But they without its light can see 
i The chamber carved so curiously, 
I Carved with figures strange and sweet, 
[ All made out of the carver's brain. 

For a lady's chamber meet : 

The lamp with tH'ofold silver chain 

Is fastened to an angel's feet. 

The silver lamp burns dead and dim ■ 

But Christabel the lamp will trim. 

She trimmed the lamji, and made it bright 
And left it swinging to and fro, ' 

While Geraldine, in wretched plight. 
Sank down upon the floor below. 

s. T. Coleridge. 



The Apollo Belvidere. 
Or view the lord of the unerring bow. 
The god of life, and poesy, andlight,' — 
The sun in human limbs arrayed.^and brow 
All radiant from his triumph in the fight • 
The shaft hath just been shot,— the arrow 

bright 
With an immoital's vengeance ; in his eye 
And nostril beautiful disdain, and miglit 
And majesty, flash their full liglitniiigs by, 
Developing in that one glance the Deity. 

But in his delicate form — a dream of love, 
Shaped by some solitary nymph, whose breast 
Longed for a deathless lover from above. 
And maddened in that vision — are e.\prest 
All that ideal beauty ever blessed 
The mind with in its most unearthly mood. 
When each conception was a lieaveii'ly guest, 
A ray of immortality, and stood. 
Starlike, around, until they gathered to a god i 

Chil<U Harold. Cam. \,. BYHOn' 



Music. 

Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould 
Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment 1 
Sure something holy lodges in that breast. 
And with these raptures moves the vocal air 
To testify his hidden residence. 
How sweetly did they float upon the wincrs 
Of silence, through the empty-vaulted ni|ht 
At every fall smoothing the raven down 
Of darkness till it smiled. 

Comus. 

Milton. 

Perfection. 
To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, 
To throw a perfume on the violet. 
To smooth the ice, or add another hue 
Unto the rainbow, or with taper-lio-ht 
To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish 
Is wasteful and ridiculous excess. ' 

Kl,.s7okn.Acr„.S,.,. ' SHAKESPEARE. 

-Anthology. 
Infinite riches in a little room. 

TH. yew 0/ Malta. Act i. c. MARLOWE. ■ 




POEMS OF SENTIMENT AND REFLECTION. 




i 



J 







^ 







POEMS OF SENTIMENT AND REFLECTION. 



GOOD LIFE, LONG LIFE. 

( It ia not growing like a tree 
In bulk, doth niaku man better lie ; 
Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, 
To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sear : 
A lily of a day 
Is fairer far in Hay, 
Although it fall and die that niglit, — 
It was the plant and flower of Liglit. 
In small proportions we just beauties see, 
And in short measures life may perfect be. 

BE.N JONSON. 



MY MINDE TO ME A KINGDOM IS. 

I Mt minde to me a kingdom is ; 
Such {wrfect joy therein I finde 
As farre exceeds all earthly blisse 

That God or nature hath assignde ; 
Though much I want that most would have. 
Yet still my minde forbids to crave. 
I 

^Content I live ; this is my stay, — 
I seek no more than may suffice. 
I presse to beare no haughtie sway ; 

Look, what I lack my mind supplies. 
Loe, thus I triumph like a king. 
Content with that my mind doth bring. 

(l »ee how plentie surfets oft, 
' And hastie clymbers soonest fall ; 
I see that such as sit aloft 

Mi.shap doth threaten most of all. 
These get with toile, and keepe with feare ; 
Such cares my mind could never beare. 

No princely ]iompe nor welthie store. 

No force to win the victorie, 
No wylie wit to salve a sore. 

No shape to wiiine a lover's eye, — 
To none of these I yecld as thrall ; 
For why, my mind desjiiseth all. 



; Some have too much, yet still they crave ; 

I little have, yet seek no more. 
They are but poore, though much they have. 

And I am rich with little store. 
They poor, I rich ; they beg, I give ; 
They lacke, I lend ; they pine, I live. 

I laugh not at another's losse, 
I grudge not at another's gaine ; 

No worldly wave my mind can to.sse ; 
I brooke that is another's bane. 

I feare no foe, I fawne no friend ; 

I lothe not life, nor dread mine end. 

I joy not in no earthly blisse ; 
' I weigh not Cresus' wealth a straw ; 
For care, I care not what it is ; 

I feare not fortune's fatal law ; 
My mind is such as may not move 
For beautie bright, or force of love. 

I wish but what I have at will ; 

I wander not to seeke for more ; 
I like the plaine, I clime no hill ; 

In greatest stormes I sitt4; on shore, 
And laugh at them that toile in value 
To get what must be lost againe. 

1 kisse not where I wish to kill ; 

I feigne not love where most I hate ; 
I breake no sleepe to winne my will ; 

I wayte not at the mightie's gate. 
I scorne no poore, I feare no rich ; 
I feele no want, nor have too much. 

The court ne cart I like ne loath, — 
Extreames are counted worst of all ; 

The golden meane betwixt them both 
Doth surest sit, and feares no fall ; 

This is my choyce ; for why, I iinde 

No wealth is like a fjuiet minde. ^ 

My wealth is health and perfect ease ; 
My con.scicnce clere my chiefe defence ; 



730 



POEMS OF SENTIMENT AND REFLECTION. 



I neither seeke by bribes to please, 

Nor by desert to breed otleuee. 
Thus do I live ; thus will I die ; 
Would all did so as well as I ! 

SIR EDWARD DYER.* 



TO THE HON. CHARLES MONTAGUE. 

' Our hopes, like towering falcons, aim 
At objects in an airy height ; 
But all the pleasure of the game 
Is afar off to view the flight. 

The worthless prey but only shows 
The joy consisted in the strife ; 

Whate'er we take, as soon we lose 
In Homer's riddle and in life. 

So, whilst in feverish sleeps we think 
We taste what waking we desire, 

The dream is better than the drink, 
Which only feeds the sickly fire. 

To the mind's eye things well appear. 
At distance through an artful glass ; 

Bring but the flattering objects near, 
They 're all a senseless gloomy mass. 

Seeing aright, we see our woes : 
Then what avails it to have eyes ? 

From ignorance our comfort flows. 
The only wretched are the wise. 

Matthew prior. 



OF MYSELF. 

This only grant me, that my means may lie 
Too low for envy, for contempt too high. 

Some honor I would have. 
Not from great deeds, but good alone ; 
The unknown are better than ill known : 

Rumor can ope the grave. 
Acquaintance I would have, but when 't depends 
Not on the number, but the choice, of friends. 

Books should, not business, entertain the light. 
And sleep, as undisturbed as death, the night. 

My house a cottage more 
Than palace ; and should fitting be 
For all my use, no luxury. 

My garden painted o'er 
With Nature's hand, not Art's ; and pleasures 

yield, 
Horace might envy in his Sabine field. 

• This is frequently attributed to William Byrd. Bartlett. how- 
ever, gives it to Sir Edward Dyer, referring to Hannah's Courtly 
Po'js as authority : so. also. Ward, in his English Ports, Vol. I . iS^o. 



Thus would I double my life's fading space ; 
For he that runs it well twice runs his race. 

And in this true delight, 
These uubought sports, this happy state, 
I would not fear, nor wish, mv fate : 

But boldly say each night, 
To-morrow let my sun his beams display, _ 
Or in clouds hide them ; I have lived to-day; 

ABRAHAM COWLEY. 



BEAUTY. 

'T IS much immortal beauty to admire. 
But more immortal beauty to withstand; 
The perfect soul can overcome desire, 
If beauty with divine delight be scanned. 
For what is beauty but the blooming chOd 
Of fair (Jlympus, that in night must end. 
And be forever from that bliss exiled, 
If admiration stand too much its fiiend ? 
The wind may be enamored of a flower. 
The ocean of the green and laughing shore, 
The silver lightning of a lofty tower, — 
But must not mth too near a love adore ; 
Or flower and margin and cloud-cappfed tower 
Love and delight shall with delight devour ! 

LORD EDWARD THURLOW, 



BEAUTY. 

FROM " HYMN IN HONOR OF BEAUTY," 

So every spirit, as it is most pure, 

And hath in it the more of heavenly light, 

So it the fairer body doth procure 

To habit in, and it moi'e fairly dight 

With cheerful grace and amiable sight ; 

For of the soul the body form doth take ; 

For soul is form, and doth the body make. 

Therefore wherever that thou dost behold 
A comely corpse, with beauty fair endued. 
Know this for certain, that the same doth hold 
A beauteous soul, with fair conditions thewed. 
Fit to receive the seed of virtue strewed ; 
For all that fair is, is by nature good ; 
That is a sign to know the gentle blogd- 

— \ 
Yet oft it falls that many a gentle mind 

Dwells in deformed tabernacle drowned. 

Either by chance, against the course of kind. 

Or through unaptnesse in the substance found. 

Which it assumed of some stubborne ground. 

That will not yield unto her form's direction. 

But is performeil with some foul imperfection. 




A FANCY FROM FONTENELLE. 

"/?£• ntemoircs de Roses on na point vu mourir le Jardinier." 

The Rose in the garden slipped her bud, 
And she laughed in the pride of her youthful blood, 
As she thought of the Gardener standing by — 
"He is old — so old! And he soon must die!" 



\ 'I'he full Rose waxed in the warm June air, 

And she spread and spread till her heart lay bare; 
.>^ And she laughed once more as she heard his tread — 
" He is older now I He will soon be dead ! " 

But the breeze of the morning blew, and found 

That the leaves of the blown Rose strewed the ground; 

And he came at noon, that Gardener old. 

Anil he raked them gently under the mould. 

And I tvovc the /hin,!^ to a random rhyme : 
For the Rose is Beauty ; the Gardener, Time. 



Austin Dobson. 



THE WILD RIDE. 

/ hear iti my heart, I hear in its oiiiiiious pulses. 

All day, the commotion of sinewy, mane-tossing horses ; 

All nig;ht, from their cells, the importiniatc tramping and neighing. 



wmi- 




Dra7vti hy Edwin Forbes. 

Cowards and laggards fall back ; but alert to the saddle, 

Straight, grim, and abreast, vault our weather-worn, galloping legion, 

With stirrup-cup each to the one gracious woman that loves him. 

The road is through dolor and dread, over crags and morasses; 
There are shapes by the way, there are things that appal or entice us : 
What odds ? We are knights, and our souls are but bent on the riding ! 

Thought's self is a vanishing wing, and joy is a cobweb, 
And friendship a flower in the dust, and glory a sunbeam : 
Not here is our prize, nor, alas ! after these our pursuing. 

A dipping of plumes, a tear, a shake of the bridle, 
A passing salute to this world, and her pitiful beauty ! 
We hurry with never a word in the track of our fathers. 

/ hear in my heart, I hear in its ominous pulses, 

All day, the commotion of sineivy mane-tossing horses, 

All nii^ht, from their cells, the importunate tramping and neighing. 

We spur to a land of no name, outracing the storm-wind ; 
We leap to the infinite dark, like the sparks from the anvil. 
Thou leadest, O God ! All 's well with Thy troopers that follow ! 

Louise Imogen Guinev. 



POEMS OF SENTIMENT AND KEFLECTION. 



731 



And oft it falls (nyo me, tho more to rue !) 
\ That gooiUy lieauty, albeit heavenly born, 

Is foul abused, luul that eelestial hue, 

Which doth the world with her delight adorn, 
, Made but the bait of sin, and sinners' scorn, 
, Whilst every one doth seek and sue to have it. 

But eveiy one doth seek but to deprave it. 

Yet nathjmore is that faire beauty's blame. 
But theii-s tliat do abuse it unto ill : 
Nothing so good, but that through guilty shame 
May be corrupt, and wrested unto will : 
Natheless the soule is fair and beauteous still. 
However tleshe's fault it filthy make ; 
For things immortal no corruption take. 

EDWARD SPENSER. 



THOUGHT. 

^THorc.HT is deeper than all speech. 
Feeling deeper than all thought ; 
Souls to souls can never teach 

What unto themselves was taught. 

We are spirits clad in veils ; 

Man by man was never seen ; 
All our deep communing fails 

To remove the shadowy screen. 

Heart to heart was never known ; 

Mind with mind did never meet ; 
We are columns left alone 

Of a temple once complete. 

Like the stars that gem the sky. 
Far apart, though seeming near. 

In our light we scattered lie ; 
All is thus but starlight here. 

What is social company 

But a babbling summer stream ? 
What our wise philosophy 

But the glancing of a dream ? 

Only when the sun of love 

Melts the scattered stars of thought. 
Only wlien we live above 

What the dim-eyed world hath taught, 

Only when our souls are fed 

By the fount which gave them birth, 
And by inspiration led 

Which they never diew from e.irth. 

We, like parted drops of rain. 
Swelling till they meet and i-un, 

Shall be all absorbeil again. 
Melting, (lowing into one. 

Christopher pearse cranch. 



CONTENTMENT. 

1 WEIGH not fortune's frown or smile ; 

I joy not much in earthly joys ; 
I seek not state, I reck not style ; 

I am not fond of fancy's toys : 
I rest so pleased with what I have, 
I wish no more, no more 1 crave. 

I quake not at the thunder's crack ; 

I tremble not at news of war ; 
I swouiid not at the news of wrack ; 

I shrink not at a blazing star ; 
I fear not loss, 1 hope not gain, 
I envy none, I none disdain. 

I see ambition never pleased ; 

I see some Tantals starved in store ; 
I see gold's dropsy seldom eased ; 

I see even Midas gape for more ; 
1 neither want nor yet abound, — 
Enough 's a feast, content is crowned. 

I feign not friendship where I hate ; 
I fawn not on the great (in show) ; 
1 prize, 1 praise a mean estate, — 
Neither too lofty nor too low : 
This, this is all my choice, my cheer, — 
. A mind content, a conscience clear. 

JOSHUA Sylvester. 



CONTENT. 

from " FAREWELL TO FOLLIE." 1617. 

Sweet are the thoughts that savor of content ; 

The quiet mind is richer than a crown ; 
Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent, — 

The poor estate scorns Fortune's angry frown : 
Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such 

bliss. 
Beggars enjoy, when princes oft do miss. 

The homely house that harbors quiet rest, 
Tlie cottage that aflfords no pride or care, 

The mean, that 'grees with country music be.st, 
Tlie sweet consort of mirth's and music's fare. 

Obscured life sets down a type of bliss ; 

A mind content both crown and kingdom is. 

ROBERT GREENE. 



IN PRISON. 

Beat on, proud billows ; Boreas, blow ; 

Swell, curled waves, high as Jove's roof ; 
Your incivility doth show 

That innocence is tempest proof ; 
Though surly Nereus frown, my thoughts are calm ; 
Then strike. Affliction, fur thy wounds arebnlni. 



rs2 



POKMS OF SKN'TIMENT AND RKFUECTION. 



That wliioh the worM uiisoiiUs ti jait 

A juivato olivsot is to mo ; 
Wliilst !« gvHHl vsxnsoiomt' is my kiil, 

Aini inmHt>mH> my lilvity : 
liwiis, Ivu-s, »iul siilituili' t»>jp'tlior m«>t, 
Mtiko mo no jnisoiioi', l>ut an aiiohovvt, 

I. wiiilst I wislit tv> K> ivliitnl, 
lut\> tliis jxivato i\Him was turntHl ; 

As if tlit'ir wisdoms luui (Hmsjiiiini 
'I'lio s;»lamainlor slioulU Iv IuuiuhI ; 

l>r liko tlvivw sv'uliists that wonUl iliwvii a tisli, 

1 aii\ iviistiuiiirtl to sulVcr wliat I wisli, 

Tln> oynio l»vt<s his jH>v*rty ; 

Tho (vlioaii li>>r wilderness ; 
Auvl t is llio lixiiau's |>iitlo to Ih> 

Nakini ou fixwon l'rtUo«si\s ; 
CoutoutmoHt oanuot smart ; stoios \vt> seo 
Mako tormouls <>asior to thoir ajvuliy, 

Tluwo i\iaiiaoles uinni my arm 

I as niy mistivss' favors w<\»r ; 
A«ii for to ktvji my auklivs warm 

1 l>avo svme iivu sliaokles tlietx' : 
'riu-s^' walls aiv but my jpuvisviii ; this Ml, 
Which iium oall jail, doth |>rv>v(' my oitaJd. 

I 'm in the ewhiuet hvkt vi|>. 

Like sv>me hij;h-i>rijW mai-jjarite, 
Ov, like the t<r<>itt Xli>j:>il or Toix', 

Am eloisteiiHl up f»\>m \>uWii' sijtht : 
Ketii\Hliu>ss is a \vi(\t> of imyesty, 
Aud thus, prvnul Sultan. I 'm as j;n\kt n$ the«. 

SIR K>.V.KK L'KSVKANViK. 



01.EOX AND I. 



I'^l 



Clwm set>s no chanus in iiatuiv, in a daisy I ; 
Cleou hetws uo tuitlieius riiigii\j; iu the seji aiul 

sky ; 
Natun' sinjpi to u\e foivver, wunost listener I ; 
State for state, with all nttemlaiits, who would 

ohanj^- ( Not I. 

CMAKIKS Mackay. 



LK^iN hath a million ae«vs, ne'er a one ha\"0 I ; 
CUvu dwelleth iu a jvilaw, in a l■ottaJ^> 1 : 
t'ltvu hath a vloson fortumvs, not a jwuuy I ; 
Yet the jKvrer of the tw«in is (.'leou, and not 1. 



Oleon. true, {K\ss»>ss*th *er»>s, hut the landseaj>e 1 ; 
Half the eharms ti» me it yieldeth money eau- 

uot h«>y. 
Cleon harK^rs sloth and duhu>ss, tV-sliening 

VVSW I ; 
He in velwt, I iu (Vistian, rioher man am I, 

01e\M\ is a slav<> to jji-suuleur, ftw as tliouj;ht am I ; 
Cl*i\n f>>r>s a s>vre of dvvtots, ntH>l of none have 1 : 
■Wi-iilth-sunvnudtHl, e«it>-envin\n«l, Olevm fears 

to die ; 
IVath may ivme, h# "U tiud me ready, — h«pj>ier 

man am I. 



TllK WANTS OK MAN. 

"Man wants but little hew helow. 

Nor wants that little lonj;," 
"T is not with me exactly so ; 

lint 't is so in the soiij;, 
.Vy wants aiv many and, if told, 

WonUl muster many a seoro ; 
And weiv tvaeli wish a mint of j?>ld, 

1 still shouKl long for \noiv, 

What first 1 want is daily l>r<'s«d — 

And oanvas-lv>eks - and wine — 
And all the ix'iduis of natmv spi\>ad 

IVfoiv nu\ when I dine. 
Four eoui-svs si'awt-ly oau nrv>vide 

My a{>{H'tite to >nu<ll ; 
With fovn- ohoii-o i-vvks tVvuu Fiixnce Invside, 

To dri'ss my dinner well. 

What next 1 want, at i>rinet>ly i-ost. 

Is elegant attiiv ; 
Ulaek SiiWe furs for winter's fnvst. 

And silks for summer's tiiv. 
And I'asluueiv shawls, and Urnssels laco 

My Kvsom's fivnt to \i<vk, — 
Aud diamond rin^ my hands to gracti. 

Aud ruhit>s for my neck. 

1 want (who do<>s not want ■) a wife, — 

Athvtionate and fair ; 
To solaiv all the wivs of life. 

And all its joys to shaiv. 
Of temiH'r swiH>t, of yielding will. 

Of tirm. yet placid mind, — 
With all u>y faults to love me still 

With sentiment ix-line\l. 

And as Time's car im.H'ssiVUt runs. 

And Fortune tills n>y stoiv, 
1 wsuit of danghtei-s and of sous 

Fivm eight to half a sivr»'. 
I wjmt (alas ! can mortal daiv 

Such l>liss on earth to cnive ') 
That all the girls Ih> chaste and fair, 

The boys all wise and lirave. 

1 W!>nt a \«u'm and faithful friend. 
To ch<>er the adverse hour ; 



I'OKMS OP SENTIMENT AND UEKLECTION. 



Who uc'er to lUtter will dencvuil, 
Nor \kw\ tin; lflii-<; U) jxjwiT, — 

A friend to chiJu iiiu whvu I 'in wrong, 
My innioHt houI to mx ; 

And tliat my fric-ndnlii]) [irove aa strong 
For liim w» h'u lor ui«. 

I want tlie utalii of jxjwer and pLacv, 

Till; euiii;(iii< of <:oiuniiiiid ; 
Chiirg<f<l by till; rc;o|)li:'« uuljouglit grace 

To rule my native land. 
If or "Town nor ii'c|)tre would I ajik 

Hut from my uountry'it will, 
liy day, by niglit, to |ily the task 

iler cu|> of bliMi to iill. 

1 want the voice of hone«t prsiae 

To follow mi! behind. 
And to lj« tliou;;lit in future daya 

The friend of human kind, 
Tliat after ages, a» they rute, 

Exulting uuiy jiroi.hiim 
In choral union to the tkiea 

Their blessiugg ou tuy uame. 

These are the Wants of mortal Man, — 

1 cannot want them long. 
For life itself in but a Bjian, 

And earthly bliji» — a isong. 
My Umt great Want — alwjrbing all — 

Ik, when Ix-neath the Kod, 
And iiuniuoni;<l U> my final call. 

The Mercy of my l}o(l, 

JOHK QUIMCV ADAMS. 



CONTENTMENT. 

" Man (raou but little here below. " 

Little I ask ; my wants are few ; 

I only wish a hut of stone, 
(A tfry plain brown stone will do,) 

That I may call my own ; 
And close at liand is such a one, 
In yotuler street that fronts the gun. 

Plain food is quite enough for me ; 

Three courses are as go<j<l as ten ; — 
If nature can subsist on three, 

Thank Hi^ven for three. Amen ! 
1 always thought ajld victual mx ; — 
My c/ujice would be vanilla-ice. 

I csre not much for gold or land ; — 

Give me a mortgage here and there, — 
Some good bank-stock, — some note of band. 

Or trifling railroad share, — 
I only ask that Fortune send 
A litUt more than I ahall spend. 



Honors are silly toys, I know, 

And titles are but empty naioes ; 
I would, perhipii, Ix; I'lenijx;, — 

I5ut only near Kt. .lames ; 
I 'm very sure I should not <airc 
To fill our Oul>eniator's chair. 

Jewels are Iraubles ; 't is a sin 

To care for such unfruitful things ; — ' 
One good-sizcl diamond in a pin, — 

So'jjc, iwl m Iwriji;, in rings, — 
A ruby, and a jiearl or ui, 
Will do for nie ; — I laugh at show. 

My ilame should dress in cheap attire ; 
(i'uxA heavy silks arc never dear ;) — 
I own jierliaps I rniijIU (hmire 

Some sliawU of true Cashincre, — 
Some marrowy crajws of China silk, 
Like wrinkled skins ou scald<;d milk. 

I would not liave the horse I drive 

So fast tluat folks must stop and stare ; 
An easy gait — two, forty-live — 
Suits nie ; I do not care ; — 
I'crlui|)S, for just a nTvjle njraH, 
Some seconds less would do no hurt. 

Of pictures, I shouM like to own 

Titians and IJaj/ltacls three or four — 
I love so much their style and tone — 

One Turner, and no more, 
(A Landscape — foreground golden dirt — 
The suniihine painted with a S'juiit.) 

Of books but few, — some fifty score 
For <laily use, and b<jund for wear ; 
The rest ujwn an upjx^r ll'xjr ; — 

Some tiUU luxury Outre 
Of red morocwj's gilded gh^im, 
And vellum rich as country creano. 

Busts, cameos, gems, — such things a« these, 

Which others often show for pride, 
/ value for their jwwcr X/i> please. 

And selfish churls deride ; 
Om Stradivari UK, I wjnfess. 
Two meerschauins, I would Cain poMCM. 

Wealth's wasteful tricks I will not Icam, 

Nor a|)e the glittering ujistart fool ; 
Sliall not 'arved tables s<;rve my tuin, 

But all must l<e of buhl I 
Give grasping |K>ni|) its double share, — 
I ask but one rwumbent cliair. 

Thus bumble let me live and die, 
Nor long for Midas' golden touch ; 



734 



POEMS OF SENTIiMEM' AND KEKLECTION. 



Jf Hraveii moiv seuiTous sifts ileiiv, 
1 slinll not miss tlieiii much, — 
Too srattiful lor tho blessing lent 
Of sinij>lt> tastes nuil mind mnteiit ! 

Ol 1\ UK \VBNl>KLL IIOLMeS. 



CONTENTATIOX. 

WRBCTBD TO MY LBAK PATHKR, AND MOST WORTHY 
KKIEND. MK, ISAAK WALIMN. 

Heavkn, what nii ngt' is this ! wluvt race 
Ofsiiuits iut> s|Munj; u(), that ilare 

Thus tly in tho Almighty's I'uoo, 

Ami with his luvviUouoo make war ! 

I can gi) nowlit'iv but I moot 
With maloontonis and mutinooi-s. 

As if in lifo was nothinj; swoot. 

And wo must blessing's mip in toai-s. 

O senseless man ! that murmurs still 
_ For happiness, and does not know, 
Even though )w mij;ht eiyoy his will, 
What he would liave to make him so. 

Is it tnw happiness to bo 
By undiseerning Fortune plaeed 

lu the most eminent degive, 
Whew few arrive, and uono stand fast ? 

Titles and wealth aiv Fortune's toils, 
^ Whe-twith the vain themselves insiiare: 
The givat aiv |.ix>ud of Univwed spoils. 
The miser's plenty bnfils his care. 

rrhe one snjxinely yawns at rest, 
^ The other eternally doth toil ; 
Eaeh of tlu'U) e>|ually a lieast, 
A puiiperiHl horse, a lalwiiig moil : 

The tituliido "s oft disgmeed 

By imblie hate or private fivwn, 

Ani^ ne whose hand the eivatuiv niiseil 
Has yet a fwt to kiek him down. 

'The 'drudge who would all get, all si»ve, 
lake a brute K-ast, both feeds and lies ; 

IV>ne to the earth, he digs his grave, 
And in the very laK>r dies, 

Exe«>ss of ill-got. ill-kept }x-lf 
Ooes only death and d,>ngt>r brw»l ; 

Whilst one rich worldling starves hin'iself 
With what would thoussuid others feed. 

By which we see that wealth and jvwer, 
Although they make men rich and great, 

The sweets of life do often sour. 
And gull auibitiou with a cheat. 



Nor is he happier thiui these. 

Who, in a miHlerate eslatc. 
Whei-e he might safely li\'e at ease, 

ilas lusts that ai-e immoderate. 

For he, by those desiivs mislwl, 

^^ yuits his own vine's securing slmde, 

Toe.\[Hwe his naked, empty head 

To all the storms man's peace invade. 

Nor is he Imppy who is trim. 
Tricked up in favors ol the fair, 

Minvi-s, with every breath made dim, 
Bii\ls, caught in every wanton snare. 

Wonnin. man's givatest woe or bliss, 
l>oes oftcner far than serve, enslave. 

And with the mhgio of a kiss 

Dt-stm-s whom slie was made to save. 

frnitf\d grief, the world's disease ! 

And vainer num, to make it so, 
Who gives his miseries increase 

By cultivating his own woe ! 

There are no ills but what we make 

By giving shapes and names to things, - 

Which is the dangt>rous mistake 
That causes all our sutl'erings. 

Wo call that sickness which is health, 
That iH'i-secution which is grace. 

That i>overty which is true wealth, 
And that dislionor which is praise. 

Ahw ! our time is here so short 

That in what state soe'er 't is speat,^ 

Of joy or WW, does not inniort, 
iVovideil it I* iunoi-ent. 

But we may make it pleasant too. 
If we will take our measures right, 

An»l not what Heaven has done undo 
By an unruly appetite. 

The world is full of Ivaten i\>ads, 

But yet so slipik'ry withal, 
That where one wallis secure 't is oilds • 

A hundred and a hundred fall. ^ 

Untmlden paths are then the best. 
Where the freipiented are unsure; 

And he comes soonest to his rest 
Whose journey has been most secure. 

It is content alone that makes 
Our pilgrinn\g.' a pl<\isure here ; 

And who buys sorrvnv cheaj^est takes 
An ill commiKlity too dear. 

Chaki.es cottoh 



POEMS OK SENTIMENT AND KEI-'LECTION. 



735 



THE TOUCIISTOXE. 

r A HAN there came, whence none could t«ll, 
Bearing a Touchslom- in hiit hand. 
And tested all things in the land 
Uy its unerring Hi>ell. 

A thousand traniir<iiinations rose 
From fair to foul, from fonl to fair : 
The golden crown lie ilid not spare, 
Nor scorn the Ix-ggai 'h clothes. 

Of heirloom jewels, prized so nitn.-h. 
Were many changed to chijis ami clods ; 
And even statues of the Oods 
Crumbled beneath its touch. 

Th«n angrily the people cried, 
" The loss outweighs the profit far ; 
Our goods BuHice us as they are : 
We will not have them tried." 

And, since they could not so avail 
To check his unrelenting quest, 
They seizeil him, saying, " Let liim test 
How real is our jail ! " 

Hut though they slew him with the sword. 
And in a fire his Touchstone bunied. 
Its doings could not lie o'erturne<l. 
Its undoings restored. 

And when, to stop ail future harm. 
They strewed its ashes on the breeze. 
They little guessed each grain of these 
/Conveyed the perfect charm. 

■"' Wn.l.IAM ALLINCHAU. 



ox HI.S OWN BLINDNESS. 

TO CYKIACK SKINNES. 

CTmACK, thia three years' day, these eyes, though 
clear. 
To outward view, of blemish or of spot, 
l!ereft of light, tlieir seeing liave forgot : 

Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear 

Of sun, or moon, cr star, throughout the year, 
Or man or woman, yet I argue not 
Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot 

Of heart or ho]>e ; but still lx;ar up and steer 

liight ouwanl. What supjmrts me, dost thou ask ? 

The conscience, friend, to have lost them overplied 

In Liberty's defence, my noble task. 

Of which all Euro]* rings from side to siile. 

This thought miglit lead me through the world's 
vain mask. 

Content, though blind, lud I no better guide. 

Milton. 



THE HAPPY MAN. 

PHUM '• IHU WINXek WALK AT NOON:" 
•'THti TASK." BOOK VI. 

Hb is the hap[iy man whose life even now 
Shows somewhat of that hapjiier life U) come ; 
Who, doomed to an obscure but tramjuil state, 
Is pleased with it, and, were he free to choose, 
Would make his fate his choice ; whom peace, 

the fruit 
Of virtue, and whom virtue, fruit of faith. 
Prepare lor happiness ; Ix'speak him one 
Content inileed to sojourn while he must 
lielow the skies, but having there his home. 
The world o'erlooks him in her busy search 
Of objects, more illustrious in her view ; 
And, occupied as earnestly as she, 
Though more sublimely, he o'erlooks the world. 
She scorns hu pleasures, for she knows tbeni 

not ; 
He seeks not hers, for he has proved them vain, 
He cannot skim the ground like summer birds 
Pursuing gilded flics ; and such he deems 
Her honors, her emoluiueiits, her joys. 
Therefore in contemplation i» his bliss. 
Whose power is such tliat whom she lifts from 

earth 
She makes familiar with a heaven unseen, 
And shows him glories yet to be revealed. 
Not slothful he, though seeming unemployed, 
And censured oft as useless. Stillest streams 
Oft water fairest meadows, and the bird 
That flutters least is longest on the wing. 

William Cowper. 



THE PKOIiLEM. 

I LIKE a church ; I like a cowl ; 
I love a prophet of the soul ; 
And on my heart monastic aisles 
Fall like sweet strains or pensive sraihjg; 
Yet not for all liis faith can see 
Would I that cowled cliuichiiian lie. 
Why should the vest on him allure, 
Which I could not on me endure I 

Not from a vain or sliallow thought 
His awful Jove young Phidias brought ; 
Never from lips of cunning fell 
The thrilling Delphic oracle : 
Out from the heart of nature rolled 
The burdens of tlie liibic old ; 
The litanies of nations came, 
Like the volcano's tongue of (lame. 
Up from the )<uming core below, — 
The canticles of love and woe. 



736 



POEMS OF SENTIMENT AND REFLECTION. 



The hand that rounded Peter's dome, 
And groined the aisles of Christian Rome, 
Wrought in a sad sincerity ; 
Himself from God he could not free ; 
He builded better than he knew ; — 
The conscious stone to beauty grew. 



Know'st thou what wove yon woodbird's nest 
Of leaves, and feathers from her breast ? 
Or how the fish outbuilt her shell, 
Painting with morn each annual -cell ? 
Or how the sacred pine-tree adds 
To her old leaves new myriads ? 
Such and so grew these holy piles, 
Whilst love and terror laid the tiles. 
Earth proudly wears the Parthenon, 
As the best gem upon her zone ; 
And Morning opes with haste her lids, 
To gaze upon the Pyramids ; 
O'er England's abbeys bends the sky, 
As on its friends, with kindred eye ; 
For, out of Thought's interior sphere. 
These wonders rose to upper air ; 
And Nature gladly gave them place, 
Adopted them into her race, 
And granted them an equal date 
With Andes and with Ararat. 

These temples grew as grows the grass ; 
Art might obey, but not surpass. 
The passive Master lent his hand 
To the vast Soul that o'er him planned ; 
And the same power that reared the shrine 
Bestrode the tribes that knelt within. 
Ever the fiery Pentecost 
Girds with one flame the countless host, 
Trances the heart through chanting choirs, 
And through the priest the mind inspires. 
The word unto the prophet spoken 
Was writ on tables yet unbroken ; 
The word by seers or sibyls told. 
In groves of oak, or fanes of gold. 
Still floats upon the morning wind, 
Still whispers to the willing mind. 
One accent of the Holy Ghost 
Tlie heedless world hath never lost. 
I know what say the fathers wise, — 
Tlie Book itself liefore me lies, — 
Old Chrysostom, best Augustine, 
And he who blent both in his line, 
The younger Golden Lips or mines, 
Taylor, the Shakespeare of divines. 
His words are music in my ear, 
1 see his cowled portrait dear ; 
And yet, for all his faith could see, 
I would not the good bishop be. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson. 



HAPPINESS. 



FROM "AN ESSAY ON MAN," EPISTLE IV. 

Happiness ! our being's end and aim I 
Good, Pleasure, Ease, Content ! whate'er thy 

name : 
That something still which prompts the eternal 

sigh. 
For which we bear to live or dare to die. 
Which still so near us, yet beyond us lies, 
O'erlooked, seen double, by the fool, and wise. 
Plant of celestial seed ! if dropped below. 
Say, iu what mortal soil thou deign'st to gi'ow ? 
Fair opening to .some court's propitious shine. 
Or deep with diamonds in the flaming mine ? 
Twined with the wreaths Parnassian laurels yield, 
Or reaped in iron harvests of the field ? 
Where grows ?— where grows it not ? If vain 

our toil, 
We ought to blame the culture, not the soil : 
Fi.xed to no spot is happiness sincere ; 
'T is nowhere to be found, or everywhere : 
'T is never to be bought, but always free, 
And, fled from monarchs, St. John ! dwells with 
thee. 
Ask of the learned the way ? The learned are 
blind ; 
This bids to serve, and that to shun, mankind ; 
Some place the bli.ss in action, some in ease. 
Those call it pleasure, and contentment these ; 
Some, sunk to beasts, find pleasure end in pain ; 
Some, swelled to gods, confess even virtue vain ; 
Or, indolent, to each extreme they fall, — 
To trust in everything, or doubt of all. 

Who thus define it, say they more or less 
Than this, that happiness is happiness ? 

Take Nature's path, and mad Opinion's leave ; 
All states can reach it, and all heads conceive ; 
Obvious her goods, in no extreme they dwell ; 
There needs but thinking right, and meaning 

well ; 
And, mourn our various portions as we please, 
Equal is common sense and common ease. 

Ale.vander Pope. 



THE CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE. 
I 

How happy is he bom and taught ., 
That serveth not another's will ; 

Whose armor is his honest thought, 
And simple truth his utmost skill ! 

■RTiose passions not his masters are ; 

Whose soul is still prepared for death, 
Not tied unto the world with care 

Of public fame or private breath ; 



POEMS OF SENTIMENT AND REFLECTION. 



737 



Who envies none that chance doth raise, 
Or vice ; who never iinderstooil 

How deepest wounds are given by praise, 
Nor rules of state, but rules of good ; 

Who hath his life from rumors freed ; 

Whose conseienee is his strong retreat ; 
Wliose state can neither flatterers feed. 

Nor ruin make accusers great ; 

Who God doth late and early pray 
More of his grace than gifts to lend. 

And entertains the harmless day 

With & well-chosen book or friend, — 

This man is freed from servile bands 

Of hope to rise, or fear to fall ; 
Lord of himself, though not of lands ; 

And, having nothing, yet hatli all. 

SIR Henry Wotton. 



THE HERMIT. 

At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still. 
And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove, 
When naught but the toiTent is heard on the hill. 
And naught but the nightingale'ssongintues;i'ove, 
'T was tluis, by the cave of the mountain afar. 
While his harp rung symphonious, a hermit be- 
gan ; 
No more with himself or with nature at war, 
He thought as a sage, though he felt as a man : 

" Ah I why, all abandoned to darkness and woe, 
Why, lone Philomela, that languishing fall ? 
For spring shall return, and a lover bestow. 
And sorrow no longer thy bosom iuthrall. 
But, if pity inspire thee, renew the sad lay, — 
Mourn, sweetest complainer, man calls thee to 

mourn ! 
O, soothe him whose pleasures like thine pass 

away ; 
Full quickly they pass, — but they never return. 

*' Now, gliding remote on the verge of the sky. 
The moon, half extinguished, her crescent dis- 
plays ; 
Bnt lately I marked when majestic on high 
She shone, and the planets were lost in her blaze. 
Roll on, thou fair orb, and with gladness pursue 
The path that conducts thee to splendor again ! 
But man's faded glory what change shall renew ? 
Ah, fool ! to exult in a glory so vain ! 

" 'T is night, and the landscape is lovely no more. 
1 mourn, — but, ye woodlands, I moiuu not for 
you; 



For morn is approaching your charms to restore, 
Perfumed with fi-esh fra^-ancc, and glittering 

with dew. 
Nor yet for the ravage of winter I mourn, — 
Kind nature the embryo blossom will save ; 
But when shall spring visit the mouldering urn ? 
0, when shall day dawn on the night of the grave f 

" 'T was thus, by the glare of false science betrayed, 
That leads to bewilder, and dazzles to blind. 
My thoughts wont to roam from shade onward to 

shade, 
Destruction before me, and sorrow behind. 
' pity, great Father of light,' tlien I cried, 
' Thy creature, w'ho fain would not wander from 

thee ! 
Lo, humbled in dust, I relinquish my pride ; 
From doubt and from darkness thou only canst 

free. ' 

" And darkness and doubt are now flying away ; 
No longer I roam in conjecture forlorn. 
So breaks on the traveller, taint and astray, 
The Ijright and the balmy efl'ulgence of morn. 
See truth, love, and mercy in triumph descending. 
And nature all glowing in Eden's first bloom ! 
On the cold cheek of death smiles and roses are 

blending. 
And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb." 

James Beattie. 



THE RETIREMENT.! 



Fakewell, thou busy world, and may 
We never meet again ; 
Here I can eat and sleep and pray. 
And do more good in one short day 
Than he who his whole age outwears 
Upon the most conspicuous theatres, 
Where naught but vanity and vice appears. 

Good God ! how sweet are all things here ! 
How beautiful the fields appear ! 

How cleanly do we feed and lie ! 
Lord ! what gooil hours do we keep ! 
How quietly we sleep ! 

What peace, what unanimity ! 
How innocent from the lewd fashion 
Is all our business, all our recreation ! 

0, how happy here 's our leisure ! 
O, how innocent our pleasure ! 
O ye valleys ! ye mountains ! 
ye groves and crystal fountains ! 
How I love, at liberty. 
By turns to come and visit ye I 



rOEMS OF SENTIMEXT AND REFLECTION". 



Dear solitude, the sours best frieml, 
That man acquainted.with himself dust make, 
And all his Maker's wonders to intend, 
AVith thee I here converse at will, 
And would be glad to do so still, 
For it is thou aloue that keep'st the soul awake. 

How calm and quiet a delight 

Is it, alone. 
To read and meditate and write. 

By none ort'ended, and otl'ending none ! 
To walk, ride, sit, or sleep at one's own ease ; 
And, pleasing a man's self, none other to displease. 

my beloved nymph, fair Dove, 
Princess of rivers, how 1 love 

Upon thy flowery banks to lie, 
And view thy silver stream. 
When gilded by a summer's beam ! 
And in it all thy wanton fry 
Plajnng at liberty, 
And with my angle upon them 
The all of treachery 

1 ever learned, industriously to try ! 

Such streams Rome's yellow Tiber cannot show, 
Tlie Iberian Tagas, or Ligurian Po ; 
The JIaese, the Danube, and the Rhine, 
Aie pudtUe-water, all, compared with thine ; 
And Loire's pure streams yet too polluted are 
With thine, much purer, to compare ; 
The rapid Garonne and the winding Seine 
Are both too mean, 

Beloved Dove, with thee 

To vie priority ; 
Nay, Tame and Isis, when conjoined, submit, 
And lay their trophies at thy silver feet. 

my beloved rocks, that rise 

To awe the earth and brave the skies ! 

From some aspiring mountain's crown 

How dearly do I love, 
Giddy with pleasure to look down. 
And from the vales to view the noble heights 
above ! 
my belovkl caves ! from dog-star's heat. 
And all anxieties, my safe retreat ; 
AVhat safety, privacy, w-hat tnie delight. 
In the artificial night 
Your gloomy entrails make, 
Have I taken, do I take ! 
How oft, when grief has made me fly, 
To hide me from society 
E'en of ray dearest friends, have I, 

In your recesses' friendly shade, 
All my soiTows open laiil. 
And my most secret woes intrusted to your 
privacy ! 



Lord ! would men let me alone, 
AVhat an over-happy one 

Should I think myself to be, — 
Might I in this desert place 
(AVhich most men in discourse disgrace) 

Live but undisturbed and free ! 
Here in this despised recess, 

AA'ould I, maugre winter's cold 
And the smnmer's worst excess. 

Try to live out to sixty full years old ; 
And, all the while, 

AA'ithout an envious eye 
On any thriving under Fortune's smile, 
Contented live, and then contented die. 

Charles Cotton. 



VERSES 

SUPPOSKD TO BE WRITTEN' BY ALEXANDER SELKIRK 
DURING HIS SOLITARY ABODE IN THE ISLAND OF JUAN 
FER^■AXDE2. 

I AM monarch of all I survey, ^ '^^'^^ 
My riglit there is none to dispute ; 

From the centre all round to the sea, 
I am loixl of the fowl and the brute. 

Solitude ! where are the charms 
That sages have seen in thy face ? 

Better dwell in the midst of alarms 
Than reign in this horrible jilace. 

1 am out of humanity's reach ; 

I must Hiiish my journey alone, 
Never hear the sweet mvtsic of speech, — 

I start at the sound of my own. 
The beasts that roam over the plain 

My form with inditfereiice see ; 
They are so unacquainted with man, 

Their tameness is shocking to me. 

Society, friendship, and love. 

Divinely bestowed ujion man ! 
0, had I ihe wings of a dove. 

How soon would I taste you again ! 
My sorrows I then might assuage 

In the ways of religion and truth, — 
Might learn from the wisdom of age, 

And be cheered by the sallies of youth. 

Religion ! what ti-easure untold 

Resides in that heavenly word ! — 
More precious than silver and gold. 

Or all that this earth can att'ord ; 
But the sound of the cluirch-going beU 

These valleys and rocks never heard, 
Never sighed at the sound of a knell. 

Or smiled when a Sabbath appeared. 



POEMS OF SENTIMENT AM) KEl'LEt TION. 



r39 



Yi' wiinls tlmt have iiiiule rac your sport, 

Convey to this desolate shore 
Sonic conlial, i-ndiariiig report 

or a laml I shall visit no more ! 
My friemls, — do tln-y now and then send 

A wish or a tliought alter me .' 
O, tell me I yet have a friend. 

Though a friend I am never to see. 

How fleet is a glance of the niiud ! 

t'onipai-ed with the speed of its Hight, 
The tempest itself lags behind. 

And the swift-winged arrows of light. 
When I think of my own native land, 

In a moment I seem to be there ; 
Ihit, alas ! reeoUeetion at hand 

Soon hurries me back to despair. 

But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest, 

The beast is laid down in his lair ; 
Even here is a season of rest, 

And I to my cabin repair. 
There's mercy in every place. 

And mercy ^ encouraging thought ! — 
Gives even affliction a grace, 

And reconciles man to his lot. 

William Cowper. 



The deeds we do, the words we say, — 
Into still air they seem to fleet. 
We connt them ever past ; 
But they shall last, — 
In the dread judgment they 
And we shall meet. 

I charge thee by the years gone by, 

For the love's sake of brethren dear. 
Keep thou the one true way, 
In work and play. 
Lest in that world their cry 
Of woe thou hear. 

JOHN KEBLE. 



THE GOOD GUEAT MAN. 

(^How seldom, friend, a good gieat man inherits 
Honor and wealth, with all his worth and pains! 
It seems a story from the world of spirits 
When any man obtains that which he merits, 
Or any merits that which he obtains. 



For shame, my friend ! renounce this idle strain ! 
What wonldst thou have a good great man obtain ! 
Wealth, title, dignity, a golden chain. 
Or heap of corses which his sword hath shain ? 
Goodness and greatness are not means, but ends. 

Hath he not always treasures, always friends, — 
The good great man ? Three treasures, — love, 
and light, 
.\nd calm thoughts, eipiablc as infant's breath ; 
And three fast friends, more sure tliaii day or 
night, — 
Himself, his Maker, and the angel Death. 

Samcf.l Taylor Coleridge. 



EXAMPLE. 

W^E scatter seeds with careless hand. 

And dream we ne'er shall see them more ; 
But for a thousand years 
Their fruit appears. 
In weeds that mar the land, 
Or healthful store. 



LIVING WATERS. 

There are some hearts like weUs, green-mossed 
and deep 

As ever Summer saw ; 
And cool their water is, — yea, cool and sweet ; — 

But you must come to draw. 
They hoard not, yet they rest in calm content. 

And not unsought will give ; 
They can be (juiet with their wealth unspent. 

So self-contained they live. 

And there are some like springs, that bubbling 
burst 

To follow dusty ways, 
Aiul run with ottered cup to quench his thirst 

Where the tired traveller strays ; 
That never ask the meadows if they want 

What is their joy to give : — 
Unasked, their lives to other life they grant, 

So self-bestowed they live ! 

And One is like the ocean, deep and wide. 

Wherein all W'aters fall ; 
That girdles the broad earth, and draws the tide. 

Feeding and bearing all ; 
That broods the mists, that sends the clouds 
abroad. 

That takes, again to give ; — 
Even the great and loving heart of God, 

Whereby all love doth live. 

Caroline s. spencer. 



THE SEASIDE 'WELL. 

" Waters flowed over my held ; then I said. I am cut off." 
iMmentatioHS, iii. 54. 

(jOne day I wandered where the salt sea-tide 

Backward had di-awn its wave. 
And found a spring as sweet as e'er hillside 
To wild-flowers gave. 



r4o 



POEMS or SENTIMENT AND REFLECTION. 



Freshly it sparkled in the sun's bright look, 

And mid its pebbles strayed, 
As if it thought to join a happy brook 

In some green glade. 

But soon the heavy sea's resistless swell 

Came rolling in once more. 
Spreading its bitter o'er the clear sweet well 

And pebbled shore. 
Like a fair star thick buried in a cloud. 

Or life in the grave's gloom, 
The well, enwrapped in a deep watery .shroud. 

Sunk to its tomb. 

As one who by the beach roams far and wide. 

Remnant of wreck to save. 
Again I wandered when the salt sea-tide 

Withdrew its wave ; 
And there, unchanged, no taint in all its sweet, 

No auger in its tone, 
Still as it thought some happy brook to meet. 

The spring Howed on. 

While waves of bitterness rolled o'er its head. 

Its heart had folded deep 
Within itself, and quiet fancies led, 

As in a sleep ; 
TUl, w hen the ocean loosed his heavy chain. 

And gave it back to day. 
Calmly it turned to its own life again 

And gentle way. 

Happy, I thought, that which can draw its life 

Deep from the nether springs, 
Safe 'neath the pressure, tranquil mid the strife. 

Of surface things. 
Safe — for the sources of the nether springs 

Up in the far hills lie ; 
Calm — for the life its power and freshness brings 

Down from the sky. 

So, should temptations threaten, and should sin 

Roll in its whelming Hood, 
Make strong the fountain of thy gi-are within 

My soul, God ! 
If bitter scorn, and looks, once kind, grown 
strange. 

With crushing ehillne.ss fall. 
From secret wells let sweetness rise, nor change 

My heart to gall ! 

When sore thy hand doth press, and waves of 
thine 

Afflict me like a sea, — 
Deep calling deep, — infuse from source divine 

Thy peace in me ! 
And when death's tide, as with a brimful cup, 

Over my soul doth pour, • 

Let liope survive, — a well that springeth up 

Forevermore ! 



Above my head the waves may come and go, 

Long brood the deluge dire. 
But life lies hidden in the depths below 

Till waves retire, — 
Till death, that reigns with overflowing flood. 

At length withdraw its sway. 
And life rise sparkling in the sight of God 

An endless day. 

Anonymous. 



THE MEN OF OLD. 

I KNOW not that the men of old ' 

Were better than men now. 
Of heart more kind, of hand more bold, 

Of more ingenuous brow ; 
I heed not those who pine for force 

A ghost of time to raise. 
As if they thus could check the course 

Of these appointed days. 

Still it is true, and over-true. 

That I delight to close 
This book of life self-wise and new, 

And let my thoughts repose 
On all that humble happiness 

The world has since foregone, — 
The daylight of contentednesS' . 

That on those faces shone J y 

With rights, though not too closely scanned, 

Enjoyed as far as known. 
With will by no reverse unmanned, 

With pulse of even tone. 
They from to-day, and from to-night. 

Expected nothing more 
Thau yesterday and yesternight 

Had profl'ered them before. 

To them was life a simple art' 

Of duties to be done, 
A game where each man took his part, 

A race where all must run ; 
A battle whose great scheme and scope 

They little cared to know. 
Content, as men-at-arms, to cope 

Each with his fronting foe. 

Man now his virtue's diadem .' 

Puts on, and proudly wears . — 
Great thoughts, great feelings, came to them. 

Like instincts unawares ; 
Blending their souls' sublime.st needs 

With tasks of every day 
They went about their gravest deeds 

As noble boys at play. 



POEMS OP SENTIMENT AND REFLECTION. 



741 



And what if Nature's fearful wound 

They did not probe and bare, 
For tliat their siiirits never swooned 

To watoli tlic misery tliere, — 
For that their love but (lowed more Hist, 

Their charities more free, 
Not conscious what mere drops they cast 

Into the evil sea. 

A man's Ix'st things are nearest him, 

Lie close about his feet ; 
It is the distant and the dim 

That we are sick to greet ; 
For flowers that grow our hands beneath 

We struggle and a.spire, — 
Our hearts must die, i xcept they breathe 

The air of fresh desire. 

Yet, brothers, who up reason's hill 

Advance with hopeful cheer, — 
Oh, loiter not, those heights are chiU, 

As chill as they are clear ; 
And still restrain your haughty gaze 

The loftier that ye go, 
Remeniliering distance leaves a haze 

On all that lies below. 
Richard Monckton Milnes. Lord Houghton. 



HISTORY OF A LIFE. 

Day dawned ; — within a curtained room. 
Filled to faintness with perfume, 
A lady lay at point of doom. 

Day closed ; — a Child had seen the light : 
But, for the lady fair and bright. 
She rested in undreaming night. 

Spring rose ; — the lady's grave was green ; 
And near it, oftentimes, was seen 
A gentle Boy with thoughtful mien. 

Years fled ; — he wore a manly face, 
And struggled in the world's rough race, 
And won at last a lofty place. 

And then he died ! Behold before ye 

Humanity's poor sum and story ; 

Life, — Death, — and all that is of Glory. 

BRYAN Waller Procter {Harry Corjiwall)^ 



THE ROSE-BUSH. 

A CHILD sleeps under a rose-bush fair, 
The buds swell out in the soft May air ; 
Sweetly it rests, and on dream-wings flies 
To play with the angels in Paradise. 
And the years glide by. 



A JIaiden stands by the rose-bush fair, 
The dewy blossoms perfume the air ; 
She presses her hand to her throbbing breast, 
With love's first wonderful rapture blest. 
And the years glide by. 

A Mother kneels by the rose-bush fivir, 
Soft sigh the leaves in the evening air ; 
SoiTowing thoughts of the past arise. 
And tears of anguish bedim her eyes. 
And the years glide by. 

Naked and lone stands the rose-bush fair, 
Whirled are the leaves in the antuum air, 
Withered and dead they fall to the ground. 
And silently cover a new-made mound. 
And the years glide by. 

Prom the German, by William W. CaLDWELL. 



LIFE. 



I MADE a posie, while the day ran hy : ' ' 
" Here will I smell my remnant out, and tie 

My life within this band." 
But Time did beckon to the flowers, and they 
By noon most cunningly did steal away. 

And withered in my hand. 

My hand was next to them, and then my heart ; 
I took, without more thinking, in good part 

Time's gentle admonition ; 
Who did so sweetly death's sad taste convey, 
Making my minde to smell my fatall day, 

Yet sug'ring the suspicion. 

Farewell, dear flowers ! sweetly your time ye 

spent ; 
Fit, while ye lived, for smell or ornament, 

And after death for cures. 
I follow straight without complaints or grief ; 
Since, if my scent be good, I care not if 
It be a.s short as yours. 

George Herbert. 



THE RIVER OF LIFE. 

The more we live, more brief appear 
Our life's succeeding stages ; 

A day to childhood seems a year, 
And years like passing ages. 

The gladsome current of our youth, 

Ere ])assion yet disorders. 
Steals lingering like a river smooth 
Along its grassy borders. 



'42 



rOKMS OFSK.NTIMKNT AND UKt'l.ElvrU)N, 



liul, .IS lht> oiiivwoni oluvk j;i\>\vs \v:in. 

Ami soii\>w's slii\t"ls llv lliii'kor, 
Yo Sim's, tlmt moiisuiv lil'o to tiitui, 

Why soom your i-oui'sos nuii'kor ■ 

\VI\i>ti joys hnvi' Uvst tlioir bloom ;>ml bivalh, 

Aiul UlV itsoir is vi>|iiil, 
Why, as \vi< lutir tho Falls of Pwilh, 

Fool \vi> its tido moiv rapiil ) 

It may ln> sll•!mJ^^ - yot who wouUl ohaiijji.' 
Timo's ivuii-si' to slower s(H'iiiiii);, 

Whoi\ oiu' by OHO our tVioiuls hav o ,i;Mm', 
And left our Kisoms liU><sliii){ ! 

Hoiiwu gives our yi-ars of favliuj; stiviigth 

liulomuifyiuj! Iloetiioss ; 
Aiiil those of youth, a siviuiuj; length, 

ProiKirtioueii to their swwtuess, 

ruOMAS CAMI-BIILU 



TllK VOYAOK OK I.IKK. 

»-Kv\M " vm; sn.ni;N,* 

Tiifs, then, I steer luy Ivirk, and sail 
On even keel witl\ j»<>utle gale ; 
At helm 1 make my ivason sit. 
My eivw of (vissious all submit. 
If dark ai\il blusteriiii; |>i\ne some nights, 
rhilosophy puts forth her lights ; 
K\|><'rieniv holds the oautivms glass. 
To shun the bix-akers, as I jwss. 
And fiviiuent tliivws the wary hv>d. 
To see what dangi'i's may be hid ; 
And onee in seven yivirs I 'm sih'u 
At Uath or Tunbridgx- to eaii-i'U. 
Though pleastxl to sw the dolphins play, 
1 mind my eomiviss and my w^iy. 
With stoiv surtieient for Ivlief, 
And wisely still iireivu\vl to iwf, 
Xor wanting the d\s|HM'sive Vk>w1 
iM'oloudy weather in the soul, 
1 make ^may llwiven |ii\>i>itions send 
Sueh wind and weather to the end). 
Neither lHvaln\i<d nor overblown. 
Life's voyagt> to the world unknown. 

MArrmsw Gkkkn. 



THK HOSAUY OK MY TKAKS. 

SoMK itvkoi\ their iige l>y \vars. 

Seine measuiv their life by art ; 
lUit some t»'ll their days by the tlow of their t«>rs. 

And th«ir lives by tJie mains of their htjixrt, 

riie dial< of earth n\ay show 
The le>\gth, not the depth of Visirs, — 



Kew or many they eoine, few or ninny they go, — 
Uut time is best inetisniwi by tears. 

.\h '. not by the silver gray 
That eiveivs thi\>ugh the sunny hair, 

.\nd not by the seelies that we jviuss on our way, 
.\iid not by the l\iri\iws the ling<>i's «f eaiv 

t^n foit'head and faee have made, — 

Not so do we oount our yeai's ; 
Not by the sun of the earth, but the .shade 

IM' our souls, and the fall of our teiirs. 

Kor the yonng aiv ofttimes old. 

Though their brows be bright aiul fair ; 

While their bloml K«ats warm, their hearts aiv 
oold - 
Vor them the spring— but winter is theit>. 

And the old are ofttimes young 

When their hair is thin and white ; 

And they sing in ,igx', as in youth they sung, 
.\nd they laugh, lor their ei\»ss was light. 

Uul. Wad by Ivad, 1 tell 

The Uivsjuy of my years ; 
Fixmi a ei\vss — to a ol^vss they lead ; 't is well, 

And they 'i\> blest with a blessing of tears. 

Better a day of strife 

Than a eentury of sUh>p ; 
Give me instead »>f a Umg slivam of life 

The temiH"sls and teal's of the deep. 

A thonsjind jox-s may fivim 

l^n the billows of all the yeai's ; 
But never the fivini brings the lone Iwek homo, — 

lie nviehes the haven thiwigh ti-ai-s, 

.VltKAM J. KVAN. 



Tin: AIM OK I.IKE. 

TKOU " FtiSri^S." 

Wk live in detnls, not y<virs ; in thoughts, not i 

lutMtlis ; 
lu iWUngs, not in liguivs on a dial. 
We should i\>imt time by lu>ai't-thi'ol>s. He uuvst 

live.s. 
Who tliinks imwt, feels tlie noblest, aets the K>st. 
.\nd he wh>».e heart Iwits nuiekest lives the 

longest : 
l.i\-es in one hour moiv than in \-«irs do some 
Whost> fat bloixl slwi>s as it slips along their 

veins, 
l.ile is but a ini>ans unto an end ; that end, 
IVginning. nii\in, and end to all things, — Ootl. 
The dtvul haw all the glory of the worKl. 

rnu-ir lAMts iiailcv. 



I'OKMH OK SKNTIMEXr AND UKKl.KCTION. 



743 



1,1 KK. 

M V lir<' ix like tliii hiiiijijii'r I'lMi', 
Tliiil ij|Hiijii lo IIki iinii'iiiii^ Nky, 
Hut, i^ri lliri hIiiuIiin c<r uvi'iiiii^ rliMtit, 
la miitlcniil <iii tlict ^riiiiinl lo <lii) I 
Vt*t on ll)<« ittw.'n litiiiilih' l^i'l 
Tim HVriHiti'Ht (lima of iilglit urn Hliinl, 
An if hIiii wi'pl tliii wiiatii to wm, 
i>iit iioiKi aliull wiiup u tour for liiu I 

My lifn la likii tlin miluiiiii louf 
TImt liimilili'M ill till! iiiooii'h |iiili' my ; 
Ila liiiM in tliiil, ' Itn iliitii Is liriol, 
Krntli'HH, mill Hiiiiii til puHH iiwiiy ! 
Yrt, I I'M tliiit li!iil'»lmll liill unit IikU; 
Till! |iuiuiit tii'i' will iiioiiin ila aliuilu, 

Tint willlla lu'Wllil tllll ll-lllll'HH tl'IT, — 

■ tut iioni! kIiiiII liiuiitliii It M^U for ino t 

My lifi- ia llki' tlin piiiita wliirli I'lMit 
Muvi) liil't on Tiini|iit'H ili-Hfi-t Hlninil ; 
H<ion iiH till! lining li<|i' nliiill lii'iit, 
All triini will vunlali rroni tin! winil ; 
Yi!t, iia if KiioviiiK t" "Hill!" 
All vi'Hti^i! Ill' till! Iiiiiiiun rill!", 
On tliiit loll" hIioi" IimiiI nioitna tlm aeii, — 
Itiit noil", oliiH ! hIiiiH iiioiimi lor niu I 

Kl' IIAKII Ill'NUV Wll.OI!. 



HV TIIK HKA. 

Urns till! loiii'ly hIioi" I li" ; 

Til" wind ia liiint, tli" tiilu la low. 
8<iiiii!Wiiy tlinri! aiwina ii liuniiin aigli 

111 tliu great wavua tliut iiiwunl How, - 

Aa if iill loV", nml loaa, iinil jmin, 
Tliiil "V"r HW"|)t tli"ir aliiniiit; tnirk, 

Mull met within the iiivi'rin-il imiin, 
Aiiil, riaiiig, iiioiiiiinf{ly come buek. 

U|H>ii till- lonely aliore I He, 
Ami guzi: ulong ita level hiui'Ih. 

8till lioiii till! Hi!u aleitla out til" i;ry 
I left afiir In vniwil"il luinla. 

Ujion tlie it<!n-lieii(!li, eool iirnl atill, 
I |ii"aa my elinek ; iinil yet I lieiir 

Tlie jiir or em til, iiml eiiteli tlie tlirill 
Of liumiin "ll'ort, liot uml iieiir. 

Come, I'eiu!" of nature ! l/me I lie 
Witliin til" 'iilm Miilaiinimer noon. 

All liiimmi wuiit I fuin woiilil fly, 
Hing, Hummer a<:a, in ailvery croon I 



III N'oon'a gri'Ht )<Inilneaa liiiali ttiy monn. 

In viiat |ioaaeaaioii iinlniefi ; 
No miiali', liiMintlii|{ ell lliy lone, 

Can nuike me wiiiit llie worlil I 've left. 
Maw ci.iiMMUK. 



llDl'h. 

I-ICDM "inn I'l.iiAauKiia op noi>!t,"« 

IJ.si'AlilNii IIo|ii!! when llfe'ttlaHtemburalium, 
When aoiil to aoiil, iiiel iliint to ililat return ! 
Ileiiveii to thy ihiilge lealgiia the iiwfiil hour I 
O, then thy kiiigiloni coiiiea ! Iininorliil I'ower ! 
VV'licil tlioiigli "iieh Kprnk of eiirtli-liorii riiiiliii" lly 
'I'he i|iiiveriiiK li|i, piili! iln-ek, uml elimiiiK eye ! 
ISiiKhl, to III" aoul thy aeni|ili limnla eoiivey 
Til" morning ilremii of lili-'a "leiniil iliiy, - 
Thin, thi'ii, III" trium|)h nml the Iriiiie" li"gin, 
Ami ull the |ihi/!iiix ajiiiit Ijiirna within ! 

DuiightiT of I'liitli, iiwiike, iiriae, illiinie 
Th" ilreiul unknown, the ehiioa of the toiiih ; 
Melt, iiml ilia|)"l, yi! a|)ei;ti"-iloulita, llmt roll 
rimmiTiiin iliirkneaa o'er the pmtiiig aoiil I 
Kly, like the nioon-eyeil heralil of Uiaimiy, 
< liiiaeil on Ilia night-ateeil liy the atiir of iliiy I 
Til" Btrifi! ia o'l-r, — th" |iiiiiga of Niiture eloae. 
Ami life'a liiat rupture triumplia o'er her woen. 
Murk ! ua tli" apirit eyea, with "u«l" guze, 
The noon of lleiiven uiuluzzleil liy the hlitze, 
On heuvenly wimla lliul wul't her to the aky. 
Flout the aweel tonea of alur-liorn ni"loily ; 
Willi iM tliut liulloW"il untli"m aunt to liail 
I!"thlih"nr» Khipliinla in tli" lon"ly vul", 
When.lonlun hiiaheil hiawuvea, unit miiliiiglitatill 
Wuteheil on the holy tow"ra of Zioii hill ! 

Kterijul llo|«i I when yoniler Hphinii hiililiin" 
I'eul"il thi-irliiat noleatnaoiinil th" niunliof Time, 
Thy joyoua youth begun, but not lo fuile. 
When ull the aiater pimiela have lieeuyeil ; 
When wrupt in lii" the reulnia of "llier glow, 
Aii>l lleuven'a luat lliiimier ahuk"a the worM 

Ih!|ow ; 
Thou, uinliamayed, HJmlt o'er the rulna amilu. 
Ami light thy toreli iit Nuturo'a funpral pll". 

TtlOMAH CAMeilltM.. 



THK VANITY OK TIIK WOIil-U. 

FaIjik worlil, thou ly'at ; thou (!a»«t not lend 
I The leual ilelight : 

Thy favorJi enniiot gain a frieml, 
They uru no kliglit : 

I • TliU |-,«m w,ii willlirn wiirn llic •ijllior w»i biiHwenly ofi« 
I yvrnr* iit »if«. 



744 



VOKMS OF SENTIMKNT AND UKKl.Kr I'lOX. 



Thy morniiiij j>l<>asnn>s miiki> mi oiul 

To plrtisf at uij;ht : 
I'oor ;nv tho Wiiiits th:it tliou sin>l>ly'st, 
AuJ yot thou vauiit'st, «ml yot thou vy'st 
With lu'.ivon ; foml oaitli, thou Kwsls ; lalso 
worhl, thou ly'st. 

Thy Kibbling touj;uo tolls gohiou talos 

(.M'oiuiloss tivasuiv : 
Thy bounty olt'ors oasy siilos 

Of lastinj; jileasuiv ; 
Thou ask'st tlio I'oiisoiomo what slio ails, 

Aiui swoar'st to oaso lior ; 
Thori" 's iiono oau want whoiv thou supply'st ; 
Tlu'iv 's nono I'aii j;ivo whoiv thou lU'uy'st. 
Alas ! fond woiUl, thou luKists ; falso woiKi, thou 
ly'st. 

What woll-mlvis<''ii oar ivipmls 

What oaitli oau s;iy ! 
Thy woi\ls aiv jjoKl. but thy iv\viu\ls 

Aiv {Kiintoil day ; 
Thy ouuninj; oan hut )>;u'k tho caMs, 

Thou canst not play : 
Thy giuno at woakost, still thou vy'st ; 
If soon, ami thou rx'vy'il, dony'st : 
Thou art not what thou seoiu'st ; falso world, 
tliou ly'st. 

Thy tinstd bosom seems a mint 

Of iiew-ooincd tnvisure ; 
A psrsuliso, that has no stint. 

No oliaugo, no moasuiv ; 
A jviiiited oask, but nothiiig iu't, 

Nor wivdth, nor ploasuiv : 
Vain eiirtli ! that falsely thus oouiply'st 
With mau : \iiin man ! that thou roly'st 
On earth ; vain man, thou dot'st : vain earth, 
tJion ly'st. 

■What meaii dull .souls, in this hijjh measure. 

To halH>i>lasli 
lu eartli's Kise warxvs. whose greatest tivasure 

Is diwss and tRLsh t 
The height of wluvse enohanting pleasunj 

Is hut a Hash '. 
Are these tlie gwds that thou supply'st 
Us mortals with ■ .\n> these the high'st f 
Oui these bring eonlial jwioe > false world, tliou 
Iv'st. 

1 

0000 BY. 

Ooop by, proud world, I 'm ginng home : 
Thou art not my fi'iend, and I "ni not thine. 
Long thnnigh thy weiiry oivwds 1 roam ; 
A river-ark on the ocean brine. 
Long I Ve Innni tossed like the driven f<wm, 
But now. proud world, 1 'm gvnng home. 



Good by to Flattery's fawning face ; 

To Omudcur with his wise grimace ; 

To upstart Wealth's averted eye ; 

To supple l>lhcc, low and high ; 

To civwdcd halls, to court and street ; 

To fivzcn hearts and hiu-iting feet ; 

To those who gi>, and those who come ; 

Good by, pnmd world I 1 'ni going home. 

I'm going to my own hcaith-stone, 
Bosomed ill yon given hills alone, — 
A secivt nook in a pleasant land. 
Whose giwes the fivlic fairies planned ; 
Wheiv aivhes given, the livelong day, 
Kcho the blackbinl's iMuudelay, 
And vulgar feet have never tmd 
A spot that is saci\Hl to thought and God, 

O, when 1 am sjife in my sylvan home, 
I tivad on the pride of l.ivece and Home : 
And when I am stri'tched K'neath the pines, 
Wheiv the evening shir so holy shines, 
I laugh at the loiv and the pride of man. 
At the sojihist schools, and the learu^d clan ; 
For what aiv they all, in their high eonceit. 
When man in the bush with tuid may meet .' 

KAiru \Val1K> l£.MlvKSO,\. 



TllF. NK.VKKMOliK. 

Look in my face ; my name is .Might-have-lw'n ; 
I am also called No-nioiw Too-late, Faivwell : 
Unto thine ear 1 hold the dead-sea shell 

Cast up thy Life's fivini-fivtt«i fivt between ; 

I'lito thine eyes the gla.ss wheiv that is seen 
Which had Lite's form and Love's, but hv my 

SJX'll 

Is now a sliaken shadow intolerable. 
Of ultimate things iiuutteit\l the frail scri'en. 

Murk me, how still 1 am ! But should ther»> dart 
One moment thivngh my son I the soft surprise 
Of that wingwi Peace which lulls the breath ol 
sighs, — 
Then .shalt thou see me smile, and turn ajwrt 
Thy visjtge to mine ambush at thy heart 
Sleepless with cold ctnnmemorative eyes. 

Dante Cabkibl Kosssrru 



THE GKXirS OF PEATH. 

W"HAT is death ? 'T is to be freer>i 
Xo morv to love or hop«> or fear. 

To join the givat equality : 

All, all alike an' hunibliHl there. 



I'()K,V|.S {)V SBNTIMENT AND IIKKI-KCTION. 



74.0 



The miKhty ffravn 

\Vm|m loril awl hIiivu ; 
Nor pricli' luir pcivoity ilureii come 
Within tlml rc^lugr-lioiwe, — tlio loiiit). 

Spirit with tin; ilri)i>|piiig wiiif,' 

Aii'l thi' iviTwiM'iiiiig <•)•<% 
Tlioii of all miith'H kiiiKH mt king ; 
KnipiriH ut thy footstool lii; ; 
Ikiiiiith tiiiM! Mtri:wi;il, 
Tliuir niiillitiiclii 
Sink likir wuvch npoii Ih" nhore ; 
SU.rnm itliull nuvcr raixu them mori,'. 

WImt 'h tlio griinilour of tlio earth 

To tliirgiiiiiilimr loiinil thy throne ! 
RichoH, glory, tx-ituty, liirth, 
To thy kirigcloni nil Imvu goni'. 
Uefori; tliw; Btaiid 
Thi! woiiilrouH tiand, — 
Barilx, ImroeH, nngiw, Hiilci by »iile, 
Who ilarkonod nation» when they ilieJ. 

Earth hn« liOHtn, hut thou eannt show 

Many a million for her one ; 
Through thy gateH the mortal (low 
Hath for eounlleHH yeam rolled on. 
Hack from the tomb 
No Hti'p liaH come, 
There fixed till the liwt thunder'n HOund 
Shall bid thy prinoncrH he unbound. 

CIIOKCB Croly. 



LINfcS 

WRITTHN IIV ONE IK TUB TOWKR. nniNC VOUKO AND 
CONUIIMNnn TO DIK. 

My prime of youth in but a front of cares ; 

My fea«t of joy is but a dish of pain ; 
My crop of corn in but a field of tares ; 

Anil all my good is but vaiji hope of gain : 
The day is [lied], and y(;t I saw no sun ; 
And now I live, and now my life is done I 

The spring is jiost, and yet it liath not sprung ; 

The fniit is deafi, anil yet the leaves are green ; 
.My youth is gone, and yet I am but young; 

I saw the worhl, ami yet I was not seen : 
My thread is i:ut, and yet it is not spun ; 
And now I live, and now my life in done ! 

I sought my death, and found it in rny womb ; 

I looked for life, and saw it was a shade ; 
I trod the i-arth, and km-w it was my tomb ; 

And now I die, and now I am but made : 
The glass is full, and now my glass is run ; 
And now I live, ami now my life is done I 

CIIIDKKK TyCIinORN. 



LINES 

POUND IN HIS IIIIILIl IN 1IIR GATB-llOUiE AT 
WILhlMINVtllU. 

K'i'.N such is lime ; that lakes in truHt i 

Our youth, our joys, our all we have, 
And |>ays us but willi earth and dust ; 

Who in the dark and sihnl grave. 
When we have waiideriMl all our ways, 
Hhuls up the story of our <lays : 
Hut from this earth, tliis grave, this dust. 
My (lod shall raise; me up, 1 trust. 

SIR WAUIHK KALUIGII. 



THE SOUL'S ERKAND. 

Go, soul, the body's guest, 
Upiui a tliankless arrant I 

Fear not to touch the best, 
Th<! truth shall bi; thy warrant : 

Go, since 1 needs must die. 

And give the world the lie. 

fio, tell the court it glown 
And shines like rotten wood ; 

(Jo, tell the church it shows 

What's good, and doth no good . 

If rdiurch and court reply, 

Tlii-n give them both the lie. 

Tell piiti-nUtes they live 
Acting by others' action, 

Not loved unless they give. 
Not strong but by a faction : 

If potentates reply, 

Give potentates the lie. 

Tell men of high condition 
That manage the estate, ( 
Their purpose is ambition, I 

.J. 



Their practice only hate i 
And .if they oiiimj reply, , 
Then give them all the lie, 



■/ 



Tell them that brave it most, 
They beg for more by spending, 

Who, in their grcaUjst cost, 

Hi-ik nothing but commending; 

And if they make reply. 

Then give them all the lie. 

Tell zeal it wants devotion ; 

Tell love it is but lust ; 
Tell time it is but motion ; 

Tell llesh it is but dust ; 
And wish tliem not reply, 
For thou must give the lie. 



r4G 



POKMS OK SENTIMENT AND KEKl.ECTlON. 



'IVll :ijp' it iliiily wasti'tli : 

r<'ll lionov how it nlloi's ; 
Toll bwiuty lunv she Mustolli ; 

Toll I'iivor liow it fiiltoi^ ; 
Aiiil lis tUoy sliiill ivply, 
Oivo ovciy Olio tlio lio. 

Toll wit liow iiuioli It wniiiglos 
111 tioklo points of nioouess ; 

Toll wi.vloiii sho oiitiiuglos 
lloi-soir ill ovoi-w isi'iioss : 

Ami whon tlioy vlo iYj>ly, 

Straight givo thoiii Kith tlu> lio. 

Toll physio of lior IvUlnoss ; 

Toll skill it is pivtoiision ; 
Toll ohiii'ity of ooKliioss ; 

Toll liiw it is ooutoiitiou : 
And as thoy do ivply, 
So givo tlioHi still tlio lio. 

Till foi'tuno of hoi' Miiuliioss ; 

Toll iiatmv of ilooay ; 
Toll tVioiulship of uiikindiiess : 

Toll justioo of dolay : 
Altai if thoy will ivply. 
Then givo thoin all tlio lio. 

T»ll lutsthoy havo no souiulness, 

Hut niry l>y o.stooniiiig ; 
Toll soluvils tlioy want pivfoumliioss, 

.\iul staiul too luuoh on sooniing : 
If aits and solu>ols roply, 
Oi\-o arts and sohiH>ls the lio. 

Toll faith it 's IUhI tho oity ; 

Toll how tlio ooniitiy oiivth ; 
Toll, niaiiluHid shakos oil' jiity : 

Toll, viituo loast lu-efonvth : 
And if thoy vlo ivply, 
Sjwix> not to givo tho lio. 

So wlioii thou hast, as I 

l\>iiimandod thoo, dono blabbing, — 
Although to givo tho lio 

Posorvos no lo.-is than stabbing, — 
Yot, stab at tluv that will, 
No stab tlio soiil oan kill. 

SIK walvsk Kaleich. 



l.ETTKKS. 

I Ea"K15Y day lirings a ship, 
F.voiy ship biiugs a woivl ; 
Woll for tlu>so who havo no fojjr, 
Ltvkiui: soaw-aivi wpll iissui'xil 
That tho woi\l tho vossol brings 
Is the woi\l thoy wish to hojir. 

R.vtni \v\iAx-» Emrrson, 



r.KAllMA. 

Ik tho ivd slayor think ho slays, 
t*r if tho .slain think ho is slain, 

Thoy know not woll tho subtlo ways 
I koop, and i>ass, and turn again. 

Far or foi-got to luo is uoar ; 

Shadow and sunlight aiv tho snino ; 
Tho vauishod gvids to mo appoar ; 

.\iid Olio to nio aiv shaiiio and famo. 

Thoy ivokoii ill who loavo iiio out ; 

Whon 1110 thoy lly, 1 am tho wings ; 
1 am thodonblor and tho doubt, 

And 1 tho liyimi tho Itraliniin sings, 

Tho stiviig gods jiino for my alwdo, 
.\iid piiio in vain tho saoix'd Sovon ; 

Uiit thou, mook lovor of tho gviod ! 
Kind 1110, and turn thy Iwok on lioavoN. 

K,\l rtt WAtOki UMliKSON. 



liKAUM.VS AN.-^WKli. 

Onov:, whon tho days woix> agos, 
And tho old Karth was young, 
Tho high gods ami tho sagi-s 
Ki\>iii Natmv's giddoii jwgi's 
I lor oiH'U swix'ts wrung, 
liiioli ipiostiouod oaoh to know 
Whenoo oamo tho lloavons almvo, and whonoo the 
Kjirtli Ih'Iow. 

Indrti, tho ondloss givor 

Of ovory graoions thing 
Tho gods to him dolivor, 
AVIuvso Kniiity is tho rivor 
Of wliioh thoy ari> tho spring — 
Indiii, with anxious heart, 
Venturis with Vivooliunn where Hnihina is a 
jvirt. 

•• Urahma ! Suv>ivmest Being ! 

Hy whom the worlds aiv made, 
AVlierx< wo aiv blind, all-sooiiig. 
Stable, whoii- wo aiv lleoing, 
t'lf Life and Ooatli afraid, — 
Iiistruot us, for mankind, 
ViTiat is tho IhhIv, Hi-alinia ! l>mhina 1 what 
the mind t " 

Hearing as though he heaixl not 

So (vrfoot was his ri'st, 
Sii vast the soul that eriiHl not. 
So wise tlio li)v> that stirivtl not — 
His hand u|>i>u his brxyist 
He laid, whoivat his laoe 
Was mirixmnl in the river that girt that holy 
plaoe. 



I'OKMS OK SENTIMK.NT ANU HKl'LECTION. 



747 



They <|iiftitloiiiMl cni'li the otiicr 

Wlwit liMiliinii'H iiiiNWfi- irii'iiiit, 
Sniil Viviirliiiiiii, '* ItinlliiT, 
TliiiiiiK'li Itniliiiiit till' Kii'iil Mother 
I lilt h njiiiki^ii lii^r iiitxnt : 
Mini i'IkIh iih hit lir){nii, — 
The nhnilow nii Ihi; water in nil there in of niun I " 

"Th"' ciirth with woe Ih eiiiilliereil, 

AimI no iimii iltiilerHlniiilN ; 
They Hi'c llieir iliiyN »re inimltereit 
lly mil' thiit never HJiiiiilH'reil 

Nor Mtiiyeil Imh ilreiiill'iil IiiiihIh. 

/ Mee with llriiliiiiu'H eycH — 
Tlie lioily IH the hIiiuIow that on the water lieH : " 

Thiiit Inilm, looking <lee|ier, 

With Urahliiii'H lelt' puHHi'HKe<l. 
Ho ilry thine eyeH, thou wee))er I 
Anil riHe 11^11111, thou KJei'per ! 
The liaml on lirahinitK lireaHt 
Ih liin iliviiie uHHent, 
Covering the hoiiI that (lieH not. Thin in what 
Uriihinu meant. 

KICIIAKD HlLNKV 8TUUUAKU. 



iti;ri;ii;LTio.s. 

("The mllli of the gwli (jrlnd late, but they ifrlii'1 nne.") 

OKIIIIK PUST. 

Tlioi'iiil the rnilU of fJoil griml Hlowly, yet they 
/ grlnil exeeeiling Hinall ; 

Though witli jiatienee he HtamlH waiting, with 
exaetneH>( grinilH he all. 

Trom the Ocrman "( V. VoN Lor.AU. Trartfc. 
latlon <>f II W. LONCPBLLOW. 



TIMK. 

PROM • NIGHT THOI,v;ilTH," NICtIT I. 

Iin. 1)1-11 Htrikeii one : we take no note of time, 
lint from it* lomi. To give it, then, a tongiii', 
Ih wIm' ill man. An if nn nngel H[K<ke, 
I feel the solemn hoiiiiiI. If lieanl aright. 
It in the knell of my ile|inilei| lioiirn ; 
Where are they J With IheyearM lieyoml the flwul. 
It in the nignnl that ileniamlH ileHiiiiti'li ; 
lluw niiieh in to In; iloiie I my hopen ami feaiH 
Start lip alarmed, ami o'er life'» narrow verge 
Ixjok ilowji — on what I n fathomlexH abyB» ; 
A ilreail eternity ; how Kiirely mine ! 
Ami can eternity helong to me, 
I'iKtr |H:miioner on the Ixiiintii'H of ;iii lioiir 1 



Time the mipreme! Time Id utomlty ; 
I'regiiaiil Willi all eternity ean give ; 
I'regnant with all that miiken untliangeU xinile, 
Wlio miii'ilerH time, lie iriiHheH in the hirtli 
A power ethereal, only not ailoieil. 

Ah I how iiiiJiiHt to Natiiie unil hiniHell', 
Ih thoiightleHH, thaiikleHH, iiieiiiiHiHlitiil man I 
Like ehilili'i'ii liahliling noiiHeiiHe in their Hportn, 
We eenHiire Nature lor a Hpaii loo xliorl : 
That Hpan too Hhort, we tax iih teilioun too ; ' 

Torture inveiiliiin, all expeilieiitH tire. 
To IiihIi the lingering inomentH into h]m»!iI, 
Ami whirl iiH (liajipy riililani'i' I) IVom oiirHelveH. 
Art, liminleHH Art I our finioiiH i-liaiioleer 
(Kor Natiire'H voire, iiiiHtiMe'l, woiilil recall). 
Driven heailloiig Iowiii'iIh the pi'eei|iiee of death I 
Dentil, mont our ilreail ; ileiith, thiin more ilreail- 

fiil made : 
0, what a riddle of ahniirdity ! 
Leiniire in pain ; taken otf our ehariot wlieeln : 
How heavily we drag the load of life I 
lilent leiniire in our eiirne ; like that of Cain, 
It niaken iin wander ; wander earth around 
To lly that tyrant, Thought. An Athin groaned 
The world heiieath, we groan ln'iieath an hour. 
We ery lor merey Ui the next amiinemeiit : 
The next amiinement inorlgagen our lieldn ; 
.Slight ineonvenienee ! piinoiiH hardly frown, 
From hat<'fiil Time if [irinonn n<:t uh free. 
Yet when Death kindly tendern un relief. 
We eall him eriiel ; yearn to momeiitn nhrink, 
Agen to yearn. The teleneopi' in tiiriK'd. 
To man'n falw! optieH O'roin hin folly liilne) 
Time, in ailvanee, Inthind him liiden hin wiiign, 
And neenin to ereep, deerepil with hin age ; 
Itehold him when pant hy ; what then in Keen 
liiit hin hioiid pinioiiH, nwiftiT than the winiln? 
And all nmiikiitd, in eontradietion ntrong, 
Kueful, aghant, cry out on hin career. 

Ye well arrayed ! ye lilien of our hind ! 
Yc lilien male ! who neither toil nor npin 
(A* Hinter-lilieH might) if not ho wine 
Ah.SdIoiiioii, more nuniptiioun l/i the night I 
\'e delieatit ! who nothing can Hn[iport, 
Voiirnidven most iiiniip|Hirtittili' ! for whom 
The wint4'r rone miint Mow, the nun put on 
A hrighter beam in l.''o ; nilky.noft 
Favoniiin, hreathe ntill nofter, or )h; eliiil ; 
And other worldn nend iMlorn, nance, and nrmg. 
And rolien, ami iiotionn, framed in foreign loom* I 
ye Lorcnzon of our age ! who deem 
One moment iinamiined a minery 
I Not made for feehle man ! who call ttloiid 
For every hawhle drivelled o'er hy nenite ; 
For rattlen, and eoneeitn of evei-y eajit. 
For chfliige of folliex and relay* of ioy, 



•ts 



roKMs (IK sKNriMi:\r wn iiKiiKcriox. 



To drag you (xvliont through tho todious U'ligtli 
Ufa slioit wiiilor's day, — say. ssvio's ! say, 
Wit's oraolos ! say, diwimors of gay divains I 
Mow will you wwithor an <'ti>nial night, 
\VlK>tvsuoh oxjiodionts fail ( 



PR. l-mVAKO YOUNv;. 



rUOOUASTl NATION. 

rsoM "Nii.;»i' r»i>\'v;ins." NK;Hr i. 

Uk wise to-day ; 't is nmdnoss to dolVr ; 
K<>xt day tlio fatal pixvodont will (lU'ad ; 
Thus on. till wisdou\ is pushod out of lilV, 
riwmstiualion is tlio thiof of linio ; 
Yoar aOor yoar it slrt>ls, till all aiv Hod, 
And to till" nioivios of a nioniont loavos 
Tho \Tist oonooins of an otoinal soouo. 
If not so fivviuont. would not this \v stmn_gi< 1 
That 't is so fi\>(|uont, this is stiungi-i- still. 

llf mail's mimoulous n\isl!iki>s this Ivai-s 
Tho jwhu. '• That all luon ai-i- aKuit to livo," 
Foivvor on tho hiink of hoiug Kirn. 
All (lay thonisolvos tho oonniliniout to think 
Thoy lino day shall not iliivol : and Ihoii- piido 
On this ivvoi'siou takos \i\\ ivady (naiso ; 
At loast, thoir own ; thoir futuiv solvos aiiplaud ; 
How oxooUont that lifo thoy no'or will load ! 
Tinio lodg<>d in thoir own hands is folly's voils ; 
That lorlgi'd in Kato'.s to wisdom thoy oonsigu ; 
Tho thing thoy oan'l hut jmi'iioso, thoy (xvstiiouo ; 
'T is not in folly not to sooin a fool. 
And soaix-o in human wisdon\ to do nioiy. 
All promi.so is poor dilatory man, 
.\ud that through ovorv st;»gi>. Whou young, 

indood, 
In full ooulont «■>> somotimos nohly i\'st, 
Uuauxious for oui-solvos. and only wish. 
As vlutoous sons, our fathors wotv moro wiso. 
^At thirty, man susiH-ots hiiusolf a fool ; 
Knows it at I'orty, and ivtorms his plan ; 
At fitYy, ohidi\s his infamous dolay, 
Tushos his prudont pur|Hwo to rosol\-i> ; 
In all tho niagnauinuly of thought, 
Kosolvos, and ivivsolvos ; thon ilios tho sjuno. 

.Vuil why ! IWauso ho thinks himsolf iinniortal. 
.\il uuui think all mon n\ortal hut thomsolvos ; 
Thouisolvoss, whon somo alarming shook of fato 
8t riki>s through thoir woundod lnwts tho suvhlcn 

dniad ; 
Hut thoir hosirts woundinl, liko tho woundiil air, 
Soon ohvso : whoiv jiassod tho shaft, no traoo is 

found. 
As from the wing no soar tho sky n>tains, 
Tho (vutisl wavo no t\irrow from tho kool. 
So dios in human hoarts tho thought of doath ; 
K\-on with tho tondov toai-s whioh Xatu>x> sluxls 
O'or tluvso wo lovo, wo drop it in thoir gravo. 

• PK liOWAkO VOONC 



WHAT IS TIMEf 

I A."iKKi) an agi'd man. with Imary hnii's,\ 

Wrinklod and ourvcd with worldly oaitw ; 

"Tinio is tho warp of lifo," said ho ; "(.), toll 

Tho youivg, tho fair, tho gay. to woavo it woll !' 

1 askiHl tho anoiout, vouoiiihlo doad, 

Sagi's who wiiito, and warrioi-s who lilod ; 

Knim tho oold gnivo a hollow nmriniu' llowod, 

" Tinio sowod tho sood wo ivap in this aliodo I " 

I «,skod a dying siimor, oro tho itlo 

t)f lifo had lol^ his voins ; " Timo ! " he replied ; 

" 1 'w lost it ! ah, tho tivasuro ! " and he died. 

I askod tho goUh'u sun and sil\or sphoiva, 

Thoso bright ohi\inoiuotoi-s of days and ywu-s ; 

Thoy auswoii'd, '■ Timo is hut a meteor glaiv," 

.\nd luido mo for olornity proiv>n>. 

I askod tho Seasons, in thoir annual round, 

Whioh lioantil'y or desolate the giMund ; 

And thoy ii'pliod (no oiiu'lo nioii' wise), 

""Tis Kolly's blank, aiul Wi.sdom's highest 

prize ! " 
I asked a spirit lost, — hut O the shriek 
That pioiveil my soul ! I shmlder while 1 speak. 
It oriinl, "A luutiolo ! a spook ! a mite 
Of endless veal's, dunition iulinite!" 
t)f things inanimate my dial 1 
t.\iusultevl. and it made mo this ivply, — 
"Time is the season fair of living well, 
The jiatli of glory or the jiath of hell." 
1 asked my liible, and niothiuks it siiid. 
"Time is the pivseut hour, the jwst has Ihxi ; 
l,ive ! live to-day I to-morrow never yet 
thi any human UMug i>wo iir set. " 
1 a-sked old Kathor rime himself at last ; 
Hut ill a moment ho tlew swiftly juist ; 
His ohariot wa.s a olou.l. the viewle.ss wind 
His noiseless steoils. whioh lotl no traoo behind. 
I asked the mighty augel who shall stand 
tlue fiKit on sea and one on .solid land : 
" Mortal ! " he eried. " the mysteiy now is o'er : 
Time wa.s Time is. hut Time shall 1h' no luoro ! " 
wniuM marsdk.n. 



THE .lESTEK'S SEKMON. 

Thk Jester shwk his hood and Mis, ami Icitiied 

ujKiii a ohair : 
The psm's laugluHl. the women seit\.une<l, and 

tiisisovl their soentrtl hair ; 
The taloou whistled, st;ighounds Kiyed, the la)!- 

dog Ivirkod without. 
The senllion >lrop|vd the pitoher brown, the iNvik 

railevl at the lout : 
The stewaixl, oountiiig out his gold, let pouoh 

and money fall. — 
And why ! Kvause the .tiister ixv<e to s;iy grav-<> 

in the hall ! 



I'OK.MH Ol' HKNTIMKNT AND KKKLKCTION. 



749 



Thn piiK" ployi"! ^Mi llin hnion'n |iliiiiii', llj<t 
hIiwiikI willi lux I'liiiiri ; 



Tlnii loiiil Umy liiii«li"il ; llm liitcouk'H IjiiiHruii 
down into tli<i |hiii ', 



riid butliT ilriiiiiiiii'<l ii|Kiri lliii lKjiiril,iiriil luiiKlii'd T)ii! •Idwrinl Blinok, Unit lin wiw I'orciiil to ijroji 



with iiiiKliI "ii'l iriiiiri ; 
'I'liii ffniDiiin licnl (III llii'ir iiii'Uil (Uiiiri, iiinl rimrcd 

till limy worn iml, 
I'liit iitill tlirt .IkhIit hIiiiI llin iiyim mid lollinl hU 

witty liiiul, 
And wli<;n tlx'y k^'-w ii llttlii utill, Mad liiili ii 

yard of twcl, 
Ami, wiiviiiK liaiiil, Ntnii.'k on tliv dunk, tliun 

rniwiiud lik« oiiii iwqiluxcd. 

'iDesr iiinniini all," tlii^ foul iHi^aii, " iniin'a lil'i! 

in llllt II Jl.'Ht, 

A drnnin, ii hIiiuIow, IiuIiIiIv, nir, a vajini at tli» 

iM'Nt. 

In a tlioiiHand |ioiindH of law I liiid not a hIiikI'^ 

oiiiin- of lovo ; 
A Mind man killed tlin [xirnon'H cow in Hiiootlnp; 

at Ihii ilovii ; 
The TiMil that eatn till he in Hick niiint fiutt till hi; 

in will ; 
Thu wixHT who ran flatter inoHt will hear away 

the lielli). 



" l,et no niiin liall<Hi he in wire till he in through 

the woihI ; 
lie who will not when he may, miiNt tairy wh> ii 

he Khoiild ; 
lie wlio laii(()iiiut erooki»l men iihoiild need walk 

very Blrai^ht ; 
O, he who onee him won a iiunie may lie abed 

till ei)(ht ; 
Make liiute to piirehaite hoiiiu! and land, he very 

hIow Ut wed ; 
Tnio coral nei«|ii no |iaint«r'it bruDh, nor need he 

dttuWI with rwl. 



"The frinr, jirvjw.Uing, cunted the t]iief (the 

|iiiil>linK in hlH nleeve) ; 
To flnh for KpratH with «oli|eii hookii ia foojiiih, 

by your leave ; 
To travel well, - an ojw'h earn, hoK'" month, and 

oHlrirdi lexii ; 
fir: do<m not liire a pin for thievcH wlio liiii|m 

alKitit and Ik!((ii ; 
lie alwayn firHt man at a feoxt and lout man at a 

fray ; 
The iiliort way round, in iipitn of nil, in Htill the 

loiiKcnt way ; 
When the hungry oamtfl lickiithn knife, thwc'ii 

not much for l)ie clerk ; 
When the [lilot, turning [mle and nick, liKik* np 

— the atomi grown dark." 



the hiiminiiig call ; 
And then iigain tlie women iH;i<;amed, and every 

Ntaghoiind liayed, — 
And why '( ImcaiiBi; the (notley fool no wlim a ter- 

moll miwle. 

CBOKCiH WALrilH rilONNHUIIV. 



ON AN IN'l'A(il,U> IIKAI) OK MINKIIVA. 

TlIK cunning hand that carved thia (lum, 

A little helnieti-d Minerva, — 
The hand, I Hity, ere rhiiliaa wrought, 

llail loot Itit Hiibtilu Hkill and fervor. 

Who wan he ? Wiui he gliul or mid. 
Who knew U> carve in Hindi a fiuihion ( 

I'eichance he nhapiul thin dainty heii'l 

For Home Iwown girl that acorned hiit [loititlo n. 

I'lit he JH limit ; we may not know 

llin happy or unhappy at/iry : 
NaniehrHH, and deiul theHii thoimaiid yearn. 

Ilia work oiitliveM him, — there 'm hia glory I 

liolh man and jewel lay in earth 

liencath a hivii-biiiied city ; 
Tlie thouaand Huniinere came and went, 

With neither liuiitn nor luitu nor pity. 

Tlie yearn wipeil out the man, but left 

The jewel I'rcHb an any lilimHom, 
Till Home Viaconti dug it up, — 

To riitfl and fall on iMahid'a lioHom I 

O ICoinan brother ! we how Tim"- 

Vour gnicioiiH handiwork biu guarded, 

Hee how your loving, patient art 
tliut (ximo, at liutt, to )«; rewarded I 

Who would not Hiiffer Hlighta of men. 
And pangH of bopelcNH panniou aliKi, 

To have IiIh carveii agat^vhtyme 
On Huch tt Ixmom riair and fall ho ! 

TllOMAH IIAIIJtV AI.IIKICH. 



ON A KAN 

THAT IIRM^NCKK TO TMR HAHliOllin lilt POMf ' "OUK. 

(IIAI.I.AUK.) 

OllK;KKW-KKiy, delicntli, whlt«, 
I'ointird liy f'arlo Vanloo, / 
LoveM in a riot of light. 



750 



rOE.MS or SK.NTIMENT AND REl'LECTION.. 



Hoses ami vaporous blue ; 

Hark to tlie dainty //'i)H-/V<>i(.' 
Picture above, if vou oan, 

Eyes tliat eouUl melt as the dew, — 
This WHS the rompadour's Ian ! 

See how they rise at the sight, 

Throngin;; the lEil tlr />'.ri//' through, 
Courtiei-s as butterllies bright, 

Beauties that Kragonaiil drew, 

Talon-rouiji; falaba, queue, 
Caiiiinal, dnki', — to a man. 

Eager to sigh or to sue, — ■* 
This was the I'omimdour's fan ! 

Ah, but things more than jiolite 

Hung on this toy, roiif:-ri>m.' 
Mattel's of state and of might. 

Things that great ministers do ; 

Things that, maybe, overthrew 
Those in whose brains they begiin ; — 

Ueix< was the sign and the cue, — 
This was the Pompadour's fan ! 

ENVOY. 

Where aiv the seeivts it knew ? 

Weavings of jdot and of plan ? . 
— Hut where is the Pompadour, too ? 

This was the ronn>adour's_/<iH / 

AesTlN DOBSON. 



THE FLOOD OF YEARS. 

A Mioiirv Hand, from an exhanstless urn. 
Pours forth the never-ending Flood of Yeai-s 
Among the nations. How the ni.shing waves 
IVar all befoiv them ! On their foremost edge, 
And theiv alone, is Life ; the Present there 
Tosses and foams and tills the air with roar 
Of mingled noises. Theiv aiv they who toil, 
.\nd they who strive, and they whofeast, and they 
Who hurry to and fix). The stniily hind — 
Woodnnin and delverwith the spade — are there, 
.\nd busy artisan beside his beneh. 
And pallid student with his written roll. 
A moment on the mounting billow seen — 
The liood sweeps over them and they are gone. 
Theiv groups of ivvellers, whose biinvs all' twined 
With roses, ride the topmost swell awhile. 
And as they raise their tlowing eups to toueh 
The clinking brim to brim, aiv whirled beneath 
The waves and disappear. I hear the jar 
Of lieaten drums, and thunders that bivak forth 
From cannon. wheit> the advancing biUow sends 
Up to the sight long tiles of armed men. 
That hurry to the charge through llame and smoke. 
The tonvut l>ears then\ under. wheli\ied and hid. 



Slayer ami slain, in heaps of bloody foam. 

Down go the steed and rider ; the plumed chief 

.Sinks w ith his Ibllowei-s ; the head that wears 

The imperial iliadem goes down beside 

The felon's w ith cropped ear and bnimlctl cheek. 

A funeral train — the torrent swee|is away 

Hearers and bier ami mourners. Hy the bed 

Of one who dies nu-n gather sorrowing, 

.\nd wonii'ii weep aloud ; the Hood rolls on ; 

The wail is stilled, and the sobbing group 

Borne under. Hark to that shrill siuldcn shout — 

The cry of an applauding nuiltitnde 

Swayed by some lond-tongned orator who wields 

The living mass, as if he were its soul. 

The waters choke the shout and all is still. 

Lo, ne.\t, a kiu'eling ci\nvd and one who spivads 

The haiuls in prayer : the engnlling wave o'er- 

takes 
And swallows them and him. .\ sculj'tor wields 
The chisel, aiul the stricken marlile grows 
To beauty ; at his easel, eager-eyed, 
A painter stands, and sunshine, at his touch, 
Gathers upon the canvas, and life glows ; 
A poet, as he paces to and fro. 
Murmurs his sounding line. Awhile they ride 
The advancing billow, till its tossing crest 
Strikes them and llings them under while their 

tasks 
Are yet untinished. See a mother suLile 
On her young babe that smiles to her again — 
The torivnt wifsts it from her arms : she shrieks. 
And weei>s, and midst her tears is carried down. 
A beam like that of mootdight turns the spniy 
To glistening pearls ; two lovi'rs, hand in hand, 
Kise on the billowy swell and fouiily look 
Into each other's eyes. The rushing Hood 
Flings them apart ; the youth goes down : the 

maid, 
With liands outstretched in vain and streaming 

eyes, 
Waits for the next high wave to follow him. 
An aged man succeeds ; his bending form 
Sinks slowly : mingling with the sullen stream 
Oleam the white locks and then are seen no more. 

Lo. wider grows the stivam ; a sea-like Hood 
Saps earth's walled cities ; massive palaces 
Crumble beforo it ; fortresses and towers 
Dissolve in the swift waters ; (vopnlous realms, 
Swept by the torrent, see their ancient tribes 
Engulfed and lost, their very languages 
Stilled ami never to Ix' utteivd nun-e. 

I |«use and turn my eyes, and, looking baek, 
Where that tumultuous Hood has passed, I see 
The silent (">ccau of the Past, a waste 
Of waters weltering over graves, its shores 
Strewn with the wivck of fleets, where mast and 

hull 



I'OEMS OF SENTIMENT AND KEFLECTION. 



751 



Dro|i iiWiiy liieeuiiii'iil ; biittlciiM-iili-il wiill.t 
Frnwii i<lly, gri'i-ii with iiiohh, iiikI tiMij|il<;i« ittari<l 
Unroofuil, fomnki-n by tliii woinhippcri). 
There lie iiii'iiiorial fitoiieii, whence time hast 

giiawi'J 
The graven h-gends, throne* or kingH o'ettumed, 
Tlic liroken iiltiirii of forgotten goilH, 
FoiinilatiouH of ol<l citii'H an<l long xtreetH 
Where never full of liiiirian foot Ih lii^arrl 
U|i<jn the (li«ol«to jiavinient. I licholil 
Ditii glininii'ringt of hmt ji'W.'Ih far within 
Tile ulci'iiing watem, <liamon<l, nanlonyx, 
Kuliy anil topaz, pearl and rlirysolite, 
Once glittering at the l)ani|iiet on fair lirows 
That long ago were diint ; ami all around, 
Strewn on the waters of that Hilent itca, 
Atk withering liridal wreatlm, and glossy locks 
Shorn from fair brows by loving hands, and scrolls 
0'erwritt«n — haply with fond words of love 
And vows of friendship — and fair ]>ages flung 
?'re»h from th<.' printer's engine. There they lie 
A moment and then sink away from sight. 

I look, and the i|uick tears are in my eyes, 
For I beholil, in every one of these, 
A blighted ho|M-, a separate history 
Of human sorrow, telling of dear tics 
Suddenly broken, dreams of hajipiness 
Dissolved in air, anil happy days, too brief. 
That sorrowfully endi-d, and I think 
How jiainfully must the poor heart have lieat 
In bosoms without numtjer, as the blow 
Was struck that slew their hojie or broke their 
]>eaec. 

Sadly I turn, and look before, where yet 
The Klooil must pass, and I l>eholil a rnist 
Where swann dissolving forms, the brooil of Hope, 
Divinely fair, that rest on banks of (lowers 
Or waniler among rainbows, fading soon 
And reajipearing, haply giving place 
To sha|M's of grisly as|>ect, such as Fear 
Mouliht from the idle air ; where serjjents lift 
The heaii to strike, and skeletons strctcdi forth 
The liony ann in nienoi.'e. Further on 
A tielt of darkness seems to Ixir the way, 
I>jng, low and distant, where the Life that Is 
Touches the Life to come. TIm; Flood of Years 
KoUs toward it, nearer and nearer. It must paiss 
That dismal Iiarrier. What is there Ijeyond / 
Hear what the wise and goijil hav<' said. Beyond 
That belt of darkness still the years roll on 
More gently, but with not less mighty sweep. 
They gather up again and softly Is-ar 
All the sweet lives that late were overwhelmed 
And lost to sight — all that in them wan goixl, 
Noble, and truly great and worthy of love — 
The lives of infants and ingenuous youtlis, 
.Suges and saintly women who have nuule 



Their houwliolds happy — all are raised and borne 
l'»y that great current on its onward sweep. 
Wandering and rijipling with caressing waves 
Around green islands, fragrant with the breath 
Of flowers that never wither. So they pass. 
From stage to stage, along the shining course 
Of that fair river broadening like u s<;a. 
As its smooth eddies curl along their way, 
They bring old friends Ujgether ; hand« are 

clasped 
In joy unsis;akable ; the mother's arms 
Again are folded round the child she loved 
And lost. Old sorrows are forgotten now, 
Or but reniemljercd to make sweet the hour 
That overpays them ; wounded hearts that bled 
Or bloke are healed forever. Ill the room 
Of this grief-sha<lowed Present there shall Ix; 
A I'reseiit in whose reign no grief shall gnaw 
The heart, and never shall a tender tie 
He broken — in whosi; reign the eternal CViF.nge 
That waits on growth and action s'lall proceed 
With everlasting Concord hand in hand. 

W'lLLIAM Ci;LLEN BtiVKST, 



TIIHEK IJAV.S. 

So much to do : so little done ! 

Ah I yesternight I saw the sun 

.Sink beamless down the vaulted gray, — 

The gluuttly ghost of Yesteiiimv. 

.So little done : no much to do I 
Kacli morning breaks on conflicts new ; 
IJut eager, brave, I '11 join the fray, 
And light the Ixittle of To-day. 

So much to do : so little done ! 
But when it 's o'er, — the victory won, — 
Oh I then, my soul, this strife and sorrow 
Will end in that greot, glaij To-mokkow. 

jAMlib R.CILMOES. 



IXSIGNIFIC'ANT EXISTEKCE. 

There are a number of us creep 
Into this world, to eat and sleep ; 
And know no rea.son why we 're bom, 
But only to consume the com. 
Devour the cattle, fowl, and fish. 
And leave liehind an empty dish. 
The crows and ravens do the same. 
Unlucky birds of hateful name ; 
Havens or crows might fill their places, 
And swallow com and carcasses. 



K). 



rOKMS OV SKNl'lMUNT AND liKl'l.lX'TlON. 



Thon if t.hi>ir tomlutono, when tlu\v <.Vu\ 
IV'n'l livuglil to lltittor «iul to lip, 
Tlii'ix' '.1 uolliiiij; lii'lti'i' will bo saiil 
Tli;iii that "tlioy 'vo oal up :vll tlu'ir Invml, 
l>nmk up Ihoir liiiiik, ami jjoiio to boil." 

ISAAO WaVI-S. 



NKW VKAKS KVK. 

1--ROM " IN NUtMOKIAM." 

' Etno out, will! bolls, to tlio will! sky, 
Tho tlviuj; olouil, Iho l'i\>sty liglit ; 
Tlio yoai- is ilyiuj; in tlio nij;l\l ; 
King out, will! Ih'Us, auil lot liiui ilio. 

King out tlio olil, ring in tho now ; 

King, happy bolls, noiMss tho snow ; 

Tho yoar is gv>iug, lot hin\ go ; 
King out tho I'also, ring in Iho truo. 

Ring out tho griof that sai>s tho inimi, 
Kor thoso that hi'iv wo soo no u\oiv : 
King out tho louil of rioh ami poor, 

Ring in iXHln<ss to all luankiuil. 

Ring out a slowly ilyiug oauso 
Anil anoiont forms of (wrty stritV ; 
King in tho uoblov n\oih's of life, 

With swootor nianuoi-s. pnivr laws. 

Ring out falso piiilo in plaoo ainl bloovl. 

Tlio oivio slauilor aiul tho spito ; 

King in tho lovo of truth ami right, 
King in Iho oounnon hivo of gvuxl. 

King out ohl shaiH's of foul ilisoaso. 
King out tho uanvwiug lust of gold ; 
King lul tho ihousiunl Wat's of oKl, 

King in tho thousami yoai-s of poaoo. 

Ring in tho \iiUant uum and I'lvo, 
Tlio largi>r hoart, tho kindlior hand ; 
King out tho darkuoss of tho land. 

Ring in tho I'hrist that is to bo. 

Al-1-Ri;i> TUNN\*SON. 



THE CI.OSINO YK..\K- 

'T IS midnight's holy hour, - and silonoo now 

Is bivoding liko a gi'utlo spirit o'or 

Tl>« still and pulsolo.ss world. Hark ! on tho 

wiiuls 
Tho boll's diH-p tonos ar»> swolUng, — "t is tho 

knoll 
Of tho doimrtod yoar. No funoml tniin 
Is swooping (vist ; yot, on tho stivaui and wood, 
With molanoholj- light, the utoonboiuns ivst 



Liko a jwlo, .spotloss .ihroiul ; tho air is stirred 
As by a luoiunor's sigh ; aiul on yon oloud 
That lloats so still and plaoidly through hoavon, 
Tho spirits of Iho soasous sooui to stand, — 
Youug Spring, bright S\iniinor, .Vuliuun's.soloiun 

form, 
And Wintor with its agod looks, and broatho. 
In itiournfnl oadonoi's that oouu' abiMud 
Liko Iho far wiml-harp's wild and touohing wail, 
A niolanoholy dii'gi' o'or Iho doad yoar, 
Oouo from tho oarlh foivvor. 

'T is a timo 
For nuMUory and for toars. Within tho doop. 
Still ohamboi-s of tho hoart, a spool ro ilim. 
Whoso touos all' liko Iho wizaiil's voioo of Tinio 
Hoaixl fivm tho tomb of agx's, points its cold 
Aiul solomu lingT'r to tho boautil'ul 
.\ud holy visions that havo passod away. 
And loft no shadow of Ihoir lovoliiu'ss 
On tho doad wasto of lifo. That spooliv lifts 
Tho oolUnlid of llopo and ,loy aiul l.ovo. 
And boiuling mournfully abovo Iho palo, 
Swoot forms that slnmbor thoiv, soaltoi-s doail 

flowors 
O'or what has passod to mithiuguoss. 

Tho your 
Has gono, and with it, many a glorious throng 
or happy ilivams. Its mark is on oaoli bi\nv, 
Its shadow in oaoli hoart. In its swift oourso 
It wavod its sooptiv o'or tho Ivauliful, 
And thoy ai-o not. It laid its [wUid haiul 
Ujwn tho stiviig man, and Iho haughty form 
Is fallon, and tho llashing oyo is dim. 
It trod tho hall of ivvolry, whoro thiMiigod 
Tho bright and joyous, ami tho toarful wail 
Of strickou onos is lioai-d wlioiv orst tho song 
And reckless shout ivsoundod. 



Tlr 



It (lassod o'or 
whoro swowi and sivar and 



l\illlo-plain 

shield 

Flashrtl in the light of miiUlay, and tho stivngth 
l"*f sorrirtl hosts is .shivoivd, and Iho gi-a.ss, 
liivon fivm tho soil of oarnago. wa\os above 
Tho ornshod ami inonldoring skoloton. It came. 
And faded liko a wivalh of mist at ovo ; 
Yot oiv it luoltod in tho viowlo.ss air 
It lieraldod its millions to thoir homo 
lu the dim laiiil of divams. 

Remorseless Time ! 
Fieivo spirit of tho rla.ss and scythe! — what 

power 
Can stay him in his silent oonrse, or melt 
His iron heart to pily ! l^n, still on. 
Ho pr\>sses, and toivvor. The pivud birii. 
The condor of the Andes, that can soar 



I'OKMH OV 8KNTIMKNT ANI> Kl.rUXTION. 



IhS 



Tliriiii)?li liiiiivmi'H iiiiriitlioniuliI<MlKpt>iii, orbmvn 
Till' fury of tlin uorllMtrn liurririiti", 
Ami IhiIIiu liix |iliiiiia)(<' in lli" tliuiiilcr'M lioiiic, 
KurlH liit liroitil wiiigH ul iiifflitrull, uiid HiiikH 

down 
To ri'iit ii|«m IiIh inoiiiitiiiii crii«, — but Tiinr. 
Known iiol. tlic wri«lit of «l(!i'|i or wrariii'i", 
Ami nlKlit'H <lv<'|> ilaikiicH* liuit no uliiiin to liiml 
IIJH niHliinx pinionH. 

lI<:vohitionii HWi'Cp 
O'nr enrtli, Uki: troulilral vmionH o'ur llic briiiuit 
Of (In-iiniiriK Horrow ; cIliisH rlMii luid nink 
I.ikr IjiiMiIi'h on tlii! waU:r ; fliiry IhIi:" 
H|iriri(< bliizliiK from tlin ocijiin, ami «o Irnok 
To llii'ir niyxloiiouH cavi:rnH ; iiiouriUiinM ri!iir 
To bi'iivcn tln'ir lialil ami liliu;kr:ni^i| rlifl'H, ami 

bow 
Ttu-lr tall IiitoIh to tin' plain ; now (Tnpiriw riiic, 
(Uit]\(riuK tli« Htri'n)(tli of lioary iciiUincn, 
Ami ruxli down liko tli<' Alpini; avalamtlii-, 
Slarllinx tliu nations ; and the vi:|-y Btara, 
Yon bri({lit and burning blazonry of (lod, 
(ilitti^r awliili! in tlicir ffti;rniil ib'ptlm. 
And, liki; tli>' ri<:iu<lii, lovrdimt of tbitir train, 
Hlioot from tni'ir Klorioim 8pbi!ri;H, and pn>i«away 
To darkli! in tbc Irarkb'BH voiil, — yiit Tiini', 
Time tbo tonib-liuildir, IioIcIh IiIh Ijorri! <:ar<i:r, 
Park, Htoni, all-pitilcHH, and |»iiim!H not 
Amid tbi; mi){bty wrr-i:kH tbat Htri'W biH palli 
To nit anil iniiin:, like otbiT coTifpiprorM, 
Upon tbc fearful ruin bn boH wron«bt. 

OaOKOli tJKHlWjH VUllHtHM, 



TiiK dkath or tiik old vkak, 

Fri.i. kn>-c-d'.'cp ll«» tin' winter «now, 
And tb" winti'r windx ari' wearily ni^binK : 
Toll yi' tbe cdinndi-bidl fiad and iilow, 
And treail Hoftly ami i<)i<'.ak low, 
For tbe olil year lien a-ilyin({. 

Old year, you muni not die ; 

You eame to UK no rearlily, 

Yon lived witli im no steadily, 

OI<l year, you Klinll not die. 

lie lietb Htill : he dotb not move: 
lie will not «ee tbe dawn of day. 
lie batb no otber life above. 
He nave me a frienil, and a true tnic-lovc, 
And tbe New. year will take 'cm away. 
Old year, you mimt not no j 
So 1on(( an you have b<:en with iih, 
Hiieb joy ait you have Keen with iih. 
Old year, you ahall not go. 



lie frothed liix biimperit to the brim ; 
A jollier year we iiliall not («;e. 
■ till, though bin eyei* are waxing dim, 
And tlioiigh IiIh foex Hpeak ill of him, 
lie wuH a friend li> me. 

Old year, you Hliall not ilie ; 

We did HO laiigli and ery with you, 

I 've half a mind to die with you, 

Old yiiir, if you tiiUHt die. 

lie wan full of joko and jeiit, 
lint all liiH merry i|iiii« are o'er. 
To Hei! him die, aeroHH tbe waale 
llJH Hon and heir doth ride poHtdiante, 
Hilt he'll \h: dead before. 

Kvfiy one for hJH own. 

Tbe flight in Htiirry and eolil, my friend. 

And the .N'ew-year, blithe and bold, my friend, 

OonieH up to take hix own. 

Mow hard he breatheH ! over tbe Bnow 
I heard jiml now the erowiuK eoek. 
The hIhiiIowh llii:ker to anil fro : 
'i'lie erieket ehirpH : the li«ht burn» low ; 
'T iH nearly twelve o'eloek. 

.Shake bamlx before you die. 

Old year, we 'II dearly rue for you ; 

What in it we ean do for you '( 

.Speak out before you die. 

MiH faiMt in f^rowin^ nharp and tbin. 
Alaek 1 our friend in gone. 
(liiHe up bin eyea : tie ii[i hin ehin : 
.Step from the corjine, and lit him in 
Thill Ktiindet.h there alone. 

And waiteth at the door. 

There 'h a new foot on the door, my friend. 

And a new fare at the door, niy friend, 

A new face at the door. 

Ar.f'uro tt'.uHYiton. 



TIIK AITUOACjI OF AfiE. 

•OMNKT XII. 

WnKS I do count the eloek tbat telU the time. 
And nee the lirave day Hunk in bideoiiH night ; 
When I behold the violet piuit prime. 
And liable eiirU all Hilvered o'er with white ; 
When lofty treen I H'-e liarreFi of leiiven, 
Whieb erHt from beat did eaiiopy the herd, 
And Hiimmer'H grc<;n all girded up in HbeaveH, 
I'oriie on the bier with white and bri/itly Ij<:ard ; 
Then of thy beauty do I i|ue(ition make. 
That thou among tbe wa<it/!H of time miiat go, 
.Sine* »wc«t« and bcautica do theirwelveii fornak^ 



■54 



IHir.MS (11' SKN'riMK.N'l' AND UKI'l.KC rU).\, 



And (lie us fust as they see others grow ; 

Ami nothing "gjiinst Time's scythe can make 

defence. 
Save breed, to Imive liim wln'U ho takes thee 

hence. 

SDAKBSrEARB. 



TO TlIK VI KG INS. 

/Gathku ye roselmds wliiU" ye miiy, 

Old Time is still a Hying ; 
And this same llowor that smiles to-day 
To-morrow will lio dying. 

The glorious lamp of Heaven, tlie sun, 

Tile higher he's a getting. 
The sooner will his race he run, 

And nearer he's to .•ietting. 

The age is host which is the first, 
When youth and blood aix' warmer ; 

But being spent, the woi-se and worst 
Times still succeed the former. 

Then he not coy, but use your time. 

And, while ye may, go many ; 
For having lost but once your prime, 

You may forever tarry. 

Roni:RT Herrick. 



TO-MOKRO-\V. 



FROM "IRENE." 



To-morrow's action ! can that hoary wisdom, 
liorne down with years, still doat upon to-morrow ! 
The fatal mistress of the young, the lazy. 
The cowaM and the fool, condemned to lose 
An useless life in waiting for to-iiiorrow, 
To gaze with longing eyes upon to-niorixiw. 
Till intorpi>!.ing death destroys the lu-ospect. 
Sti-ange that this geneiid fraud from day to day 
Should till the worUl with wretches, undetected ! 
The soldier, laboring through a winter's mareli, 
Still sees to-morixiw drest in robes of triumph ; 
Still to the lover's long-expecting arms 
To-morrow brings the visionary bride. 
Ihit thou, too old to Viear another cheat, 
Learn that the present horn' alone is man's. 

Samvel Johxso.n'. 



GOING AND eO.MlN'G. 

\Goin'G — the great iwuid Sun, 
' Dragging the captive Day 
Over behind the frowning hill. 
Over lieyond the bay, — 



Dying : 

Coming — -the dusky Night, 

Silently stealing in, 
Wraiiping liimself in tlu' soft warm couch 

\\'hcro the goldeu-hairoil Day hath been 

Going — the bright, blithe Spring ; 

lUossonts ! how last ye fall. 
Shooting out of your starry sky 

Into the darkness all 
Blindly : 
(.'oming — the mellow days : 

I'l'inison aud yoUow leaves ; 
Languishing purfile and anther fruits 

Kissing the bi'ardod sheaves 
Kindly ! 

Going — our early friends ; 

\'oi(es we loved are dumb ; 
I'ootsteps grow dim in the morning dew ; 

Fainter the echoes come 

Hinging : 

Coming to join our march, — 

Shoulder to shoulder pressed, — 
(iray-hairod veterans strike their tents 

For the fai-olf purple West — 
Singing ! 

Going — this old, old life ; 

Beautiful world, farewell ! 
Forest and meadow 1 river and hill ! 

King ye a loving knell 
O'er us ! 
Coming — a nobler life ; 

Coming — a Ivttor land ; 
Coming — a long, long, nightless day ; 

Coming — the grand, grand 
Chorus ! 

HOWARD .\. JE.\KS. 



THE FOOLISH A-IKGINS. 

FROM •• IDYLS OF THE KING." 

The Queen looked np, and said, 
" maiden, if indeed you list to sing, 
Sing, and unbind my heart, that 1 may weep." 
■Wheix'at full willingly sang the little maid : 

" Late, late, so late 1 and dark the night aud 
chill ! 
Late, late, so late ! but we can enter still. 
Too late, too late ! Ye cannot enter now. 

" No light had we : for that we do repent ; 
And learning this, the hridegivom will relent. 
Too late, too late I Ye cannot enter now. 



I'fjKMS Ui' SENTIMENT ANU IIEI'LKCTIDN. 



lij:j 



"No light ; 80 lutu ! and dark und chill the 
night ! 
< ), let us in, that we may find the light ! 
Too late, too lute 1 Ve cannot enter now. 

' ' Have wc not heard the bridegroom is so sweet ? 
<), let 118 in, though lute, to kiss his feet ! 
No, no, too late ! Ye cannot enter now." 

So sang the novice, while full passionately, 
Her head upon her hands, wept the sad Queen. 

ALPRUU TiiNNVS'JN. 



OLD AGE AXD DEATFi. 

PROM "VERSliS UPON HIS DIVINE POESV." 

The seas are quiet when the winds give o'er ; 
.So calm are we when pa-ssions are no more. 
For then we know how vain it was to boast 
Of fleeting things, too certain to be lost. 

< 'louds of affection from our younger eyes 

< onceal that emptiness which age descries. 

^The soul's dark cottage, batti-rcd and decayed, 
Lets in new light through chinks that time has 

made : 
.Stronger by weakness, wiser men become. 
As they draw near to their eternal home. 
Leaving the old, Ixjth worlds at once they view. 
That stand upon the threshold of the new. 

EDMU.ND Waller. 



THE ONE GRAY llAIli. 

' The wisest of the wise 
Listen to pretty lies. 

And love to hear them told ; 
Doubt not that Solomon 
Listened to many a one, — 
Some in his youth, and more when he grew old. 

I never sat among 

The choir of Wisdom's song. 

But pretty lies loved I 
As much as any king, — 
When youth was on the wing, 
And (must it then Ijc told?) when youth had 
quite gone by. 

Alas ! and I liave not 
The pleasant hour forgot. 

When one pert lady said, — 
"O Landor ! I am ipiilc 
Bewildered with affright ; 
I see (git quiet now !) a white hair on your head ! " 



Anolliei, iiioie bmif^n, 
Drew out tliat hair of mine. 
And in her own dark hair 
I'retended she had found 
That one, and twirled it round. — 
Fair as she was, she never was so fair. 

Walter Savage Landor. 



GROWING GRAY. 

" On a rage dc son crrur." — A. D'HoUDETOT. 

A LITTLE more toward the light. ' 
Me miaerum. Here 's one that 's white, 

And one that 's turning ; 
Adieu to song and "saliul days." 
My Muse, let 's go at oik'c to Jay's 

And order mourning. 

We must reform our rhymes, my dear, 
Renounce the gay for the .severe, — 

He grave, not witty ; 
AVe have no more the right to find 
That Pyrrha's haii- is neatly twined, 

That Chloe 's jiretty. 

Young Love 's for us a farce that 's played ; 
Light canzonet and serenade 

No more may tempt us ; 
Gray hairs but ill accord with dreams; 
From aught but sour didactic themes 

Our years exempt us. 

"A hi fxmne luure ! " You fancy so ? 
You think for one white streak we grow 

At once satiric ! 
A fiddlestick I Each hair 's a string 
To which our gray beard .Muse shall sing 

A younger lyi-ic. 

Our heart 's still sound. Shall " cakes and ale'' 
Grow rare to youth because we rail 

At school-boy dishes ? 
Perish the thought ! 'T is ours to sing, 
Though neither Time nor Tide can bring 

Belief with wishes. 

AUSTIN DOBSON. 



TOO LATE. 

"Ah I si lajeuncsse savail — (i la vfeilles&e pouvaiti" 

Theue sat an oM man on a rock, - - 

And unceasing bewailed liim of Fate, — 
That concern wliere we all must take stock. 
Though our vote has no liearing or weight ; 
And the old man sang him an old, old song, — 
Never sang voice so clear and strong 
That it could drown the old man's long. 
For he gang the song ' ' Too late ! too late ! " 



756 



roK.MS 0\- SKNTIMKNT VMi KKTlKi' llON 



"AVhpu we H.iiil, wi' liavc (or I'lir jKiiiis 

Tilt' iiriimisi' lli;il if HO 1ml wuil 
Till IIhi wniit Ims Imnioil out nfvuir liViiins, 
Kvnv nn'.'iiis sl\iill lie |iivsiinl In snii' ; 

Wliilo wi> siMni I'lH- llio iiiipkiii llii> siHUi i;<'ts 

aihl. 
Wliili'tlio lioiiiiol is tiimmiiii; 111,' liuv jiimws 

M. 
Wlii'ii wi' 'vi' iiiiili'lioil imr ImlUms llu' iml- 
tl'l'll IS sold. 

Ami ovorytliiiif; ooiiios loo 1h1i> too liilo I 

" WluMi slrnwlionii'S si'rnu'il liko \v\\ lioavciis, 

'IVriHiiiu sli'w II will! ilii'imi. 
\Vlu'ii MiY lii'iiiii WHS III sixos mill sovons, 
ll'iiiy imitliiM- liinl ■ folks' iiiul iii'iMviiiu, 
'1'Ihmi I jpu-oil willi a liiki'visli liuiijtvr 
At llu' ivstiuiraiil ni.'in iiiul rniit-iiuiiij!>'i' 
Hill 0, liow 1 wislioil 1 woiv voiiiij^'V 
WliiMi llio j^>oilii>s all oimit' in n slnaiii 
in n stivinn ! 

" I 'vo i\ s|i|i'ii(liil Wooilhoi'so, mill — ix livor 
TImt it jm-s into tovtuiv to ti\>t ; 

Alv IMW-tHKlt 's till' VltMll of (ho livt'l', 

Gout niiikos ovoiy kiiin'klo ii knot ! 

1 t'«u liiiY Kiumllpss I'lvilits on I'mis mnl 

l!oii\o, 
Hnt MO j«il;itii fvM' niriiii.i, no I'vi'sl'ovii ilomi' 
jfAiw lii'lonji^'il to till' yoiilli wlio iiinst tniTV 
nt lioiiu', 
Wlioii no lumu' l>ut mi iiltio lir M j;ol 
Im M got 1 

"How 1 loiijp>>l, in that loiiost of j»«nvts, 

Wlioiv llio lili's luikoil iiiY bniins all July, 
For jtiMiinil lo jiiiiw two ix'i-ks of oan-ots, 
Two |iiip) of my own in a sty, 

A iMsoliush — a littlo lliatolioil I'ottajp' — 
Two spoons — lovi< — a Imsin of |>ottaj{i' I - 
Now in tWstoMp .1 sit — ami my ilotajjt'- 
Witli a woman's oliair omply oUwc liy - 
I'loso liy ! 

" All ! now. llioiii;li 1 sit on a iwk, 

1 liiivo slimvil Olio s«it Willi till' j;ivat ; ; 

1 liavo silt knowiiii; naiiKlit of tlio ilook — 

On lovo's liiijli lliiiino of sliilc ; 

Hut tlio liivi tlial kissoil, aii'l tin- aims tliiil 

t'lVlVSSt'll, 

To a mouth grown sti'iii wiili >li'l;iy wnv 

jiK'ssinl, 
Ami oiivU'd a bivast that thi-iv ikis|i liml 

lllt'SSOll 

Hail tJiey only not. oonto too lato — tool 

lato ! " 

^iT» ili'cn Lonuow, | 



I'll!'. rilKKK WAUNINOS. 

TllK lll'O of lU'l'lH'sl IVot is follllil 

l.i'iist williii}; slill lo i|iiil llu' fjumiul ; 
"r was tlii'ivfoiv saiil liy mn'ii'iit sii^^i's. 

That lovi> of lil'o iiioii'iisi'il with yem-s 
So miioli, that in our lutlcr sliij{t's, 
Whi'ii [mills jjh'w shaip ami siikiicss lujp's. 

Till' j'l'i'ali'st love of lifi' ii|i|H'ai's. 
This j;ix'at all'i'ilion to iH'licvi', 
Wliioli all coiifoss, hut fow pi'i'i'i'ivi', 
If oUl assi'i'tioiis can't |>n'vail. 
lii' iih'iisi'il lo In'ar a inoili'iii tiilo. 

Wlii'ii spoils will i\'iiii,l. iiii'l nil wi'iT jpiy. 
On iii'ij;lilHii- Ooilson's HciMinniliiy, 
IV-alli '■jillod iisiili' tilt' joi'iiiul ^I'ooiii 
Willi him into aiiollu'i- i-ooiii, 
Ami, looking j;iiivi>, " Yon iiuisl," says ho, 
'■l,'iiil your sHoot luiilo, ami ooiiio with mo.' 
" With yon ! aiul ijuit my Susan's siilo f 
With yon I " tho hiniloss hiislvmul oiioil ; 
" Yoiiiijc lis 1 am, 't is monsliMus haul ! 
liosiiU's, in liiitli. 1 'ill not iiivimivd ; 
My Ihomjlils on othor nmlloi's ji^i ; 
This is my wi'iUliiin-ilny, you know." 

What uioiv ho ninoil 1 liavo not lioiii\l, 

His ivasons ooiiM not woll ho sliinijji'V ; 
So IVatli llio poor iU'liiii|noiit simivd, 

.\ml lofl to livo a lilllo loiii^'r. 
Yot oalliii)? lip a soiions look, 
His hoiii'-gliiss tii'iiililoil wliili' ho spoko — 
" Noighlior," ho suiil. " fmvwoU ! no moiv 
SliiiU Oi'ulh ilislni'li yoiii- miilhful lioni- ; 
Aiul fiiilhor, to avoiil all blaiiio 
Of oviiolty upon my mimo. 
To ,i*ivo yon linio for piv|viiiilion, 
Ami lit you for your fiiliiiv slution, 
Thivo sovonil wariiiii,i;s yon shall havo, 
ISofoiv you'ix' suinmom'il to tlio j;mvo ; 
Willim; for om'o I '11 ipiit my pivy, 

Aiul giiiiil a kiml ivpriovo, 
111 hopos von '11 liavo no moiv to say, 
I'liil whoii 1 oall aipiiii this way, 

Woll ploiisoil llio worKl will hiivo." 
To llioso oomtitions holli oonsonloil, 
.■\iivl pmlo'l porfoolly ooiiloiiloil. 

Wliat next tlu< lioiv of our talo Ih'I'oU, 
How loin; ho livoil, how wise, how woll. 
How iMiiiiiUy ho piii'suoil his ooiii^o, 
.Vml smokoil his pipo, aiul stixikoii his house, 

Tho wiUiiij; miiso shall toll ; 
llo oliall'oivil tlioii, ho Iwiiuht ami soM, 
Nor omo poivoivoil his giMwiin; old, 

Nor thoii_i;ht of IVath as noai : 



I'OKMS OK HKXTIMKNT AM) HKn,K(-TIO.\, 



757 



IIm III' ii'Ii iMii IuIm, IiU wiri! Ill) iiliriiw, 
Muiiy liiN KiiiiK, liU 'liil'lruii fnw, 

III! piuuii'il liin lixiirn in |iiw:i!, 
lint wliili! Ill: vii:wi'i| liiN wi'ullli liicnaiui, 
Wliili- tlnm iiloiix lili:'" iliinty rmul 
Till- ln-uliii tnuk i-Diitiiiit 111! troll, 
4)|i| 'liiiii-, hIiiw IiiihIi: nil iiinrUil njiuri-ii, 
l'lii:ul|i'<l, iiiiIii'I'<IimI, iiiiiihiiii!>i, 

liinupflil nil liin i-i){lilii-tli yi'iir. 
Ami now, oni! iii|{lit, in niiiiiiiig nioiiii, 

Alt iill iiloni- III! HuU:, 
Till! iinwi:|i:oiiH! nii!iM'!nf{i;r of I'utu 

Oni:« more liel'ori! liiiii utooil. 

Huir kllli!'! with nn^i-r ami Miiqiriw, 
"Ho noon riiturni'il !" Olil DihIhoii i!rii!i(. 
*' Ho noon, il' yi! irall it ! " iJwitli ri!|ilii:ii ; 
"Hun-ly, my I'rii'ml, you 'rn Imt in jiMt I 

Hinrii I wiot lien: Imlori) 
'Tin nix-unil-tliirty yitant iit liauit, 

Ami you un: now fouriKMiri;." 

"80 rnucli tin: wonc:," tliii i:lowii ri!Ji/ini;iJ ; 
"To ii|>ari! tlie a({i!il would In: kimi ; 
llowi!Vi-r, w;!! your M!ttri:li ln! Ii'«"l ; 
Ami your authority, — ix't ri-(4iil ( 
Klw! you an: i-omn on a fool'ii i:rranil. 
With hut a iii:i!ri!t«ry'ii waminl. 
l'.i:Hi<|i-, you |ironiiHi:il mi: threi; wamingK, 
Whii:li 1 liavi! |i>okiMl Tor ni}{htii ami nuiminf{<i ; 
ISut for tliiit lowi of tiuii! anil mux: 
I i»ri recover ilamagi^tt. " 

" I know," i.-rii!* iJi-ath, "tliat at the be«t 
I iii!l>liim am a wi:|i:ome gui'Mt ; 
liut ilnn't Id! lutptiouii, frii:nil, at hiaul : 
I litlli! thought you 'il Mtill In; ahl<; 
I o ntiim)! iilxiut your farm ami utiihli- : 
Voiir yearn have run to a ((reat length ; 
I wiiih ypu joy, though, of your iitren((tli I " 

" Hold," nays the farmer, "not no faitt ! 
I liave t<i»!n lame thi-W! four yiram |«iit." 

" And no great wonder," Death rejilie* ; 
" However, you iitill ke<!i( your eyeii ; 
And »ure, Ui vx one'» I0V191 and fiiendn 
For leg* and unii* would niake amend n." 

" Perhajm," nayii Uoilvjn, "no it might, 
ISut latt/irly I 'v« l<Mt my night." 

"Thin in a iiho<:king t;ile, 't u tru« ; 
I'ut ntill then:'* t-Jiiufun left for you : 
hUuh atriven your nailni-Hii to amuiM! ; 
I warrant you lii-ar all the new»," 

" There '» none," i:tu:» he ; " and if there wpre, 
I ni grown no diaf, I e/<uld uiit hear," 

" Nay, then," the i<|»i"i.'tre >it<-ni rejoineil, 
" Thi'W! are unjiMlifiable yearningn ; 

If you are lame anil il«af ami hiind. 



Vou 've Imd your threo (iu(IIi;|/>nt wamlnga ; 
Ho eomi! along, no more we'll |>arl." 
He Miid, and toiuln-d lilni with liin dart. 
And now, Old IJoiImiii, turning jiali:, 
Vieldit Vi hin lull!, - - mi eiiiU my tale. 

Mlthlim I.VH'JII TMKALU. 



WITHOUT AND WITHIN. 

' Iv every mun'ii inti!rnal laire 
Were writti-n on hin hiow. 
How many would our pity nharn 
Wliu raine our envy now '( 

The fatal wieret, when ri:veali:il, 

Of every inching hieiint, 

Would |<iiivi: that only while i.om:ea|i!il 

Their lot aoiwareil the lient. 

MirrMTAMo. 



OUK. 



INTIMATfOX* OP IMMOK'IALIIV l'lu>H aCECOLLKCTIOMI OP 
KAKI.y I.IIIMIMOOO, 

/; 
TllKUK wan a time when mea/low, grove, and, 

ntream, 
TIkj earth, and every wmimon Kiglit, 
To nil! did nei;m 
A|/(Kirelled in ladential light, — 
The glory and the frenhnenn of a dreariL 
It ix not now an it hath tx!i!n of yore ; 
Turn whereiioe'er I nuiy, 
I5y night or ihiy, 
The thiligt wliieh 1 have ni:i;n I now i:an WM wi 
more. 

The rainliow r/nivn and g'xm. 
And lovely in the nw; ; 
The moon iloth with delight 
I/wk round her wlum the lieavenn are hare ; 
Watern on a ntarry night 
Are heautiful and fair ; 
The niinnhine io a glorioiin biith ; 
IJut yet I know, where'er I go. 
That tlwire luith fumifA away a glory from the 
i:arth. 

Now, while the hirdn thim ning a joyoiut song, 
And while the young lamb* tx/uiwl 

An Ui the talnr'n nouiid, 
To me alone there eanie a thought of grf<!f ; 
A tiniely uttJ-i.inee gave that thought relief, 

And I again am ntrong. 
Tl»« (»tara/.-t« blow their truinlietM from the 

ntia-j., — 
No more nhall grief of mini! the wanon wrong. 
I hi:ar the v^Uum through the mountaiitn throng ; 
The wln/U come to me from the fUM» of »\i-'-\i, 



758 



POEMS OV SENTIMKNT AND KEKl.El'TlON. 



Aiul iill I 111' I'iutli is j{!i_v ; 
Liiiid iinil M'» 
Give tlu'iiisi'lvi'S 11)1 ti> jollity ; 
Ami with tlio lu'iiil t<{ Miiy 

I Villi ovi'iy bi'ii-st Ui'i'ii holiiliiy ; — 

Tluni oliilil 111' Joy, 
Slumt I'Oiiiul iin', U't 1110 lu':ii- tliy slunils, tlioii 
liiippy slu'i'lu'iil lioy ! 

Yi' Mi'sM*>il I'l'i'iitui'i's I 1 liavo lu-iinl tho oall 

Yi' to iMU'li ollii'i' iiiiiko ; 1 we 
Till' lu'iivi'iis l«iii;li with you in yourJubiU'i' ; 

My lu'iu't is lit your iVsliviil, 
My lioiui hiilh its coixnuil, — 
Till' I'uliu'ss of your liliss, 1 t'ci'l, 1 t'.'cl it till, 

II I'vil ihiy ! it' 1 wi'iv siiUoii 
While Ivuth luMsolt' is luhuiiiiig, 

This swoct Miiy luoniiiij;, 
Ami the ohiUliYii iiiv I'ulliiig, 

On I'voiy siili>. 
In II thonsaml viillcys I'lir mul wiili", 
Kivsh llowoi'S ; whilo the sun slum's wiinii, 
Aiul tho hiho U'ups up on his inotlioi-'s arm ; — 
1 hoar, I hoar, with joy 1 hoar I — 
But thoiv 's a tjvo, of many, ono, 
A sinj;li> liohl which 1 hiivo lookoil ujion, — 
Both of thoiii s|ioiik of soniothiug that is goiio ; 
Tho [lausy at my foot 
I'otli tho saiiio tiilo ivjioat. 
AVliitlior is IKhI tho visionary gloain / 
Whoro is it now, the gUiry ami tlio ilroaiii 

Our birth is hut a sloop ami a forgi-ttiug ; 
The soul that risos with us, our lito's star, 

llath hiul olsowhoiv its sottiug. 
Ami oonioth fiinn afar : 

Not in outiii' forgoifulnoss. 

Ami not in uttor nakoilnoss, 
But trailing olomls of glory, ilo wo coino 

KiMin Ooil, who is our homo : 
lloavon lios alumt us in our infanoy ! 
Shailos of tho prison-honso begin to oloso 

Upon tho growing Boy ; 
But lie bohoUls tho light, anil whonoo it Hows, — 

Ho soos it ill his joy ; 
Tho Yontli, who ilaily furthor from tho oast 

Afust travel, still is natuio's priest 

And by tho vision sploiulid 

Is on his way attendeil ; 
At length the Man poiveives it die away. 
And r«do into the light of ooinnion day. 

KiirtU fills her lap with ploasuivs of lior own ; 

Yearnings she hath in her own mitnnil kind, 

And evtMi with something of a mother's mind, 
And no uiiwortliy aim. 
The homely nurse ilotli all she enii 

To nuike her foster-child, her inmate man, 



Wrget tho glories ho halli known. 
Ami that imperial palaoo whence he came. 

Behold the child among his new-born blisses, — . 
A six years' darling ot a pygmy size I • 

See, wlioro mid work of his own hand ho lies, 
Krottod by sallies of his mother's kisses. 
With light upon him from his father's eyes I 
See, at his foot, some little plan or chart, 
Some fiiigmont from his divam of human life, 
Shaped by himself with newly learm^'d art, — 

A wedding or a festival, 

A mourning or a funeral ; — 
And this hath now his heart. 

And unto this ho fnimos his song: 
'I'lien will ho lit his tongue 
To diidogiios of business, love, or strife ; 

But it will not be long 

K.iv this bo thrown aside, 

And with new joy and i>ride 
The little aotor cons another part, — 
Filling from time to time his " humorous stage " 
Witli all the persons, down to [lalsiod age. 
That Life brings with her in her oiiuipago ; 

As if his whole vooiition 

Wore endless imitation. 

Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie > 

Thy soul's immensity ! 
Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep 
Thy heritage ! thou eye among the blind. 
That, deaf and silent, leavl'st the eternal deep, 
Haunted I'oivver by the eternal miml ! — 

Mighty prophet ! Seer blest ! 

On whom those truths do ivst 
Whieh wo aii' toiling all our lives to lind, , 
In darkness lost, tho diirknoss of tho grave ; 
Thou over whom thy immortality 
Broods like the day, a master o'er a slave, 
A pii'senee which is not to be put by ; 
Tliou little child, yet glorious in the might 
l>f lieavon-lHU'ii fivodom on thy being's height. 
Why with such eainest (laius dost thou provoke 
The years to bring the inevitable yoke, 
'I'hus blindly with thy blessedness at strife ! 
I'"nll soon thy soul shall have her earthly freiglit. 
And eustoni lie upon thee with a weight 
Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life I 

ll joy ! that in our embers 

Is something that doth live ; 
That Natuiv yet ivmonilH'i's 
What was so fugitive I 
Tho thought of our past yoai-s in me doth bivod 
I'erpotiial benediction : not, indeed. 
For that which is most worthy to bo blest, — 
Polight and liberty, the simple creeil 
0( childluKid, whether bnsv or at it'st. 



POEMS UK SENTIMENT AND UlOi'l.KCTION. 



759 



With nnw-tlcdgwl hope still lluttt'ring in his 
broftst : — 
Not for thfsie I lairfc 
The song of tliiiiiksand praise ; 
But for those olwtiiiati- iiuestioiiiligs 
Of sense anil outwanl things, 
Fallings from us, vanishings ; 
HIank misgivings of a creature 
Moving aliout in worMs not realiziMl, 
High instincts, before wliiih our njortal nature 
liid trenililc like a guilty thing surprised : 
liut for those first all'ections. 
Those shadowy recollections. 
Which, lie they what they may. 
Are yet the fountain-light of all our day. 
Are yet a master light of all our seeing ; 

Uphold us, cherish, anil have power to make 
Our noisy years seem moments in the heing 
Of the etennil silence ; truths that wake. 

To pi-rish never ; 
Which neither listlessness, nor niad endeavor, 

Nor man nor boy, 
Nor nil that is at enmity with joy, 
Can utterly abolish or destroy ! 

Hence, in a season of calm weather, 
Thougli inland far we be. 
Our souls have sight of that inunortal sea 
Whi(-h brought us hither, — 
Can in a moment travel thither, 
And see the children sport upon the shore, 
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore. 

Then sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song ! 

And let the young lambs bound 

As to the tabor's sound ! 
We in thought will join your throng. 

Ye that pipe and ye that play. 

Ye that through your hearts to-day 

Feel the gladness of the May ! 
What though the radiance which was once so 

bright 
Be now forever taken from my sight, 

Though nothing can bring back the hour 
Of splenilor in the grass, of glory in the flower ; 

We will grieve not, rather lind 

Strength in what remains behind ; 

In the primal sympathy 

Which, having fxen, must ever be ; 

In the soothing thoughts that spring 

Out of human sutl'enng ; 

In the faith that looks through death. 
In years that bring the philosophic mind. 

And ye fountains, meadows, hills, and groves. 
Forebode not any severing of our loves ! 
Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might ; 
1 only have relinquished one ilelight 



j To live beneath your more habitual sway. 

I I love the brooks which down their channels fret, 
Even more than when 1 tiipijerl lightly as they ; 
The innocent brightness of a new-born day 

Is lovely yet ; 
The clouds that gather rouml the setting sun 
Do take a sober coloring from an eye 
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality ; 
Another race hath been, and other palms are won. 
Thanks to the human heart by which we live, 
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, — 
To me the meanest tlowcr that blows can give 
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. 

William Wukusworth. 



SOLILOQUY: ON IMMORTALITY. 

FROM "CATO," ACT V. SC. I. 

SCr.NE. — CaTO. sitliHg in a ttwiigltt/iit posture, ivith P.'ato's 
bfoA on the Immortality o/tlie Soui in his hand, and a dra-um 
t-Hford on the table by him. 

It must be so — Plato, thou reasonest well ! — 
Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, 
This longing after immortality ? 
f)r whence this secret ilread, and inward horror. 
Of falling into naught ? Why shrinks the soul 
Back on herself, ami startles at destruction f 
'T is the divinity that stirs within us ; 
'T is Heaven itself, that points out a hereafter. 
And intimates eternity to man. 

Eternity ! — thou pleasing, dreadful thought ! 
Through what variety of untried being. 
Through what new scenes and changes, must we 

pass I 
The wide, the unbounded jirospect lies before ine ; 
But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it. 
Here will 1 hold. If there 's a Power above us 
(,\nil that there is, all Nature cries aloud 
Through all her works), he must delight in 

virtue ; 
And that which he delights in must bo happy. 
But when '. or where ! This world was made for 

Ciesar. 
I 'm weary of conjectures, — this must end 'em. 
(Liiyinij his luind on his suxrrd,) 
Thus am I doubly armed : my death and life, 
Jly bane and antidote, are both before me : 
This in a moment brings me to an end ; 
But this infonns me I shall never die. 
The soul, secured in her existence, smiles 
At the drawn dagger, and defies its point. 
The stars shall fade away, the sun himself 
Orow dim with age, and Nature .sink in years ; 
But thou siiait riourish in imnioi'tal youth, 
Unhurt amid tin; war of elements. 
The wrecks of matter, and the cru.sh of worlds ! 

JOSFFH ADDISON. 



7(U> 



roKMS UK SKNI'IMKNT ANO UKKl.KlTlON. 



O, MAY 1 JOIN Till. (HOIK INVISIIU.K! 

/ O, MAY 1 juiii tlu> olioii- invisihli' 
Ol'tluiso inmiortol >l<>iv>l who livo ujjtiiii 

1 III uiiiuls imulo Uitlci- l>y llx'ii' pivsi-mv ; livo 
111 |mlst>s slinvil to j«i>iu'i\>!iitv, 
111 vlooits ofiliiiin); ivotitiuU'. iii sooni 
t>r misoraldo tiiiiis ilitil oiul with soil', 

III thoii^i;lits siihliiiio llml (lioivo Iho iii^hl liko 

slsii-s, 
Aiul with tUoinniUl (H'l'sistoiuv lui^- mon's iiiiiuls 
To Viistoi' issiii^i. 

So to liw is Ikviyoii ; 
To iiiiiko iimlviii}; iiiiisio in th<< worUi, 
llwsithiiij; » iH'iiiitOkHis oi\l('i', thill iiuitiMls 
With jtivwiii^ swiiv tlio jtiMwiiij; lilV of iiitiii. 
So wo iiihoi'it that swih'I |>iii'ity 
For whioli wo sIiuj^iUhI, I'liiliHl, iiiul iis»iii.'iHl 
With widoniuj; ivti\vsjHvl thiit hivil vlosnair. 
KolvUioiis llosh thiit woiilil not In- snUliioU, 
A vioioiis (viiivnt shinning still its ohihl, 
l\xii' iUixioiis i>onitoiuv, is uniok ilissolvinl ; 
Its vlisi'oivls nuonoluni hv nuvtinj; hiiiinonios, 
llio ill tho liiiyx' iiiivl ohiivilsiblo iiir. 
Ami iill our i-!iivr, lH>ttor, trnor solf, 
Tliiit sohNsl ivli,v;iousl_v in yiMrnin); s>>iijj. 
Thill wsitohod to t\iso (ho bnixloii of tho worUl, 
Jjilnmoiisly t iiioiuj; w hut niiisl U\ 
Aiiil wliiit iiiiiy Yot Ix' Ivttor, — siiw witliiii 
A woilliior iniiij!»' for tho sjiiiotuiiry. 
Ami shtiixsl it forth lx>foiv tho inultitmio, 
l>ivinoh' huniiin, niisiiijr woi-ship so 
To hiiihor ivvoiviuo nioiv inixtnl with low, 
Thiit U-ttor solfshiill livo till Imniiin Tiiiio 
SliiiU foUl Its oyi>liiis. iiiul tho hmiuiii sky 

IV jpithoixxl liko a soimII within tho toniK 
riiiwul foivvor. 

This is lifo to oonio. 
Wliioh nwrtyiXHl nioii Inivo imulo nioiv glorious 
For ns, who strivo to follow, 

Xliiy 1 i\-iioli 
Tliiit j>iir<vst lioavoii, U> to otlior svnils 
Tho oui> of stii'iigth in s\>ino jiivnt ii,o>ny. 
Kiikiiiillo giMioivus iiwlor, ftHsl (>iiiv lovo. 
l><'j«x>t tho sniilos thiit Inivo nv> ornolty, 
IV tho swxH't (nvsonoo of ti gvxxi vlitUisiHi, 
Anvi in iiirt\ision ovor inoiv iiitoinxi 1 
So shtitl 1 join tho ohoir invisihio, 
Wh>»st> inusio is tho j;huln<\<s of tho w^^vl^l, 

MAKI.\N >>\ ANS I.KWkS 0R»>SS «iv')(V A'.IW). 



rKK-KXlSTKXOK 

Witn.K siiiintoriiij; thivngli tho oivwMorl iStiiH>f, 
Soino hiilf-ivnionilH>i\xl fiivv 1 nuH't, 

Allx>it njxMi no inortsl shor»> 

Thsl fnv-o, mothinks, Iws iUuiUst Wfoii*. 



Lost ill « (jiiy mill tVstiil thiMiig, 
I tivnihlo lit soino tomlor soiij*, — 

Sot to tin iiir whoso gv>Klon Inn's 
1 must liiivo lioiii\l in othor stiii's. 

In siu'i-i'il iiish-s 1 |«iiso to shiiiv 
Till' lihwsiiijpi vif 11 prii'stly juiiyor, — 

Wlioii tho wliolo sooiio wliioh jsix'i'ts miiio oyos 
In soino stiiingii iiuxlo I ivoogiiijo 

As Olio wluwo I'vory mystio jnirt 
1 IVh'I jiivli^iiivd ill my )u<tirt. 

At snnsot, as 1 oiilinly staml, 
A stiiiiigiT on an nlioii stiiiiul, 

Kaniiliar us my ohihlhooil's homo 
SiH'ins till' long stivtoh of wiivo tuul I'vuim, 

t>iio sails towaivl mo o'or tho luiy, 
Aiul what ho itniios to ilo ami say 

I oaii foivtoU, A juvsoiont Knv 
Si>riiigs IViii somo lifo ontliviHl of yoiv. 

O switt, instinotivo, startlinj; gloains 
Of vUvp sonlkiiowloilgo ! not as liiyxims 

Kor ayo yo vagiioly vlawii aiui dio. 
Hut ofl with tiglitiiing oortainty 

l*ioi\-»> thiMiigh tho ilai'lt, olilivious limin, 
To niivko old thoughts and iiioiiiorit>s jilaiii. 

Thoughts which jmivhaiioo must tnivol hiiok 
Aoivss tlio wild, iH'wiUloriiig tiiiok 

Of ooiiiitloss ioons ; inoniori>>s tar, 
Iligh-itNU'hing iu< yon jwUid star, 

Vnkiiown, soai\H> swii, wluiso lliokoriiig graw 
Faints on tho onfjiiost rings ofsiwiv ! 

l'\rl. IIAMILIWN llAVNS. 



A LOST OIIOKO. 

Skatkii ono day at tho oi-gtin, 
1 was wisiiy and ill at i-aso, 

And my lingT'i's wandor«Hl idly 
llvor tho noisy koys. 

I do not know what I was flaying. 
Or what I Wiis di'<>i«niiig tlion, 

But 1 strnok ono ohoi\l of mnsio. 
l.iko tlio iStHiiid of H giwit Anhvu. 

It lUxxlrtl tJio orimson twilight, 
l.iko tho oKvn> of an angol's |vsalm. 

And it lay on my fovorod spirit. 
With a tonoh of intinito oaliii. 



I'(»BMN OV HKNTIMBNT AND KMI.M I'lON. 



7G1 



It >|iili^ti<i| |ialii mill wirrow, 
l.lki iiivi! iiviiri:'iriii|j|{ ntrirn ; 

It htit'.utfii till! liiiriiioril'iuH I'clio 
Kroiii iiiir ilini'iiiijiiiil liri!. 

It liiikiHl iill |ii-rfiliixc<l iiii!iiiiiiif{N 

Into nun |Htrl'wl |i<!iu:i!, 
An<l tri:iiilil<'<l iiwiiy into nilmivu, 

Ah If it wiiro loulli Ut rj:iuui, 

I hiivx i«iii(()it, lint I Mfitk It viilnly, 

Tliiit 'ini! Iii»t cliiinl ilivini-, 
Tliul I'liini' fioMi till! Hoiil of tliii »r){iui, 

And i^ntiTiMl into mini!. 

It nmy )m tliiit iJiuith'H liH^lit luif^ul 
Will Hpi'iik in tliut I'li'inl ii;{iiin ; 

It Miiiy Im lliat only in liwivc-n 
I HJiiill liciir tliiil ({riinil Amiin, 

AlJltLAIDU ANNI: I'UfiCII'.H. 



TO A HKKI.KTON, 

fTTM MN. ttt thit tnnmt, wtikli nj^jwarcl durloif llio firm lyttru^ 
of Ih4 |>fr««nt ceiilury, <••• mI<I tti tiava lx:«ii ffmttii In the Muft<-ulii 
bf the l<'t)r«l Otllt^Kfl of hiir|{«'>rit. In l^fWltm, nr»i « pcrfrft liiiiiijtii 
tli«l«lijn, ■ii'l t'l li«v« l>««n vrlil t'y Ilia < ul»t'rt (o Iha A/ttrnttti' 
ChroHUi* tilt ifiililluillon. It nii' lli!'l vi kiikJi ■iwnll'fn llial rv-r/ 
•ffort wjtk iiu'l« III illk/ovirr lli« milli'/r, mi'l u re»|i<fii«ll<k |'<'irt/ 
w«nl vt i»l •■ tit 'itlrl M rrwflffl 'rf nfly i{iiiii<;«> f'.f llif'/riiiiitl'iii lliiil 
wr/ul'I illwtvir lloflj^ii. 'Miff •ulli'jf pfCMrv^'l h\M fNfoj^Mlfv, aini, 
w« lj«ll«T«, liA* iicvvr ljc«n (llKovnrctl.] 

riKiioMi tliiii ruin I 'Twiw u iikiill 
Onr« of iftli''n'iil Hplrit full. 
Tliiii narrow nOl wiik l,ifi:')( rntri'iit ; 
TIiIm »i|iiu;(] wiu) TIioiihIiI'h inyHtcrloiiH neat. 
Wliiit lj<;niit<;«uii viMioiiH IiIIimI tliix Hpot ! 
WImt ilri-nniH of ]>l«iuiiiri' long forgot ! 
Nor lio|>e, nor joy, nor lov«, nor fnar 
Hhh li-ft one tract) of roionl li>:r«. 

Tkm^atli tliiii rnoiilili'ring ranopy 

Ou'ij iilioni' till- l)ri«lit ami tiuiiy I'yo : 

liiit Htart not at tin: ilininal void, ^ 

If Kocial lovii tlittt 171! cinployi'/l, 

If Willi no luwli:iw ilri; it ((ImiiiimI, 

I'liit tliroiigli till) iIdwh of kin'liiciw li<)anii-.<l, 

Tliat I'yi- Mliall U) foroviT ljri«lit 

Wlii;n HtuiH ami itun an; Kunk in iil|{lit. 

Within thin liollow ravi;ni liunx 

Thi) rwiily, Hwift, iind liiiiifiil lonjfuo : 

If Kalnoliooil'ii lioniry it illwlnini'il, 

Anil wliim it 't/iiili| not iiniiw wax iliaini'il ; 

If bold in Virtiii''ii ''ainw; it ii|>oki;. 

Yet ({••ntli! w>n<;ord ncvi^r liroki', ~ 

Thi* ailcnt timgui- itliall {ili-iul for tlii-i; 

When Time unvelU KUrmity 1 



Hay, did llii'wi DniC'r* di-lvn llm nilno, 
Or with till) Dnvii'd iiihii-H nhlni! ( 
To Ih'w till) lork, or wi'iir u k'''"i 
Can Ijtlln now avail to Ihoin ; 
lliil if till) paKD of Truth Ih^y M;ii((lit,, 
Or iMiiiil'ort t'l till! nioiirni'r l>i''iii)<lii, 
Thi'Ho haiidii a rirli»r iiiD'd nliall I'laiin 
Than all that wait on Wiallli and Kanic. 

AvailH it whfithor Ixiri) or hIioiI 
Tln-iii) l'i)i-t till! iiathn of duty trod I 
If from till! howDrn of Ka*) tliiy did, 
To iiiDk AllliDtion'H htimlih) nhwl ; 
If OrainlDiir'H ({"'Hy hrihi) thi)y npiirnDd, 
And hoini) Ui VirtUD'n not roturni-d, — 
Till')!! fi)i)t with ant{i!| win|{M Hhall vId, 
And tri:ad tliD jdiIium) of tliD nky ! 

ANONVMOUH. 



TIIK IIItOTIIKIW. 

Si,i;miikii, 8lf!«i), — tliDy woro two hrotlicni, wjr- 

vantH to till) (<oiIh aliovi) ; 
Kind rronii)thi)Uii Iiiri'd tliDMi downwariiii, over 

lillDil with Diirthly loVD ; 
hut what ({oiIh i!Oiild lu-ar ici lightly, premi-A U>0 

hard on riiDii l;i:ni-alh ; 
Hlumtior did IjIh hrotliDr'n duty, — 81c«j) wan 

dc«puni;d Into I^Datli. 

rroni Dm Oennan lA (i<miHlt. 



INVOCATION TO BIJCKP. 

fllOU "VAI.ONTIHIAH." 

CdMB, Sli'Dp, and with thy iiww!t tleaiWlng 

IiO':k MID in ili!li((ht awliili) ; 

I/i:l Honii! pli'.iHing dri'aniii lK-((iiilo 

All my fiiiii:ii)ii, that from then») 

I may CdiI an inlliii!ni'i). 
All my |Kiwi;rN of cart! Ixsreaving t 

Though hut a dIkuIow, Tint a xliillng, 

l.i!t mi) know noiin! littli: joy ! 

Wi! that Hud'iT long annoy 

Ari! wjntDnl'.d with a thought, 

Through an idh) fancy wrought ; 
0, |i;t my joya have oomi; ahiding ! 

John Plrtciii!*. 



SLKKI'. 



f.'oMK, gontli) (ilopp! att')nil thy votar/n prayer, 
And, though dDath'H imagi), to my ooiioh rojKiir ; 
Mow KWDftt, thiliigh lifi)|i-HH, yi)t with lifn Ui IId, 
And, without dying, O how iiw«<:t Ui iVm '. 

tin. I'lllH Vlnu:im Wtirr PlnJat^ 



762 



POEMS OF SENTIMENT AND REELECTION. 



SLEEP. 

Weep ye no more, sad fountains ! 

Wliat need you How so fast ? 
Look how the snowy mountains 
Heaven's sun doth gently waste. 
But my sun's heavenly eyes 
View not your weeping, 
That now lies sleeping 
Softly, now sottly lies 
Sleeping. 

Sleep is a reconciling, — 

A rest that peace begets ; 
Doth not the sun rise smiling, 
When fair at even he sets ! 
Rest you then, rest, sad eyes, — 
Melt not in weeping. 
While she lies sleeping 
Softly, now softly lies 
Sleeping 



John dowland. 



SLEEP. 



FROM "ASTROPHEL AND STELLA." 

Come, Sleep, Sleep, the certain knot of peace. 
The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe. 
The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release, 
The indifferent judge between the high and low. 
With shieldof proof shield mefrom out the prease* 
Of those fierce darts Despair at me doth throw ; 
O, make me in those civil wars to cease : 
I will good tribute pay, if thou do so. 
Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed, 
A chamber deaf to noise, and blind to light, 
A rosy garland, and a weary head : 
And if these things, as being thine in right, 
Jlove not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me 
Livelier than elsewhere Stella's image see. 

SIR PHILIP Sidney. 



SLEEP. 



- Psalm cxxvi. 2. 



" He givelh his beloved sleep." - 

Of all the thoughts of God that are 
Borne inward unto souls afar. 
Among the Psalmist's music deep. 
Now tell me if that any is. 
For gift or grace, surpassing this, — 
" He giveth his beloved sleep " ? 

What would we give to our beloved ? 
The hero's heart, to be unmoved, — 
The poet's star-tuned harp, to sweep, — 
The patriot's voice, to teach and rouse, — 
The monarch's crown, to light the brows ' 
" He giveth his beloved sleep." 

* Press — throng. 



What do we give to our beloved ''. 
A little faith, all undisproved, — 
A little dust to overweeji, 
And liitter memories, to make 
The whole earth blasted for our sake, 
" He giveth his beloved .sleep." 

"Sleep soft, beloved ! " we sometimes say, 

But have no tune to charm away 

Sad dreams that tlirough the eyelids creep ; 

But never doleful dream again 

Shall break the happy slumber when 

"He giveth his beloved .sleep." 

earth, so full of dreary noise ! 
men, witli wailing in your voice ! 
delved golil the wallers heap ! 
strife, curse, that o'er it fall ! 
God strikes a silence through you all. 
And "giveth his beloved sleep." 

His dews drop mutely on the hill. 
His cloud above it saileth still, 
Though on its slope men sow and reap ; 
More softly than the dew is shed, 
Oi- cloud is floated overhead, 
" He giveth his beloved sleep." 

For me, my heart, that erst did go 
Most like a tired child at a show, 
That sees through tears the mummers leap. 
Would now its wearied vision close. 
Would childlike on his love repose 
Wlio " giveth his belovM sleep." 

Elizabeth Barrett browning. 



SLEEP. 



FROM " SECOND PART OF HENRY IW" ACT III. SC 1. 

King Henev. How many thousand of my 

poorest subjects 
Are at this hour asleep ! — sleep ! gentle 

.sleep ! 
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee. 
That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down. 
And steep my senses in forgetfulness ? 
Why lather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, 
LTpon uneasy pallets stretching thee. 
And hushed with buzzing night-flies to thy 

slumber. 
Than in the perfumed chambers of the great. 
Under the canopies of costly state. 
And lulled \vith sounds of sweetest melody ? 
thou dull god ! why liest thou with the vile. 
In loathsome beds, and leav'st the kingly couch 
A watch-case, or a common 'larum-bell ? 



I'UE.MS OF SENTIMENT AND KEiaEC'lIiiN. 



"63 



Wilt thou upon tin- liigli iiuJ giddy mast 
Si'iil up till' ship-boy's uyes, and rock his brains 
111 cradle of the rude imperious surge, 
And in the visitatiou ol' the winds, 
WTio take the rulhau Ijillow.s by the top, 
Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them 
With deafening ehimors in the slippery clouds, 
'I'hat, with the hurly, death itself awakes .' 
(.'aiist tliou, partial sleep ! give tliy repose 
To the wet sea-boy iu an hour so rude ; 
Ami in the calmest and most stillest night. 
With all appliances and means to boot, 
Deny it to a king ? Then, liappy low, lie down ; 
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. 

Shakespeare. 



SLEEPLESSNESS. 

A FLOCK of sheep that leisurely pass by 
One after one ; the sound of lain, and bees 
Jlummring ; the fall of rivers, winds and seas. 
Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure 

sky ; — 
1 've thought of all by turns, and still 1 lie 
Sleepless ; and soon the snnill birds' melodies 
Must hear, first uttered from my orchard trees, 
And the first cuckoo's melancholy cry. 
Even thus last night, and two nights more, I lay, 
And could not win thee, Sleep, by any stealth : 
So do not let me wear to-night away ; 
Without thee what is all the morning's wealth ? 
Come, blessed barrier between day and day. 
Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health 
William Wordsworth. 



HYMN TO NIGHT. 

( Ye.s ! bear them to their rest ; 
The rosy babe, tired with the glare of day. 
The prattler, fallen asleep e'en in his play ; 
Clasp them to thy soft breast, 
night ! 
Bless them in dreams with a deep, hushed delight. 

Yet must they wake again, 
Wake soon to all the bitterness of life, 
Thi! pang of sorrow, the temptation strife. 

Aye to the conseieuce pain : 
night ! 
Canst thou not take with them a longer flight ? 

C'an.st thou not liear them far 
E'en now, all innocent, before they know 
The taint of sin, its conse'iueuce of woe. 

The world's distracting jar, 
O nigiit ! 
To some ethereal, holier, happier height ? 



Canst thou not bear them up 
Through starlit skies, far Ironi tliis planet dim 
And sonowful, e'en while they sleep, to Him 

WIio drank for us the cup, 
night ! 
The cup of wrath, for liearts iu faith contrite ? 

To Him, for them who slept 
A babe all holy on his mother's knee, 
And from that hour to cross-crowned Calvary, 
In all oui' sorrow wept, 
night ! 
That on our souls might dawn Heaven's cheerino- 
light. 

Go, lay their little heads 
Close to that human heart, with love divine 
Deep-breathing, wdiile his arms immortal twine 
Around them, as he sheds, 
night ! 
On them a brother's grace of God's own bound- 
less might. 

Let them immortal wake 
Among the deatliless flowers of Paiadise, 
Wheie angel songs of welcome with surprise 

This their last sleep may break, 
night ! 
And to celestial joy their kindred .souls invite. 

There can come no sorrow ; 
The brow shall know no shade, the eye no tears, 
Forever young, through heaven's eternal years 
In one unfading morrow, 
night ! 
Nor sin mu- age nor pain their cherub beauty 
blight. 

Would we could sleep as they, 
So stainless and so calm, — at rest with Thee, — 
And only wake in immortality ! 
P>ear us with them away, 
night ! 
To that ethereal, holier, liajipier height. 

George Washi.ngto.n bethi'.ne. 



WAT(:'H1NG. 

Sleep, love, sleep ! 

The dusty day is done. 

Lo ! from afar the I'reshening breezes sweep 

Wide over gi-oves of balm, 

Down from the towering palm. 

In at the open casement cooling run. 

And round thy lowly bcl. 

Thy bed of pain. 

Bathing thy patient head, 

Like grateful showers of rain. 



TiU 



I'OEMS OK SEXTIMKM' ANH UKKLECTION. 



Thoy oomp : 

AVhilo tho white curtains, waving to and fro, 

Fan tlio sick air ; 

Auii pityingly the shadows coino and gii, 

With jti-nth> human oaiv, 

Oouijvissiouate and dumb. 

Tho dusty day is dono, 

The night In'guu ; 

While pRiyorful watch 1 keejs 

Sleoji, love, sleep ! 

Is tilers' no uiagie in the touch 

Of lingei's thou dost love so mueh ? 

Fain would they scatter jxippies o'er theo now ; 

Or, with its mute caivss, 

The tivmulous lip some soft ueivuthe pu-ss 

l'j>ou thy weary lid and aching bi\)W ; 

While prayerfnl watoJi I keep, 

Sleep, love, sleep ! 

On the iwgxxla spiiv 

The hells arv swinging. 

Their little gvihlen circlet in a llutter 

With tides tlie wooing winds have diirevl to utter. 

Till all ar>' ringing. 

As if a choir 

Of golden-nested hiixls in heaven were singing , 

And with a lulling sound 

The music thvits around. 

And drops like Ivilm into the drowsy ear ; 

Commingling with the hnm 

Of the Sejwy's distant drum. 

And laiy Invtle ever droning near. 

Sounds these of diH>iH>st silence Iwrn, 

Like night nnide visible by morn ; 

So silent that 1 sometimes start 

To hear the throbbings of my heart. 

And watch, with shivering sense of pain, 

To see thy jvvle lids lift ag!>in. 

The lizarvl, with his mouso-like eyes, 

Peoiw from the mortise in surprise 

At such stningi- quiet afVer day's hai-sh din ; 

Then Wldly venturos out, 

And hxiks al>out. 

And with his hollow feot 

Treads his small evening Ivat, 

Darting uiwn his prey 

In such a tricky, winsome sort of way, 

His delicate marauding seems no sin. 

And still the curtsuns swing, 

But noiselessly : 

The Ih'Us a melancholy mnnuur ring. 

As tears were in the sky : 

More heavily the shadows fall. 

Like the black foldings of a jvill. 

Wher» juts the rough beam from the wall ; 



The ctuidles Hare 

With frosher gusts of air | 

The beetle's drone 

Turns to a dirge-like, solitary moan ; 

Xight deciHMis, ;md 1 sit, in cheerless doubt alone. 

HMILV ClirUBUCK JUDSON. 



THE nUEAM. 

OpR life is twofold ; sleep hath its own world, 

A Ivuindary Ivtween the things misnamed 

Death and existence : sleep hath its own worhl. 

And a wide roalm of w iUl reality. 

And divams in their developn>cut have broath. 

And teai-s, and tortuifs. and the touch of joy ; 

They leave a weight uihui our waking thoughts. 

They take a weight from oil' our waking toils, 

They do divide our being ; they become 

A portion of ourselves as of our time. 

And look like heralds of eternity ; 

They jw-ss like spirits of the jwst, — they speak 

Like sibyls of the futuro : they have power, — 

The tyranny of ple;isuro and of jwiu ; 

Thev make us what we weiv not, — what they 

will. 
And .shake us with the vision that's gone by. 
The divad of vanished shadows. — Aro they so f 
Is not the p;ist all shadow » What aiv they » 
Civations of the mind ? — The mind can nuike 
Sulistanees, and ]ieople planets of its own 
With beings brighter than have been, and give 
A bivath to forms which can outlive all tlesh. 
1 would ivcall a vision which 1 dreamed 
Perchance iu sleep, — for \u itself a thought, 
A slumbering thought, is cai«>ble of years. 
And emxlles a long life into one hour. 

I saw two beings in the hues of youth 
Standing nixui a hill, a gi'utle hill, 
Gr^en and of a miUl dccU\ ity, the last 
As 't were the cajie of a long ridge of such. 
Save that thero wjis no sea to lave its Ivise, 
But a most living landscape, and the wave 
0{ woods and cornfields, auil the alwdcs of men 
Si-atterod at intervals, and wi-enthing smoke 
Arising from such rustic roofs ; the hill 
Was crowmxl with a jvenliar diadem 
Of trees, iu ciivnlar array, so fixed, 
Xot by the siwrt of nature, but of man : 
These two, a maiden and a youtb, were there 
Oiuiug, — the one on all that w;is K'neath 
Fair as hei'self, — but the Ixn" gsvzed on her ; 
And Iwth were young, and one was lx>autiful ; 
And Ixith were young, — yet not jJike in youth. 
As the sweet moiui on the horizon's verge. 
The nniid wjis on the eve of wonianhooil ; 



POKMS OF SENTIMENT AND UEFLECI'ION. 



765 



rtic \xiy h;i'l fpwiT mitiiinem, but liia heart 
lliul fiir MiitKTown Iiih yuan, ami Ut liM eye 
I'licP! wiw Ijut oiii! tx-lovfol f/u:<: on earth, 
\iiil that wan Hhiniii;; on him ; he ha'l hioked 
l.'|«>n it till it f'ouhl not pawi away ; 
ill! ha'l no breath, no )<cing, l>iit in hem ; 
Hhe wiui hix voiee ; he iliil not B|x;ak to her, 
liut trenihleil on her wortlit ; nlie wait hiit Hif{ht, 
Kor his eye followed hern, anJ oaw with hern, 
Which colore'l all IiIn ohjeetK ;— he ha'l cea*c(l 
To live within hiinwlf : Hhe waa hia life, 
The w;ean Ui the river of hia thoiighta, 
Whieh tcnninaU'iI all ; uixm a t'jne, 
A toueh of herM, hia hhxxl would ebb and flow. 
And IiIh eheek ehange teni|K'HtuoiKtly, — hia heart 
I nknowing of itn eaiiae of agony, 
lint ahc in Ohm: fond feelingn had no abarc : 
Her oighM were not for him ; to her he waa 
Kven aa a brother, — but no more ; 't waa much, 
Kor brotherlcsH nhe waa, nave in the name 
Her infant friendnhip ha<J lieatowed on him; 
Herw.'lf the wjlitary acion left 
. Of a time-honored race. It waa a name 
I Whieh pleaaed him, and yet plcaacd him not, — 
and why I 
Time taught him a dt^p anawer — when ahe 

loved 
Another ; even m/w ahe lovc<I another, 
I Ami on the aummit of that hill ahe atood, 
I I»oking afar if yet her lover'a atired 

Kept jiace with her ex()«,'tancy, and flew. 

A change carnc o'er the apirit of my dream. 

There waa an ancient manaion, and tjefore 

Ita walls there waa a ateed caiiariaoned ; 

Within an antique orat/jry hVxA 

The l)oy of whom I upake ; — he waa alone. 

And pale, and i>a^;ing to and fro : anon 

He Hate him down, and aeized a [K;n, and tnu;wj 

WoriLt which I could not gueaa of ; then he leaned 

Ilia iKiwed head on bin handa and ahook, aa 

't were 
With a f^mvulaion, — then arose again. 
And with hia ti-eth and ((uivering handa did tear 
What he h.ul written, but ho 8h<«l no teant, 
And he did calm hirnaelf, and fix hia brow 
Into a kind of quiet ; aa he [laUHC^I, 
The laily of hia love re-entered there ; 
She waa aerene and amiling then, and yet 
She knew pihc waa by him beloved ; ahe knew — 
Kor quii:kly cornea auch knowlejlge — that hia 

hi-art 
Wan darkened with her aha/low, and ahe aaw 
That he waa WTctche<l, but ahe aaw not all. 
Me Ti/v; and with a cold and gentle graap 
He trniV. her hand ; a moment o'er hia face 
A tablet of anntterable thought* 



Waa traced, and then it fa/led, aa it came ; 

He drop[a»l the hand he held, and with alow 

aU^jnt 
lt<;tired, but not aa bidding her arlieu, 
Kor they did |iart with mutual aniilen ; lie [la-swrd 
Kroni out the maaay gate of that old Hall, 
And mounting on hia at<«d he went hia way ; 
And ne'er rcjiaaacd that hoary thnnhold more. 

A change came o'er the apirit of my drrrarn. 
The tjoy waa aprung to nianh'iod ; in the wilib 
Of fiery dimea he niaile hirnwdf a home, 
And hia wiul drank their Hunh<;arna ; he waa girt 
With atrange and duaky aafa^^.-ta ; he waa not 
Himatrlf like what he hail lx;«n ; on the mki 
And on the shore he waa a wanderer ; 
There vim a maaa of many iniagea 
Crowd(;<l like waven u|ion nie, but he waa 
A jiart of all ; and in the laat he lay 
iU:\KMiig from the noontide aultrineaa, 
Coiichwl among fallen columna, in the ahade 
Of niiniid walla that had aurviv(!<l the namea 
Of tho»<; who reared them ; by hia sleejiing aide 
Sfxal r:amela grayling, and aorne gWKlly Ht«e<J» 
Were fait<;ne<l near a fountain ; ami a man, 
Ciiul in a (lowing garb, did watch the while, 
While many of hia trila; alumbercd around : 
And they were i;ano[iied by the blue aky, 
Ht) doudleaa, clear, and purely }K;autiful, 
That Oo<l alone waa to Ix; aeen in heaven. 

A change came o'er the apirit of my dream. 

The lady of hia love waa wed with one 

Who did not love her >x;tt<;r : in her home, 

A thouaand leagiiea from hia, — her native home, 

She dwelt, b<;girt with growing infancy, 

Daiightera and wina of Ixjauty, — but Vxdiold ! 

(.'jKin her fa/ie there waa the tint of grief. 

The aetth^l ahadow of an inward strife, 

And an unquiet drwjjiing of the eye, 

Aa if ita lid were charged with unshe<l tears. 

What wiuld her grief be ? — ahe had all she loved. 

And he who ha<l wi loved her was not there 

To trouble with fxul hofa«, or evil wish. 

Or ill-rcpres»<;d affliction, her pure thoughts. 

Wliat could her grief be ? — she hail loved hirn 

not, 
Nor given him cause to deem himself belove<l. 
Nor could he lie a jiart of that which preycl 
L'iKjn her mind — a siiectrc of the fiast. 

A change (arnc o'er the spirit of my dream. 
The wanderer waa returned. — I saw him stand 
I?efore an altar — with a gentle bride ; 
Her fa<.-e waa fair, but waa not that which ma<]e 
The starlight of his boyli'xal ; — aa he stood 
Even at the altar, o'er hia brow there came 



766 



POEMS OK SEXTIMENT AND REFLECTION. 



The selfsame aspect and the (juivering shock 
That in the autitjue oratory shook 
His bosom in its solitude ; and then — 
As' in that liour — a moment o'er his face 
The tablet of unutterable thoughts 
Was traced, — and then it faded as it came, 
And he stood calm and iiuiet, and he spoke 
The fitting vows, but heard not his own woiiis, 
And all things reeled around him ; he co\dd see 
Not that which was, nor that which shoiJd have 

been, — 
But the old mansion, and the accustomed hall. 
And the remembered chambei's, and the place. 
The day, the hour, the sunshine, and the shade, 
All things pertaining to that place and hour. 
And her who was his destiny, came liack 
And thrust themselves between him and the 

light ; 
What business had they there at such a time ? 

A change cjime o'er the spirit of my dieam. 
The lady of his love ; — 0, she was changed, 
As by the sickness of the sold ! her mind 
Had wandered from its dwelling, and her eyes. 
They had not their own lustre, but the look 
Which is not of the earth ; she was become 
The ijueen of a fantastic realm ; her thoughts 
Were combinations of disjointed things. 
And forms impaljmble and unperceived 
Of othei's' sight familiar were to hei-s. 
And this the world calls frenzy ; but tlie wise 
Have a far deeper madness, and the glance 
Of melancholy is a fearful gift ; 
What is it but tlie telescope of trnth. 
Which strips the distance of its fantasies, 
And brings life near in utter nakedness. 
Making tlie cold reidity too real ! 

A change came o'er the spirit of my dream. 
The wanderer was alone as heretofore, 
The beings which surrounded him were gone. 
Or were at war with him ; he was a mark 
For blight and desolation, compassed round 
With hatred and contention ; pain was mixed 
In all which was -served up to him. until. 
Like to the Pontic monarch of old days. 
He fed on poisons, and they had no power. 
But were a kind of nutriment ; he lived 
Through that which had been death to many men. 
And made him friends of mountains : with the 

stars 
And the quick Spirit of the universe 
He held liis dialogues ; and they did teach 
To him the magic of their mysteries : 
To him the book of Night was opened wide, 
And voices from the deep abyss revealed 
A marvel and a secret. — Be it so. 



My dream was past ; it had no further change. 
It was of a strange order, that the doom 
Of these two creatures should be thus traced out 
Almost like a reality, — the one ^^ i 

To end in madness — both in misery. ^|' 

Lord Byron. 



THE SCHOLAR. 

FROM "EDWIN THE FAIR." 

This life, and all that it contains, to him 

Is but a tissue of illuminous dreams 

Filled with book-wisdom, pictured thought and 

love 

That on its own creations spends itself. 

All things he understands, and nothing does. 

Profusely eloijuent in copious pi-.iise 

Of action, he will talk to you as one 

Whose wisdom lay in dealings and transactions ; 

Yet so much action as might tie his shoe 

Cannot his will command ; himself alone 

By his own wisdom not a jot the gainer. 

Of silence, and the hundred thousand things 

'T is better not to mention, he will speak, 

And still most wisely. 

He.nkv Taylor. 



UNKNOWN POETS. 

FROM *• THE EXCURSION." BOOK I. 

0, M.\N"Y are the poets that are sown 

By nature ; men endowed with highest gifts. 

The vision and the faculty divine ; 

Yet wanting the accomplishment of vei-se 

(Which, in the docile season of their youth. 

It was denied them to acquire, through lack 

Of culture and the inspiring aid of books. 

Or haply by a temper too severe, 

Or a nice Iwckwaixlness afraid of shame). 

Nor having e'er, as life advanced, Iwen led 

By ciivumstance to take unto the height 

The measure of themselves, these favored beings, 

All but a scattered few, live out their time, 

Huslianding that which they possess within, 

And go to the grave, unthought of. Strongest 

minds 

Are often those of whom the noisy world 

Hears least. 

William Wordsworth. 



THE POET OF NATURE. 

FROM " FESTUS." 

He had no times of study, and no place ; 
All places and all times to him were one. 
His soul was like the wind-harp, which he loved. 
And sounded only when the spirit blew. 




■■• iw„ Ity \V. II. Prak,: 

rilK JJOOK-Sl'AI.l,. 

ylr stands in a winding street, 
A <|iiict and restful nook, 
Apart from tlie endless beat 
Of the noisy heart of Trade ; 
There's never a s])ot more cool 
( )f a hot niidsiMiHiiei' day 
By the brink of a forest pool, 
Or the bank of a crystal brook 
In the maples' breezy shade, 
Than the book-stall old and gray. 

Here are precious gems of thought 
'I'hat were quarried long ago. 

Some in vellum bound, and wrought 
With letters and lines of gold ; 
Here are curious rows of "calf," 
And perchance an Elzevir; 



I lere aie < imntless " inns " 

And a parchment folio. 

Like leaves that are cracked with cold, 

All puckered and brown and sear. 

In every age and clime 

Live the monarchs of the brain: 

And the lunls of prose and rhyme, 
Years after the long last sleep 
Has come to the kings of earth 
And their names have passed away, 
Rule on through death and birth; 
And the thrones of their domain 
Are found where the shades are deep 
In the book-sl.ill (jld and i^raw 

Clinton Sciuj.akd. 





FOR AX oi 1) roi 1". 

[To RicnAKii Hknkv SronDARD.] 

Wni'.N he is olil ;ind jiast ;ill singing, 
Tiram. kindly Tinio. tliat lie may hear 

'I'ho rhythm through joyous Nature ringing. 
Uncaught by any duller ear. 

r.rant thai, in uuinory's deep still cherisheil. 

t>nie more may murmur low to him 
The winds that sung in years long perished 

Lit by the suns ol" days grown dim. 

llrant that the houi-s when lii-st he listened 
To bird-songs manhood may not know. 

In fielils whose dew for lovers glistened. 
May come baek to him ere he go. 

Grant only this. O Time most kindly. 
That he may hear the song you sung 

When love was new — and, hearkening blindly. 
Feign his o'erwearied spirit voung. 

With .sounds of rivers singing rouml him, 
On wa\es that long since tlowed away. 

O leave him. Time, where first Love found him, 
Dreaming To-morrow is To-day. 

Henry C^■^ll■K Bi-nner. 



I'(JKMS OK SENTIMENT AND REFI-E(JTK)N. 



7o7 



Sninvtiiiio ill fuiuU mill l'ollii'», for lii^ wi-iit 
l.irulikit thniugli all tljiii),'H ; iiml Iiih tlioiigliU 

tliL'ii nmii 
Like Himrkli'H in tli<^ Ijiight wiiii', lii'i(;lit<a' Htill ; 
Sdiiii^tiiiiHH ill ilri'iiiiiH, iiikI tlii'ii till! Hliiiiiiigworilit 
Wiiiilil U'likn lilin III till' iliiik In^rmr liiii fiii:<;. 
All tiiiii;{H tulkril tliuu(;hlH U> liiiii. Tim Hc-a 

went iiiii'l 

To hIiuw IiIh iiii-itiiiii){ ; niiil tin: uwl'iil huh 

Tliuii(l<'r<'<l liiH tliiiiiKlitH into him ; iin<l at night 

The atui'ii would wliiii[icr thcirit, the moon High 

hern. 

I'liiLii- James Uailuv. 



'I'lIK I'OKT'.S L\iri;i,HK. 

FROM "CIIILUH HAROLl/tt PILOKIMACK," CANTO III. 

Skv, mountttinii, river, windo, lake, lightiiingH ! 

ye I 
With night, and clundii, find tliniider, ami a 

HOIll 

To make tliexe felt and feeling, well may In; 
ThingH that hare nimle nic waUdiliil ; the fur 

roll 
flf your departing voices in the knoll 
Of what in me in Hleeplciin, — if I rent, 
liut where of ye, O tein|ie»ts ! in the goal ( 
Are ye like thow; within the human breant I 
Or do ye find, at length, like caglen. Home high 
neot ? 

Could I embody and iinhonom now 
That whieh in most within me, — couhl I wreak 
My thoughtH u|>on exifrenHion, and thim throw 
Soul, heart, mind, |m!tnion», feeliiig.H, Htrong or 

weak. 
All that I would have aought, and all I neck. 
Bear, know, feel, and yet breathe — into otic 

word. 
And that one word were Lightning, I would 

Mpenk ; 

liut OH it in, I live ami die unheard, 

With a most voieeleHs thought, Hheathing it a» a 

nword. 

i^jkd bvron. 



THE INNER VIHION. 

.MoMT Rweet it in with unup1ift«d eyeH 
To |«ice the ground, if path there h: or none, 
Wliile a fair ngiou round the traveller Ilea 
Which he fortiears again to Iwik upon ; 
riea»ed rather with dome »oft ideal Hcene, 
The work of faiiey, or Home happy tone 
(>{ meditation, Hlip[jing in Ixtween 
The beauty coming and the beauty gone. 



If Thought and Love deiiert un, from that day 
l,et UH l>i'<'iik rill all eommeii'i' with the Miiho : 
With Thouglit and Love eompaiiioiiB of ourwiiy, — 
Whate'er tlm Heimeit take or may refuxe, — 
The uiind'H internal lliaven ahall alied hcrdcwn 
Of invpirution on the hiimblent lay. 

William WoMLmwoRTfi. 



TIIK roKT OF TO DAY. 

MoiiK than the houI of ancient Kong in given 
To Ihee, O |)oet of to-day ! — thy dower 

Conien, from a higher than Olympian heaven. 
In holier Ijeuuty and in larger power. 

To thee Humanity, her woen revealing, 

Would all her gricfii and ancient wrongn re- 
hearse ; 

Would make thy song the voice of her apjiealiiig. 
And Hob her mighty sorrowH through thy verm;. 

While in her seodon of great darkneBK nharing, 
Kail thou the rDining uf eacli piomise-Htar 

Which rlimlm the iiiidiiight of her long despair- 
ing, 
And watch for morning o'er the hillH afar. 

Wherever Truth her holy warfare waged. 

Or Freedom iiiiies, there let thy voice Vu; heard ; 

.Sound like a prophet-wainiiig down the ages 
The human utterance of Ood'a living word. 

But bring not thou the battle's stormy chorus. 
The tramp of armies, and the roar of fight. 

Not war's hot smoke to taint the sweet mom 
o'er us. 
Nor blflze of pillage, reddening up the night. 

0, let thy lays prolong that angel-singing, 
fiirdling with music the licdeemer's star, 

And breathe God's peace, to earth "glad tidings" 
liringing 
From the near heavens, of old so dim and far t 

Sarah Jank LifpinCOTT tCraa Gretn-wooUy, 



BOOKS. 

PROM "TIIP. KALPDP.K OP SMRPRRDP.fl," 1^. 

Hr that many bokes redys, 
f'unnyinge shall he be. 
Wys<;donie is soone caught ; 
In many lencs it is nought : 
I'lit sloiith, that no Inke iKiught, 
For reason Uikcth no tlioiight ; 
His thryfte eomcth behynde. 



AMOXVHOUS. 



76S 



rOEMS OF SENTIMENT AND REFLECTION. 



nOOKS. 

Foi! why, who writes such liistories as thi>si> 

Both often bring tho ivmU'v's hoait such w«so, 

As whou they sit and see what he iloth noto, 

^Ycll I'luti his hoait, sjiy tlioy, this book that 

wrote ! 

John Hiccins. 



THE FLOWEK. 

(How fivsli, Loi\l, how sweet ami eUvm 
Aiv tliy ivturns ! even as the llowei-s in spring ; 

To which, Ivsides tlieir own demean, 
The late-jwst fivsts tributes of pUvisuiv bring. 
Grief melts away 
Like snow in May, 
As if there were no such coUl thing. 

WhowouUi have thoi\ght mysl\rivelUKl heart 
Could liave n'ooveivd greenness ? It was gone 

Quite undei-givuud ; as tlowoi-s de[>iut 
To see their nunher ivot, when they have blowu ; 
Where they together 
All the hanl weather. 
Dead to tlie world, keep house ttnknowu. 

These are thy wonders, Lonl of power. 
Killing and quiekning. bringing down to hell 

And up to heaven in an honre ; 
Making a chiming of a jvissing-liell. 
\Ve sjiy amisse. 
This or that is : 
Thy woi\l is all, if we could sjiell. 

that I once jwst changing were, 

Fast in thy j^s^radise, where no tlower can wither ! 

Many a spring 1 shoot up fair, 
Otlriug at heav'n. givwing and groniiig thither ; 
Nor doth my llower 
Want a spring-showre. 
My sinnes and I joining together. 

But, while I grow in a stiiiight line. 
Still upwaixls bent, as if heav'n were mine own, 

Thy anger comes, and 1 decline : 
What frost to that ' what \w\iy is not the zone 
Where all things burn. 
When thou dost tmn, 
Aud the least frewu of thine is shown ■ 

And now in ag<' I bud again ; 
After so many deaths 1 live and write ; 

1 once more smell the dew and rain, 
And relisli versing : my only light. 

It cminot lie 
That 1 am he 
Ou whom thy tempests fell all night ! 



These are thy woudere, Lonl of love, 
To make us see we are but llowers that glide ; 

Which when we once can linde aud prove, 
Thou hast a gai>len tor us where to bide.- 
Who would hv mow, 
Swelling thiMugh store, 
Forfeit their [lanidise by their pride. 

t.;KOR0H UURltGRT. 



YissorK. 

A srrwVNOEK cauic one night to Yussoufs tent> 
Saying, '■ Heboid one outcast ami iu divad, 
Agsiiust wluwc life the bow of power is bent. 
Who llics, ami hath not where to lay his head ; 
1 come to thee for shelter and for food. 
To Yu.<sout, called througli all our tril>es 'The 
tJood.' " 

" This tent is mine," said Yussouf, "but no more 

Than it is IuaI's ; come in, and Ih> at l>eaoe ; 

Freely shalt thou [wrtake of all my store 

As I of his who buildcth over these 

Our tents his glorious roof of night and day. 

And at whose iloor none ever yet heard Nay." 

So Yussouf entertained his guest tliat night, 
Aud, waking him ere day, said ; " Hei-e is gold. 
My swiftest hoi-se is saddled for thy llight. 
Depart before the prying day grow bold. " 
As one lamp lights another, nor giMws less. 
So nobleness enkindleth nobleness. 

That inwaixl light the stranger's face made gmnd, 
Which shines fivm all sclf-comiuest ; kneeling low. 
He bowed his forehead upon Yus.souf's hand, 
Sobbing : " Sheik, 1 cannot leave thee so ; 
I will repity thee ; all this thou hast done 
Unto that Ibraliim who slew thy son ! " 

" Take thrice tlu- gold," said Yus.souf, " for with 

thee 
Into the desert, never to return, 
Jly one black thought shall ride away from me ; 
Fii-st-boru, for whom by day aud night I yearn. 
Balanced and just are all of Ood's decrees ; 
Thou art aveugwl, my liret-boru, sleep iu jwace ! " 
James Rcssbll Lowbll. 



ABOr BEX AOIIKM. 

ABOt' Bkn AniiKM (may his tribe increase ip- 
Awoke one night from a deep dream of jieace. 
And saw within the moonlight in his room. 
Making it rich and like a lily in bloom. 
An angel writing iu a Iwok of gold ; 
E.\ceediug peace had made Ben .\dheni Iwld, 



I'OEMS OF SENTIJIKXT ANU HEKl-KCTION. 



ro9 



AiiJ to the prcnencc in the room he bsIiI, 
"What writifHl tlioii I " The vision raiwjil it« head, 
Ami, with a lnok iiiailir of all Hwwt ai.corcl, 
AnxwcriMl, 'The nanienol'tliow! who love tlic Loril." 
" An^l in niineom; !" haid AIjou. " Nay, not (to," 
Iti-'pliicl the an;<i-l. AIjou itpoke more low, 
But irliecrly still ; and naid, " I |iiay thee, then, 
Writ<! mo on one tluit loves his fellow-men." 

The ongel wrote, and vaniHhed, The next night 
It I'anii- again, with a great wakening light, 
Aud ithowed the iiameH whom love of God liad 

blcwted, — 
And, lo ! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest ! 

LBICH HUNT. 



BKAUTV. 

I HAD B dream, one gloriouii. Hummer night, 
In the rich Umoin of im[ierial June. 
I.angiiid I lay ujion an odorous eouch, 
Oolden with ainl^er, leBt/wned wildly o'er 
Witli crimmn roses ; and the longing stars 
Wept team of light ujion their clustered leaves. 
AImjvc me soareii the azure vault of heaven. 
Vast anil majestic ; cinctured with tliat |>atli 
Whereby, jxerchanee, the sea-lxirn Venus foiiml 
Her way U> higher sphenrs ; that path which s<«;hi» 
A coroni't of silver, geninie<i with stare. 
And iKJund upon the forehead of the night. 
Then?, as I lay, the musiial south wind 
•Sh'Mjk all the roses into munnurous life, 
And Inured their fragrance o'er me, in a showier 
Of crimson mint ; and 8<jftly, through the miist, 
Came a low, swet-t, enelianting inidody, 
A far-oir echo from the land of dreams. 
Which witli delicious languor filled the air. 
And steejied in hliss the senH<;s and the soul. 
Then rose a Hha|»', a dim and ghostly shape, 
Wheret/j no feature was, nor settled form, 
A shailowy spleiiilor, seeming ax it came 
A fiearly summer cloud, shot through ami tlirough 
With faintest rays of sunset ; yet within 
A 8]iirit dwelt ; and, floating from within, 
A murmur trembled sweetly into word* : — 

I am the ghoat of a most lovely dream. 
Which hannte<l, in old days, a jxiet's mind. 
And long he sought for, wept, an<l |irayed for me ; 
And sirarcheil through all thecliamljers of hifi soul. 
And K<-ari:hed the secret places of the earth, 
The lonely forest and the lonely shore ; 
Ami listenwl to the voie<ai of the sea, 
Wliat time thi- stars shone out, and midnight cold 
Slept on the dark waves whisis-ring at his feet ; 
And sijught the mystery in a human fonii. 
Amid the haunts of men, and found it not ; 
And looke<l in woman's fond, Ijewildering eyes. 
And mirrored there bijt own, and saw no sign : 



But only iu hix sleep I came to him. 

And gave him fitful glimpses of my face, 

Wliereof he after sang, in sweeti'st worihi ; 

'i'hin died, and came to me. But evennore, 

Through lonely days, and |MSsion-haunt«d nights, 

A life of starlit gl'Xjm, do jKxrts s<;ek 

To lend the mystic veil that covers me, 

And evermore they grasp tlie empty air. 

Kor only in their dreams I come Id them, 

And give them fitful gliin[)ScB of my f;u;c. 

And lull them, siren-like, with wonhs of hope — 

Tliat promiw,', s'jmetime, tn their ravijiliwl cye«, 

BiMiuty, the secret of the univers<;, 

Ood's thought, tliat gives the mmi eternal peace. 

Then the voic<! ceased, and only, through the miiit, 
The shaken roses murmurc<l, and the wind. 

William Wimxr. 



VAKITY, 

TiiK Bun cornes u|> and the sun goes down. 

And day and night are tin: same as one ; 

'i'lie y<Mr grows gre<;n, and the yiar grows brown. 

And wliat i» it all, when all is done ? 

Orains of sombr« or shining sand, 

Oliding into and out of the hand. 

And men go down in ships to the sea«. 
And a hundred ships are the same as one ; 
And backward and forward blows the breeze. 
And wliat ia it all, when all ix done 1 
A tide with never a shore in sight 
Getting steadily on to the night. 

The fisher dro[ipeth hi« net in the stream, 
And a hundrol streams are the same aj) one ; 
And the maiden dreaincth her love-lit dream. 
And what is it all, when all ix done ? 
The net of the fisher the burden breaks, 
And alway the dreaming the dr«amer wakes. 

Hakkikt Pkcscorr Sroi'i'oao. 



A PSALM OF IJFE. 

Tki.l me not, in mournful numbeni. 
Life ix but an empty dream ! 

For the soul i» dead that slumljcrs. 
And things are not wluit they seem. 

Life is real I Life is earnest ! 

And the i;r^ve in not its g'jal ; 
Dust thou art, to dust returuest. 

Wan not spoken of the soul. 

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow. 
Is our destined end or way ; 

But to act, that ea/li to-morrow 
Find us farther than to-day. 



770 



POEMS OF SENTIMENT AND REFLECTION. 



Art is long, and Time is flct'ting, 

And our hearts, though stout and brave. 

Still, like mutlled drums, are beoting 
Funeral inaitlies to the grave. 

In the world's broad field of battle. 

In the bivouae of Life, 
Be not like dumb, driven cattle ! 

Be a hero in tlie strife ! 

Tiust no Future, howe'er pleasant ! 

l.i't the deail Tast bury its dead ! 
Act, — act in the living Present ! 

Heart within, and God o'erhead ! 

Lives of great men all remind us 
We eau make our lives sublime, 

And, departing, leave behind us 
Footprints on the sands of time ; — 

Footprints, that perhajis another. 

Sailing o'er life's solemn main, 
A forlorn iuid shipwrecked brother, 

Seeing, shall take heart again. 

Let us, then, be up and doing, 

With a heart for any fate ; 
Still achieving, still pursuing, 

Learn to labor and to widt. 

IlE.\RV WadSWORTH LO.NCFEU-OW. 



t 



MY LEGACY. 

Thet told me I was heir : I turned in haste. 

And ran to seek my treasuiv. 

And wondered, as 1 ran, how it was placed, — 

If I should find a measure 

Of gold, or if the titles of fair lands 

And houses woidd lx> laid within my hands. 

I journeyed many i-oads ; I knocked at gates ; 

I spoke to each wayfarer 

I met, and said, ".i heritage awaits 

Me. Art not thou the bearer 

Of news ? some message sent to me whereby 

I learn which way my new possessions lie ? " 

Some asked me in ; naught lay beyond their door ; 

Some smiled, and would not tarry. 

But said that men were just behind who bore 

More gold than I could carry : 

And so the morn, the noon, tlie day, were spent, 

AVhile empty-handed up and down I went. 

At last one cried, whose face 1 could not see. 
As through the mists he hasted : 
" Poor child, what evil ones have hindered thee 
Till this whole day is wasted ? 



Hath no man told thee that thou art joint heir 
With one named Christ, who waits the goods tO' 
share ( " 

The one named Christ 1 sought for many days, 

In many places vainly ; 

1 heard men name his name in many ways ; 

I saw his temples plainly ; 

But they who named him most gave me no signi 

To find him by, or prove the heirship mine. 

.\nd when at last I stood before his face, 

1 knew him by no token 

Save subtle air of joy which filled the place ;. 

Our greeting was not spoken : 

lu solemn silence 1 received my share. 

Kneeling before my brother and "joint heir." 

My share ! No deed of house or spreading lands^ 

As 1 had ilreanied ; no measure 

Heaped up with gold ; my elder brother's hands 

Had never held such treasure. 

Fo.xes have holes, and birds in nests are fed : 

Jly brother had not where to lay his head. 

My share ! The right like him to know all paiuv 

Which hearts are made for ktuiwing ; 

The right to find in loss the surest gain ; 

To reap my joy from sowing 

In bitter tears ; the right with him to keep 

A watch by day and night with all who weep. 

My share ! To-day men call it grief and death ; 

I see the joy and life to-morrow ; 

I thank my Father with my every breath. 

For this sweet legacy of sorrow ; 

And through my tears I call to each "joint heir" 

With Christ, "Make haste to ask him for thy 

share." 

iltLtN Hunt Jackson. 



SYMPATHY. 

FROM " ION." ACT I. SC. 3. 

'T IS a little tliingi 
To give a cup of water ; yet its duuight 
Oi cool refreshment, drained by fevered lips, 
May give a shock of pleasure to the frame 
More exijuisite than when nectarean juice 
Renews the life of joy in happier hours. 
It is a little tiling to speak a phrase 
Of common comfort which by daily use 
Has almost lost its sense, yet on the eai' 
Of him wlio thought to die uinuourned 't will fall 
Like choicest music, fill the glazing eye 
With gentle tears, relax the knotted hand 
To know the bonds of fellowshij> again ; 
Anil shed on the departing soul a sense. 



I'UE.MS OF SENTIMENT AND UEKLECTION. 



771 



More precious than the bciiisoii of frii'iids 
About till' hoiiorid cltuth-Uid of tin- licli, 
To him who else were lonely, that another 
Of the great family is near and feels. 

sik TiiuMAs Noon Talfol'ru. 



ALEXANDER'S FEAST ; OH, THE POWEK 
OF MUSIC. 



'T WAK at the royal feast, for Persia won 
By IMiilip's warlike son : 
Aloft in awful state 
The gixllike hero sate 

On his imperial throne : 
His valiant peers were placed around, 
Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound 
(So shoulil ilesert in arms be crowned) ; 
Tlie lovely Thais, by his side, 
Sate like a blooming Eastfin bride 
In flower of youth and Ijeauty's pride. 
Happy, lia[ipy, happy pair ! 
None but the brave. 
None but the brave, 
None but the brave deserves the fair. 



Uappy, h/ippij, happy pair ! 

Nmie but the brave, 

N<nte but the brave, 
Xone but the brave deserves the fair. 

Tiniotheus, placed on high 
Amid the tuneful clioir. 
With flying fingci-s touched the lyre ; 
The trembling notes ascend the sky, 

And heavenly joys insi>ire. 
The song began from Jove, 
Who left his blissful seats above 
(Such is the power of mighty love). 
A dragon's fiery form belied the god ; 
Sublime on radiant spires he rode, 
When he to fair Olympia pressed, 
.\nd wliile he sought her snowy bitfast ; 
Then rouncl her slender waLst he curled, 
And 8tani[ted an image of himself, a sovereign 

of the world. 
The listening crowd a<lmire the lofty sound, 
A present deity ! they shout around ; 
A present deity ! the vaulted roofs rebound. 
With ravished ears 
The nionarcli hears, 
Assumes the god, 
Affects to nod, 
And aeems to shake the spheres. 



ciioiirs. 

IVilh ravished ears 
The vumarch /tears. 
Assumes tlie ijod, 
AJfccls to nod, 
And seems to shake Hit spheres. 

The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician 
sung. 
Of Bacchus — ever fair and ever young : 
The jolly god in triumph comes ; 
Sound the trumpets ; beat the drums ; 
Flushed with a jmrple grace 
He shows his honest face : 
Now give the hautboys breath. He comes ! he 
comes ! 
Bacchus, ever fair and young, 

Drinking joys did first ordain ; 

Ba<;clius' blessings are a treasure. 

Drinking is the soldier's pleasure ; 

Rich the treasure, 

Sweet the pleasure. 

Sweet is pleasure after pain. 



Bacchus' blcssiw/s are a treasure, 
Drinking is the soldier's pleasure ; 

Rich the treasure. 

Sweet t)ie pleasure. 
Sweet is pleasure after pain. 

Soothed with the sound the king grew vain ; 
Fought all liis battles o'er again ; 
And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he 
slew the slain. 
The master saw the madness rise ; 
His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes ; 
And, while he heaven and earth defied, 
Clianged his hand and checked his pride. 
He chose a mournful muse, 
Soft pity to infuse : 
He sung Darius, great and good. 

By too severe a fate. 
Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen. 
Fallen from his high estate. 

And Weltering in his blooil ; 
Deserted, at his utmost need. 
By those his fonner bounty fed ; 
On the bare earth exposed he lies, 
With not a friend to close his eyes. 
With downcast looks the joyless victor sate, 
Revolving in his altered soul 

The various turns of chance below ; 
And, now and then, a sigh he stole ; 
And tears began to flow. 



POEMS OF SENTIMENT AND UEKLECTION. 



CUOUl'S. 

/fnv/ci/k; IB his altfifii «>«/ 

The niHotts turns o/diaiut Inhw; 

Jfirf, now ami then, ii siijh he stole ; 
Ami tears beyun lorioii: 

The mighty mi\stt<r siuiUHi, to spi> 
Tliut love wii.s in tlic next dojiivo : 
"V was but « kiiulitnl souiui to move. 
For pity melts the miiul to love. 
Sol'tly sweet, in l.yiUun measiuvs. 
Soon he soothed his soul to jileasures. 
War, he sun^;, is toil ami tivuble ; 
llouor, but an empty bubble ; 

Never ending, still bejiinnini;, 
Fighting still, and still destivying : 

If the world Iv worth thy winning. 
Think, 0, think it worth enjoying ! 
Lo\ely Thais sits beside thee. 
Take the good the ginls piwide thee. 
The many rend the skies with loud applause ; 
So Love was oi\)wu«l. but Music won the oause. 
The prince, unable to conceal his jiain, 
Oazed on the fair 
Who caused his caiv. 
And sighed and looked, sigheil and looked, 
Sighed and looked, and sighed agjiin : 
At length, with love and w iue at once oppressed. 
The vauquislieii victor sunk upon her bivast. 

OIIOKUS, 

Tht prince, unable to conceal hispnin. 
Gazed on the fair 
H'ho cnusid his care. 
And sighed and looi-ed, sighed and looked, 
Siijhed and kxti-ed, and siijhed aijain : 
At length, tcHh /oiv and leine at once oppressed. 
The ranijaished victor sunk- upon her hrcivsl. 

Now strike the golden lyre agsun : 
A louder yet, and yet a louder strain. 
Break his Iwnds of sleep asunder. 
Aud rouse him. like a rattling p<:il of thunder. 
Hark, hark, the horrid sound 
Has rjiised up his head ; 
As awaked tivin the dead. 
And amazed, he staivs aivund. 
Revenge ! revenge ! Timothens cries. 
See the furies arise ! 
See the snakes that they ivar. 
How they hiss in their hair, 
And the sjvirkles that Hash fixim their eyes ! 
Kehold a ghastly K>ud. 
Each a torch in his hand I 
Those areGiveian ghosts, that in hittle were slain, 
^ And unburied ivmain. 

Inglorious on the plain : 



ive the vengeance due 

To the valiant civw. 
Behold how they toss their toix'hes on high. 
How they point to the Persian alvdes, 
Aud glittering temples of their luvstile gods ! 
The princes applaud with a furious joy ; 
Ami the king seized a llaiubeau withzeal to de- 
stroy ; 

Thais led the way. 

To light him to his pivy. 
And, like anotiier Helen, liivd another Troy ! 

CllOliVS. 

And the king sei:ed a _/lamheau with :eal to de- 
St mil : 

Thais led the mil/. 

To light him to hisprei/. 
And, like another Jfelen, Jired another Troy ! 

Thus, long ago, 
Kiv heaving bellows learneil to blow, 
While organs yet were mule ; 
Timothens, to his bivathing tlute, 
And somtding lyit>. 
Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire. 
At last divine Cecilia came, 
Inventiv-ss of the vival frame ; 
The sweet enthusiast, from her sivcred store, 
Eidargv>d the former narrow Iwunds, 
And added length to solemn sounds, 
With nature's mot her- wit, and arts uukuowu 
Ivt'oiv. 
Let old Timothens yield the prize, 

Or Kith divide the civwn ; 
He rjiised a mortal to the skies, 
She divw an angel down. 

OK.VNn CHORUS, 

At last dieine Cecilia came, 
Ineentress 0/ the nva! frame ; 
The street enthitsiiist, from her saci-ed store, 
£nlaiyed the/onner narrow bounds. 
And added length to solemn sounds, 
ll'ith nature's mMer-wit, and arts unknown 
be/ore. 
Let old Timothens iiield the pri:e. 

Or Intth diride the crown : 

He raised a mortal to the skies, 

She drew an angel down. 

JOHN drydbn. 
—* — 

IXV0(\-V.TI0N. 

FROM " THE DAVIDEIS." 

Aw.^Kiv, awake, my Lyre ! 

Ami tell thy silent master's humble tale 

In sounds that may pn'vail ; 

Sounds that gentle thoughts inspire : 



I'OEMS OP SENTIMENT AND REFLECTION. 



773 



Tlioujjh 80 exalted she, 
Ami 1 HO lowly be, 

Tell lier, Hur.'h ililR-rcnt notes make all thy har- 
mony. 

Hulk ! Ij(jw the 8tringit awake : 

Au<l, tlioii;,'li the moving hand approuuh not near, 

ThemwIvcH with awful fear 

A kind o( numorouH trembling make. 

Now all thy forccn try ; 

Now all thy clianns apply ; 

Kcvenge \i\xm her ear the conquesta of her eye. 

Weak Lyre ! thy virtue sure 

I - useless here, since thou art only found 

III cure, but not U> wound. 

Ami she to wound, but not to cure. 

I'do weak, too, wilt thou prove 

My pajision to remove ; 

Physic to other ills, thou 'rt nourishment to love. 

Sleep, sleep again, my Lyre I 
For thou canst never t«ll my humble tale 
In sounds that will prevail, 
Nor gentle thoughts in her inspire ; 
All thy vain mirth l.iy by. 
Bid thy strings silent lie. 

Sleep, sleep again, my Lyre, and let thy master 
die. 

ABRAHAM COWLBV. 



THE PASSIONS. 

AN ODE FOR HUSrC. 

When Music, heavenly maid, was young, 
While yet in early Greece she sung. 
The Passions oft, to hear her shell, 
Thronged around her magic cell, — 
I^xulting, trembling, raging, fainting, — 
Possessed beyond the muse's painting ; 
By turns they felt the glowing iriind 
DiBturl)e<l, delighted, raised, refined ; 
Till once, 'tis said, when all were tired, 
Filled with fury, rapt, inspired. 
From the sup|sjrting myrtles round 
Tliey snati.hed her instruments of sound ; 
And, as they oft had heard ajKirt 
Sweet lessons of her forceful art. 
Each (for madness rule<l the hour) 
Would prove his own expressive [ower. 

Firet Fear his hand, its skill to try. 
Amid the chords bewildered laiil. 

And t>ack recoiled, he knew not why, 
E'en at the sound himself hod made. 



Next Anger rushed ; his eyes, on fire, 
In lightnings owned his s<;ci'et sting*: 

In one rude cla>ili he struck the lyre. 

And swi'pt with hurried hand the strings. 

With woful measures wan Despair, 

Low, sullen sounds, his grief beguiled, — 

A solemn, strange, and mingldl air ; 
'T was sad by lits, by starts 't wa« wild. 

But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair, — 

What was thy delightful measure ? 
Still it whispercil iJioniised pleasure. 

And Iwle the lovidy scenes at distance hail ! 
Still would her touch the stmiii prolong ; 

And from the rocks, the woorls, the vale, 
She called on Echo still, through all the song ; 
And where her sweetest theme she chose, 
Asoft responsive voice was heard at every close; 
And Hope, enchanted, smiled, and waved her 

golden hair. 
And longer had she sung — but, with a frown, 

Revenge impatient rose ; 
He threw liis blood-stained sword in thunder 
down ; 
And, with a withering look. 
The war-denouncing trum|if;t took, 
And blew a blast so loud and diea<i, 
Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe ! 
And ever and anon he beat 
The doubling drum with furious heat ; 
And though, sometimes, each dreary pause be- 
twecn. 
Dejected Pity, at his side, 
Her soul-subduing voice applied. 
Yet still he kept his wild, unaltered mien, 
While each strained ball of sight seemed bursting 
from his head. 

Thy numbers, Jealousy, to naught were fixed, — 
Sad proof of thy distressful state ; 

Of differing themes the veering song was mixed; 
And now it courted Love, — now, raving, 
called on Hate. 

With eyes upraised, as one inspired. 
Pale Melancholy sate retired ; 
And from her wiW sequestered scat, 
In notes by distance made more sweet. 
Poured through the mellow horn her pensire 
soul : 
And, dashing soft from rocks around, 
Bubbling runnels joined the sound ; 
Through glailes and glooms the mingled meas- 
ure stole ; 
Or o'er some haunted stream, with fond delay. 
Round an holy calm iliffusing, 
l»vc of [s;ace, and lonely musing. 
In hollow murmurs died away. 



74 



POEMS OF SENTIMENT AND liEEl.llC I'lUN. 



But 0, how altered was its spriglitlii'v toiu' 
^Vhell Cheerfulness, a nymph of luviltliiost hue, 
lier bow aeross her shoulder tluiig, 
Her buskins geuiuiod with morning dew, 
l?lew an inspiring uir, that dale and thieket 
rung, — 
The hunter's call, to faun and dryad known ! 
The oak-erowned sisters, and their ehaste-eyed 
queen. 
Satyrs and sylvan boys, were seen 
I'eeiiing from forth their alloys green : 
Brown Exercise ivjoieed to hear ; 
And Sport leapt vip, and seized his beechen 
spear. 

Last came Joy's ecstatic trial : 

He, with viny crown advancing, 

I'irst to the lively pipe his hand addrest ; 

But soon he saw the brisk-awakening viol, 
Whoso sweet entraucingvoiee he loved the best ; 

They would have thought, who heard the strain, 
Tliey saw, in Tempe's vale, her native maids 
Amidst the festal-sounding shades. 

To some unwearied minstrel dancing. 

While, as his Hying lingers kissed the strings, 

Love framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round ; 

Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound ; 
And he, amidst his frolic piny. 
As if he would the charming air repay. 

Shook thousand odors from his dewy wings. 

Music ! sphere-desci'mlcd maid. 
Friend of pleasure, wisdom's aid ! 
Why, goddess, why, to us denied, 
Lay'st thou thy ancient lyre aside ? 
As, in that loved Athenian bower. 
You learned an all-commanding power, 
Tliy mimic sold, O nymph endeared, 
tan well recall what then it heard. 

Where is thy native simple heart, 
Devote to virtue, faiu'y, art? 
Arise, as in that elder time, 
Warm, energetic, chaste, sublime ! 
Thy wonders, in that godlike age, 
Fill thy recording .sister's page ; 
'T is said — and 1 believe tlio tale — 
Tliy humblest reed could more prevail, 
Had more of strength, diviner rage. 
Than all which charms this laggard age, — 
K'en all at once together found, — 
Cecilia's mingled world of sound. 
0, bid our vain endeavors cease ; 
Kevive the just designs of Greece ! 
■ Itetnrn in all thy simple state, — 

1 '.inlirm the tales her sons relate ! 

^ William Collins. 



THE NIGHTINGALE'S SONG. 

FROM "MUSIC'S DUEL." 

Now westward Sol had spent the richest beams 
Of noon's high glory, when, hard by the streams 
Of Tilx'r, on the scene of a green plat. 
Under protection of an oak, there sat 
.V sweet lute's-iiiaster, in whose gentle airs 
He lost the day's heat and his own hot cares. 
Close in the covert of thi" leaves there stood 
A nightingale, come from the neighboring wood 
(The sweet inhabitant of each glad tree. 
Their muse, their siii'n, harndi'ss siren she) : 
There stooil she listening, and did entertain 
Tl\e music's soft report, and uiouhi tlie same 
In Iter own murmurs ; that wliatever mood 
His curious lingers lent, her voice made good. 

This lesson too 
She gives them back ; her supple breast thrills 

out 
Sharp aii-s, and staggers in a warbling doubt 
Of dallying sweetness, hovers o'er her skill, 
.\nd folds in waved notes, with a trembling bill, 
' The jiliant series of her slipjiery song ; 
Then starts she suddenly into a throng 
t)f sliort thick sobs, whose thundering volleys 

tloat. 
And roll themselves over her Inbrii' throat 
In panting murmurs, stilled mit of her breast ; 
That ever-bubbling spring, the sugared nest 
Of her delicious soul, that there does lie 
B;Uliing in streams of liquid melody ; 
JIusic's best seed-plot ; when in ripened airs 
A golden-headed harvest fairly rears 
His lioney-dropiiing tops ploughed by her bieath 
Which there rceiproi'ally laboreth. 
In that sweet soil it seems a holy ijniiv. 
Sounded to the name of great Apollo's lyre ; 
Whose silver roof rings with the sprightly notes 
Of sweet-lipped angel-imps, that swill tlicir 

throats 
In cream of morning Helicon, and then 
Pivfer soft anthems to the cars of men. 
To woo them from their beds, still murmuring 
That men can sleep while they their matins sing 
(Most divine service), whose .so early lay 
Prevents the eyelids of the blushing day. 
There might you hear her kindle her soft voice 
In the close murmur of a s])arkling noise ; 
And lay the groundwork of lier hopeful song. 
Still keeping in the forward stream so long. 
Till a sweet whirlwind (stri\'ing to get out) 
Heaves her soft bosom, wanders round about. 
And makes a pretty earthquake in her breast, 
! Till the fledged notes at length foi-sake their nest, 
Fluttering in wanton shoals, and to the sky. 
Winged with their own wild ecliocs, prattling lly. 



POEMS 01" SENTIMK.NT AND KEn.ECTION. 



775 



She opoa the floodgato, and Ivtx loose a tide 
Of HtremiiiiiK HweetiKmi!, which in statu ih)tli ride 
On ttif waved l>iii;k of cveiy «W(^liii({ ntiaiii, 
liisiiig and railing in a |iuinji<)iis train ; 
And whilu »liu tlins disrhargvH u Hlirill peal 
< If Hashing aii'H, hIic ijualificts their zcul 
With tln' cool i'|H>d« of a gnivur note ; 
Thus high, tlniK low, an if her silver throat 
Would reach the hrazen voice of war's hoarse hiril ; 
Her little soul is ravished, and so poured 
Into loose ecstasies, that she is placed 
Alwvo herself, music's enthusiast. 

KlCIIARD CRASHAW. 



A SONG FOR ST. rKCIIJA'.S DAY, 10S7. 

Fkom harmony, from heovenly harmony. 
This univers.il frame hegun ; 
When Nature underneath a heap 
Of jarring atoms lay. 
And could not heave her hooil. 
The tuni'ful voice was hcanl from high, 

Arise, ye more than dead ! 
Then cold and hot, and moist and dry. 
In order to their stations leap. 
And Music's power obey. 
From harmony, from heavenly harmony. 
This universal frame Is'gan : 
From harmony to hannony, 
Through all the compass of the notes it ran, 
The diapason closing full in man. 

What passion cannot Music raise and quell ? 
When Jubal struck the chorded shell, 
His listening brethren stood around, 

And, wondering, on their faces fell. 
To worship that celestial sound. 
Less than a Ooil they thought there could not dwell 
Within the hollow of that shell. 
That spoke iv> sweetly and so well. 
What iHusion cannot Music raise and ({Uell ? 

The tnim[>et's loud clangor 

E-xi-ites us to arms. 
With shrill notes of anger. 

And mortal alarms. 
The double double double beat 

Of the thundering drum 

Cries, Hark ! the foes come ; 
<niarge, charge, 't is too late to retreat ! 

The soft complaining flute 
In dying notes discovers 
The woes of hopeless lovers. 
Whose dirge is whispered by the warbling lute. 



Sharp violins proclaim 

Their jealous l>angs, ami desperation, 
Fury, li.'intic indignation, 
Depth of jiains, and heigbt of ]mssion 
For the fair, disilainful dame, 
liut O, what art can teach, 

What human voice can reach, 
The sacred organ's prai«e ? 
Notc's inspiring holy love. 
Notes that wing their heavenly ways 
To mend the choirs above. 

Orj)lieus could lead the savage race ; 
And trees ujirootcd left their place, 

Sequacious ol' the lyre ; 
liut bright Cecilia raised the wonder higher ; 
When to her ojgan vocal breath was given, 
An angid hi;arr|, and straight appeared 

Mistaking earth for heaven. 

OBANI) CIIOIIUH. 

jis from /Jie power of sacTed lays 

The uphen'H befjrui to move^ 
And HUiKj Uu: (jteat ijrefitor s prriUe 

To idl tlij^ hlmfteA ahfrvc ; 
Ho, v;1iAn Ihn Itinl and drendfitl hour 
This crumhIiiLff pftfjeant shall fhivour. 
The trumpet shall be heard on high. 
The dead slutll live, the linmj die. 
And Mumc shall untune the sky. 

John Drvden. 



MUSIC. 

PROM "THE MERCHANT OF VE.VICK." ACT V. SC. I. 

Lorenzo. How sweet the moonlight sleeps 
upon this biink ! 
Here will we sit, and let tlie sounds of music 
Creep in our Ciirs : soft stillness, and the night, 
Hecome the touches of sweet liarmony. 
.Sit, Jessica : look, how the floor of lii-aven 
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold : 
There 's not the smallest orb which thou be- 

hold'st, 
But in his motion like an angel sings. 
Still ((uiring to the young-eyed cherubins ; 
Such hannomy is in immortal soids : 
liut whilst this muddy vesture of dcr:ay 
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. 

Jessica. I am never merry when I hear sweet 

music. 
Lou. The reason is your spirits are attentive. 

Therefore the poet 
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and 
floods ; 



776 



rOKMS OV SKNTIMENT ANH KKKI.KCTION. 



Since nanglit so stwfcish, Uiud, nml full of Jiigts 
But imisii' for the time iloth elmngi- his iintuiv. 
Th<> iniiu tliiit liiith no imisio in hiuisoU", 
Nor is not moved witli oonoowl of sweot sounds. 
Is tit lor tix-asons, stratjigi'nis, and spoils ; 
The motions of his spirit tiiv dull as night. 
And his aHV'i'tions dark as Kivhus : 
Lot uo sneh man bt> trusted. 

SHAKHSfBARB. 



TO 



Mrsic, when soft voices die. 
Vibrates in the memory, — 
Odoi-s, when sweet violets sicken, 
Live within tlie sense they nuicken. 

Rose-leaves, when the i\vse is dead, 
Are heapini for the belovi'd's U'd ; 
And so thy thoughts, when thou lU't gone. 
Love itself slmll slumU'r on. 

I'UKCV B\'SSHB SMBIXHV. 



MAX. 



FROM '"NIGHT THOVOHTS." NIGHT I. 

How poor, how rich, how abject, how august. 
How complicate, how wonderful, is man ! 
How jwssing wonder He who made him sndi ! 
Who ceiitivd in our make such stmngi' extriMues, 
Fivn\ ditfeivnt iiatmvs marvellously nii.xed, 
t'oiincction exquisite of distant worlds I 
Distinguished link in Ix'ing's endless chain ! 
Midway from nothing to the Ocity ! 
A Wan\ ctheival, sullied, and nlworpt ! 
Though sullied and dishonon'd. still divine ! 
Pim miniatuiv ofgivatness alwolute ! 
An heir of glory ! a fniil child of dust ! 
Helpless immortal ! insect intinite ! 
A worm ! a god ! — I tremble at myself, 
And in myself am lost. At home a stningi>r. 
Thought wandei-s up and down, surprised, aghast, 
And wondering at her own. How n'ason reels ! 
0, what a niiiiicle to man is man ! 
Triumphantly distressed I What joy I what dread ! 
.\lteruately transported lUid alarnunl ! 
What can preserve my life ? or what destroy ? 
An angel's arm can't snatch me fivm the grave ; 
Legions of angi'ls can't confine me there. 

Dr. Edward Young. 



MAX — WOMAN. 

Man's hmnf is evfrinrhfr*. On ocean's flood, 
"Where the strong ship with storm-defying tether 
Doth link in stormy brvitherhood 
Earth's utmost zones together. 



Where'er the red gold glows, tJie spiee-trees wave. 
Where the rich diamond rijHMis, mid the flame 
Of vertic suns that ope the striUigi>r's grave. 
He witli bronzeil cheek and diuing step doth 
rove ; 
He, with short imig and slight. 
IKitli turn him fivni the checkered light 
Of tJio fair moon tluvugh his own forests 
dancing. 
Where music, joy, and love 

Were his young houi-s entrancing ; 
.\nd where ambitious thunder-claim 
I'oints out his lot. 
Or fitful wealth allures to ream. 
There doth he make his home, 
Itepining not. 

It is not thus iritf> iromaii. The far halls, 

Though ruinous and lone, 
WluMV first her pleased ear drank a nui'sing- 
mother's tone ; 
The home with humble widls. 
Where breathed a jxirent's praver around her 
Ixnl ; 
The valley where, with jilaymates true. 
She culled the strawlH'rry, bright with dew ; 
The Ivwer where l.ove her timid footsteivs led; 
The hearthstone where her diildivn grew ; 
The damp soil where she cast 
The tlower-.secds of her hope, luul saw them bide 
the blast, — 
Affection with unfading tint recall.s, 
Lingi-riiig round the ivied walls. 
Where every rose hath in its cup a Iwe, 

Making fresh honey of reineniK'ivd things, — 
Each rose without a thorn, each bee lierelt of 
stings. 

I.VOIA HUNTLBV SlGOUKNBV. 



WOMAN. 

TllEKE in the fane a Iwiuteous creature sfand-s 
The fii-st best work of the Oreator's hands. 
Whose slender limbs inade<|uately bear 
A I'uU-orlx'd Ixitioiii and a weight ot' care ; 
Wluwe teeth like pearls, whose lips like cherries. 

show. 
Anil fawn-like eyes still trennble as they glow. 

FrvMjl the Snnskrit of CaI.IOASA. 
'I'lttiiiJiuion of Wilson. 



Al'UES. 



Down, down, F.Ucn, my little one. 

Climbing so tenderly up to my knee : 

Why sho\ild you add to the thoughts that are 

taunting me, 
Preains of your mother's anns clinging to me ? 



POEMH OK SKNTIMENT AM) IIKI'I.KCTIO.N. 



777 



<.'vaa«, cvaw), IClluii, my little oiii', 

WiirliliiiK mi fiiiiily cIoku to my iiiir ; 

Wliy hIiuiiM you rliooiu!, of (ill Hoiigt that an: 

tiiiiiiitiiJK iii>', 
Thin tlittt I iiiiuin for your motliKr tu liniir ? 

IIuhIi, IiuhIi, Kllrri, luy liltli; oiiii, 

Wiiiliii;^ BO wiiiiily iiridiM- tlii; Htuiit ; 

VVIiy hIiouIiI I tliiiik of livr U^nt, tlmt might 

light to UK! 
Ixive thiit hull miiclu lifu, niiil Horrow that man ? 

^l(X!p, alccp, Klli'ii, my liltji; onn I 

Ih hUi! Hot likr: hi^r whrni^vi^r nhc! hIIih I 

lliiH nIii! not nycH tlmt will hooii hi; iih hright to inn, 

lAim that will aoiiio day be hoiioyoU liku hora ? 

YcH, yi«, Klldti, rijy lilthi oii«, 

Though liiT wliitA lioMiiN IH Htilleil in thff gnivi', 

.SoiMi'thiiig mora whit« than Iior Ijohoiii i» nimnsd 

to in«, — 
Something to cling to and Homcthing to cravo. 

I/ivc, lovi', Kllirn, my littlir oni' ! 

Iaivv, inihrHtnii'tihlv, love un'li^llldl, 

Ixivo through all decpM of liiT Bpirit lic« bared 

to niB, 
Oft a* I hxik on the face of her child. 

Arthur }. Muniiy. 



FORTUNK. 



FROU " PANHV." 



But Fortune, like norno otheni of her m:x, 
DclightH In tantalixliig iind t'>rnicnting. 

One day we feed ujpoii tlii:lr Hniili^H, — the next 
Im «i)i!nt in nwwirlng, sorrowing, and repenting. 

Eve never walked in I'aradiiie more pure 
Than on that mom when Satan played the devil 

With her and nil her riuic. A lovesick wooer 
Ne'er oiiked a kinder maiden, or more civil, 

Than Cleojiatra was to Aiit^my 

The day ahe left him on the Ionian Hen. 

The aerpent — lovelieHt in IiIh coilfal ring, 

With eye that chonn», nnd beauty that ontvien 

The tinta of the rainlmw — btuirn upon hiH Htiiig 
The dea<llieHt venom. Kre the dolphin dieM 

Ita huen are brighteHt. Like an infant'H breath 

Are tropic windn before the voire of death 

la heard upon the watera, aummoning 

The midnight eartlir|uake from ila ideep of years 

To do itH t«»k of WW, The clouili that (ling 
The lightning lirlghten ere the txiit nppani ; 



The puntlngH of the wanior'a heart arc proud 
Upon that buttlc-niorn whoHC night-dewa wet hia 

itliroud ; 
The Hiin in lovelient an he Hlnkn to rent ; 

The leuveH of autumn nniile when fiuling funt ; 
The awun'a loat tong ia awcotcat. 

I'riZ^RKIlNS IIALLtCK. 



KNID'H SONG. 

PHOM "I0VI.» OP TUB KIMO" 

Ti;iiN, Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower tlm 
proud ; 
Turn thy wilil wheel through HUUHhlne, atorm, 

nnd I'loud ; 
Thy wheel anil thee we neither love nor hate. 

Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel with arnilc or 
frown ; 
With that wild wheel we go not up or down ; 
Our hoard ia little, but our hcarta are great. 

Smile and we Hniile, the lordx of many Innda ; 
Frown and weHmile, the lordnof our own lianda ; 
For man in man and maater of hia fate. 

Tuni, turn thy whi'el n>K)ve the Htaring crowd ; 
Thy wheel and thou are kIiiuIowh in the cloud ; , 
'I'hy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate. 

ALPKeo TifNNVMON. 



EXCELSIOR. 

TllK HhadcH of nielli were falling faat, 
Ah through an Alpine village pfutfuid 
A youth, who bore, 'mid hoow and ice, 
A banner with the strange device — 
Kxcelaior I 

Ilia brow was and ; hia eye beneath 
FInahed like a fiilchion from its sheath ; 
And like a silver clarion ning 
The lu^entH of that unknown tongue — 
Kxcelaior ! 

In happy homes he saw the light 
f)f houwdiold fires girajn warm and bright : 
Above, the simctrni gl.-ieierH shone, 
And from his lips escaped a groan — 
Kxcelaior! 

"Try not the pass," the old man said : 
" Dark lowers the temiiehl overhea<l ; 
The roaring t/irrent is deep and wide I" 
And loud that clarion voi«: replied, 
Kxcelaior ! 



778 



POKMS OK SKNTIXIKM' AXU RKKl.KlTlON". 



"0 stsiVi" tHo i\>i\idoii stiiii, ".•mil tx'st 
Thy wiNuy liwiil uixm tins biwist I" 
A t<<«r st>H>il in his brijjlit l>l\u> oyp, 
But still ho aiis\vni\Hl, with ,» sigh, 
Exoi'lsior ! 

■' lHnv;(iv tlio i>iiio-tiw's \vithl-\x^l l>raiioh ! 
Uott-stix' tlio rtttfiil lU'jdrtiii'hi' ! " 
This was tho iw>sj«i\t's last gwil-\iijtht : 
A voioo ivpliwl, far up tho hoi^ht, 
Kxoolsior ! 

At bivnk of >hiy, as hoavonwaixl 
Th» {>ious monks of tstint IWiuaivi 
rtti'itsl till' olVivjH'atiHl i>n«y<'r, 
A voiiH> t'liiHl, thivugh Iho starlU><l air, 
Kxoolsior ! 

A tnivoUcr, l>y tho faithful ho\nul. 
Half huriovl in tho snow wsis fonuil, 
Still jimspinj; in his hand of too 
That K>nuor with tho stiuugi- ilovic* — 
Kxoolsior ! 

Thoro in tho twilijjht wM aud gRiy, 
l.ifoloss, hut lva\itil\\l, ho lav, 
Aud fivni tho sky, sotvuo anvl (at, 
A wioo foU. liko a falUuj: star — 
Kxoolsior ! 

llUXRV WADSWORTn I-ONXafKLLOW, 



THK lUKTS OK HOP. 

( When* Ood at first mado tnan, 
Haviiij; .^ glass of Wossings staudii\g hv, 
1^-t us vs;>id ho'* i>our on hin> all wo oan : 
Lot tho world's riohos, whioh disjHM-si^d lio, 
I'ontraot into a sjmu. 

So stroujith fn^st mado a way : 
Then Ivauty flowiHl, thon wisdom, honor, jiloasun> 
AVhon almost all was out, Hod mado a stay, 
rorooivinj; tliat, alono, of all his tivasure, 

Kost in tho Iwttom lay. 

For if I should (s;>id hoi 
Bostow this jowi'l als»> on niy ort>;>tuiv. 
Ho would adoiv my gifts instoad of mo. 
And n-st in Xatuns not tho HihI of Xatuiv : 

So Iwth sliould Kvsors V. 

Yot lot him koop tho rx\st, 
Rut koop thom with n>\nuinii ivstlossitoss : 
I<ot him Ih- rioh aud wvary, that, at loast. 
If goodnoss load him not, jTt woiuiiu-ss 

May toss liim to my linsist, 

t^KOKO.K IlKRHFRT. 



A KiniM.K.* 

VMi; l.liVVMK " H.- 

"T \v.\s in luNivou jirviuouuooil, and t Wius ntut- 

toiW in holl, 
And oolio oaught faintly Iho sound as it foil ; 
On tho oonlinos of oartli 't was |Hrmilt<Hi to ivsl, 
.\ud tho dopths of tho iK'oau its jnvsouoo oon- 

fo.ssrtl ; 
"T will 1h> fouiul in tho sphotv whon 't is rivou 

asundor, 
Hosivu in tho lightning and hoanl in tho tliundor. 
'T was alloltod to u\au with his oarliost hivalli, 
.\ttouds him at hirth, aud aw!>its him in doalh, 
Tovsidos o'or his ha|>|<inoss, honor, and hoallh. 
Is tho |m>p of his houso. auvi tho oiid of hiswoall h. 
In tho hoai>s of tho uiisor 't is lnvu\lisi with oaiv, 
Hut is suiv to Iv hist on his (iivdigal hoir. 
It K-gius ovory hoiH", on'ry wish it nmst Inuiud, 
With Iho huslwudmau toils, and with niouaivha 

is or\>wuiHl. 
Without it tho soUlior, tho soamau may nviiu, 
But WW to tho wivtoh who oxi^ls it fivm homo t 
In tho whis^H'l■s of oonsoioui-o its voioo will Ih» 

fouiul, 
Noro'on iu tho whirlwind of jvissiou Ih> driiwnod. 
"T will not softou tho hoart ; hut t hough doaf Iv 

tho 0!>r, 
It will uiako it aoutoly aud instsxntly Invir. 
Yot iu shado lot it itvst, liko a dolioato llower, 
Ah, broatho oi\ it solVly, — it dios ii\ au hour. 

CATHARINI^ FANSHAVM;. 



FATHKli l.ANO ANM> MOTllKli TONiUK. 

OfK Kathor l-uid ! and wouldst thon kiuiw 

Why wo sho\ild oall it Kallior l^nd ? 
It is that Adam hoiv Ivlow 

Was mado of «>rth hy Natuiv's hand ; 
And ho, our fathor mado of oarth, 

liath jHHiplod oarth on ovory hand ; 
And wo, in nu-iuory of his hirth, 

IXi oall our amiitry Kathor Uuid. 

At first, iu Kdon's Ivwors, thoy s;>y, 

Xo sound of sjHvoh had .Vdam oaught. 
But whisthvl liko a l>ii\l all day, — 

Aud luaylw 't was for want of thought : 
But Xatuiv, with ivsistloss laws, 

Mado Adam soon snrivi.ss tho hii\ls ; 
Sho g!>vo him lovoly K.vo Ivoauso 

If ho 'd a wifo thoy must A.iiv tronis. 

And so tho natiw laud, 1 hold. 

By malo do-sooiit is piMudly luino ; 
Tho langnagi', as tho lalo hath told, 

Was givou ill tho foiualo lino. 

* Soittclimcs AUrilmtCvl t.j ItynML 



I'OK.MS <)l' .SKNTIMK.NT AM) KKH.KCTION, 



IT.) 



/Hill Itiitit wn MM) (III clthnr hnnd 

\V'<' iinriiiiiMir liliKniiiK" wIiiim'i- tlii!y'v)'ii|iriiii((; 
Wi- I'lill iiiir roiiulty iMilhcr l/iind, 

Wn onll our liirif(iiii)(ii MxIIht T"ii;{iii', 

HAMI.'KI. LOVIIR, 



HMAM, IlKdlNNINOH. 



I 

■ A TliAVKi.i.Kri tliioii;(li n iliiHly ronil utrKWRfl 
W n'oriiK "11 llin \i!H ; 

I And (iiiit UKik riHit and ii|iroiit4»l ii|i, nnd ifri-w 
' into II Iri'if. 

•■•■ iHiii)(lit ilii utiitilii, nt ••venUiK lUw, to lir>'/itlii! 

ilH iiirly vowH ; 
I imf wiiH (ili'iiw^d, in )imtH of nrioii, to luutk 

lidhi'iitli ilo Uiiiffliii : 
' domioiiM! I»r>»l itii iliinKling Iwi^a, tli>; liird* 

HviMil niimir li<>r<: ; 
tiKxl li n\<iry in iU |ilii(:«, n liliMiitin(( c.VKnniiTiJ, 

.\ littln ii|>riii;< liivl I'mt itH wny iicnid tli<! ;(rftitii 
I iiml r<'i'ii, 

A iKiimlnK "Iriifi^iT iii()i>|h-(| u will, wliirr« wciiry 

nwn niixlit turn ; 
llir wnlli'd il in, and liun|{ with ciirn n liidli; at 

till: lirink ; 
lli^ tlioii^lit not. or till! iliM'd 111! did, liiit ,jildK(!<l 

tlinl toil iiiiKlit. drink. 
III! |iiuiw!d fi((iiin, and lo ! tlii! will, liy KMtnniitrii 

niivi'r drii:d, 
lliul ro«|i!d t<!n Ihoiiwind (larchinK Uingivii, nnd 

wived II lifi: Ixllidl!. 

A drenrnpr drojiiMid n random tlioiij^tit ; 't wait 

old, and y«t 'I wim n<!W ; 
A pilin|il<! fancy of tlin brain, tint ntrann in Vxdn^ 

true. 
It iilionii ii|K<n a K«ninl mind, and lo ! ItH light 

txrcame 
A lani|i of lifi!, a lH!a4!on ray, a monit/iry llami!. 
Thi! thoii|{ht wo* uniull ; Itn iiwnn nuMi ; a vmU'.U- 

firi! on thi' hill, 
1 1 iihwiii it* riulinniMi far ndown, and iUkith Oh- 

Vidlny utill '. 

A iiani<d>;M man, amid a crowd that throngMl 

the daily mart, 
I>ct fall a word of IIojk! and l/ivi', unntudiixl, 

from tliB heart ; 
A whUjiftr on thn tiimiill thrown, — a trannit/iry 

lirmth, — 
It raiwd a lirothnr frwn the dimt ; it aavwl u 

•oiil froin di-ath. 
O (jerm I O fount ! O word «/f love ! O thon(()it 

at random caat I 
Ye werfl Imt little at the finit, biit mighty at the 

Iwit. 

CH««f.M Mv-K>IV. 



TKK UlfMNO I'AHHION. 

I'hoM "MOHAI. IdMAVn," Itl'KIM.K I. 

Hkaii'II thou the niling imiwion ; there, alone, 
The wild lire conHtunt, and the eiinning known ; 
The fool I'onHiitent and the fulw! kine^re ; 
Crientii, prliieua, women, no dimMimhlerit here, 

In thin the liint, in that the aviirire, 

Were ini'anii, not end* ; ambition wax th« viee. 

In thill one [HUMJon man ean atreiigth enjoy, 
At (ItH (jive vlp;iir jimt, when they destroy. 
Time, tliat on nil thinf/u hiyit hi* lenient hnnd. 
Vet lamea not thin ; it iitiekii to our laat wind. 
I'onitintent in our follii'A nnd our Kind, 
Here honenl Nature end» lut iihe l»!gina. 

Old |H>litieiani* ehew on wlwloni jnrnt, 
And tott<!r on in himineiH tJi the lout ; 
A« weak, iw earnent ; nnd na gravely out, 
A» wilxrr l/<inenlioroi/gli daniiiig in the gout. 

liehold a reverend itire, whom wnnt of gnu* 
llaa in/ule the father of a nnineieii* rn/:'!, 
.Sliovejl from the wall |i<-rlinjm, or rudely |ireMM;<l 
I'y llin own win, thnt (ifnneit hy unhleiwied : 
Htill to hi« weneh he erawU on knwkiiig kiuum, 
And eiivieH every i([i(irrow that lie wen. 

A nulmon'a Ixdly, llelliio, wax thy fat<;. 
The doet.or, eal|e.4|, deelaren all hel|> Um )iiU-. 
" .VIerey I " eriea Ifelluo, " merey on my wml ! 
Ih there no hoix! ? - Ahw ! then bring the Jowl." 

The friig/il irone, whom pinying pri<Mt«ntt4:nd, 
.Still trie* Ui fc-ive the h/illowiyl ln|i<!r'» end, 
f'olleetii her breath, a« ebbing life retin*, 
Kor one iiuffinore, and in thai [iiitf ej[(iireii. 

" OdioiiH ! in wwillen ! 't would a wiint [iro- 
vokc," 
Wi^re the Iniit word* that fioor Nar<fU(ia afKike ; 
" No, let a eharming ehintx and I'niitwU \iu:i: 
Wrap my lUiM limtn, nnd ulia'le my lifeleiw f«e.<! : 
One would not, aiire, Ixj frightful when one '* 

de.ul,— 
And — ISetty — give thia eheek a little red." 

The eotirtier arnooth, wlio forty year* ha/| 
«hini»l 
An humble aervant to all human-kind, 
.(mil brought out thia, when kcjiri*, hia t/mgno 

eould atir, 
" If "• where I 'm going — I eoidd xerve you, «ir ? " 

" I give and I deviw" ^old Kiielio naid, 
And aiglied) " rny landa and t<.-nementic to .Ne^l," 
Voiir money, air T " My money, nir ! what, all ? 
Why — If I rnu«t"(then wejrt; - " I give it 

f'aul," 
The manor, air f " 'Hie manor, hold ! " he i"rled, 
"Not thnt, — I 'annot |iart with that," — and 
died. 



780 



POKMS OK SENTl.MKM' 



A.\n UKFLEOTION. 



And you, bravo Ooblltuu ! to the latest bmith 
Sliiill I'fol ymir ruling imssion stiMus '» *li"'>tli ; 
ShoIi in tluvio iiumioiits us in all tlir inist, 
" 0, sjivo luy oountiv, lloavoii ! " shall bo vmir 

lilSt. 

« 

CONTRAPICTION. 

FROM •■i:0N\liKS,\110N.' 

Yk jKiwoi-s who ruh- the tongue, if suoh thoio 
aiv. 
And niiiko oolKniiiial happiness your oaiv, 
Pivsorvo uu> I'lvni thi> thing 1 divail ami liato, 
A (luol in tho form of a di'liato. 
'I'ho clash of ai-guini'iits ami jar of woi'vls. 
Woi-so than the mortal brunt of rival swords, 
Uivido no nuostion with thoir tinlious longth, 
I'or opposition gives opinion stivngth, 
l^ivort tho ohanipions (nvdijpil of bitath, 
Anil put tho poacofuUy disixisod to iloath. 
O, tliwart nio not, Sir Soph, at ovory turn, 
Nor oarpat ovory tlsw you may ilisoorn ! 
Though syllogisms hang not on my tongue, 
I am not suivly always in the wiMug ; 
'Tis hai\l if all is false that I ailvaiV.-e. 
A tool must now ami then Iv right by ehaneo. 
>''ot that all fivedom of dissent 1 blame ; 
^'^^ — thoiv 1 gRint the privilege 1 elaim. 
A disputable jKiint is no man's gixmnd : 
Kovo wheiv you please, "t is eonnnon all around. 
l>isooui-se may want an animated No, 
To brush the surfaee, and to make it How ; 
Hut still ivmember, if you mean to please. 

To pivss your point with modesty ami enst>. 

Tho n\ark at whieh my juster aim 1 take. 

Is eontrsvdietion for its own dear sake. 

Set your opinion at whatever piteh. 

Knots and impodiinents make something hitch ; 

Adopt his own, 'l is eipially in vain. 

Your thivad of argument is snapped agiun. 

The wrangler, i-iilher than aceoixt with you, 

Will judgi> himself deceived, and pivve it too. 

Yoeiferated logic kills me tpiitc ; 

A noisy man is always in the right. 

1 twirl my thumbs, fall Uuk into my chair. 

Fix on the wainscot a distivssful staiv. 

Aiul, wheal 1 liopo his blunders aro all out, 

Keply discrtwtJy, — " To be suiv — no donbt ! " 
William Cowi-ck. 



DUELLIXll. 

FROM "CONVKRSATION.* 

TuK iwint of honor has Iwn deonied of use, 
To teach g^wd nianiu'rs. and to curb abuse ; 
Admit it true, the consopteuee is clear. 
Our polislied manners at» a mask we wear. 



And, at Uie lH)ttoin, Iwrlwivus still and rude, 
We iut> ixwtraiiu'd, indeed, but not subdued. 
The very ivmedy, howi'ver suii<. 
Springs fivm the mischief it intends to euiv, 
.And savag<' in its luinciple appears. 
Tried, as il should be, by the fiuit it Wars. 
"T is hatxl. iudeiHl, if nothing will defend 
Mankind fi-vuii tpiarivis but their fatal and ; 
That now ami then a hciv must decease, 
: That the surviving world may live in jH'aeo. 

Verhaps at last close scrutiny may show 
I The practice dastaitlly and mean "and low ; 
That men eng!>g»' in il compelled by force, 
And fear, not courag<-, is its juvper sonivo ; 
The fear of tyrant custom, and tho fwir 
Lost fops should eensHiv ns, and fwls should 

smvr ; 
At least, to trample on our Maker's laws, 
.Vnd hi«ai\i life for any or no cause, 
To rush into a fixeil eternal slate 
0\\t of the very Itames of rage and hate, 
t^r send luiothor shivering to the Kir 
With all the guilt of such unnatural war, 
Whatever I'sc may nrgi\ or Honor plead, 
On Kciwson's voiilict is a mailman's deed. 
Am 1 to sot my life upon a Ihivw 
Hecause a Ivar is rude and suily 1 No, _ 
.\ nu>r!d, sensible, and wellbivd man 
Will not all'ivnt me ; and no other can. 
Weiv 1 empoweivd to ivgulate the lists. 
They should encounter with well-loaded fists ; 
A Ti-ojan comliat would be something new, 
Let />,i/v,< beat Knt.llii-s black and blue ; 
Then each might show, to his admiring friond-s 
In honorable bum|K< his rich amendss, 
.Vnd carry, in contusions of his skull, 
A satisfactory ivcoipt in full. 

WlLLUM COWPER. 



FAME. 



FROM "AN KSS.\V ON MAN." EPISTLE IV. 



What's fame.'— a fancied life in others' 
bivatli. 
.V thing beyond us. e'en befoiv our death, 
.lust what you hear, you have ; aud what's un- 
known 
The same (.my loi\l) if TuUy's, or your own. 
All tliat we find of it Ivgins and eiuls 
In the small ciivle of our foes or friends ; 
To all beside, as mtieh ai\ empty shade 
A Eugene living as a t>s<u- dead ; 
Alike or when or wlieiv they shone or shine, 
t">r on the liubicou, or on the Khine. 
.V wit 's a leather, and a chief a ivd ; 
.\n honest man 's the noblest work of tlml. 



I'UKMS ol'' SKNTIMKNT AM) 1! Kl I.K( TION. 



(Kl 



I 



Fittiiu hut rniiii ili'iilli II villuiii'H iiiiiiio cuii buvo, 
An jiiHtice toiiiH liiH liody rmrn tlii^ gritvci ; 
W'limi wliiil to oliliviiiii lii^llor wimc ii«igm!(l 
Ik Iium){ nil liif{li, to |ioiHoii liiiir iimiikilid. 

All IlllliU in iDIC-iK", lllll of tniu (IcKdllj 

I'lityH roiiiiil l\w liiwl, liiit coiiicH not to tliu liunrt 
Une «iirii]iprciviii({ hour whoh) yi'iirn outweighn 
Of ntii|iiil HtiirrfH iukI of louil huzziiH ; 
Ami iiiori! triK^ joy MiinnlluH rxilml fceU 
I hull Cii'iiur with ii Hciiutu ut IiIh IiiiIh. 

Al.llXAMJI'.U I'OI'K. 



KAiMK. 



IIkii linuHC IH nil of Kiilio iriiuln 

VVlicic iiitvi:!' ilii.'K the Hoiiiid ; 
Anil iw her hroWH tlm i:loiiiU iiiviiilc, 

llur (mi <lu litriko the k<«iiiiiI. 

ItllN JuNSON. 



PERSEVKllANCE. 

In fiicili^ iiatiiri'H fuiicicH ipiiikly k''""'> 
Dut MUiih i|uiik liiii(;i(!» huve hut littli; mot. 
Soon till! iiarciHKUH llowerH ami lUrH, hut nlow 
The tri'c wlnwi' hloummiH hIiiiII iiiiituri' to fruit. 
(inicc 18 a inoriii'iifH happy fniliiig, rowi-i- 
A life's hIow growth ; ami we for many an hour 
MuHt strain anil toil, ami wait ami weep, if wc 
The perfect fruit of all we are woulil Kcc. 

From the U«ll«n of I.EONAKDO DA VlNCl. 
Tran.liilliin of W. W. STORY. 



GREATNESS. 

FKOM •• AM IISSAV ON MA.N," IICISTLR IV. 

HoNoit anil shimn' from no conilitioii rise ; 
Ai:t well your part, there all the honor lien. 
Fortune in men had Home HUnill iliU'erenee maile, 
One IhiuntH in raj^H, one (lutt<!rH in hroi.ade ; 
The eohliler aproned, and the parnon gowned, 
The friar hooded, and the nionanh crowned. 
" What differ more (you cry) than crown and 

cowl ( " 
I 'II tell you, friend ; a wise man and a fool. 
You'll liiiil, if ome the nionareh aetn the monk 
Or, I'ohhicrdike, the jiantun will Ih: drunk, 
Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow ; 
The rent in all hut leather or prunella. 

8tuck o'er with titles, and hung round with 
Htrings, 
That thou mayxt he hy kings, or wlinres of kings ; 
lioust the pure lilood of an illiiKtrious race, 
In quiet flow from l.uereee to Luereie ; 
liut hy your fathers' worth if yours you rate, 
Count IDC those only who were good and great. 



; Oo ! If your- :ini nut hut ignohle hlood 
lias crept through seiiiindrelH ever since the lloud, 
(Jo I and pretend your family is young, 

, Nor own your fathers have heeii fools so long. 

I What can ennohle sots, or slaves, or cowards f 
Alas ! not all the blood of all the Howards. 

Who wickedly is wise, or madly brave. 
Is hut the more a fool, the more a knave. 
Who noble ends hy nohle means ohtuius, 
Or, failing, smiles in exile or in chains, 
I Like good Aurelius let him reign, or bleeil 
Like Socrates, that man is great indeed. 

ALIiXANUliK I'OrR. 

♦ — ■ 
KKA.SON A.N'l) I.N.STI.MT. 

I'KOM "AN liSHAV ON MAN," I'.I'ISTM'. MI, 

WllBTllKU with reiiKon or with instinct hhst, 
Know, all enjoy that ]ii)Werwhieli suits them best; 
To bliss alike hy that direction tend, 
And find the means |iroportioiied to their end. 
Say, where full instinct is the unerring guide. 
What jiope or council can they need beside '( 
Keasoii, however able, cool at test, 
(Jares not for service, or but serves when jirest, 
Stays till we call, and then not often near ; 
Mut honest instinct comes a volunteer, 
iSiire never to o'ershoot, but just to hit ; 
While still too wide or short is human wit, 
Sure by ijuick nature happiness to gain. 
Which heavier reason labiirs at in vain. 
This too serves always, ri'ason ni'ver long ; 
One must go right, the other may go wrong. 
Sec then the acting and comparing powers 
One ill their nature, which are two in ours ; 
And reason raise o'ltr instinct as you can. 
In this 'tis (iod directs, in that 'tis man. 

Who taught the nations of the held and wood 
To shun their poison and to choose their food '( 
I'leseient, the tides or tempests to withstand, 
IJuild on the wave, or arch beneath the sand ! 
Who nnule the spider parallels design, 
.Sure iw l)e Moivre, without rule or line 'I 
Who bid the stork, ('olumbus-like, explore 
I leavens not his own, and worlds unknown befoief 
Who calls the council, states the certain day, 
Who foniiH the phalanx, and ndio points the wayt 

AI.eXANOLk I'ul'li, 



SCANDAL. 

runu "'ItPISTLH TO I)K, AHIIUTHNOT." HRINf. THE " I'SO- 
UK'.UU To TIIK SATIHI'-fi," 

('UR8ED be the verse, how well Boc'cr it How, 
That t<!nils to make one worthy man my foe, 
<!ive virtue scandal, innocence a fear. 
Or from the »oft-oyed virgin steal a tear ! 



7S2 



rOK.MS (IF SKM'LMI:M' WD UKFI.KU'I'UIN. 



Hut lio who hvirts « hiumloss noi^liboi's poiieo, 

Insults lalU'ii wiu'tli, or bciuity in ilisUvss, 

Wlio lovi's a lie, liinio slaniliT helps about. 

Who wiitos a libol, or who co)iics out ; 

That loll whose lu-ide all'eets a (latron's name, 

Yet absent wounds an a\ithor's honest t'anio ; 

Who oan your merit sellishly approve, 

Ami sluiw the sense of it without the love ; 

Who has the vanity to eall you IVieiul, 

Yet wants the honor, injured, to defend ; 

Wlio tells whate'er you think, whate'er you 

say. 
And, if he lie not, must at least betray ; 
Who to the Dean ami silver bell ean swear. 
And sees at (.'anons what was never tlieiv ; 
Who reads but with a lust to misapply, 
Jlake satire a lampoon, and lietion lie ; 
A lash like mine no honest man shall dread. 
But all such babbling blockheads in his stead. 

ALEXANDbK VOfli, 



HUMANITY. 

FROM "TUB WINTKR WALK AT NOON :" 
" rHli TASK," BOOK VI. 

I \voii.n not enter on my list of friends 
(Though graced with polished nmuncrs and tine 

sense, 
Yet wanting sensibility) the man 
Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm. 
An inadvertent step nniy crush the snail 
That crawls at evening in the public path ; 
But he that has hunumity, forewarned, 
Will tread aside, and let the reptile live. 
Tlu' creeping vermin, loathsome to the sight, 
.\nd charged perhaps with venom, that intrudes, 
.\ visitor unwelconu', into scenes 
Sacred to neatness and rejaise, the alcove. 
The chamber, or rofectory, may die ; 
.\ necessary act incurs no blame. 
Not so when, held within their proper bounds. 
And guiltless of ollVnce, they range the air, 
0\- take their pastime in tite spacious licld : 
There they an' jirivileged ; and he that hunts 
Or harms them there is guilty of a wrong, 
Disturbs the economy of Nature's realm. 
Who, when she formed, designed them an abode. 
The sum is this : If man's convenience, health, 
( ir safety interfere, his rights and claims 
.\re paramount, and must extinguish theirs. 
Klsp they are all — the meanest things that are — 
As free to live, and to enjoy that life. 
As liod was free to form them at the lli-st, 
Who in his sovereign wisdom made them all. 
Y'e, therefore, who love mercy, teai-h your sons 
To love it too. 

WlI.l.lAM COWCER. 



OF CRUELTY TO ANIMALS, 

FROM " PROVBRDIAL PllU.OSOPlIV." 

Sm.\me upiui thee, savage mouarch-num, proud 

monopolist of reason ; 
Shume upon creation's lonl, the fierce ensan- 
guined despot : 
What, man ! are there not enough, hunger and 

diseases and fatigue, — 
And yet must thy goad or thy thong add anothci' 

sorrow to existence ? 
What ! art thou not content thy sin hath dragged 

ilown sull'cring and death 
thi the poor dumb servants of thy comfort, and 

yet nnist thou rack them with thy siiite / 
The prokligal heir of creation hath gambled awav 

hi.s'all, — 
Shall he add torment to the bondage that is 

galling his forfeit serfs ? 
The leader in nature's pa'an hini.sclf hath marred 

her psaltery, — 
Shall he multiply the din of discord by over- 
straining all the strings .' 
The rebel hath fortilicd his stronghold, shutting 

in his vassals with him, — 
Shall he aggravate the woes of the besieged by 

oppression from within > 
Thou twice-deformed image of thy Maker, thou 

hateful rcprcsentjitive of Love, 
For very shame be merciful, be kind unto the 

creatures thon luust ruined ! 
Earth and her million tribes are cursed for thy 

sake. 
Earth and her milliou tribes slill writhe beneath 

thy cruelty : 
Liveth there but one among the million that shall 

not bear witness against thee, 
A pensioner of land or air or sea that hath not 

whereof it will accuse thee ? 
From the elephant toiling at a launch, to the 

shrew-mouse in the harvest-ticM, 
From the whale which the harpooner hath 

stricken, to the minnow caught upon a pin. 
From the albatross wearied in its (light, to the 

wren in her covered nest, 
From the death-moth and lace-winged dragon -lly 

to the huly-binl and the gmit, 
The verdict of all things is uuanimon.s, finding 

their master cruel : 
The dog, thy humble friend, thy trusting, honest 

friend ; 
The ass, thine uncomplaining slave, drudging 

from morn till even ; 
The lamb, and the timorous hare, and the laboring 

ox at plough ; 
The speckled trout basking in the shallow, and 

the partriilge gleaming in the stubWc, 



l'(Ji;.\lS or SENTIMENT ANU REFLECTION. 



783 



AuJ tlio staR at Imy, and tin- worm in tliy path, 
and tin: wild bird iiiiiiiig in laiitivity, 

And all lliiiigs that niinisli.-r alike to thy liiu and 
thy conil'urt and thy pridi;, 

Testify with one sad voice that man is a cruel 
master. _ 

MARTIN nAKQUHAR TUPPER. 



PLKA FOR THE ANIMALS. 

PROM "THE SEASONS I SPRING." 

Ensanguined man 
Is now become the lion of the [ilain, 
And worse. The wolf, who from the nightly fold 
Fierce drags the bleating prey, ne'er drunk her 

milk, 
Nor wore her warming fleece ; nor has the 9te('r, 
At whose strong chest the deadly tiger hangs, 
E'er ploughed for him. They too are tempered 

high, 
AVith hunger stung and wild necessity ; 
Nor lodges pity in their shaggy breast. 
Hut man, whom nature formed of milder clay, 
With every kind emotion in his heart, 
And taught alone to weep, — while from her lap 
She jiours ten thousand delicacies, herbs. 
And fniits as numerous as the dro|>s of rain 
Or Iteams that gave them birth, — shall he, fair 

form ! 
Who wears sweet smiles, and looks erect on 

heaven. 
E'er stoop to mingle with the prowling herd. 
And dip his tongue in gore ? The beast of prey. 
Blood-stained, deserves to bleed ; but you, ye 

Hocks, 
What have ye done ? ye peaceful people, what. 
To merit death >. you who have given us milk 
In lu8(,ious streams, and lent us your own coat 
Against the winter's cold ? And the jdain ox. 
That hannless, honest, guileless animal. 
In what has he olfended ! he whose toil, 
I'atient and ever-ready, clothes the land 
With all the i>omp of harvest, — shall he bleed, 
And struggling groan beneath the cruel hand. 
Even of the clown he feeds ? and that, perhaps. 
To swell the riot of the autumnal feast. 
Won by his labor ? 



JAMI^ THOMSON. 



QUACK MEUICINE.S. 

PROM "THE BOROUGH." 



Void of aii honor, avaricious, lai^h, 
The daring tribe conipuund their Iwasted trash, — 
Tincture or syrup, lotion, drop or pill ; 
All tempt the sick to trust tlie lying bill ; 
And twenty names of cobblers turned to squires 
Aid the bold language of these blushless liars. 
There are among them thosi: who cannot read. 
And yet they '11 buy a patent, and succeed ; 
Will dare to promi.se dying sullerers aid, 
For who, when dead, can threaten or upbraid ? 
With cruel avarice still they recommend 
Jlore draughts, more syrup, to the journey's end. 
" 1 feel it not." "Then take it every hour." 
" It makes me worse." " Why, then it shows 

its i)Ower." 
" I fear to die." " Let not your spirits sink. 
You're always safe while you believe and drink." 

Troubled with something in your bile or blood, 
You think your doctor does you little good ; 
And, grown impatient, you re(iuire in h.aste 
The nervous cordial, nor dislike the taste ; 
It comforts, heals, and strengthens ; nay, you 
think 
I It makes you better every time you lirink ; 
I Who tipples brandy will some comfort feel, 
1 But will he to the medicine .set his seal ? 

No class escapes them — from the i>oor man's p»y 
The nostrum takes no trilling part away ; 
See ! those sciuare jiatent bottles from the shop 
Now decoration to the cupboard's top ; 
And there a favorite hoard you '11 find within, 
Companions meet ! the julep and the gin. 

Observe what ills to nervous females How, 
When the heart llutters and the puUe is low ; 
If once induced these cordial sips to try. 
All feel the ease, and few the danger Hy ; 
For, while obtained, of drams they've all the 

force. 
And when denied, then drams are the resource. 

Who would not lend a .sympathizing sigh, 
To hear yon infant's pity-moving cry '! 
Then the good nurse; (who, had sjie Vx>rne a brain, 
Had sought the cause that made her babe com- 
plain) 
Has all her efforts, loving soul ! ap])lied 
To set the cry, and not the cause, aside ; 
She gave her (wwerful sweet without remorse. 
The sleeping cordial, — she had tried its force, 
Repeating oft ; the infant, freed from pain. 
Rejected food, but took the ilose 



Me nose agam, 
Bnx now our Quacks are gamesters, and they sinking to sleep, while she h<'r ji>y 

play That her dear charge could sweetly take his rest. 

With craft and skill to niin and betray ; go^n n,ay she spare her cordial ; not a doubt 

With monstrous promise they delude the mind. Remains but iiuieklv he will rest without. 
And thrive on all that tortures human-kind. I " ceorce crabbi!. 



7S4 



POEMS OF SKNTIMENT AND REFLECTION. 



TO Tllli UNCO OUID. 

My soil, thc^c maxims ninkc it rule 

Ami lump tliclii aye tllct:ltlicr i 
The KiKUl Ki};l)Icuus is a fi>ol. 

The Rli;UI Wise anllher i 
The cleanest com ihat e'er was ilijjht 

May liae some pyles o' cull' in ; 
Sae ne'er a fcIloW'Creulurc sli);ht 

For ruinlom tits o' itallin. 

SOLOMON, EctUs. vii. 16. 

Yr. wha ftiv siio jjiiiil yoursel', 

Sao [liims iiiul sue Imlv, 
Yi> 'vo fiouglit to ilo l>iit murk ami tell 

Your lu'i'lior's faiits ami lolly : — 
Wliasi' lit'o is liko a wi'i'l-giimi mill, 

Suiiiilii'il \vi' stoiv o' wiiti'v, 
Tim hfaju't liappor's obbiiig still, 

Ami still the clap jihiys dattw. 

Henr 1110, ye vouorable corp, 

As eoinisol ftir jioor niortals, 
That IreinU'iit pass donee Wisilom's door. 

For fjlaikit Folly's portals ! 
1, lor tlieir thoughtless, eaivless sakes. 

Would here propone tlel'enees, 
Tlfrir doiisie trieks, their blaek mistakes. 

Their tailings ami niisehanees. 

Ye see your stnte wi' theii's oompared. 

And shudder at the nitl'er ; 
Hut east a moment's fair ivganl, 

What maks the mighty ilill'er ? 
lliseount what seant oeeiisioii gave 

That purity ye priile in. 
And (what 's iifl iiuvir than a' the lave) 

Y'our better oi't 0' hidin'. 

Think, when your castigated pulse 

Gies now and then a wallop. 
What nigings must his veins eonvulso, 

That still eternal gallop : 
Wi' wind and tide fair i' your tail, 

Hight on ye send your sea-way ; 
l?ut in the teeth 0' baith to sail, 

It nnvkes an uneo leeway. 

See Social life antl Olee sit down. 

All joyous and untliinking. 
Till, ipiite Irausmugrilied, they 'i-e gro\vii 

Oebauehery and Drinking : 
0, wotild they stay to ealeulate 

The eternal eousenuenees ; 
Or your moi-e ilreaded hell to stati?, 

Daranntiou of expenses ! 

Ye high, exalted, virtuous dames, 

Tied up in godly laces, 
before ye gie poor Frailty names, 

Suppose a change o' cases ; 



A dear-loved hul, tonvonieuce snug, 

A treacherous inclination, — 
Hut, let me whisper i' your hig. 

Ye 're uiblins nae teiuptiition. 

Then gently scan your bivtlier man. 

Still gentler sister woman ; 
Though they may gang a keiinin' wrang. 

To step aside is human. 
One point nnist still be greatly ilark, 

The moving why they ilo it ; 
Ami just as lamely can ye mark 

How far perhaps tlicy rne it. 

Who made tlie heart, 't is He alone 

lleciiledly can try us ; 
He knows each chonl, — its various tone, 

F.ach spring, — its various bias : 
Then at the balance let 's Iv mute. 

We never can atljust it ; 
What's done we partly may compute, 

But know not what 's resisted. 

ROBERT UURN& 



.lUDGE NOT. 

.U'lHJE not ; the workings of his brain 
And of his heart thou canst not see ; 

What looks to tliy dim eyes a stain, 
In CJod's pure light may only bo 

A scar, bronglit from some well-won lielil. 

Where thou wouldst onlv faint and vield. 



The look, the air, that frets thy sight 

iMay be a token that below 
The soul luis closeil in deaiUy light 

With some infernal fiery foe, 
Whose glance would scorch thy smiling grace, 
And ca.st thee slimldering on thy face ! 

The fall thou darest to despise, — 
Jlay be the angel's shickencil hand 

Has sutVered it, tliat he nniy rise 
And take a lirmer, snivr stnmi ; 

Or, trusting less to earthly things. 

May hencelVirth learn to use his wings. 

And judge none lost ; but wait and see. 

With hopeful pity, not disdain ; 
The tleiitli of the abyss may be 

Tlie nu'asun> of the lieiglit of pain 
And love and glory that nuiy raiso 
Tills soul to God in after days ! 

AUEi-AiDs Annb Procter. 



POEMS OP SENTIMENT AND KKKLECTKjN. 



7H5 



W ALLEfiUO. 

Hence, loatlifU Mclaiiulioly, 

Of t\Tl)erus mill liliu:kutit Midnight born, 

In StVKi"" c"ve forloni, 
'MongHt liorrid itliupeii, uud Hliricks, and siglitH 
iinlioly I 

Find out Honic uncouth cell, 
Wlicri; brooding L)aikn«»» BpreadH his jealous 

wingH, 
And the night-raven singH ; 
There undirr cKm HhadcB, and low-browed rockH, 
Ah mggi'd an thy lockn, 

In <hirk (iniriierian dcBert ever dwell, 
liut I'lmie, thou goddcwi fair and free, 
In heaven yili-|ied Euphrosyne, 
And, tiy nii^n, heart-easing Mirth ; 
Whom lovely Venus, at a birth. 
With two sister (Jraces more. 
To ivy-i:rowni:d liacehus boft) ; 
Or whether (as some sager sing) 
The frolic wind that breathes the spring, 
Zephyr, with Aurora playing, — 
As he met her onie a-Maying, — 
There, on tjcils of violets blue 
And fresh-blown roses washed in dew. 
Killed her with thee, a (hiught<-r fair. 
So buxom, blithe, and debonair. 

Haste tliee, nymph, and bring with thee 
list, and youthful .Jollity, — 
' 'uijis and cranks and wanton wiles, 
• oils and Iweks and wreatheil smiles, 
Such as hang on Hclxj's cheek. 
And love to live in iliniple sleek, — 
8|K)rt, that wrinkled < are derides. 
And I>aughter, holding both hix sides. 

< 'ome ! anil trip it, as you go, 

< In the light fantastic toe ; 

And in thy right hand leiul witli thee 
Tlie mountain nymph, sweet Liberty ; 
And if 1 give thee honor due. 
Mirth, admit me of thy crew. 
To live with her, and live with thee, 
In unreprovi;d pleasures free, — 
To hear the lark Ix'gin his (light. 
And singing startle the dull Night, 
From his wateh-towcr in the skies, 
Till the dappled dawn doth rise ; 
Then U) come, in spite of sorrow, 
.\nd at my window bid good morrow. 
Through the sweet-brier, or the vine, 
Or tlie twist<;d eglantine ; 
While the cock with lively din 
Scatters the n-ar of darkness thin. 
And to the stack, or tlie barn door. 
Stoutly struts his dames before ; 
Oft listening bow the hounds and hom 



Chcerly rouse the slumbering Morn, 
From the side of some hoar hill 
Through tlie high wood echoing shrill ; 
.Sometime walking, not unseen, 
I'y hedgerow elms, on hillocks green, 
Itight against the eastiM-n gate. 
Where the great .Sun Vjegius his stat<!, 
Uobi'd in flames, and amber light. 
The clouds in thousand liveries dight ; 
While the [iloughman, near at Iiand, 
Whistles o'er the furrowed land. 
And the milkmaid singeth blithe, 
And the mower whets liis scythe. 
And every shepherd tells his tale 
L'lider the hawthorn in the dale. 

Straight mine eye hath caught new plea.sure^ 

Whilst the landscape round it measures 

KuHset lawns, and fallows gray, 

Where the nibbling lloi-ks do stray, — 

.Mountains, on whose barren breast 

The laboring clouds do often rest, — 

Meadows trim witli daisies pied, 

.Shallow brooks, and rivers wide. 

Towers and battlements it sees 

liosonied high in tufted trees, 

Where perhaiis sonic beauty lies. 

The cynosure of neighboring eyes. 

Hard by, a cottage chimney smokee 

From betwixt two aged oaks, 

Wlierc Corydon and Thyrsis, met. 

Are at their savory dinner set 

Of herVis, and other country messes, 

Which the neat-handed I'hillis dresses : 

And then in baste her liower she leaves.. 

With Thcstylis to bind the sheaves ; 

Or, if the earlier 8ea.son lead, 

To the tanned haycock in the mead. 

Sometimes with secure delight 

The upland hamlets will invite. 

When the meiTy bells ring round, 

And the jocund rebecks sound 

To many a youth and many a maid. 

Dancing in the checkered shade ; 

And young and old come forth to play 

On a sunshine holiday, 

Till the livelong daylight fail ; 

Then to the sjiicy nut-brown ale 

With stories told of many a feat : 

How fairy Mab the junkets cat, — 

.She was |iinched and pulled, she said. 

And he, by friar's lantern led ; 

Tells how the drudging goblin sweat 

To earn his ereani-bowl duly set. 

When in one night, ere glimpse of morn. 

His sha<lowy flail had thrashed the corn 

That ten day-laborers could not end ; 

Then lies him down the lubber fiend. 



rst; 



roKMS OK SKN'l'IMl'lNr AMI UKFLKl'I'lOX, 



Ami, stivteluHi*ut iiU the cliimiiey's length, 
Hivsks lit the lire his Imii'v strength. 
Ami, eiMii-fuU, out of ilooi-s he lliiigs 
F.ie tlie lirst eoek his iiiiitiu lings. 
Tluis dune the tales, to heil they civei>. 
By whispering winds soon lulled iisleep. 

Towered eities (dense us then, 

And the busy hum of men, 

Wheiv throngs of knights and barons bold 

In weeds of peaee high triunii>hs hold, — 

With store of Indies, whose liiight eyes 

lv;dn intUuMiee, and judge the prize 

Of wit or arms, while both contend 

To win her gniee whom nil eoniniend. 

There let Hymen oft aiipeiir 

III salVron robe, with taper elear, 

And pomp and feast and revelry, 

With niasnue, and antiipie iwgenntry, — 

Sueli sights as youthful poets dream 

t^n sumnuT eves by haunted stream ; 

Then to the well-trod stage anon. 

If .Tonson's learnt'd soek be on. 

Or sweetest Sliakespeare, Fancy's child, 

^Varble his native wood-notes wild. 

And ever, against eating cures, 

Lap nie in soft Lydian ail's. 

Married to immortal verse, — 

Svuh as the meeting soul nniy pierce. 

In notes with nnuiy a win<ling bout 

Of linked sweetness long drawn out, 

With wanton heed and giddy cunning 

The melting voice through mazes running, 

I'ntwisting all the chains that tie 

The hidden soul of harmony, — 

That Orpheus' self may heave his head 

From golden slumber on a bed 

Of heaped Elysian How-el's, and hear 

Siu'h strains as would have won the ear 

Of IMuto, to have ipiite set five 

His half-R-gjiined Eurydice. 

These delights if thou canst give, 
.Mirth, with thee 1 nu';in to live. 



IL rENSKKOSO. 

Hence, vain deluding joys. 

The brood of Folly witlunit fathei bred 1 

How little you bestead. 
Or till the lixcd mind with all your toys ! 

Pwell in some idle brain. 
And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess, 
As thick and innnberless 
.\s the gay motes that jieople the sunlienms, — 
Or likest hovering divams, 

The tickle ponsioneis of Jlorpheus," train. 



lint hail, thou goddess, sage aad holy ! 

Hail, divinest .Melancholy ! 

Whose saintly visage is too bright 

To hit the sense of human sight, 

.Vnd theivfore, to our weaker view, 

O'erlaiil with black, stjud Wi.-idnm's hue, — 

lUaek, but such as in esteem 

I'l'ince Memnon's .sister might beseem, 

Or that starred Ethiop nucen that strovo 

To set her beauty's praise above 

The Sea-Nymphs, and their powers olfcnded. 

Vet thou art higher far descended ; 

Thee bright-haired Vesta, long of yore, 

To solitary Saturn biu'e, . — 

His daughter she (in Saturn's reign 

Such nii.xture was not held a stain). 

Oft in glimmering bowers ami glades 

He met her, and in secret shades 

Of wooily Ida's innn>st grove, 

Wldlc yet there was no fear of , love. 

Conu', pensive nun, devout and pure. 

Sober, steadfast, and demuiv. 

All in a robe of darkest grain 

Flowing with naijestic train. 

And sal>le stoh^ of cyprus-lawn 

Over thy decent shoulders diawn. 

Oonu', but keep thy wonted state, 

With even .stc]), and musing gait, 

And looks commercing with the .skies. 

Thy rapt soid sitting in thine eyes ; 

There held in holy passion still, 

Forget thy.self to nnirble, till 

With a sad, leaden, ilownward east 

Thou lix them on the earth as fast ; 

And join with thee calm Peace, and Quiet, — 

Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet, 

And hears the .Muses in a ring 

Aye round alwut Jove's altar sing ; 

And add to tlie.se retired Leisure, 

That in trim giirdens takes his pleasure ; 

l!ut liixt and chiefest, with thee bring 

llin: that yon soars on golden wing, 

Ouiding the liery-wheeled throne, — 

The ehernli t'ontemplation ; 

And the mute Silence hist along, 

'Less Vhilomel will deign a song 

In hei sweetest, .saddest plight. 

Smoothing the rugged brow of Night, 

While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke 

Gently o'er the accustomed oak. 

Sweet bird, that shun'st the noise of folly, — 

Most musical, most melancholy I 

Thee, chantress, oft, the woods among, 

1 woo, to hear thy even-song. 

And, missing thee, I walk unseen 

l1n the dry, smooth-shaven green. 



I'OKMS OK SENTIMENT AND KEFLECTIOX. 



787 



To bi'liolil till- ttttiiduring moon 

l<i<Iiii;{ iic^r lior liiglictxt noon, 

I, ike one tijut liml Ih'imi I<mI iiHlmy 

Tlirougli till! lic-iivcn'B wiilc |wtlilfsn way ; 

Aii'l oft, ns if liei' huiul sin: tioweil. 

Stooping tliioHf{li » llet'cy cloud. 

Oft, on a pint of rising grouml, 

I lii'iir (he far-olf luifew sound 

OviT sonii- widi'WntiTccl slion;, 

Swinging slow with sullen roar ; 

Or if till' air will not permit, 

S.>nii' still riniovcd jilaci: will fit, 

Where glowing einljer's through the room 

Teach light to counterfeit a gloom, — 

Far from all resort of mirth. 

Save the cricket on the hearth, 

Or the liellman'H drowsy charm. 

To hless the iloors from nightly harm ; 

<»r let my lamp at midnight hour 

Be seen in sOme high lonely towi^r. 

Where I may oft out-watch the I'ear 

With thrice-great Hermes, or unsi)hero 

The spirit of riato, to unfold 

What worhls or what vast regions hold 

The immortal minil that hath forsook 

Her mansion in this fleshly nook ; 

And of those demons that are found 

In lire, air, Hood, or under ground, 

Whose |>ower liatli a true consent 

With phinet or with element. 

.Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy 

In sceptred pall come sweeping hy. 

Presenting Thelies, or I'elops' line, 

Or the tale of Troy divine. 

Or what (though rare) of later age 

Ennohleil hath the buskined Btage. 

But, O sad Virgin, that thy power 

Might raise Musa-us from his hower I 

Or hid the soul of <Jrpheu» sing 

Such notes as, warlileil to the string. 

Drew iron tears down I'luto's cheek, 

And made hell grant what love did seek I 

Or call up him that left half told 

The sto!"y of ' 'ambuscau Ixjid, — 

(>( <'aml>al1, and of Algarsife, — 

And who had Canaie to wife, 

That owneil the virtuous ring and glass, — 

.\nd of the wonilrous horse of brass, 

On which the Tartar king <lid ride I 

And, if aught els<- great Ifflids Iwside 

In sage and solemn tunes have sung, — 

Of tourneys anil of trophies hung. 

Of forests, ami enchantments drear. 

Where more is meant than meets the car. 

Thiu, Night, oft see me in thy |)ale career, 
Till civil-»uit<'d Mom appear, — 



Not tricked and frounced, as she was wont 

With the Attic boy to hunt. 

But keichicfed in a comely cloud, 

Whili' rocking winds are piping loud. 

Or ushered with a shower still 

When the gust halli blown his (ill, 

Kriding tin the rustling leaves, 

With minute drops from oil the caves. 

And when the sun begins to fling 

His llaring taims, me, goddess, bring 

To arched walks of twilight groves. 

And shadows blown, that Sylvan loves, 

Of pine, or monumeiitul oak. 

When- the rude axe with hcaveil stroke 

Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt. 

Or fright them from their hallowed liaunt. 

There in c'lose I'ovcrt by some brook, 

Where no profaner eye m.ay look, 

Hi<lc me from day's garish eye, 

While the bee with honeyed thigh. 

That at her tlowery work doth sing. 

And the watera murmuring 

With such consort as they keep, 

Eiitic;e the dewy-featherid .Sleep ; 

And let some strange mysterious dream 

Wave at Ills wings, in airy stream 

01' lively portraiture dispkyed, 

Softly on my cyeliils laiil ; 

And, as I wake, sweet music breathe 

Above, about, or underneath. 

Sent by some Spirit to mortals good, 

Or the unseen Genius of the wood. 

But let my due fiet never fail 

To walk the studious cloisters pale. 

And love the high cmbowed roof. 

With antic pillars massy proof, 

And storied windows, richly dight, 

Casting n dim religious light. 

There let the pealing organ blow 

To the full-voiced quire Ix-low, 

In service high and anthems clear. 

As may with sweetness, through mine ear. 

Dissolve me into ecstasies. 

And bring all heaven before mine eyes. 

And may at last my w€?ary age 
Find out the [sjaceful hermitage. 
The hairy gown and mossy cell, 
Where I may sit and rightly spell 
Of every star that heaven doth shew. 
And ever)' herb that sips the dew, 
Till old experience do attain 
To something like prophetic strain. 

These ple.isures. Melancholy, give, 
And I with thee will choose to live. 



788 



POEMS OF SENTIMENT AND REFLECTION. 



HALLOWED GROUND. 

What 's hallowed ground ? Has earth a clod 
Its Maker meant not should be trod 
By man, the image of his God, 

Erect and free, 
Unscourged by Superstition's rod 

To bow the knee ? 

That 's hallowed ground where, mourned and 

missed, 
The lips repose our love has kissed ; — 
But where 's their memory's mansion ? Is 't 

Yon churchyard's bowers ? 
No ! in ourselves their souls exist, 

A part ■■ ours. 

A kiss can consecrate the ground 
Where mated hearts are mutual bound ; 
The spot where love's first links were wound, 

That ne'er are riven. 
Is hallowed down to earth's profound, 

And up to heaven ! 

For time makes all but true love old ; 
The burning thoughts that then were told 
Run molten still in memoiy's mould ; 

And will not cool 
Until the heart itself be cold 

In Lethe's pool. 

What hallows ground where heroes sleep ? 
'T is not the sculptured piles you heap ! 
In dews that heavens far distant weep 

Their turf may bloom ; 
Or Genii twine beneath the deep 

Their coral tomb. 

But strew his ashes to the wind 

Whose sword or voice has .served mankind, — 

And is he dead, whose glorious mind 

Lifts thine on high ? — 
To live in hearts we leave behind 

Is not to die. 

Is 't death to fall for Freedom's right ? 
He 's dead alone tbit lacks her light ! 
And murder sullies in he.aven's sight 

The sword he draws : — 
What can alone ennoble fight 1 

A noble cause ! 

Give that, — and welcome War to brace 
Her drums, and rend heaven's reeking space ! 
The colors planted face to face. 

The charging cheer, 
Though Death's pale horse lead on the chase. 

Shall still be dear. 



And place our trophies where men kneel 
To Heaven ! — but Heaven rebukes my zeal ! 
The cause of Truth and human weal, 

God above ! 
Transfer it from the sword's appeal 

To Peace and Love. 

Peace, Love ! the clierubim, that join 
Their spread wings o'er Devotion's shrine. 
Prayers sound in vain, and temples shine, 

Wiere they are not, — 
The heart alone can make divine 

Religion's spot. 

To incantations dost thou trust. 
And pompous rites in domes august ? 
See mouldering stones and metal's rust 

Belie the vaunt. 
That man can bless one pile of dust 

With chime or chant. 

The ticking wood-worm mocks thee, man ! 
Tliy temples, — creeds themselves grow wan • 
But there 's a dome of nobler span, 

A temple given 
Thy faith, that bigots dare not ban, — 

Its space is heaven ! 

Its roof, star-pictured Nature's ceiling. 
Where, trancing the rapt spirit's feeling, 
And God himself to man revealing, 

The harmonious spheres 
Make music, though unheard their pealing 

By mortal ears. 

Fair stars ! are not your beings pure ? 
Can sin, can death, your worlds obscure ? 
Else why so swell the thoughts at your 

Aspect above ? 
Ye must be heavens that make us sure 

Of heavenly love ! 

And in your haimony sublime 
1 read the doom of distant time ; 
That man's regenerate soul from crime 

Shall yet be drawn, 
And reason on his mortal clime 

Immortal dawn. 

What 's hallowed ground ? 'T is what gives birth 
To sacred thoughts in isouls of worth ! — 
Peace ! Independence ! Truth ! go forth 

Earth's compass round ; 
And your high-priesthood shall make earth 

All hallcnccd ground. 

THOMAS CAMPBEtX- 



POEMS OF SENTIMENT AND REFLECTION. 



789 



FLOWEKS WITHOUT FKUIT. 

Pritnk tliou tliy words ; the thoughts control 
That o'er theo swell ami throng ; — 

They will condense within thy soul, 
And change to imrpose strong. 

Hut he who lets liis feelings run 

In .soft luxurious llow, 
Shrinks when hard service must he (lone, 

And faints at every woe. 

Faith's meanest deed more favor bears, 
Where hearts and wills are weighed, 

Than brightest transijorts, choicest prayers, 
Which hlonin their hour, and fade. 

JOHN HK.NRV NEW.\IA.*J. 



REVENGE OF INJURIES. 

PROM "MARIA-M." 

',TiiE fairest action of our human life 

Is scorning to revenge an injury : 
For who forgives without a further strife 

His advei-sary's heart to him dotli tie : 
And 't is a tinner coniiuest truly said 
To win the heart than overthrow the head. 

If we a worthy enemy do find. 

To yield to worth, it must be nobly done ; 
But if of baser metal be his mind. 

In base revenge there is no honor won. 
■Who would a worthy courage overthrow ! 
And who would wrestle with a worthless foe ! 

Vi'e say our hearts are great, a.id cannot yield ; 

Because they cannot yield, it proves them poor : 
Great hearts are ta.sked beyond their power but 
seld : 

The weakest lion will the loudest roar. 
Truth's school for certain does this same allow, 
High-heartedness doth sometimes teach to bow. 

LADY ELIZABETH CAREW. 



A TEAR. 

O THAT the chemist's magic art 

Could crystallize this sacred treasure ! 

Long should it glitter near my heart, 
A secret source of pensive pleasure. 

Tlie little brilliant, ere it fell. 

Its lustre caught from Cliloe's eye ; 

Then, trembling, left its coral cell, — 
The spring of Sensibility ! 



.Sweet drop of pure and pearly light ! 

In thee the rays of Virtue shine. 
More calndy clear, more mildly bright, 

Than any gem that gilds the mine. 

iienign restorer of the soul ! 

Who ever lliest to bring relief. 
When first we feel the rude control 

Of Love or Pity, Joy or Grief. 

The sage's and the poet's theme. 

In every elime, in every age. 
Thou charm'st in Fancy's idle dream. 

In Reason's philosophic page. 

That very law which moulds a tear. 
And bids it trickle from its source, — 

That law presei-ves the earth a sphere. 
And guides the planets in their course. 

SAMUEL Rogers, 



MIGNON'S SONG. 

PROM "WILHELM MEISTER." 

Know'st thou the land where bloom the citron 

bowers, 
Where the gold-orange lights the dusky gi'ove ? 
High waves the laurel there, the myrtle llowers. 
And through a still blue heaven the sweet w'inds 

rove. 
Know'st thou it well ? 

There, there with thee, 
friend, loved one ! fain my steps would flee. 

Know'st thou the dwelling ? — there the pillars 

rise, 
Soft shines the hall, the painted chambers glow ; 
And fonns of marble seem with pitying eyes 
To say, " Poor child ! what thus hath wrought 

thee woe ? " 
Know'st thou it well ? 

There, there with thee, 
my protector ! homewards might I ilee ! 

Know'st thou the mountain ? — high its bridge 

is hung. 
Where the mule seeks thron^'h mist and cloud 

his w.iy ; 
There lurk the dragon-race, deep caves among. 
O'er beetling rocks there foams the torrent spray. 
Know'st thou it well ? 

With thee, with thee. 
There lies my path, father ! let us flee I 

From the German of GOETHB. Trans* 

Liiion of Felicia Hrmans. 



790 



POEMS OK SENTI.MIO.NT AM) KKFLEmON. 



TUK OLU MAID. 

Why sits she thus in solidulc ! llor heart 

Seems melting in hci' eves' ilelieioiis blue ; 
And as it heaves, lior ripe lijw lie niwrt, 

As if to let its heavy thrubhings through ; 
In her dark eye a dejith ol" softness swells, 

Deeper tlian that her eareless girlhood woi-e ; 
Ami her eheek erimsous with the hue that tells 

The rieh, fair fruit is ripened to the eore. 

It is Iht thirtieth birthday ! M'ith a sigh 

Her soul hath turned from youth's luxuriant 
liowers, 
Ami her heart taken up the last sweet tie 

That measured out its links of golden hours ! 
She feels lier inmost soul within her stir 

With thoughts too wild and passionate to 
speak ; 
Yet her full heart — its own interpretej- — 

Translates itself in silence on her cheek. 

Joy's opening buds, all'eetion's glowing flowers, 

Onee lightly sprang within her beanTing track ; 
0, lite was beautiful in those lost hours, 
^ And yet she does not wish to wander back ! 
No ! she but loves in loneliness to think 

On pleasures past, though nevermore to be ; 
Hope links her to the future, —but the link 
That binds her to the past is memory. 

Amelia b. Welbv. 



LOVE ACiAlXST l.tiVE. 

As unto blowing roses summer dews, 

tir morning's amlx-r to the tree-top choirs, 

So to my bosom are the beams that use 

To i-ain on me from eyes that love inspires. 

Vonr love, — vouchsafe it, royal-hearted Few, 

And I will set no common jiiiee thereon ; 

O, I will keep, lus heaven his holy blue, 

<1r night her diamonds, that dear treasure won. 

Hut aught of inward faitli must I forego. 

Of miss one drop from truth's baptismal hand. 

Think poorer thought*,, pray cheaper pravers, 

and grow 
Less worthy trust, to meet your heart's demand, — 
Farewell ! Your wish I for your sake deny : ' 
Uebol to love, in truth to love, am I. 

I>\vin A. Wasson. 



I But when I see how frail those creatures are 

I I muse that men forget tliemselves so far. 

To mark the choice they nnike, and how thev 

change, 
How oft from I'lnebus thev do flee to Fan • 
I'nsettled still, like haggards wild thev ran'^e 
Ihese gentle birds tlu.t tly from num to man • 
\\ ho would not scorn and shake tlieni from the 

list. 
And let them lly, fair fools, which way they list ? 

'V'et for disport we fawn and llatte.- both. 
To pass the time when nothing el.se ean please 
And tmin them to our lure with subtle oath 
Tdl, weary of their wiles, ourselves we ease •' 
And then we say when we their fancy trv 
To play with fools, 0, what a fool was iV 

EDWARD VERB. EAKL OF OXfORO. 



FAITH. 

Betteu trust all and be deceived. 
And wee], that trust and that deceiving, 
Than doubt one heart that, if believed,"' 
Had blessed one's life witli true believing. 

O, in this mocking world too fast 

The doubting tiend overtakes our youth • 

Better be cheated to the last 

Than lose the blessed hope of truth. 

FRANCES A.\NE KE.MBLE BCTLEK. 



THE SUM OF LIFE. 



FROM -rUE C.ARDEN" 



"THE TASK." BOOK VI, 



A RENUNCIATION. 

If women could be fair, and yet not fond, 
Or that their love wei'e firm, "not fickle still, 
1 would not marvel that they make men lio'ud 
By serTice long to purchase their good-will ; 



I WAS a stricken deer, that left the hen! 
Long since ; with many an arrow deep infi.ved 
My panting side was charged, when I withdrew, 
To seek a tranquil death in distant shades. 
There was 1 found by one who had himself 
l!een liurt by the archers. In his side he bore, 
And in his hands and feet, the cruel scai-s. 
With gentle force .soliciting the dart.s. 
He drew them forth,and healed, and bade me live, 
Sini'e then, with few associates, in remote 
And silent wooils I wander, far from those 
My former partners of the ]ieo]iled scene ; 
AVith few associates, and not wishing inoi-e. 
Here mucli i ruminate, as nuuli i may, 
With other views of men and manners now 
Than once, and others of a life to come. 
I see that all are wanderers, gone astray 
Each ill his own delusions ; they are lost 
In chase of fancied liai>piiiess, still wooed 
And never won. Dream alter dream ensues : 



FRAGMENTS. 



791 



And still they drenm, tliiit tliey stiull still succeed ; 
And still lire disappuinted. Kind's the world 
With the vain stir. I sum up hall' mankind, 
And add two-thirds of the remaining hall', 
And find the total of thiur hopes ami Tears 
Dreams, empty dreams. 

WILLIAM COWPER. 



Tilt; WILL. 

/ Befoke I sij^h my last gasp, let me breathe, 
/ Great I>ove, some legaeies : here I benueathe 
' Mine eyes to Argus, if mine eyes can see, 

If they l«3 blind, then. Love, 1 give them thee ; 

.My tongue to Fame ; to eniliassiidurs mine ears ; 

To women, or the sea, my tears ; 

Thou, Love, lia.st tiiiight me heretofore 

By making me .seiTe her who had twenty more, 

That I should give to none, but such as had too 

much before. 

ily constancy I to the planets give ; 
My truth to them who at the court do live ; 
Mine ingenuity and openness 
To JesuiLs ; to buH'oons my jiensiveness ; 
My silence to any who abroad have been ; 
-My money to a Capuchin. 
Thou, Love, taught'st me, by appointing me 
To love there, where no love received can be. 
Only to give to such as have an incapacity. * 

My faith I give to Roman Catholics ; 
All my good works unto the schismatics 
Of Amsterdam ; mj' best civility 
And courtship to an University ; 
My mo<lesty I give to shoulders bare ; 
My i)atience let gamesters share. 
Thou, Love, taught'st me, by making me 
Love her, that holds my love disparity. 
Only to give to those that count my gifts indig- 
nity. 

I give my reputation to those 
Which were my friends ; mine industry to foes ; 
To schoolmen I bequeathe my doubtfulness ; 
My sickness to physicians, or excess ; 
To Nature all that I in rhyme have writ ; 
And to my company my wit. 
Thou, Love, by making me adore 
Her, who begot this love in me liefore, 
Taught'st me to make, as though 1 gave, when I 
do but restore. 

To him, for whom the pa.ssing-bell next tolls, 
I give ray jihysic-books ; my written rolls 
Of moral counsels I to liedlarn give : 
My brazen medals unto them which live 

• No good <ji|>acit]r. 



In want of bread ; to them which pass among 
All foreigners, mine English tongue. 
Thou, Love, by making me love one 
Who thinks her friemlsliip a lit portion 
For younger loveis, dost my gifts thus dispro- 
portion. 

Therefore I '11 give no more, but I '11 undo 

The world by dying ; because Love dies too. 

Then all your beauties will be no more worth 

Than gold in mines, where none doth draw it 

forth ; 

And all your giuces no more use shall have. 

Than a siin-dial in a grave. 

Thou, Love, taught'st me, by making me 

Love her, who doth neglect both me and thee. 

To invent and practise this one way to annihilate 

all three. 

DR. JOHN Donne. 



FRAGMENTS. 

THE COURSE OF LIFE. 
Time. 
Time rolls his ceaseless course. 

Lady oftlu Lake, Cant. iti. SCOTT. 

The heavens on high perpetually do move ; 
By minutes meal the hour doth steal away. 
By hours the days, by days the months remove. 
And then by months the years as fast decay ; 
Yea, Virgil's verse and Tully's truth do say 
That Time flietli, and never claps her wings ; 
But rides on clouds, and fonvard still she flings. 

G. gascoigne. 

On our quick'st decrees 
Th' inaudible and noiseless foot of Time 
Steals, ere we can eli'ect them. 

AU't iVetUhat Enits iVtU, Ael v. Sc. 3. SHAKESPBARE. 

And then he drew a dial from his poke. 

And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye. 

Says very wisely, " It is ten o'clock : 

Thus may we see," quoth he, " how the world 

wags : 
'T is but an hour ago since it was nine ; 
And after one hour more 't will be eleven ; 
And so, from hour to hour, we rii)e anil ripe. 
And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot ; 
And thereby hangs a tale." 

At You Like It, Act li. Si. 7. SHAKESPEARE. 

Come what come may. 
Time and the hour nins through the roughest day. 

ifacbeth, Aeti, Se. y SHAKEHrEAKE. 



70li 



POEMS OF SENTIMENT AND REFLECTION. 



LiPfi. 

Let 113 {since life eim little morn supply 
Than just to look about \is, and to die) 
Exi>iitiiito I'rue o'er nil tliis scene of man ; 
A mighty maze ! but not witliont a ]ilan. 

Together let us beat this ami)lo field, 
Try why the oiien, what the covert yield. 

HisayoH Alitn, lipisttt 1. POPE. 

The world's a theatre, the earth a stage 
Which God aiul nature do with actius liU. 

Ap^^k'xy /or Actors, T. MI'.YWOUD. 

To-morrow, and to-nutrrow, and to-nK)rrow, 
Creeps in this petty i)aee from day to day, 
To the last syllable ol' recorded time ; 
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools 
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle ! 
Life 's but a walking shadow ; a poor player, 
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, 
And thou is heard no more : it is a tale 
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury. 
Signifying nothing. 

Miitfigth. Act V. .SV. 5. SllAKHSPEARB. 

Life is a jest, ami all things show it ; 
I thought so ouoe, but now 1 know it. 

^ty Own Epitafft, J. C.AV. 

The web of our life is of n mingled 
Yarn, good and ill together. 

W//'J Ifeti that Un>ti If'eit, Actlv. Sc. 3. SHAKliSPUAKE. 

And what 's n life ? — a weary pilgiiniago, 
Whose glory in one day doth till the stage 
With childhood, manhood, and decrepit age. 

;/ /(.I/ IS J i/c I !■". yUAKLES. 

liut thought 's the slave of life, and life time's 
fool. 

KtMe Htnry II '., /'/. /. Act v. Sc. s. SHAKESPEARE. 

On life's vast ocean diversely wo sail, 
Reason the card, but passion is the gale. 

Esstiy OH Mttit, t'fiistlc fl. POPH. 

M.\NK1ND. 

Man ! 
Thou peiululum betwixt a smile and tear. 

Cfiiliit Haroitt, Cant. iv. BVKON. 

More ser\'ants wait on man 
Than he '11 take notice of In ev'ry path 
He treads down that which dnth befriend him 
AVhen si<'knesse makivs him jiale and wan. 
O mightie love ! Man is one wculd, and hath 
Another to attend him. 

Man. ^ O. IlKKHhKl. 



Like loaves on trees the race of man is found, 
Now green in youth, now withering on theground ; 
Another race the following spring supplies ; 
They fall successive, and successive rise. 

iri\ti1. Book vi. Transltttion t</ POPE. HOMER. 

Know then thyself, presume not God to scan ; 
The proper study of mankind is man. 

Created half to rise, and half to fall ; 
tireat lord of all things, yet a prey to all ; 
Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurled ; 
The glory, jest, and riddle of the world ! 

l-.ssay on Man, i/ijV/c //. POPE. 



The Past. 

0, call back yesterday, bid time return. 

To-day, nnhajipy day, too late. 

A'i«v Richard II„ Act iii. Sc. a. SHAKESPEARE. 

Things without all remedy, 
Shoiihl be without regard : what 's done is done. 

Macbeth, Act iii. Sc. a. SHAKESl'EARE. 

Gone, glimmering through the dream of things 
tliat were, 

A school-boy's tale, the wonder of an hour ! 
ChiUt ffaroU, Cant. U. BVRON. 

Not heaven itself upon the past has power ; 
But what has been, has been, and 1 have had my 
hour. 

Iniitiition iifHoract, Book i. Odt 39. IIKVOEN. 

Applause 
To that blest son of foresight ; lord of fate ! 
That awful independent on to-inoriow 
Whose work is done ; who triumplis in the past ; 
Whose yesterdays look backwards with a smile. 

Night Thoughts, Ni£ht'\\. DK. E. YOUNG. 

Achilles. . . . What! are my deeds forgot ? 
ri.YssES. Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his 
back. 
Wherein he puts alms for oblivion. 

For time is like a fashionable host. 

That slightlv shakes his parting guest by the 

hand,' 
And with his arms outstretched, as he would lly, 
Grasps-in the comer. Welcome ever smiles, 
And farewell goes out sighing. 

Troitusattd Crcisda, Act\\{. Sc 3- SltAKESPRAKB- 



FUAOMENTS. 



793 



TUK ruKSK.NT. 

This imri'ow isthmus 'twixt two bmiiiilless sciiH, 
The piist, tho future, two otoi'Mitiea ! 

/.ii/Ai AVoAA .- Thf t-'tiU<i Pti^phtl 0/ KhorussaH. T. MtJOKU. 

Lo ! on a iianow link i>r laiul, 
"Fwixt two uiiljoiiiidutl sens 1 stuinl. 

i/ynH. C. WBSLIiV. 

Ili'iivcii from all croiituros hides tliu book of Fate, 

All but the piigu prcaciibeil, theii' |iresont stale. 

assay en Man, lipisltt /. I'ol'H. 

Nothing is thiTO to come, and nothing past, 
But an idernal Now does always last. 

DaviiUis, yot. I. Book 1. A. CfjWLUY. 

Dofia' not till to-morrow to be wise, 
To-morrow's sun to thoe may never rise. 

I Mlcrlo Cobham, W. Co.NGREVB. 

Happy tho man, and hap|iy he alone, 

He who can call to-day his own ; 

He who, secure within, can say. 
To-morrow, do thy worst, for I have lived to-day. 

Imittitum (if Horace, Book 1. Otte 29. DRYDKN. 



The Future. 
The best of prophets of tlic Future is tho Past. 

/^fftr, yaH,28, iBsi. IIVKON. 

As though tlicri^ were a tii'. 
And oliligatiiiii to [Kisterity. 
We get them, bear them, breed and nnrs(^ 
What hius posterity done for us. 
That we, lest they their rights .should lose, 
Should trust our necks to gripe of noose. 

Mcl-itii'itt, Cant. H. J. TKtfNflltn.I.. 

All that 's bright must fade, — 

Tho brightest still the fleetest ; 
All that's sweet was maile 

lint to bo lost when sweetest ! 

Nalionai ^irs : Alt that's brifihl mtixt/mif, T. MOORIi. 

When I consider life, 'tis all a cheat. 

Yet, fooled witli hope, men favor the deceit ; 

Trust on, and think to-morrow will repay : 

To-mon-ow 's falser tluin the formi^r day ; 

Lies worse ; and, while it says we shall lie blest 

With some new joys, cuts olf wlnit we possest. . 

Strange cozimago ! none would liv{^ jiast years 

again. 
Yet all hojio pleasure in what yet remain. 

Aurf»i;-Zfbi ; or. Tht iirrot Mo);ttl. Act\\.Sc.u HRVDRN. 

Boware of desperate steps. The darkest day. 
Live till to-moiTow, will have passed away. 

Tht Nndttst Al.trm. COWPKR . 



FA-rn. 

Men at sonu! time are nnisters of their fates ; 
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, 
liut in ourselves, that we are underlings. 

yuliiis Casar, .■lct\. Sc. 3. SMAICICM'UAKII. 

Man is his own star, and the soul that can 
Render an honest and a perleet man 
('ommands all light, all inlluence, all fate. 
Nothing to him falls eaily, or too late. 

I'fon an Uotitit Afatt's rorlititf. J. ll.in'cmtu. 

Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, 
Which we ascribe to Heaven : the fated sky 
Gives us free si'ope ; only, doth backward pull 
Our slow di'signs, wlien wo ourselves are ilull. 

All's lyell that limls lyrll, Acl\..Sr. 1. sirAKHM'TlAue. 

There 's a divinity that shapi'S our end.s, 
Kongh-hew them how we will. 

llatnUl, Act V. .S< . J. SliAKI-.SI'MAKK. 

I '11 make assurani'e doubly sure. 
And take a bond of Fate. 

Macbeth. Act\v.S(. 1. SllAKr.sri'.AKlt. 



Youth. 

(iay hope is theirs, by fancy fed, 

[ji'ss pleasing when poss(!ssod ; 
The tear forgot as soon as shod, 

The aunshine of the breast. 
Theirs buxom health of rosy hue, 
Wild wit, invention ever new. 
And lively cheer of vigor born ; 

The thoughtless day, the easy night, 

The spirits pure, the slumbers light. 
That lly the approach of morn. 

On M Distant Prospect 0/ Eton Colleee. T. ( IKAV. 

hong as the year's dull eii'cle seems to run 
WIh'U the brisk ndnor ]iants for twenty-one. 

Imitations tif Horace, I-pistIf I. floolt\. I'OI'R. 

Iteturning, he proclaims by many a grace, 
l(y shrugs and strange contortions of his face. 
How much a dunce that has biM^n sent lo roam, 
K.xcels a dunce that has been kept at home. 

The Prot-ress 0/ Error. COWCHK. 

The nimble-footed mad-cap I'rince of Wales, 
And his comrades, that dall'ed tho worlil aside. 
And bid it pass. 

Kinti Henry 11^., Part I. Act Iv. Sc. i. SlIAKnspnARH. 



Manhood. 

Vm wise with speed : 
A fool at forty is a fool indeed. 

Lne 0/Fame, Satire il. DR. E. VOUNC. 



794 



POEMS OF SENTIMENT AND REFLECTION. 



Kot two strong men tlie enormous weight could 

raise ; 
6uch men as live in these degeuerate days. 

Itiad, Book v. Translation tf/TOPE. Homer. 

^or love thy life, nor hate ; but what thou liv'st 
Live well ; how long or short jierniit to heaven. 

Paradise Lost, Book xi. MILTON. 

What tlio' short thy date ? 
Virtue, not rolling suns, the luind matures. 
That life is long which auswers life's great end. 
The time that bears no fruit deserves no name. 
The man of wisdom is the man of years. 
In hoary youth Methusalems may die ; 
•O, how misdated on their llatt'ring tombs ! 

Night Thoughts, Night v. DR. E. VOU.NG. 

Live while you live, the epicure would say, 
And seize the pleasures of the present day ; 
Live while you live, the sacred preacher cries, 
And give to God each moment as it Hies. 
Lord, in my views, let both united be ; 
I live in pleasure when I live to thee. 

Epigram on his Family Anns, [Dum vivimus vivamus.] 

\\ Doddridge. 

Old Age. 

My May of life 
Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf ; 
j\nd that which should accompany old age. 
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, 
I must not look to have ; but, in their stead, 
Curses, not loud, but deep, mouth-honor, breath, 
"Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare 
not. 

Macbeth, Act v. Sc, 3. SHAKESPEARE. 

And wrinkles, tlu' d d democrats, won't flatter. 

Don yuan. Cant. x. BYRON. 

Strange ! that a harp of thousand strings 
Should keep in tune so long. 

Hymns and Spiritual Songs, Book ii. Hymn 19. WATTS. 

In sober state, 
Through the sequestered vale of rui'al life. 
The venerable patriarch guileless held 
The tenor of his way. 

Death. B. PORTEUS. 

Time has laid his hand 
Upon my heart, gently, not smiting it. 
But as a harper lays his oju-n palm 
Upon his harp, to deaden its vibrations. 

The Golden Legend. LONGFELLOW. 

But gi'ant, the virtues of a temp'rate ]iriine 
IJless with an age exempt from scorn or crime ; 
An age that melts with unperceived decay, 
And glides in modest innocence away. 

k'anity 0/ Human H'iiius.*" DR. S. JOHNSON. 



O Heavens, 
If you do love old men, if your sweet sway 
.Vllow obedience, if yourselves are old, 
.\I:ike it your cause ; send down, and take my 
part ! 

J.yng Lear, Act i[ Sc. *. SHAKESPEARE. 



Death. 

Man wants but little, nor that little long. 
How soon he must resign his very dust ! 



Night Thouglus, Night iv. 



DR. E. Young. 



" While there is life, tliere 's hope," he cried ; 
" Then why such haste ? " so groaned and died. 

j Tlie Sick Man and the .4ngel. J. GAY. 

1 

Lovely in death the beauteous ruin lay ; 
And if in death still lovely, lovelier there ; 
Far lovelier ! pity swells the tide of love. 

Night Thoughts, Night iii. DR. E. VOONG. 

Nothing is here for teai's, nothing to wail 
Or knock the breast, no weakness, no contempt, 
Dispraise or blame, nothing but well and fair. 
And what may quiet us in a death so noble. 

SaiHSOH AgOHistes. MlLTON. 

There is a calm for those who weep, 
A rest for weary pilgrims found. 
They softly lie and sweetly sleep 

Low in the ground. 

rite Crave. J. MONTGOMERY'. 

Immouiwlity. 

I know no evil death can show, which life 
Has not already shown to those who live 
Embodied longest. If there be indeed 
.V shore, where mind survives, 't will be as mind 
All nnincoi'porate. 

Sardan,t/ialus. BVRON. 

To be no more — sad cure ; for who would lose, 
Though full of pain, this intellectual lieing. 
Those thoughts that wander through eternity. 
To perish rather, swallowed up and lost 
In the wide womb of uncreated night, 
Devoid of sense and motion ? 

Paradise Lost, Book ii. MlLTON. 

1 have asked that dreadful question of the hills 
Tluit look eternal ; of the flowing streams 
That lucid flow forever : of the stars, 
Amid whose fields of azure my raised spirit 
Hath trod in glory : all were dumb ; but now. 
While I thus giize upon thy living face, 
I feel the love that kindles through its beauty 
Can never wholly perish : we sliall meet 
Again, Clenianthe ! 

Ion, T. N. Talfourd. 



FUA(;JlliNT.S. 



795 



THE SEXES. 

Woman. 

First, tlum, awomuii will, or wuii'l, ilt'iii'iid on 't ; 
If slu; will ilo't, sho will ; and then' 'sail end on 't. 
I5ut il'slie won't, .since sal'eund sound your trust is. 
Fear is allront, and jealousy injustice. 

Epilogue lo Z.ira. A. IllLL. 

Women, like princes, lind few real friends. 

Advice to a Lady. LoKU LVTTULl ON- 

What mighty ills have not been done by woman ? 
Who was 't lietrayed the Capitol ? A woman ! 
Who lost Mark Antony the world ? A woman ! 
Who was the cause of a long ten years' war. 
And laid at last old Troy in ashes ? Woman ! 
Destructive, damnable, deceitful woman ! 

The Orphan, Ael iii. Sc. i. T. OTWAV. 

She and comparisons are odious. 

The Comparison. DK. J. I)O.N.\l£. 

So doth one sound the .sleeping spirit wake 
■To brave the danger, and to bear the harm — ■ 
A low and gentle voice — dear woman's chiefest 
charm. 

An excellent thing it is ! and ever lent 

To truth and love, and meekness ; they who 
own 
This gift, liy the all-gracious (!iver sent. 

Ever by ([uiet step and smile are known ; 
By kind eyes that have wept, hearts that have 

sorrowed — 
J5y patience never tired, from their own trials 
boiTowed. 

IVoman's P'oice. E. ARNOLD. 



Woman's gentle brain. 

At YoH Like It, Act iv. Sc. 3. 



SHAKHSPEARR. 



Not slie with traitorous kiss her Saviour stung, 
Not she denied him with unholy tongue ; 
She, while ajpostles .shrank, could danger brave. 
Last at his cross and earliest at his grave. 

IVoman, Her Character and htjlucnce. H. S. BARRETT. 

And yet believe me, good as well as ill. 
Woman's at best a contradi(^tion still. 

Moral Essays, EfitHe tt, Popr. 

A native grace 
Sat fair-proportioned in her polished limbs, 
Veiled in a simjde robe their best attire, 
Heyonil the poinji of dress ; for loveliness 
Needs not the foreign aid of ornament. 
But is, when unadorned, adorned the most. 



The Sratons: Autumn. 



J. Thomson. 



The nniid who modestly conceals 
Her beauties, while she ludes, reveals ; 
(live but a glim|i.se, and fancy draws 
Whato'er the lirecian Venus was. 

T/te Spiitcr and t/te Bee. E.MOORE. 

Th' adorning thee with so nmch art 

Is but a barb'rous skill ; 
'T is like the poisoning of a dart. 

Too apt belbre to kill. 

The H'ailine.Maid. A. COWLEY. 

For where is any author in the world 
Teaches sucli beauty as a woman's eye ? 

Lo^'e's Labors Lost, .let iv. Sc. 3. SHAKP.SPRARE. 

Woman may err, woman may gi\-e her mind 
To evil thoughts, and lo.se her pure estate ; 
Itut, for one woman wlio alliouts her kind 
By wicked passions ami remorseless lialc, 
A thousand nndic amends in age and youth, 
By heavenly Jiity, by sweet sympathy, 
liy patient kindness, by enduring truth. 
By love, supremest in adversity. 

Praise of 'I'omen. Cn. MACKAV. 



Accuse not Nature, she hath done her part ; 
Do thou but thine. 

Paradise Lost, Booft viii. MILTO 



Man — Woman. 

If the heart of a man is depressed with cares. 
The mist is dispelled when a woman appears. 

Tlie Beggars Opera, Act ii. Sc. I. J. GAV. 

Without the sniil(' from pai'tial be.^uty won, 
0, what were man ? — a world without a sun. 

Pleasures of Hope. Part II, T. CaMPUEI 

She 's beautiful, and tlierefore to be wooed ; 
She is a woman, therefore to be won. 

King Henry VL, Part I. Act v. .?f. 3. SHAKESPHARE. 

He was a lover of the good old school. 

Who still become more constant as they cool. 

Beppo, Cant, xxxlv. BYRON. 

We cannot fight for love as men may do ; 

We should bo wooed, and were not made to woo. 

Midsummer Nighfs Dream, Actn.Sc. i. SHAKRSPEARE- 

I give thee all — I oan no more. 

Though poor the offering be ; 
My heart and lute are all the store 

That I can bring to thee. 

My Htart and Lute. T. Moore. 



790 



rOKMS OF SENTl.MKNT \N0 UKKLKri'lON. 



Sinoe mtuds, in mtxlosty, soy " No " t« that 
Wliioh tlu>y \vvnUd haw tho prollVtvr oonstnu' 
"Ay." 



Tlie woman that delilwrati^s is lost, 
i.~.>.*A .y.f ir, :<k'. 1. r. addisok 

My friends woiv jhw but liouivst ; so "s my lovo, 
l$i! not oIlVndiHl. for it hurts not him 
That h* is lovwi of ma 

.M'V U'tUmM^mts MV>V, .4rf t.£-. J. SU.VKSSFKAKK. 

lu her livst (vHssion, \vv>man lovixs hor lovw : 
lu all tho othvi'S, oil slio loves is lore. 

True as the ni>o>ile to the jvlix. 

Or .-IS the dial to the sun ; 
ConstJtnt as jjliding waters wU, 

Wluvso swelUu); tides oln-y the moou ; 
fr\>m every other eharnier frw, 
My life and love shtUl follow tluv. 

Was evpr woman in this humor wihh\1 • 
Was e>-or woman in this hniuor won ! 

AVsf .^*».^*.»#m' jV/,. .*.* i, A\ *. SXAKKSriLAKK. 

Man's love is of n\ait's life a thing ajwrt ; 

"T is womai\"s whole existeniv. Man may r!inj»i> 
The iMurt, ean\j>, ohurvh. the vessel, and the m.art, 

S\w>i\l, ,sv>wu, jpiin, glory, oiler in exehange 
Pride, fame, amlntiou, to till up his h«>rt. 

And few theix'aiv whom these eanuot estrango : 
Men have all tht>se resoureos, wo but one, ^ 
To lo\-o agtun, and lx> again undone. 

iV* .^^K<Jt. Cm/ t Byron. 

Thou woiJdst ho lovodt — tlieu lot thy hoart 

Krv>m its prest<ut \v>thway {virt not ! 
lieing everythinj; whioh now thou sirt, 

Ko nothiuj; whieh thou art not. 
So with the world thy gxMitle wa\-si, 

Thy grsuv. thy mon- than Ivauty, 
Shall Ih' .*n endless theme of praise. 

And love — a simple duty. 
T*KS.a E A. roK. 

All these gxHvl \v>rts a jvrftvt woman make ; 
.\dd lo>i> to me. tliey make a jvrfivt wife ; 
Without her love, her K'auty 1 s!-.ould take 
As that of piotur\>s dead — l/t.it giws it life : 
Till then her Iwuity, like the sun, doth sliiue 
Alike to .all ; — tMiit only makes it mine. 

■if »%/♦. SIR T. OVBRBURV. 

And oft. when half induixsl to trt-ad 

Sneh jvitlis as unto sin dtsw, 
1 'v«> felt her fond hand piv.<s my h<\>d. 

And that soti touch hath sjiv^l her Kiy ! 

TM MMAer^t H^tJ. . O. Swain. 



CHARACTKK AKD ACTION. 

ViuriK. 
The world in M doth but two nations Ivar, 
The gvwd. the l«d, and thesi- mixed everywlier«>. 

'^ Z.<»«.' .-itW. A. Marvhll. 

He that has light within his own eU>ar brx-sist 
May sit iu the eontro and eiyoy brijjht day : 
Mut he that hides a dark .soul and loul thoughts 
IWnightrtl walks under tho midday sun. 

What nothing earthly gives or can destroy, — 
The soul's ealm sunshine, and the heartfelt joy. 
Is Virtue's prije. 

t'jj>\r ^ .Vat, li/Mt^ t>\ l\U*B. 

The morning jwirls 
Oivpt iu the lily's sjwtless liosom 
.Viv le.-is ehastely ivld, 
Kiv the meridian sun 
Has kisstvl them into heat, 
I «jl*rtlft\ w, cuambkrlavnk. 

I 1st BiuvriiKK. What hidden strength, 

I'uless tlu- stivngth of Heaven, if you mean that t 
ii> UKoriiKK. I mean that too, but yet « 
hidden stivngth 
Whieh, if Heaven gave it. may Ih> ternuvl her am- 
'Tis chastity, my Uivther. cliastity ; 
She that has that is clad in complete stwl. 

S»i dei>r to hivivon is sjxiutly chastity, 
That, when a soul is fiiund sincerely so, 
A thonsaud liveriinl augt'ls lacky her. 
Driving fsvr otV ot\ch thing of .siu and guilt, 

c>«>ax. MILTO.<l 

Adiou, doiir, (uniable youth ! 

■Vour heart ciui ne'er lx> wai\tiiig ! 
May prndeuiH', fortitude, and truth 

Envt your bi\>w undaunting I 
In ploughman phrase, " tiivl send JMVI spetxl," 

Still daily to givw wiser ; 
.\nd u\ay yon Ivtter ivck the iwle. 

Than ever did the adviser ! 

What strvMigi'rbrt'jtstplate tli.tna heart untaintevl ? 
Thrice is he aru\<><l that hivs his ipiarivl jvist : 
.\nd he but nakinl, though Ux-kisl up iu stwl. 
Whose conscience with iiyustii-o is corrupted. 

AVmr Hr^rr > '•• A"» //. .<•» iii. &■, s. SMAKESI'KARB. 

True, i-onscious honor is to fo*l no sin ; 
Ho 's armwl without that 's iuuocent within. 

Re nohlo ! and the nobleness that lies 
In otlu>r men, sleeping, but never dead. 
Will rise iu m.yesty to meet thine own. 

i.«»« I. R LOWKLL. 



KIIAOMKNTH. 



797 



Tliin iilxjvn all, — U) lliiiii! own itftlf Ixj true ; 
Ami it iniiiit foll'iw, nn lUn rii((lit tli<; rlay, 
Thou r;aiiiit nut then Ix' f'/iliw; to any man. 

llamUl, Atl\, />(. >. NIMKKIll'KAIIII. 

AnrI thtiK hi! tioiB without itSiwv. 

'X\\t: vyM\'\ ohi niiin'! iiS vfA\\.\i;MM\\, 

l)i-raiii('i| by i!Vi;ry ihiirliitiin, 
An>l mih'^l with all '\%\\<i\i\i: wm:. 

In Mimirlam, CI. TIIKNyiKI«r. 

Nom.K l.ivi.sd. 

If our virtue* 
I»iii not go forth of \M, 't wcti; all alike 
Ah if w<; li;ul thein not. Vi\i\v\\m (ir<; not finely 

UiU';h'-<i, 
I'.ut til litie ioBUfcH ; nor Nature never lemU 
The mniilh'Xt le^mple of her exi«Ili5iwr, 
Hut, like a thrifty i^tAiUtm, nhe <li:tennine» 
MiMiw^lf till- ;<lory of a ercflitor — 
i!oth thankji unit wx;. 

Mtaiun/or Miamri, Acl I. .1^. i, KnAKUtll^AllK. 

The Mighty i>urf>0)i« never i« o'lirtiiok, 
( iileKH the ile<«l go with it. 
MaiM/i. /ill \i. :t, I. DnAKKufisAiie. 

' )iir a/.-m our angelit are, or gwxl or ill, 
< 'iir fubil nhiulowii that walk \iy mm titill. 

yfn llawil Atan'i fortutu. J. FLUTCHKIt' 

That light VII! nee u burning in my }a.\\. 
How far that little candle thrown hi* U^rru I 
80 dhineii a gwxl ilewl in a nau{{lity world. 

Mirthant 0/ Vtnlu. Acl 1. ,'.>. 1. HMAKestPRAKru 

Dirv. 

When I 'ni not thankcl at all, I 'in thank/;<l 
I enough. 

I 've done my duty, and I 've done no more. 

Turn Thumt IHt OrutI, Jlcl I. *c. J. It. PIKUMKC 

Ht»Tn Daughter of the Voi«« of Ood 1 

Duty ! 

Through no dixturbanm of my doul, 
fJr Ktroiig eompunction in me wrouj^t, 

1 HUppli/^aU; for thy control ; 
iSut in the 'juietnetM of thought. 

To humbler funetionn, awful Power I 

I laill thw! ; I mywilf eommend 

l.'nU; thy guidaiiec from thiit hour ; 

O, let my wi3ikne>!» have an end ! 

<^iive iint/< me, ma/le lowly wiw:, 

The Ki/irit of nelf-jia/.rifi'* ; 

The f>infidcriee of fnu/iii iQVi: ; 

And in the lightof truth thy bondman let mi: live ! 



HoxKit-rv. 

Vou yourwjlf 
Are Mueli mndcmned to Iwve an it':hing |<alm. 

Th<!re in no t^trror, Cajwiuw, in your threat* ; 
For I am anned wi iitrong in honeitty, 
That they ;eiiw by me a* tlie idle wind, 
Which I renioM.-t luit, 

'/ullui Cuiiir, /Id I*. Sc, V DWAKUII'KAaK. 

Who d;ir<M think one thing, and another tell. 
My hefirt <let<;iit« liim ait the gato> of ludl. 

lllaJilliKkU. TranilallM <// furtL, UiMim, 

I/ike one, 
Who having, untr^ tmtb, by t/^lling of it, 
Mivle «Hch a oinn'S' of tii» memory. 
To credit hi* own lie. 

7H/ l/m^il, /Id I. it, J. XMAKP.III'IIAKE. 

He WON a man 
Who (ttolc tlw: livery of tlie court of iiuavim 
To w.TVe the iJevil in. 

Cmrut/rimt.lhok^i. R, yiiUt/M. 

The [^wil (an dt<! Scrij/ture for hi* jmrfMc. 

An evil w/ul, \itiAm\uu, holy witn<rti«, 

Ik like a villain with a omiling i\ii'm)i, 

A goz/dly a|i()le rott>;n at the h<!art. 

O, what a goodly outtiide falnehooil hath ! 

Utrckant «/ finla, /Id I. ,t>. v ltHAI!K»l«4«II. 

Bkjusvoi.kxck. 
That man may hurt, Imt never liv'r*, 
Who much fj'Mvi;* hut n</thing givr« ; 
Wlioin none can love, whom none (am thank, 
f>isiti/;n'i» blot, cr<jation'» blank. 



\)„ g<Kxl liy Kt«alth, and V>lnJth to find it fame. 

liflhgw to Sattrii, Dial, L J'oMi, 

Who btiildit a church to 0'«l, and not t/> fame, 
Will never mark the marble with hi* nanie ; 
Oo, xearch it there, where t/> 1« U<m and die. 
Of rich and (Kxir mak'st all the hiJrt^jry ; 
Kiiough that virtue (ille/l the h\mij: b<,-tw<!«n, 
i'ruviA iiy tlic ends of b<;ing to liave b<;<rn. 

Al^al Himyi, I'.^ttU III. fon'- 

Vj." O nay, what mum that geiieroud liand 
irai/ply ? 
What minim Ui (rwcll that Ijoundlewf charity ? 

P.+ Of d/jljt» and taxe*, wife and children clear, 
Thi)i man \iiir«vrwi>-A — five hundrcl i<ound»iaye»r, 
Bloith, grandeur, blu«h ; i/rood court*, witlidraw 

your blaze ! 
Ye little Ktan, hi/le your dimini/)he<l ray* ! 
i/»««/ y^oo^/. /i/oci ///. vortL. 

• L/x-i Buhurit ) Pop*. 



Ti'S 



rOEMS OK SKXTIMKNT ANP UKKl.KlTlON. 



Mkkcy, 



Swtvt morx-y is nohiUty's 



SHAKKSrKARB. 



Tho nusUity of morey is not straiiuHi. — 

It (iivpiwtli lis tlu' j^'iitlo rain I'lvni heaven 

I'lXMi tho (iltnv U'lioath : it is t\viot> Wesstsl, — 

It Wesst>tt> him that givi\s ami him that taktys : 

"Tis mightiest in the nviglitiest : it Innvmes 

The thivninl monaivh U-tter than his oivwn ; 

His svvjitiv shows tlio t'oiw of toii-.jHM'jU jHwer, 

Tho attrihvuo to «wo anil mtyosly, 

AVheiviu dolh sit tlio liiwul a>ul iWir of kings : 

lint moivy is alwo this s»Yi>ti\>l sway, — 

It is onthrvMitsl in the ln\nts of kinjpi. 

It is an attiihuh' to tJvxl himself; 

And eartlily jvwor doth then sliow likost Ooil's, 

When merv-y s<\\sons justio*. 

Mm^^w tfrnKr. JH iv. S.. i. SHAKUSrSAKS. 



Fol.l.Y ASO WlSnOM. 

AVisviom is olttiuvos ue!U\*r when wo 
Than when wo saw. 
TjW £ni*i«»M, Am* tit. 



! Somo jH>jativo, jx'i'sistinj; fools wo know, 
I Who, if oneo wwiij;, will mnsl Iv always so ; 
Bnt you with i>hv>smv own yo\ir envi-s |>ast, 
' And make <<aeh d!>,v a eiitinue on the last. 

Yet i>rond of iwrt-s, with prndonoo some disinmso, 
■ And phiy tho fiH>l Iveauso they 'i\> men of suniso, 
HftsHi » /v/^ Dr. li, YuuNHi 

J This follow 's wise ononjjh to i>lay tho fool ; 
I And to do that well eravos a kind of wit, 

Ttirifl* AV*f, .<<t lit. .&-. I. $11 VKeSI'KAKK. 



Oooi> Natvuk ANl> Kkokukssnkss, 

0»re to onr ootlm adds a nail, no doubt. 
And ovory grin, so inorry, draws one out. 

ii:\^n*A».V^ t\**,- Xl^ 11R. Woi.corv (/V*r rtVhAir). 

B«t evil is wtvnight hy wimt of thovight 
As well as want of heart. 



stoop 



WOROSWOfTH, 



To know 
That which hoforo us Uos in daily life 
Is tho prinw wisiloni. 



FolUSIVKSKSS AXl> KKSKST.MKNT. 

Tho smallest worm will turn, Iwing trvxldon on. 
I And dovos will jx-ok in si\fognai\l at their hivixL 

AIV"'"'? >V., /Vlf»y«. .V./ikii- * SHAKtSTKARB. 



Ortwl senso, which only is tho gilt of Vleavon, il 
And though no si-ieneo, fairly worth tho sc>-«n, Y' 



Fotgix-vnoss U> tho i)\juiv»l does Iwlojig ; 

Bnt they no'or }iiU\lou who ha\-o dojio tho wrov\g. 



The wo)\k have n>m<\lios, tho wis<> hax^o jo\"S, 
Superior wisdou) is su\H>rior IJiss, 

.Vlif*/ 7>M«f »«, .\">Sf*' via. PR. li. YOVN'C 

Bo wisely ATorldly, ho not worldly wise. 

f <iiMr<v. /:a4 ii. F. OVARLES. 

With wisilom fra\ight. 
Not such as Kx>ks, hut such as practice taught. 
iV .^w AVv'jf Rtfii*^, K. Waller. 

Who «re a little wise the best ftxJs he. 
rw Tti/i, F.\-.\ i-'R. .1. rv.vxB. 

For fools nish in whew aitgds fear to tread. 
esMtf Ml CwiKsM, /wr ///. ivrs. 

Those that 1 rv>v'r<>nco, thotJo 1 f<\-ir — tho wise ; 
At fvx\ls 1 laugh, not fear them, 

CVxWvAw, Ait IT. .5:r. e. Shak^sti^arg. 

In idle wishes fools supinely stay : 

Bo there » will, and wisdom finds a way. 



!\ Good nature and g<»d senso must ever join ; 
'! To err is human, to foi'givo divine. 



Axtmnox. 

I have no spur 
To prick tho sides of my intent : hut only 
Vaulting amhition. which o\n--h<aiv5 itself, 
i And falls on the other. 

M»,*t*..<.ti.S,.T SllAKBSrE,\RE. 

But wild amhition loves to slide, not stand, 
1 And Fortune's iv-e jwefei-s to Virtue's land. 

I .<*«•.•*«• J »J.y.^»iA/A(rf./W</. IIRVOES 

And ho that stajuls uj>on a slipjvry place 
Makt<s nii-e of ikv vile hold to stay him ui». 

] Kt^ ^fMtt,,4>tm.S.\ i. SHAKBS1'K.\RB. 

Ambition's monstivns stomach di>os increase 
I By eating, and it hiins to star\-e unless 
I It still may ftHil, and all it sees devour. 

1 fi*.>*nM Sf Us SIR W. UAVS.\ilX1^ 



FHAfiMKNTH. 



799> 



Lowlin«HH in yniiiiK aiiibitinn'it liuliIiT, 
WhiircUi llii^ (;liiiitii'Ml|iWiinl liiriiK |ji« fiu-i' ; 
lint. wliiMj liii iiw.K ullJiiim llic U|iiniiM(, rnuiiil, 
Ih' llii'ii iiliUi Ilii' liuMrr tiirrjH IjIh liiick, 
l/oiikH in Ui« cIiiuiIh, Hcityu\i\n \.\\i! Ihihu (h^f^n^ci* 
liy wliiirli 111! iliil iihm'imI, 

yilllui (,riifr, /hlW. ;• i HriAK rCd'I'AU I'. 

To rf'i^n in worlli (iirtl'ili'Mi, lli(pii;.^|j in ImII : 
I'nI.litr to nuj<li ill lii:ll, lliMM Ki'ivi! ill iiciivi'Ii. 

V.irmliii l.otl. Ili'ckU MIMON. 



'I'lir, Iliir.iNU rAHHKiN. 

'I'lic riiliiij< [iiiHHifiii, Ix! it wlint it will, 
Till' iwliiij{ piiNHiiiii (;on(|U(!r» niriHoii Ntill. 

Ih'.ir then til" tnitli : 'Tin Ilniiv'n niu'li pusMion 

HOIIllt^ 

Anil (lill'iTi^nt niirri ilinmtH to iliiri-icnt oikIh. 
I'',.xtri!ini;» in niitnn: r'i|iiiil >{oo(| [iro'liiim ; 
hj(tii:in(!« in iniin concur to ({iinciiil iit«!. 

Moral liitayi, lifitlU 111. l'oi-l'„ 

Ami li(!n<:(! onii iiiiiHtiir-piiHHioii in llii' tircii»t, 
lyikc Aiuoii'h Korpcnt, hwiiHowd up tlic rest. 

I lliiayonMan.llpltlli II. I'orr. 

Sklp-Conceit. 

To obHftrviitionH wliicli outhcIvch wo rnaki!, 
Wc KTOW inoro piirtiftl for iho obwrvcr'H wiki!. 

Moral liitayi, fifitillt I. I'ol'l!, 

'Tin with our jnilKmi'iitH an our watilicn, noni^ 
Oo just alike, yet iiiili lioliuvcH liii* own. 

Biiny <m Crilirlim. I'arl I. I'ol'li. 



riillil'. ANIl VaNIIV. 
'Tin priili', r.ink pridi:, iiml Imuxlitini'HH of wiiil ; 
I lliink tlio Itjiinunx cull it HtoiciHui. 

C«», /iclLSc. 4. !■ ABDISON. 

Ill priilii, in rciiHoiiiiif; priilc, our error lii'H ; 
All ijiiit their Nphiue iiiiil niHli into the nkieH. 

liiiay 0/1 Man, lifitllt I. I'Ofe, 

I'riile, liko an enxle, Ipiiilils iirnong the Htam. 

iVii'A/ rilitimlill. Nil-Ill w. DR. R. VoDNr,. 

Of III! the eiiiiHe.H wliieli eonnpire to hliinl 
Man'H erring jiiilginent, nml iniH^iiiile the niiinl, 
What till! weak head with HtroiiKeHt tiia» nile», 
In pride, the never failing vice of foolii. 

lllioy *« CrI'ltlim, Pari II. Pore. 

Ah eddim draw thin^" frivoloiiH and li;;ht, 
How in nian'a heart by vanity dinwn in ! 

Nl/hl riiwuHli. Nlghl »lll IJH. v.. VolMfi. 



The fanliloti weiUH out more iipimiel tlinii the man. 

. Mwh AtlualwHt Xolhdti!. A(l\\\. St. ). ftllAKCHI-ICAKI'. 

Notliinj{ exeeeilH in ridicule, no doubt, 

A fool in I'liHliion, bill, a i'ool that 'h out; 

IIIh pitHHiim for Hlmurility '% ho Htron« 

lie cannot bear a rival in the wroii;^. 

Though wrong the mode, comply : more KciiHe 

in hIiowii 
In wearing otlici'K' I'ollicH than our own. 
siuiti I itditiii'^. Dh. m. You,wc, 

Sir I'liinic (of anibiT Niiiiir-liox jiiHtly vain. 
And the nice conduct of a clouded cane). 
With earncHt eycH, and round unthinking fiu^e,. 
lie lii-Ht the Huulf-box opiiicil, then the cane. 

liafto/llii l.o:A, I'oeii. 



I'lIA.SIvS OK KKKI-INO. 

I'AI.V ANIl Wl'.AItlNKHH. 

Ho when a raging fever bnniH, ■ 

Wc Hhilt from Hide to Hide by turiiH, 
And 'tin a jioor relief we gnin 
To change the place, but keep the pain. 

Ilymni ami Sptrtlim, lioiii'i. Itooli 11. Hymn 146, WATTS, 



Till thin heroic Ichhou thou hiiHt learueil : 
To frown at |ileahure, and to Huiile in pain. 

NilflU IfWiil'lltf, Mtlltl vtll, UK, E, YOUNO. 

There 'h nothing in thin world can riinke me joy 
Life in iiH tedioiiH an a twice-told tale, 
Vexing the dull ear of a drowny man. 

Kirn: John. All III. Vr 4. !illAKIIIll'l:AKa, 

My heart Ih drowned with grief, 

,V1y body round engirt with iniHcry ; 

Kor what'H more iiiiHerable than diHcontent? 

Khii; llrttry VI., I'lirl II. ArfiU. .Vr, t. .MllAKf'M'CAHe, 

Orief hath ehangcrl me, 
And cari^fiil hoiUH, with Time'n dr'formed hand. 
Hath written strange defeaturcK in my fiwm. 

Comtdy 0/ lirmrx. Act y. Vr I, BnAKIlHI'liAHH. 



I!,kmoi;hi; and liKTIiniUTIO.S, 

The mind in its own place, ami in itwlf 
Can make a heaven of liell, a hell of heaven. 

I'ara.llu I.01I, Book 1. MlI,Tf)M, 

Amid tlie row* fierce Repentance ream 
Ilcr Hnnky ercHt. 

Thf Staloni: Sprlne. J. TllOMHOM, 



800 



I'OliMS 01'' SENTIMENT AMI K INFLECTION. 



Tlie tJiorus which I have ivuped aix> of tlie tree 
1 l>l;mted — thi'y havo torn mo, ami 1 bliiii ; ' 
1 slioulii have kuown wliat IVuit woiiitl spring 
from suoh a seed. 

CkiUt HiirvU, C.i«r. iv. BVKON. 

\V.' hot te.ioli 
Hloody instnietions, wliieli, being tauglit, ivtuin 
To pliigue the inventor. This even-handed jus- 
tice 
Commends the ingredients of our iioisoned dialice 
To our own lips. 

Miicttt*. .-liV i. iV. 7. SHAKESPEARE. 

So the struck cai;U>, stretclied upon the plain, 
No n\oiv thi-ougli rolling clouds to siKir agtiin, 
Viewed his own feather on the fatal dart. 
And winged the shaft that ipiivered in his heart. 

£t<g/uA Bants amj Scotch Rtvifwrrs. BVRON. 



Desi-air. 
Talk not of comfort : "t is for lighter ills : 
1 will indulge my sorrows, and give way 
To all the puigs and fury of desjmir. 

^'*^'' }. ADDISON. 

And, in that deep and utter aftony, 
Though then than ever most unlit to die, 
1 fell upon my knees and prayed for death. 

Bcrtmm. C. MATURIN. 

All hope is lost 
Of my reception into gmce ; what woi-se. 
For where no hope is left, is left no fear. 

r.tnijisr K^'jiHAi, MILTON. 

Hope ! let tlie wretch, once conscious of the joy, 
AVliom now desjwiring agonies destroy. 
Speak, for he can, and none so well as he. 
What treasures centre, what delights, in thee. 

"^Z*. cow PER. 

It is to hope, though hope were lost. 

Ccmt »tr,.y>Hj}..utM. A. U BARBAIILD. 



But now, lam cabined, cribbed, coufined, bound in 
To saucy doubts and feare. 

M.u*tt/I, .-(rf iii. iV. 4. SHAl-BsrilARB. 

Attempt the end, and never stand to doubt : 
Nothing s so hai\l but search will lind it out. 

■="»*•""'""■* K. HKKRICK. 

Tender-handed stroke a nettle. 

And it stings you for your pains ; 
Ol-asp it like a man of mettle. 

And it soft as silk remains. 

»Vr«-i wrrrtm oh a irtHifjM l» SMljit<l. A. HILL. 

Fortune her gifts may variously dispose, 
.\nd these be happy called, unhappy those ; 
Hut Heaven's just balance equal will appear, 
\\ hen those are placed in liofw, and these iu/idc. 
Not |iresent good or ill the joy or curse, 
But future views of better or of worse. 

/Tjtjrjjf ,•« .l/.,«, EfistU fit. Pope, 

Often do the spirits 
or givat events stride on before the events. 
And in to-day ali-eady walks to-morrow. 

Tlu Dtatt, ,lf ir^UHMnm. S. T. COLERIDGE. 



IIOTK. 

Hope ! of all ills that men endure. 
The only cheaii and univei-sal euro ! 



Fear anp Poi^bt. 

Our doubts aro tr;iitoi-s. 
And make us lose the good we oft might win, 
By fearing to attempt. 

AtnisHnji>r UeatHrt, Act i. .S^. 9. SHAKESPEARE. 

I.APY JfACRF.TH. Letting / dare not wait 
upon / iroitld. 
Like the poor cat V the adage. 

MAOBKrii Trythee, peace : 

1 dai-e ilo all that may become a man ; 
Who daivs do more, is none. 

M^.-MA. -V.VI. 5,-. ;. SHAKESPEARK, 



Hope ! thou lii-sttruit^ of happiness ! 
Thou gentle dawning of a bright success ! 

Brother of Faith! "twixt whom and thee 
The joys of Heaven and Karth divided be ! 

•''"'" ""A- A. C'OWLEV. 

Hope ! thou nui-se of young desire. 

i«w •« ,1 )l7/.iiV. Act I Sc. I, I, BICKERSTAFF. 

True hojie is swift, and flies with swallow's wings ; 
Kings it makes gods, and meaner civatures kings. 

AVm' KuM.int III , .<,! V. jc. a. SHAKESPEARE. 

Hope, like a coixlial, innocent though strong, 
Stan's heart at once inspirits and serenes : 
Nor makes him pay his wisdom for his joys. 

KiiU ThoKtlUs. Dr. g. VOUNC. 

Hope, like the glinim'ring taper's light. 

Adorns and cheei-s the way ; 
And still, as darker grows the night. 

Emits a brighter ray. 

The Ca/nilO. J,1 ii. CDLDSMITH. 

Thy wisli wis father, Harry, to that thought. 
A-i'v Htttfy ly.. Part //. Act Iv, Se. 4. Shakespeare. 

Cease, every joy, to glimmer on my mind. 

But leave — oh ! leave the light of Hope behind ! 

Plnisi4rrs itf H.'^. I\,rtll. T. CA.MPlil!LL. 



SaB? 'fey . 'l-# 




t^ 






J''akkwi;li, to sucli a world ! Too lonp; I press 
The crowded pavement with unwilling feet. 

Pity makes pride, and liatr lirccds jiatefiilness, 
And holh are |joisoiis. In the forest sweet 

The shade, the peace! Immensity, that seems 
o drown llie hiim.in lifr of (hjiihls and dreams. 

far off the massive ])ortals of the wood, 

liuttressed with shadow, misty-bliie, serene, 
Waited my coming. Speedily I stooil 

Where llic dun wall rose roofed in plumy green. 
)are one go in ? — (ilance Ijackward ! Dusk as night 
Each column, fringed with sjirays of amber light. 

Let nie, along this fallen bole, at rest, 
'I'urn to the cool, dim roof my glowing face. 

Delicious dark on weary eyelids jjrest ! 
Knormous solitude of silent sjjacc, 
ut for a low and thunderous ocean sound, 
oo far to hear, felt thrilling through the ground. 

No stir nor call the sacred hush jirofancs ; 

Save when from some bare tree-to]j, far on high, 
Fierce dis[)utations of the clamorous cranes 

I'all muffled, as from out the upper sky. 
So still, one dreads to wake the dreaming air, 
ireaks a twig softly, moves the foot with care. 

le hollow dome is green with cmjjty shade. 
Struck thrf)ugh with slanted shafts of afternoon ; 

Aloft, a little rift of blue is made, 

Where slips a ghost that last night was the mof)n. 

I5eside its pearl a sea-cloud stays its wing, 

limcath, a tilted hawk is balancing. 



.4.\fo.vo T//E KKDiroons. 

C^Htiitmtii. 

The hc;iit tools not in o\oi'\ titno ami mood 
What is around it. Hull as an\ siono 

1 lay ; thon, liko a ilarkoniug droani. tlio wood 
lirow Karnao's toinplo. whoro I Inoathod alono 

In tho awod air stvantjo inoonso, and uinoso 

l>ini. nionstro\is oohinins ni thoir dioad ivposo. 

Tho mind not always soos ; but it ihorc siiino 

A l)it ot" tcrn-hice bonding ovor moss, 
A silky glint that ridos a s|iidoi"-lino, 

On a trol'oil two shadow spoai's that cross. 
Throe grasses that toss up thoir nodding heads. 
With spring and ourvo liko olustorod toimt.tin tliroads. 

Suddenly, through side windows ot' tho eve, 
Deep solitudes, wiiere never souls have mot ; 

Vast spaces, forest corridors that lie 
In a mysterious world, unpeopled yet. 

lU'cause the outward eye was elsowhero oauglit. 

The awliilnoss and wonder oomo unsought. 

It' death be but resob ing back again 

Into the world's deep soul, this is a kind 

l>t' quiet, happy death, imtouohod by pain 
Ox sharp rohietanoo. For 1 tool ni\ mind 

Is interl'usoil with .ill 1 hear and see; 

As nuK'h a p,ut ol' All as cloud or tree. 

Listen ! .\ deep and solemn wind on high ; 

The sliatts of shining dust shift to and t'ro ; 
The columned trees sway imperceptibly, 

.And creak as mighty masts when trade -winds blow. 
The cloudy sails are set ; the earth shiji swings 
Along the sea of space to grander things. 

Kdwakd Rowi..\mi Sill. 



KKAOMKNTS. 



80) 



Iti'diiiim wliiit liopo tlio novor-i-iicliiig lliglit 
or future rliiy» limy bring. 

fftraitiit /.til/, IliHtk \V Mll/roN. 

Il(i]ii! Iiiiiijlily llii'ii ; Willi lri'iiili|iii){ iiinionn 
Hfjur ; 
Wait tliu gri^iit t.niii-liii |)i;alli, jumI (JuiI (uIkicj. 
Wluit. I'ulurn IiMhh he ({ivi'B mil llii^n Ik kiiuw, 
I'lUl Kivi'H tljiil, \\u\m lo lin Uiy \Afmm^ now, 
lln|M' niiniiifn uli^iml in ttiii liiiiniin Iu'i'IihI : 
Miiii rjiiViT Ih, IiuI. iilwiiyH tii Im, l)lii«l. 
'I'liit noiil, iiniwMy luid <:'inrjn>'ii IVorn Imiiii!, 
lii.'HtH iinii I'XpiiUiiU'H in a liln lo I'onn:. 

Aifii)' .m Af.iH, I'l'iiHt I. V'lVV, 

"ri» oxiM'i'lnlion nialoM ii liliiHiiin){ iluitr ; 
Ilottviin wiTc! nol, lii'itvnn, if wn kmw wliatit wnrn. 

Again*! l-'ruilvm. Km JOHN HI/CKIJNt;. 



DlHAI'rolNlMI'.M. 

Wi^ 'ri! irlniinii'cl wilii (|i><liiiit, vii^wn of )in|ipinuMft, 
lint ni'iir iiji|iroiii'li>vH niiikr iJm iiioH|iiii:t, Nihh. 

Aifiitnit linjvj/mrnl. '1. YALnilN, 

Oft oxpm'tiitiiin failn, iiml irriwt oft tlicri' 
WliiTii rnoMt it pioiniMiM ; ;ini| oft it liits 
WliiMii liopi: iH crilili'Hl, and lii'iipnir njost Mm, 

/till ll'rll llml KiiJi Will, Arl II. St. i. MllAKI!<>l'l!AKI!i 

\i iliHtJint i)ron]Mii;tn pliiiiHi! im, but wlinn nriiir 
\Vi: lincl liul lii'Hvrt ro<:kH uinl ilevtiiig uir. 

TItf tntptmalory. Cant. Ml, S. OAHl (r, 

Wliy wiifb for inoni ? 
\ViHliiii;{, of (ill (■inployniontH, in tin; worHt ; 
riiilo)iopliy'« rijvi!!*: iiiiil health'it <lo(;iiy. 

Nl^hl riloHuhli. Nlitltl\y. Du. I;, YoOMr,. 



Mkmoiiv, 

Wbilc. mi^niory IioIiIk n wat 
ill tliiH iliitiitctiil ;{lolm. Ki'iiiiiiiliir tliw; ? 
Yr;ii, from tb(! tutdo of my incniory 
I 'il wipi) away nil trivial foinl rccoriln, 
\ll HawH of book", all foririH, all primmiii-H pfwt, 
riiat yoiilli anil oliwrvation ropii'il Hhti! ; 
Ami tliy comiiiaii'Imrnt all iilomi Hliall liv. 
Within lliu l»iok anil volumo of my l/iain, 

llamlil, ,l<l \. Hi. J. DHAKKKPHARR. 

Tin; b'aviiH of nii'inory Kwni to make 
A moiiinfiil rimtling in tlm dark. 



Ilu rtrt o/ tfrl/l,lvetHt. 



l^Nr,mu,nw, 



And, wliiin tin; ntrcum 
Wliirli oviTllow(;d tlin noiil wan puBxi^il awiiy, 
A i:onH>;ioiiHm;)iii nimaiiiiiil lliat it liiul li'fl, 
ni'jiimltnil upon tti't niliwit hIioid 
Of mi'inory, imaxiiH and pninioim tlioiif{btH 
'I'liat Hliall nol dii>, ami rannot !«■ diHtroyud. 

I'll' I'.jintrttoH. limit vll. WoKOSWOKltt 

.loy» too iiX'piiHitr to laiit, 
—And yiit vwn, oxnuisitu wlii;ii jiiutt. 



lh> I. ml. Child. 



). MONTCOMIIKY. 



How bliiitning/) briglitoii an tlluy taUn tli'ir llif^lit I 

Nil/Ill nwut,'lili, Nli'liin. ' uv I'.. Vi:tim.. 

'I'lid fai!i) rciwlln Komi! faco, an 't witi; with pain, 
Von om:i! havo Hw;n, but no'cr will bijo again. 

//^//.y, Ciilll. Illl. |1Y»0'(. 

Abm;nt or diiid, utill hi a (riiiid l«; di'ar, 
(A nigh till! almanl idainm, tlia dead a ti'ar.) 

/■/infl,. /■' It.ihrri, liarlo/Ox/urit, iin<t Ihirl of Miirtlmtr. I'OI'H, 

Kor it HO IiiIIh out. 
That what wa bitvn wo piizo not t-o Ih" worth, 
\Vliili,"( wo I'lijoy il, but lining lackwl and lont, 
Why, thi'n wii iai:k Un: valuii ; thi'ii wo find 
Till! virtui.', that poHnuHHion would not nbow ux 
WhiloH il wan oiiih. Ho will it I'liri; with riiiiidio: 
WIh'ii hi', nliall hi:ar Hb» diid upon bin wordn, 
Til' idiia of liiw liln ahall HWWitly craop 
Into bin Htndy of imagination, 
And i^vary lovi.dy organ of bur lifi- 
Hliall ''oniii appandl'Ml in inoro pri,'':ioUH babit. 
Moil! moving-didirnli', and full of lifi!, 
Iiil.<.i till! i!yii and proH|ii!r,t of IiIh houI, 
Than wlii!n hIik livad indcc.<l. 

^i<r/l AUq aliml Nalhliiu, Ail U. Sr. I, 'RMAKUPSAKIl, 



I'.iimcmln-nnc"' and rnflKction bow allied ! 

What thill paitilioiiH iicimo from thought divide I 

liiiajf on M.in, llfttlU I, I'Of H. 



r'HA.SICS OF FORTUNE, 

KOIITHNB, 

Fortune, men «iy, doth give too inucb to many. 
But yet Hbc never gave cnougti U> any. 

lipleratiu. SIH J, llAKXINrirON, 

Are there not, dear Micbul, 
Two pr>int<t in the adventure of the diver. 
One — when, a beggar, be [ireparen lo |ilunge? 
One — w}ien, a prinw, bo riaim with IiIh pearl ? 
Fefttua, 1 plunge. 

I'analiiti. K, BlUTWHIHe. 

When Fortune rneaiiH to mi^n most gwid, 
Hbo lookH upon them with a threatening oyo. 

k'lHg yohn, AflW St. A. SMAKKHf KAUK. 



SUJ 



POKMS OF SKNTIMRNT AND UKKl.KCTJON. 



Yt't tnu> it is, 0$ i-ow oliows ovid. 
And tiws, «t spriiij!. >io vioUl forth buil, 
Kxvvi't wiml stsimts, svs iiovoi- it stoinl. 
It is all ill wind tiii'iis lunio to ,i^HHl. 

T*f »»<«*», r. Tl'SSKR. 

'riioiv is somo soul of s^hvIuoss iu tliiuj;s ovil, 

Woulvl uu'H olisorviugly >listil it out. 

/ A1>w M««>gi K„ .let (<, jr. >. shakkstkakk. 

V\n- 't is » truth well known to nuxst. 
That whtitsvwvor tliiiij; is Uvst, 
WV swk it. oiv it wmo to ii^i;ht, 
111 t>v<ivy omimy hut tho ri^lit. 

;*««.«>«»• iw low II K 

1 htivo sot my lifo mnni a oast. 
Ami 1 will stiUid th* lituiil\l i»f tho >lio. 

Kl.KMKNI'S OK Sl'COKSS. 

M.vouKril. If wo slioiiUl tail, — 

l.M>\- M.\ouKni. Wo fail ! 

n«t sori'W your vvu«igt> to th<> stiokiiig i>laoo, 

Autl wo 'II not fail. 

.l/*i)»f*. .<.V L .* f, SHAKHSniARH. 

Ill tho loxioou of jMuth, which fato rosovvos 
For a bi'ijtht iiiaiihoovl, thoro is no such woi\l 
As— .riiiV, 

J(k-4<^liw. .<et & *. » m'L\viiRa.v ruvN. 

Tho stsiv of tlio uno«uiiioi\sl will, 

nt t.^!*t trSlurs. LO.NCVtU.OW. 

'T is not iu mortals to ivmniaiul suiit^ss. 

But Wtf '11 vlo nioix>, Sompixuiiiis ; wo "11 dostn'W it, 

Cd«\ ■itm.St^t. J. AUOISON. 

To iiiakon ^t>^tuo ot nocxvs&itt*. 

r*t tMeJurt Tjit. CiiAi'CKR, 

Auil many stivkos, tliouj;h with a littlo a.\o. 
How ilown aiul loll tho hai\lost-timK<ixHl i.Kik. 

Striving to b<>ttov, oft w» iiiw what 's woU. 

X^)Met^\^'■..^.ti.■ic «. SIIAKVSrKAKK. 

A wiM (Unlii-atioii of yonrsoh-os 

To nni>atlu\l walors, nntht\imo«l shorwi. 

M^ ««»»•> Til*. .^.Yiv. 51-. J, SHAKBSI'RAKK. 

Thow is a tiilo iu tho alVaii-s of mon, 
Which, takon at tho IKhhI. loa.ls on to l\wtune ; 
Ouiittinl, all tho vv\vago of their lifo 
Is Knuul in shallows ami iu misorios, 
Cii suoh a full soil aiv wo now alUvit ; 
Aud «•• must tako tho oumuit whon it sorws. 
Or loso our \Tnturvs. 

5>WlW C<M«r, .Ut (v. .£\ ]. SHAKCSTKAKK. 



Ill n>y soluH>l-ilays, whon 1 hiul Uwt ono stiaft, 
1 shot his folh>w of tho solfsjimo lUjjht 
Tho self siimo way, with moiv advisiVl watoh, 
Toliud Ihi'othor forth ; and by advoutuiingl>oth, 
1 oft found Kith, 

M*—.^*'^4-y'i'*'HH*, .^*ilS<. 1 SUAKUSrKAKH. 

Who Iwtiiketh his oiwlit, or oravkoth it twic#. 
Trust suoh, with a siiorty, if yo Ix- wiso : 
Or if ho Ih> aiijjry, for askiuj; thy duo, 
l>uoo ovon, to hiui aftor\vai\l, loud not anow. 

i'-M^ Ntu^Hkiyy l^s^Hs, r. Tl'SSKK. 

Uo is woU jviid that is woU sntisliod. 

.\ ruoniKCY OK KsrKKl'KlSK. 

l«?Sll 

Sinm sliall thy aim, un>vniiiio>vd stoam ! afar 
Oi'iig tho slow Ki|-j;[»>, or drivo tho nijiid oar ; 
(h' on wido waving wings oxiunuhnl Iwir 
Tho llyiiig-oliariot thivugh tho liold of air. 

/^ 4WUKH' t^ont'o, l\>tt. <'4. I. tS IIAKWIK 

POVKKTY. 

'hiko jihysio, \Hiinp ; 
K.xjwso thysolf to fwl what wivtohos fwl. 

KliH^ :.*<*'■, Mt i\\ ^V 4. SMAKUSOK.^KK. 

Thivngh tatto>v>l olothos small vioos do «l>jH>ar ; 
KoKvs and fun^^l gv'wns hido all. 

Yon tViondh'Ss nian. at wIhaso dojootwl oyp 
Th" nufooliiig (>ivnd ono looks, aud (>iis,sos l>y, 
l\>ndoiuiu\i on jn-uury's Kuivn jvith to i\>am, 
ScoiiuhI by tho worhl, and lot\ without a homo, 

Kivst hoiv, disti*st by jKivorty uo nioiv. 

^M/» m C. f*il>ft, I'K. S. .lOllXSv'N'. 

Ku-ukjs. 
Oold ! gold ! gold ! gv>ld I 
Bright and yoUow, haixl aud oold, 
Molton, gravon. hammoi\-\l aud ivllod ; 
lloavy to g»>t, and light to hold ; 
Hoiii\lovl. Kartoivil, Kniglit. aud sold. 
Stolon. Ivmnvi'd. s>(uaudouM, doUnl ; 
S(>nruod by tho young, hut huggovl by tho old 
To tJio vory voi-gi" of tho ohuivliyaixl mould ; 
Frioo of many a oriuu> untold : 
Oold! gvdd tgvdd ! gold ! 
Ooo»l or Ivid a thous;>ud-fold ! 

How widoly its ag»>noios vary. — 
To savo. to ruin, to oui^o. to Uoss, — 
.\s ovon its luiutod coins oxp«>ss. 
Now stani)HHi with tlio imagi- of gtnxl tJutH>n IVss, 

And now of a UUnxly Mary. 

.VWjr A'l^MMWA^s r llt>*>u 



KllAOMKNTS. 



8o;{ 



Mainiiioii, tlib Icuiit iii'ifctcd Hjilrit tluit M\ 
Krom hwiviii ; for even in lii'uvuu Ills IodUh ari"! 

lllxllglltH 

WiTi; ulwuyii iIowiiwukI Ix-iit, uiliiiiriii|{ iii'irn 
Tin; ri'itiKH kC liMivrfn'H |mvi:iiii'iit, IrmMi-ii nuU, 
Tlinii uii;<lit iliviiM: or lioly (;Ik« ciijoywl 
Iij vixirjii l><rlltil|i:. 

f'tritdilt t.oil, flouA (. MILTON, 

kili>;i'iij«, piiiiiitUHl, fiiij^iil, iiii'l w< f'oilli ; 

1 1 in wonl woiiM jiuNK for iiioin lliuii li<^ wim worth. 

OiM: uoliil ilisli liJH w<'i;k-'iay iiii-.il uH'orils, 

All uiiili'il [iinliliiiK soli'iiiiiizwl IIm; I,oiiI'h. 

'oimtuiit lit <:liuri;li aii'l i:liiiiig>;, liiw guiiw werv , 

«urc, 
Hit giving ran;, Hav<! fartliiiign to the fmor. 

i/or«/ lUiayi, ll/lilU III. I'OPE. 1 

'I'lii! ijiivll wiin pii|iii;il hiirli Haliit«lii)) to l«-lio|il, 
AikI loiigi;<l to toiii|>t iiiiii, lil«; good .fob oloM ; 
I Satan now JH winw tliaii of yor'-, 
I t<-ni|)tii by making ricli, not making jKjor, 

Moral liiiayt, IfittU III. ViiVV.. 

Ilir<! Wiwioni <.'all«, "Kwik virtue ftint, \m bold; 

f^olil to hilvi^r, virtup w to gol'L" 
. i.'-re J/jinlon'i) voii«!, " Oct nionny, money fitill, 
Aii'l then let V'irtiii: follow if uhc will," 

Imttatiwi tt/ll9rau, Bpiitt* I. tlvok 1. I'ol'li, 

He but great, 
th \tn\m (IT infamy —leave that to fato ; 
)>la(M; anil wealth ; if [mwiible, with gra/:e ; 
J I not, by any nieann get wealth ami iilai.t:. 

hnltatltiH$ I// Horuft, hpttUr I. lioott f, I'OI'IJ. 

I ,1 what in worth in anything, 

\. Awi much money an 't will bring? 



U>t4itvai, Part II. 



Im. a. nuTLRK. 



You have Uxt mueli resfxiet ufxiii the worhl ; 
Tlu^y low; it, that ilo buy it with niiieh eaie. 

.Mtrttuinl f>/ ytttia, Ael\. Se. i. SHAKIihl'KAKI'-. 



INTI'LLK' TlUr, ACTIVITV. 

COSVKBXATIOS. 

Wonln are like li:avi;» ; and where they moiit 

alxjuinl, 
Miieh fruit of iteni*! UmeatU in rarely found, 

//#«> ff/i Crtlietinit Part II, I'OI'IL 

And I oft have heard defended, 
I<itth; hull in i«j<;iie),t men'Uid. 

7ht HH^plurJt lluHtm^'. G, WITHER. 

Therefore, isinefl brevity iit the kouI of wit. 

And U^'liouuneiw th<! liwbx and outward flour- 

iiiheii, 
I will lj<: brief. 

llumUl, j4fHt, St. % 8lMKe«feAKe. 



KiS'O liU'MKM). ill: eloi|uenl in my Iwduilf to her. 
yi;i',i'..N Kl.lZAliKTii. An lioneot tale »\h-avU lieiit, 
lj<;ing plainly told, 

KlIIH RUhardlll., Act l», St, 4. SHAKUIiHIiAHIi. 

And, when you otiek on wdi vernation'* burn), 
Don't xtrew your jKithway with thowj dreu<lful 

v.rH, 

Urania. O. W. 1|//I.M).5 

In hi» brain — 
Which U a« dry an the remainder bisiMjit 
Aftor a voyage — he hath istruiige j/hi/:es i;ramine<l 
With ol»«;ivatio)i, tluj whieh lie vcntx 
In niangl<»l forma. 

At Yuu l.lkt II, Atl U. St. ^. SIMKIiijI'KAIie. 

They never tantc who alwayH drink ; 
They alwayii talk wljo never think. 

llpaH a I'atiatlt in l/u Stall^trana, M, I'MIOK. 

O dear diwirctlon ! how hiu wonln are suit<»l. 

Mtrtltotllnfytnltt, Atlti\, St. ^ KHAKI'.SI'liAKI?. 

Hix wit liivit«n you by hix l(j<(k» to wnie. 
Hut, when you knock, it never k at liome. 

Canveriall4n. CilVlfhU, 

Hid me diH>;<junte, I will enuluint thine ear, 

\ ytnui and Attonls. KllAKI:!^l'i;AKU, 

A man in all tlie world'* new faiihion phinl';'!, 
Tliat hath u mint of phraiteti in hin brain. 

Ijn^l iMlior Ijatl, AtlH, St. 4, fjHAKi'^l'l-ARI^ 

And gentle UulneNK ever love* a joke. 

'I'lu IJuHtlad, llMlr H, l-'ji-i:. 

O, many a uliaft, at random iH;nt, 

rinds mark the areher little meant ! 

And many a word, at lamlom lifKikim, 

May wwthc, or wound, a hisut tliat '» broken I 

iMrdo/llu hltii,Canl,i. SC</T'I. 

AnOI/'MKKT. 

And why, sir, munt they vi '. 
The why U plain ax way to iiarinh ehiireh, 

A I ycu Ukl II, Atl M. St, J, KKAKKSPIiAKIi 

I 
Who Bhall dw;idc, when doetont disagree. 

And soundest easiiisto doubt, like you and nie ? 

Moral litiayt, l-filillt III, J'OI'R. 

I Miv^h may be said on br^th sides. 

! TluCweHtCartttn 7rtigt4jf,Sf,^ U. rinU/IHQ. 

\ 

He that wjmplies againift hli will 

Is of hiit own opinion still. 



HluUVrat, Pari III. 



Vti. B. BVTIER. 



Quoth she, I 've lieard old cunning «tag<n>i 
Hay, fools for arguments uw; wagers. 

Ilutitbral. t'arl It. VU. )>, KU'ILKK. 



804 



POEMS OF SENTIMENT AND REFLECTION. 



A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew ! 
Now, iniiili'l, I have thee on tlic hip. 

A Daniel, still say I ; a second Daniel ! — 
1 thank thee, Jew, for toaclung me that word. 

Mcrih^Mttl i</VeHiet, Actu.Sc. t. SIIAKESPEAKE. 

To leave this keen encounter of our wits. 

King Ri<:harit III,, ,-ti-! i. 5.-. 2 SllAKESPF.ARli. 

Okatoky. 

For rhetoric, he could not ope 

His mouth, but out there Hew a tro])e. 

For all a rhetorician's rules 

Teach nothing hut to name his tools. 

Hudidras, Part /. Cant, i, DK. S. BUTLER. 

Whore nature's end of language is declined. 
And men talk only to conceal the mind. 

LJVf lifFami, Satire ii. DK. Ii. YOl'NG. 

To syllable-dissectors they appeal. 
Allow them accent-cadence, — fools may feel ; 
But, spite of all the criticising elves. 
Those who would make us feel — must foel them- 
selves. 

7'!k KiisciaJ. C. CHURCHILL. 

Thence to the famous oratore repair, 
Those ancient, whose resistless ehxiuence 
AVicldtul at will that lierce democratie. 
Shook the areenal, and I'nlmined over Greece, 
To Macedon, and Arta.xerxes' throne. 

P.tnuiisi; Rf^-ained, BwJk'w, MILTON. 

AVords that weep and tears that speak. 

7V Prtptut. A. COWLUV. 

The Stage. 

I have heard 
That guilty creatures, sitting at a play. 
Have by the very cunning of the scene 
Been struck so to the soul, that presently 
They have proclaimed their malefactions. 

The play 's the thing 
"Wherein I '11 catch the conscience of the King. 

Hamlet, Act ii. Sc. 3, SHAKESPEARE. 

Lo, where the stage, the poor, degraded stage. 
Holds its warped mirror to a gaping age. 

Curtffsity. C. SPRAGUE. 

Nay, an thou 'It mouth, 
I '11 rant as well as thou. 

Hitmltt^ Act Y. Sc. I. SHAKESl'EAKE. 



There still remains, to mortify a wit. 
The many-headed monster of the pit. 

Iniilations of Horace, llpistle I. B^ick ii. POPE. 

New forms arise, and different views engage, 

Supcrlluous lags the vet'ran on the stage. 
Till pitying Nature signs the last release, 
And liids alUicted worth retire to peace. 

i'anily 0/ Human lyiiJtes. DR. S. JOHNSON. 

A veteran see ! whose last act on the stage 
Entreats your smiles for sickness and for age ; 
Their cause I pleatl, — plead it in heart and 

mind ; 
A fellow-feeling makes one wondrous kind. 

ProL'trite on Quitting the Stage in 1776. D. GAKRICK. 

I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano ; 
A stage, where every man must play a part, 
Anil mine a sad one. 

Mercli,int 11/ yenice, ActLSc, 1 SHAKESPEARE. 

Leaunino. 
'Tis education forms the common mind ; 
Just as the twig is bent the tree 's inclined. 

Moral £ssays, rpistle 1, !\»PE. 

With too nmeli <piickness ever to be taught ; 
With too much thinking to have commoti 
thought. 

Mora! llssays, p.pistle II. POPE. 

Glad that you thus continue your resolve 
To suck the sweets of sweet philosophy ; 
Only, gooii master, while we do adndre 
This virtue and this moial discipline. 
Let 's be no stoics, nor no stocks, I pray. 

No prolit grows where is no pleasure ta'en ; 
In brief, sir, study what you most affect. 

Taming ■if the Shreiv, Act i. .Sc. i. SHAKESPEARE. 

Some, for renown, on scraps of learning dote. 
And think they grow immortal as they quote. 

Laz-e f/Fame, Satire L LIK. E. YOUNG. 

With just enough of learning to misquote. 

English Bartis and Scotch Pet'iewers, BVRON. 

Whence is thy learning ? Hath thy toil 
O'er books consumed the midnight oil ? 

Fables : The Shepherd and the Philosopher. J. GAV. 

Small have continual ploddere ever won, 
Save base authoi'ity from others' books. 

These earthly goilfathers ofhcaveii's lights. 
That give a nunu^ to every fi-xiui star, 

Have no more profit of their shining nights 
Than those that walk, and wot not what they 
are. 

I.cnx's Lat-or Lost, Act i. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE 



FRAGMENTS. 



805 



Love selilom havmts the breast wliere learning 

lies, 
And Venus sets ere Mercury can rise. 

Du IVi/e o/Bath : Her Prologue. POPE. 

A little learning is a dangerous thing ; 
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring : 
There shallow draughts into.xicate the brain, 
And drinking largely sobers us again. 

Essay OH Criticism, Part II. POPE. 



AUTIIOE.S. 

Shut, sliut the door, good John ! fatigued I said, 
Tie up the knocker, say 1 'ni sick, I 'm dead. 
The Dog-star rages ! nay, 't is past a doubt, 
All Bedlam, or Parnassus, is let out : 
Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand, 
They rave, recite, and madden round the land. 

Epistle to Dr. Arbuthttot : Prologue to the Satires. POPE. 

AVhy did I write ? what ain to me unknown 
Dipped me in ink, — my parents', or my own? 

Epistle to Dr. Arbuthttot : Prologue to the Satires. POPE. 

Whether the channer sinner it, or saint it, 
If folly grow romantic, 1 must paint it. 

Moral Essays, Epistle tl. POPE. 

Beneath the rule of men entirely great 
The pen is mightier than the sword. 

Richelieu, Act ii. Sc. a. ' E. BULWER-LVTTON. 

And so I penned 
It down, until at last it came to be. 
For length and breadth, the bigness which you 
see. 

Pilgrim's Progress: Apology /or his Book. J. BUNYAN. 



Books. 



If there 's a hole in a' your coats, 

I rede ye tent it ; 
A chiel 's amang ye takin' notes. 

And, faith, he '11 prent it. 

On Captain Grose's Peregrinations through Scotland. BURNS. 

'Tis pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print ; 
A book 's a book, although there 's notliing in 't. 

English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. BYRON. 

Lest men suspect your tale untrue. 
Keep probability in view. 
The traveller leaping o'er those bound.s, 
The credit of his book confounds. 

The Painter -who pleased Nobody and Everybody. J, GAY. 



Immotlijst words admit of no defence. 
For want of decency is want of sense. 

But foul descriptions are offensive still, 
Either for being like or being ill. 

Essayon Translated ^erse. EARL OF ROSCOMMON. 

But words are things, and a small drop of ink, 
Falling, like dew, upon a thought, produces 
That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, 
think. 

Don 'yuan, Cant. iii. BYRON. 

Me, poor man ! — My library 
Was dukedom large enough. 

Tempest, Act i. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE. 

His study ! with what authors is it stored ? 
In books, not authors, curious is my lord ; 
To all their dated backs lie turns you round ; 
The.se Aldus printed, those Du Sueil has bound! 
Lo, some are vellum, and the rest as good 
For all his lordship knows, but they are wood. 
For Locke or Milton 'tis in vain to look, 
These shelves admit not any modern book. 

Moral Essays, Epistle IK I'oPE. 

'T is strange — but true ; for truth is always 

strange ; 
Stranger than fiction. 

Don yuan. Cant. xiv. BYROlf. ; 

Oh ! rather give me commentators plain. 
Who with no deep researches vex the brain ; 
Who from the dark and doubtful love to run. 
And hold their glimmering tapers to the sun. 

Tlte Parish Register, Part /., Introduction. G, CRABBE. 

The readers and the hearers like my books. 
But yet some writers cannot them digest ; 
But what care I ? for when 1 make a feast 
I would my guests should praise it, not th« 
cooks. 

Epigrams. SIR J. HARRINGTON. 

Dreams, books, are each a world ; and books, we 

know, 
Are a substantial world, both pure and good ; 
Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and 

blood. 
Our pastime and our happiness will glow. 



Personal Talk. 



WORDSWORTH. 



And choose an author as you choose a friend. 

Essay on Translated yerse, EARL OF ROSCOMMON. 

Then felt I like some watcher of the skies 
^\^len a new planet swims into his ken ; 

Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes 
He stareil at the Pacific — and all his meu 

Looked at each other with a wild surmise — 
Silent, upon a peak in Darien. 

Ou first looking into Chapman' s Homer. Kp.ATS. 



806 



I'OKMS 01" SKNTIMKNT AND UKIIKCTION. 



My days nmoiij; tlio Dead mv [vissod : 

Aixiuml mo 1 Ivliold, 
\\'lu'it''i'r tlii'so I'iisuiil eyes mi' oast, 

'riio miglity mimls nf oKi ; 
My uovor-l'ailiiig iVioiuls aiv llioy, 

With wlmm 1 uoiivereo dav by diiv. 



ik\Msiim,ti t^MS, wiii. 



K. SOUTIIKY. 



Thcire studiovis U>t mo sit. 
And liold liijjli oonvoi-so witli tho mii;lity doad ; 
Sai^'s ol'anoiout timo, as};;xHls rovoivd, 
As jjods boiiolioout, who hU-st mankind 
AVith arts, with arms, and hnmani^od a world. 

T*tSiM,MU: IliHIrr. TllOMSO.N. 

Ciarii-isM ANi> SAriuE. 

And tinds, with kooii, diseriininaling sijjltt, 
Blaok 's not so Wack ; — nor w hito so iyrii whito. 

.\V» .l/.-ni/iCv. i;, CANMNi.. 

In woiils, as fashions, tho samo rnlo will hold, 
Alike fautastio if too now or old ; 
15o not tho lii-st by whom tho now aro triod, 
Nor yot tho last to lay tho old aside. 

Es^ty .'« Crih.tsm, r.in //. • Torn. 

Poot.s loso hair tho pniiso thoy shonUl havo got, 
Conld it be known what thoy disoivotly blot. 

I'f^t A\\fii'M«»«.>N'f l>\instith^N .'/V/.>»-i»tvV /V Mftt Aw'mi. 

\.. W'ALLliR. 

Evou oopions Orydon wanted, or foiyot. 
The last and givatost art, tho art to blot. 

/wrr.in.'«j <^H.'r\>it, tfutlt l. HA'St U. Porn. 

Trne oase in writing comes from art, not ohaiuo, 
As those move easiest whi> have learned to dnnee. 
'T is not enongh \io liai^hness gives oll'enee ; 
The soH\id must seem an eeho to the sense. 
Soil is tlie strain when zephyr gi'ntly blows. 
And the smooth stivam in smoother nnmlwrs 

flows ; 
l?nt when louvl surges lash the sounding shoiv, 
Tho hoarse iv\igh voi'se shonUl like the torivnt 

rotir. 
When Ai"-^ strives some i-oek's vast weight to 

throw. 
The lino too lalnu's, and the wonls move slow ; 
Not so when swift Cintilla sooni-s tho plain. 
Flies o'er th' nnbondiug eorn, and skims along 

the main. 

Fss^ <fH c'n/i.Vj-w. /\iw //. POPB. 



As soon 
Seek roses in Peeember, — ioo in .luno ; 
Hope oonstaney in wind, or eorn in ehalf, 
liolievo a woman, or an epilaph. 
Or any other thing that 's false, before 
Yon trust in critics. 

fH£ti£A K.ints ,IN.t S.W't'A KrflVu^TS, UVKON. 

Vox not thou tlie jwl's mind 

With tliy shallow wit ; 
Vex not thon the poet's mind ; 

For thou canst not fatlioni it. 

7*/W AWV.lA**.!'. TUNNVSOS. 

Piv^iaiv for rhyme — I '11 publisli, right or w rong ; 
Fools nro my theme, let satiiv be my song. 

i)H£tisM Stints ami SCiMA Xtt'irwtrs. IIVKON. 

Satire's my weapon, but 1 'm too discreet 
To run amnok, and tilt at all 1 meet. 

/•Hilahm «fll>irMt, Satin I. e,v* II. roiMi. 

Satire should, like a polished nizor keen. 
Wound with a touch that 's scarcely felt or soon. 

'i\> f^4 /Mit,ififrt>^tJ»fJirstSiitirni/f/iHMfr, A'.s** il. 

Lady m w. MONrAOU. 



POKTS .\NI> PoKniY. 

(If all those arts in which the wise excel, 
Nature's chief masterpiece is writing well ; 
No writing lifts exalted man .so high 
.Vs sacivd and soul-moving poesy, 

Jixs,iy,-N /Wrr-y. IH'Kli or nccKLVGHAMSHlRB. 

I'or his chaste Mnsc emiiloycd her heaven-taught 

lyre 
None but tho noblest passions to inspii-e. 
Not one innnonil, one corrnpteil thought, 
Hue lim> which, dying, he eonUl wish to blot 

f^'i,ljfHf ttf TJk^msvm's CifnW^iHHS. LOKO L\n-l'ULTON. 



^V^sdom married to immortal verse. 



TMr A.vrhrj'i."*. FA^i vii. 



Wordsworth. 



Thetv is a pleasure in jwotic piuus 
Which only jwets know. 
riu rimt/iKr: r»t ras^t, SM*a. 



COWMSB. 



Most wivtehed men 
Are cradled into poetry by wrong ; 
They learn in sull'ering what they teach in song. 



Then, at tho Inst and only couplet franght Lovers and niauimn liavi- sm'h seething brains, 

With .some unmeaning thing thoy call a thought. Such shaping fantasies, that appivhond 

A needless .Vlexandrino ends the song. More than cool leason ever oomprelu'iuls. 

That, like a wounded snake, dnigs its slow length The lunatic, the lover, and the iwt 

along. Aiv of imagination all oonijmet. 

iisi^y ^» Crttt,-tsm, /\ttt//. ^ l\>rR. 1 Ml,i>hWH,-f yij:^ts i^t~t\tm. ,-tt-t\. St\ l, SHAKESPRARa 



KllAOMKNTS. 



KU7 



I do but Hing bccatmo I imiKt, 
And |>i|i(i but iiH tbu liuuctii uiug. 

In Mrm:'rtani, kxI, THNNVHON 

While iiciisivi) ijiicls jiuinful vigilo kcuj), 
Slfuplu.sH thitni»i!lvo8 to give thoir rvadurx xlcop. 

Thr ihtnttad, llaol: \. I'UI'll. 

l-'iii' wbc'ivH(ii''('r 1 turn iny nivislji^il eyes, 
<!iiy gildcil Hi'oni^s iUid Nbinirjg iiiuspcclH i'i«"> 
I'liotii' liclds I'lioiiiipiiMH nic! ui'iMinil, 
And Htill I si'ctn to trend in\ duHuic ground. 

A IMUr/rom llnly. AIJDISCJN. 

Ivyit Niituro'.s wulkH, Mliunt folly as il Ilii'H, 
Anil intcib tliu niannci'H living iih lln^y Hmu ; 
I.iiu^;b wlioi'i! wo niu.st, be laitjdid wliiM'o wu ciin, 
Itut viniiiciitc tbu wityM ol' (iod to nuuj. 

l-.tuty <"! il/,i«. liptUlt I. rol'l!. 

I'oi'ts, like puiiiti'is, llius urjMkillid to trace 
'K\w, niiki'd iiiituri,' .'Will tbii living grueu, 
Willi gold iinil jcwoIh covi^r ov(3ry ]inrt, 
And lii<Iu witli orniinicntH tbidr want ot art. 
Trud wit is naluri' to advantage dri;«si!il, 
Wlmt olt wuH lliouglit, but no'crso widl uxpresmid. 

ttsayoit Crilltiim, I'ttrl II. I'OI'li. 



Ajit dlituriition'H artful aid. 

I ht t'rophtty 1)/ /■itmtne. 



C. CIIUKCIIILI.. 



Iliit tliOHi! tliat writi! in rbyino still make 
'Plice oni; vcrsi! for the. otbiu's sakit ; 
l''or one for seiiHi*, and onu for rbynie, 
i think 'h Hulliident at one time. 

Hudtbrat, Pitrl II. I>H. .4, IJUTLEK. 

Kor rhyrnc tlie niddcr i.s of vorsos, 

With wliiili, like sliips, they steer their eour.ses. 

llHdlbrat, I'arl I. \1V.. S. KU'ILI'.k. 

I had rather \k a kitten, and ery, mew, 

Than one of these same m<;tre ballad-niongerH ; 

1 had rather bear a brazen ean'sliek turned, 

<Jr a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree ; 

And that would set Iny teeth nothing on edge, 

Nothing so mueh a.H mineing poetry : 

'T i.s like the foreed gait of a Bbudling nag. 

Ki»e lltnry /K. I'arl I. Act lii. .Vf. I. SIlAKI'.bl'HAKIf. 

Go boldly forth, my simple lay, 
Wbo.se aeeents How with artless easf;, 
I/ike orient pearls at random Htrung. 

A Ptrttan Soft£ e/ lltf/lM. SIR W. JON&S. 

One simile that itolitaiy shines 

In the rliy desert of a thousand lines. 

Imilttltoiii 0/ llonKt, 1-^itlte I. Honk li. TOPli, 



JowcIh flve-word« long. 
That on the Btretebed forelinger oluU time 
.Sparkle forever. 

The I'rineas, Caul. II. TUNNYaoN. 

Clioieo word and measured pbraso above the nuch 
Of ordinary men. 

liejitliiltan and lildefietidettct. WokOswrjK'r jr. 

A poem round and peil'eet as a star. 

A I.t/f nr.tma. A. SMirn. 

My eyi'M make jiietnies, when tlnsy are shut. 
A Day-Orcam. s. T. COLOKIOCB. 

The jioet in a golilen clime was born. 

With goldi^n stars above ; 
Dowered with the hate of hate, the seorn of Heorn, 

The love of love. 

TItK I'off. TIINNVSON. 

Give me that growth which some perchance deem 

sleep. 
Wherewith the steadfast I'oial-stems arise, 
Wliieh, by the toil of gathi^riiig eneigies, 
Their upwaril way into clear sunshine kei'p 
Until, by Heaven's sweetest inllnences, 
Slowly and slowly spreads a speck of green 
Into a jileasant island in the seas. 
Where, mill tall palms, the eane-roofed home is seen, 
And wearied men shall sit at sunset's hour. 
Hearing the leaves and loving Ood's dear power. 

iiminil fll. J. K. Lijwuli, 

Still govern thou my song, 
IJr.ania, and fit audience liiid, thoiigli lew. 

I'aradiK Loit, Bottk vll. MILTON, 

Thanks untraced to lips unknown 
.Shall greet me like the odors blown 
Krom unseen meailows newly mown, 
Or lilii's lloating in some pond. 
Wood-fringed, the wayside gaze beyon<l ; 
The traveller owns the grateful sense 
Of sweetness near, lie knows not whence, 
And, pausing, takes with furelieud bare 
The benediction of the air. 

Snoiu-Bound. J. (',. wnrnraK. 



Till'. Mind. 

How small, of all that human hearts endure. 
That jiart which laws or kings can eausi; or cure I 
Still to ourselves in every place consigned, 
Our own felicity wo maki; or find. 
With secret course, which no loud stonns annoy, 
(ilides the smooth cuirent of domestic joy. 

I.iittf atld^d lu tioldintilh't I ruvitler. Dk. .S, Johnson. 



SOS 



rOEMS OF SKNTIMKM' AND liKl'llATKlN. 



Now soo tlmt iioWo nml most sovtM-oigii rt>ason, 
Lik<> swfot bolls jriijjKhI, out of tuiu> niul liin-sh, 

lUmltl. .1,t in. .\V. 1. SHAKl SIIIAKK- 

Mtfasmv your luiuil's hoiijlit by tin' sluulo it 
onstj ! 

rarMrlnu. K liKinvxiNG. 

Ht> tJint of suoh n lu'ight hnth built his niiiul, 
Ami ivjiivd tho dwfUiiig of liis thoughts so stixmg, 
As noithiT tViir noi' hopo iiui shako tho IVaiuo 
Of his ivsolvod powoi's ; iior uU tho wiiul 
Of vanity or uialioo pioiio to wi\ing 
His sottloil poaoo. or to diaturh tho saiuo ; 
What a fair soat hath ho, from whoiioo ho may 
Tho houiuUoss wastos ami wilds of mail survoy ( 

I' uU>ss nbove himsolf ho onn 
Erect himsolf, how poor a thing is man ! 

Woiv I so tall to ix>aeh tho polo. 
Or gr.isp tho oooaii with luv si«in, 
I must Ih' inoasnrod by my soid : 
Tho mind 's tJio stimdnrvl of tho man. 

Htfrtr i^ru-a, t>*\^ a. t J-'.i4St orr>tfHfjs. L>K. I. WATTS. 



I'liii.osoniY. 

lIouAllo. O day and night, but this is won- 
drous striuigo ! 
Hamlkt. And thoivforo iis n strangorgivo it 
woh'omo. 
There «iv nioix> things in hoavoii and oarth, 

Horatio. 
Thivu aix< liixwmt of in your philosophy. 

Humll. An i. Sc. s. SIIAKBSrCAKU. 



Philosophy will dip lui angel's wings. 

l..ini.i. I\itt II. 



J. KKATS. 



Snro, \\t' tliat niado us with suoh largo disoourso, 
Looking Ivloro and aftor, giivo lis not 
That cai>ability and godliko ix'ason, 
To fust in \is unusod. 

ILimM, Acl iv. i'.-. 4. SHAKnSPKAKK, 

Thitikiiig is but nn idlo wnsto of thought. 
And naught is ovorything and ovorything is 
naught. 

Mt/t^-t«J .IMnssrs : ChiH.'n.^ f 11 .mill SMllll. 

When Bishop Uorkoloy s;iid " llioro was no mat- 
ter," 
And proved it — 't was no niattor what ho .sivid. 

/>M ytuim, C>i*it. xi. UVKO.N. 

His oogitntivo faoultios immorsod 
Id oogibundity of oogitation. 

Chrx*N.'H. .<if I Si- I. H. CARIiV. 



Hot philiKsophers 
Stood Iwnding faotions, all .so stioiigly (iiMpt ; 
1 staggiMi-d, know not whioh was lirmor part, 
lint thought, ipiotod, ivad, olisorvod, and priod, 
Stull't noting-books : and still my spaniol slopt. 
Atlonglhhowakod,and yawned ; and by yon -sky 
For aught 1 km>w, ho know «s muoh lus 1. 

.4 .!i,i4.Srir ,,M.VA|J Ay. J. MAKSTON. 

llo know what 's what, and that "s as high 
.\s motaphysio wit can lly. 

IltiJt^r^j, i\tr1 /. Vr. S. lUTLl.K. 

Thoro is nothing either good or liad, but think- 
ing makes it so. 

MlMi/f/. .4.'.' ii. y.-. tf, SUAKIiSrilAKr 

Not .so tho son ; ho marked this oversight. 
And then mistook rovorso of wrong for right ; 
(For What to shun, will nogivat knowledge nood. 
Hut What to follow, is a task indeed !) 

MtntJ Hsj^txs, £/utlr III. PoPli. 

Tho intoUootual power, through woi\ls and things. 
Wont sounding on, a dim and perilous way ! 

TJtt h'jt\i4rsi.m, A.w4 ili. WOKnswoKVll. 

In discourse more swoot, 
^For oloi|noui'o tin' .soul, song oharms tho sense,) 
Others apart sat on a hill retired. 
In thouglit-s moiv olovato, and reasoned high 
0{ pixnidoiu'o, foroknowlodgi', will, and fate. 
Fixed fate, free will, toivknowloilgo ab.solnto ; 
And found uo oml. in wand'ring lua/os lost. 
Of good and evil muoh Ihoy argued then, 
Of happiness and linal misery, 
Fiuision and apathy, and gloiy and shaino ; 
Vain wisdom all, and false philosophy. 

l\trMiitst /..u/. *\v* H. M U. roN. 

Slave to lui soot, who takes no private rom\. 
But Iwks through nature up to nature's Ood. 

And knows whoiv faith, law, morals, all bogiiH, 
All end, in love of t!od and lovo of man. 

UssiiY i"t Man, £/isfl*/K l\iril. 



Music. 

If musie be tho food of lovo, play on ; 
tiivo me oxooss of it, that, surfeiting, 
The appetite may .siokou, and .so die. 
That strain again — it had a dying fall : 
0, it eanio o'er my ear like tho swoot south, 
That breathes upon a bank of violets. 
Stealing, and giving odor. 

I^iul/lll .Nli-AA .<sl I. AV. I. SHAKESrSAKB 



KKAGMKNTS, 



8UU 



'I'tiuru in a ciiuriii, it jiuwcr, that HWayK the breut ; I Of right aii<i wrong lus tauglit 

liU\» every |mHHioii riivvl ur Ix; Htill ; I 'I'rutho an riifiuini an ever Atheii« heard ; 

limpirui witli ragi!, or all our earcH (lisHolveH ; {Ami (Htrangi; to tell I) he pra>;tiHi.-(l wliat ha 
< all Mjotlie iliiitriurtioii, aud altnoHt i!i-Hpair. i prea<.'lii;il. 

Arlo/I'ruirvtng lltattk. J. AKMKTUONC. ylrt o/ i'reiervtujt J/iaUlt. J. ARUIiTkOHC. 



Miuie lialli chariiia to Hootlic a aavage brcatit, 
To iiofti:ii roi.kn, or \ii;\A a kriottwl oak. 
I 've riyul that thiiigi inariiiiiati; liave moved, 
And, UH witli living houU, have been informed 
By magic niiml«;r» and pernuajiive Kound. 

/Ar MdurttiHi- Hruil, Act 1. -Sf. I. W. CoNGRaVR, 

Where niiiHie dwelU 
Lingering and wandering on, an loath to ilic, 
l/ike tlioughtH wliow; very HwectneiiB yieldeth proof 
That they were born for immortality. 

h<tUtt<ttlual Softneti, I'url lit. xliil WoKUltWOKTK. 



ScUUTUttE. 

A)i when, O lady mine, 
With ehi«";lled toiieh 
The Kt^jiie unhewn and caAA. 
IJeeomeM a living mould. 
The more tlie marble waateB 
The more the Htatue grown. 

imml. /,-. (/Mr.. IlhNkV KOSCOII. M. Ant^nui. 



TIIK I'UOFKSSIONS. 

TiTE ('Lr.liliY A.ND TIIK PlTLPIT. 
O for a forty pariwin [Kjwer ! ' 

l/i/n yuan. Cant. i. BYkON 

Wcl oughte a preiit ennample for to yive, 

By hiH clenneHHe, how that hin Hbecp Hhulde lyvc. 

To draw folk to lieven by fairneBnc 

liy good en»ample, thin wan hi« bunynoiwi. 

Canterbury TaUi : I'rfitagM. CHAtfClja. 

What make* all doctrines plain and clear ? 
AUiut two hundred jjoumlH a year. 
And that which wa» prov(«i true Ijefore, 
Prove falw; again f Two hundred more. 

Hudtbrat, Part ttf, DK. .S, BUTT,RR. 

Do not, an norae ungraciouK i>a«tor8 do, 
Show me the dt^wp and thorny way t/j Heaven, 
Whiltt, like a puffed and reckleitii liUirtine, 
Himnelf the primrow; |»ath of dalliance treadn. 
And rcckn not hia own re<le. 

HamUt, Aet\. Sf. 3. ffMAKRSRRARR. 

He 'Htabliohcn the strong, restore* the weak, 
ICe<daimii the wanderer, binds the broken heart. 

The Timf/ute : Tht Talk, /look ii. COWRRK. 



Mkimcink anu I)oc"roK«. 
i I do remember an ajKithccary. 

Sharj) ini)t";ry \i;ij\ worn him to the bones : 
And in his needy shop a UirUtiiv; liung, 
An alligat<jr hlufl'ed, and other hkins 
Of ill-sliajwl lihlieH ; and about lii« snelvcs 
A beggarly account of empty boxes. 

Jiomev antt yuliel, /tct v. Sc, l, ttHAKEHRRARK. 

Witli us thcr was a Uoctonr of Phinik, 
In al this world ne wan thi:r uon him lyk 
To »|j<:ke of phinik and of nurgerye. 

He knew the cause of every maladye, 
Were it of hoot or colde, or moynU: or drye, 
And wher engendered and of what humour; 
He wan a verrcy pariight pra^ti^jur. 

For gold in phinik in a cordial, 
Thcrfore he lovwle gold in spwial. 

CanUrbury TaUi : Prelagtu. CHAUCES. 

" Is there no hope ? " the sick man said. 
The silent doctor shook Iiin heail 
And t'xjk bin leave with signn of sorrow, 
lJe)i|)airing of his fi* ttj-morrow. 

'Itu SUA Man and th< yingtl. J, CAV. 

But when ill in'lertd. 
E'en dijnnissing the doctor don't always yatuMi-A. 

I^Jglngi/orSlneb GnttUmtn, G. COI.MA.-<, tht younger. 



LaWYBKH and TIIK I,AW. 

80 wise, so grare, of so perplexed a tongue 
And loud withal, that r^juld not wag, nor scarca 
Lie still, without a fee. 

yalptme. B. JOHIIOM. 

I While lawyers have more sober sense 
I Than t' argue at their own exfwnse, 

lint make their bent ailvantages 

^)K others' ({uarreht, like the Swiss. 

I lluJlltral. DK 8. BUTLM. 

Ea'.-h wanton judge new penal statutes draw, 
I.aws grind the [KXir, and rich men rule the law. 

I The '/ravelter. f^jU/MilTtL 



810 



POEMS OF SENTIMENT AND UEFLECTION. 



Ijiws, US we reiul in auoii'ut sages, 
Uiivc boon like oolnvolw iii nil ages. 
Cobwolis for liltlo Hies are sjireaii, 
Ami laws for little folks are made ; 
liut if an iiiseet of ivnown, 
Hornet or beetle, wjusp or drone. 
He eunjjlit in ^uest of sport or jihiiuler. 
The llinisy fetter Hies in sunder. 

J. Ul-ATTIE. 

Uetween two hawks, wliii'h Hies ihehijjher piteh, 
Hetween two dogs, whieh hath the deeper nioiith. 
Between two horses, whieh doth bear him best, 
lietween two girls, whieh hath the merriest eye, 
1 have, perhaps, some shallow spirit of judg- 
ment ; 
Hut in these niee sharp ipiillets of the law, 
C5ood faith, I am no wiser than a daw. 

KlHeH'IKy '■'., rurtt.^aii.S,. 4. SlIAKIiSl-KARK. 

Mastering the lawless seienee of our law, 
That eodeless myriad of piveedent, 
That wilderness of single instanees, 

.<,\lmrri hirlJ. TnNN\'SOS. 

For twelve honest nion have deeided the eanse. 
Who are juilges alike of the facts and ihe laws. 

7"V rnnra yitry. W. rULTliNUY. 

The hnngry judgi's soon the senteiu-e sign. 
And wi-elehes hang, that jurymen may dine. 
««/» «f /** LMt, CtHi. Hi. ron . 

Daino Justice, weighing long the doulitful right. 
Takes, opens, swallows it liefoi-e their sight. 
The eause of strife riMUOved so rarely well, 
Theiv, take (says .lustiee\ take ye eai'h a shell ; 
AVe thrive at Westminster on fools like you ; 
'T was a fat oyster — live in peaee — adie\i. 

TlIK TUKSS. 
Now stir the lire, ai\d elose the shutters fast, 
l,et fall the eurtains, wheel the sofa round. 
And while the bubbling and loud hissing urn 
Throws up a steamy eolumn, ami the eups. 
That eheer but not inebriate, wait on eaeh, 
So let us weleome peaeeful evening in. 

This folio of four pages, happy work ! 
Whieh not e'en erities eritieise : that holds 
Inquisitive attention wlnle 1 nad. 

What is it but a n>ap of busy life. 

Us lluetuations and its vast eoui'erns > 

"V is pleasant, through the loop-holes of n'tn-at. 

To peep at sueh a world, — to see the stir 

Of the gi-eat Isabel, and not feel I lie eimvd. 



While fauey, like the lingi'r of a eloek, 
Runs the gitjat circuit, and is still nt homo. 

ll'iHttr £veniH£' ; TAt Tas^t £0^ iv. COWPKR. 



The .Ikstkk. 

When I dill hear 
The motley fool tlius moral on the time. 
My lungs begiin to eniw like ehantieleer. 
That fools should be so deep eontemplative ; 
And I did laugh, sans intermis.sion, 
An hour by his dial. — O noble fool ! 
A worthy fool ! — Motley 's the only wear. 



PERSONAL AND PUBUC OPINION. 

PnAlsE. 

The love of praise, howe'er eoneealed by art. 
Reigns nioix' or less, and gUnv s in every heart. 

r.<yif ^ F.tiHf, S,UnY i. DK. li. Voi'Ni;. 

To things of sale a seller's praise belongs. 

J.iKY's /..l\>r /-.V/. .ii-f iv. i".. 3. SHAKP.SPKAKi;. 

I have bought 
Golden opinions from all sorts of people. 

Whohalh not owned, with rapture-smitten frame, 
The power of gniee, the magic of a name f 

I'lntSKIfS </ ll,-fe, r.trl II. T. CAMPllliLU 



Fl..\1TF.ltY. 

'Tis an old maxim in the schools. 
That Ihittery 's the food of fools ; 
Yet now and then your men of wit 
Will condeseend to take a bit. 



CtiimNS tUfif / ViMi'.f.ci. 



Plan swift. 



But llattery never seen\s al>sui\l : 
The tlattei-ed always takes your word ; 
Impossibilities seem just ; 
They take Ihe stixnigest praise on trust. 
Ilvperboles, though ne'ei so givat. 
Will still come short of self-conceit. 

7"*/ /^n■«^r»■el'A.•//AIJ>^/.■^'^'^^(> ,»w.//;crr;)*%<>-. J. GAY. 

He loves to hear 

That inii<-orns may 1h> betrayed with trees, 
.\nd beai-swilh glasses, elephants with holes, 
l.ions with toils, and men with llatteivre. 
But when I tell him he bates llaltenn-s. 
He says ho does, being then most llatteivd. 

yniiHS CttMr, .<ft\\.St\ 1. SilAkliSPliAKll 



KnAOMKN'l'S. 



811 



Nu'or 
Wii.H llritti-'i-y liist nil I'im'I'h I'ur: 
A siiiipli' riifr I llii'y vviiHlr llicir toil 
Kiir the vain tiilmti) oi'a Ninilo. 

/..i> It/ tilt tint Atitiitrf/, Clint, Iv. SCOT r. 

ScANDAI, AND Sl.ANIlUll. 

'I'licrc 'h DolliiiiK liliickdim lilt(> llii' iiilc ul' dmU. 

11 tnii', It wilful likiMii'HN ; iiiiil, H' liiiN, 

" I'riiisi' iMiilrsiM'vril is Hi'iiniliil ill iliHgiiiHu." 

tmlliili.iiii I'/ lliirilir. / flUti I. tlno* 11. TlJl'li. 

Anil IIii'I'i''h II liiNt ill iiiiiii no i:liiii'ni I'liii liiinn 
( If liiuilly |iiililisliiii(» our iiri^^lilmi'M uliiinic ; 
<lii ('iiyli'n' wiii),'H iniiiioi'Liil kimiihIiiIm lly, 
Wliili^ viiinoiiH iK'lioiiH iini liut Imrn iiinl ilic 

.''iltll-fiK, /f-.l»«i. <'/" S. IIAUVIIV. JUVKNAI.. 

A tlilnl intrrprctM niotiouH, hioUn nnil oyiw ; 
At I'ViTy wiinl II i'('|Hitiitioii (IIi'h. 

K.iffii/ Iht t.iKt, Clint. 111. I'ol-I'. 

No, 'I, i.s Hliiiidcr, 

WllOlO <!(ln(! in h1i|1I|«'|- lllllll lllr KWOI'll J wIlOHl; 
tOII^JMM 

( lilt vi'iiiiiiis 111] I III- worn 1.4 of Nilii ; wjiunn lirciil li 
M«lrH on llii- |ioHtiii>{ wIiiiIm, anil ilol.li li('li(^ 
All I'oniiU'H of tliii worlil. 

Cyintittinr, /<f/ Hi. .S\. 4. SlIAKI'.sri'AK I'.. 

jil'.l'irrA'IKlN. 

<<ooil naiiM' in niiiii find wr)niiiii, dear my lord, 
\s till' iniiiii'diatu Jiiwi'l of tlndr hoiiIk ; 
WlioHUMilMiny |iiiiN(i, «t(!iilstriiKli ; 't isHonii-tliiiiH, 

nolliinx : 
'T wnM niiiH', 'tin IiIh, aiul lia4 licni hIiivo to 

tlioiisaiaU ; 
lint 111' lliat lilidirx I'i'oin niu my |{oo'l namii 
Uolm nii^ of that uliii'li nut cnriclieH liim, 
And maki'tt iiic poor indeed, 

titlulto. Act III. Sc. 3. SIIAKIlSI'IIAlia, 

Aftrr tiiy di'iitli I wIhIi nootlii'r lii'iiild, 
No otlirr Hpoakcr of my liviiij^ ai'tioiiH, 
To kiM'p mini- lionor from I'oniiption, 
lint Hindi an lionuHt (diruniuler iih (irillltli. 
King Htnry t'ttt., Artv. Sc. a. Siiakhhi'IAhi'. 

Hami.P'VI'. Horatio, I am di-iid ; 

Tlioii liv'xt ; irport mi' iinil my r'liiiHiuiriglit 
'I'll tlir niixatiHlii'd. 

IloiiATro. Ni'vcr lii'lii'vi' it : 

( Ttih-inij llif. cii/i. ) 
I am morn an nntiipn^ Kiiman tliiiii a Dani' : 
lli'i'i! 'h yet Dome lii|Uor lift. 

Mam. Ah tlion 'rt a man, 



Olvo mo tlie c.iili : let m> ; by heaven 1 Ml Inivo 't. — 

( S/.riii/j/limj : Ham i.k r i/rln l/ir i'///i. ) 
(> liod I Horatio, what, it woiiiidud name, 
Tliin^H Htiuiilin;; t liii.'i iiiiknovvo, .ilinll livr lii-liiml 

nil' I 
If tlioii didNt ever hold nie in thy lieiirt, 
AliHi'iit tliee from felieity awliilc, 
And in tlilH hiti'Hli world diaw tliy lai'nlii in |iitln, 
To tell my Klory. 

tliiifilct. All V. -Vf. 3. SIIAKIPierAUK, 

V,\ M H. 

Wlial hIiiiII I ilo lo lii^ forever known, 
And niake llie a^e In I'oiiie my own ? 

I hf M.i/fi: A.Cr.vvI.HV. 

By .love ! I am not eoveloim for ^;o|il ; 

Kill, if it lie a Hill 111 I'ovi't honor, 
I am the moat ollendin^ noiiI alive. 

A'|»U' lltnry y., AclU.Sc 3. MIAKI ".I'l'AKH. 

Your name, in pfieat 
In miiiitiiH of wineht eeiiHiire. 

Olltfliiii Alt 11. .Vr 3, SIIAKIISI'IUHK. 

It ili'HerveH with eharaeterH of liriiHH 
A flirted reHidencii 'gailiHt the tooth of tiinu 
And I'aziire of ohiivloii. 

.Mfinnrf/iir Mtniiirr, Act v, Sc. 1. SIIAKieil'HAHU. 

What Ih glory hut the lilaze of fame, 

The people's praine, if always praise iinniixt? 

And what deli/^lit to he hy Hindi e.\tolled, 
To live upon their tonxiii-H and he their talk, 
Of whom to he diK]ii'iiiHi'il were no Hiniill priiiM)? 

I\ii,„liu K,-i,:iiur,l. Ilivt III. Mll.ToN. 

I liie toinli of nature miiki'M thi' whole world kin, — 
That all wdtli one consent praise iiewdiorn j^iiw lU, 

And give lo ilnst, that, is a little f^ilt, 
More laud tlwtn gilt o'er-du»ted. 

'/ riiitiil itm/ I'irtriitii, Act iH. Vf. 3. HIIAK l"a'l'A«I(. 

Tlilii'e Inippy he wliose lianie has heeli well spelt 
III the ileHpateh ; 1 knew a iiiiin wIiohii Iohh 
Was printdd (Iriive, although his name wiih Ornn'. 

Ih'ti 'Jiiiin. Ctitl. vlil. llvl'nN. 

What is the end of Kanie ? T is hut to till 
A eertain jiortinn ot nneertuiii paper. 

/>,.>! Jimil. Cnilt. I. nvaON. 

Nor (''lime, I sli;^dit, imr for Inr hivors lall ; 
•SIk' eoiiieH nnlookeil for, if hIic comen at all. 

Unlilemisheil let nie live, or die unknown ; 
O 1,'rant an honest fame, or grant me none I 

1 III- trmflii i'f l-iniif. J'ol'll 



812 



POEMS OF SENTIMENT AND REFLECTION. 



All ! wlio can tell liow hai'd it is to climb 
The steep where fame's proud temple sliines 

alar ! 
Ah I who can tell how many a soul sublime 
Has felt the influence of malignant star, 
And waged with Fortune an eternal war ; 
Cheeked by the scoff of pride, by envy's frown, 
And poverty's uncomiuerable bar. 
In life's low vale remote has jiined alone, 
Then dropt into the grave, uupitied and un- 
known 1 

The Minstrei, Bovk'i. J. BEATTIE 

Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise 
(That last intirniity of noble mind ) 
To scorn delights, and live laborious ilays ; 
But the fair guerdon when we hoiie to find, 
And think to burst out into suddeu blaze, 
Conies the blind Fury with the abhorred shears, 
And slits the thiu-spun life. But not the praise, 
Plm'bus replied, and touched ray trembliiig ears ; 
Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil. 

But lives and spreails aloft by those pure eyes 
And perfect witness of all-judging Jove. 
As he pronounces lastly in each deed. 
Of so much fame in heaven e.\pect thy meed. 

Lvcidas. MILTON. 



CLASS AND CASTE. 
Akistooract. 

Order is Heaven's first law, and, this confest. 
Some are, and must be, greater than the rest. 

Esiay OH Ma», Epistle //'. POPE. 

Whoe'er amidst the sons 
Of reason, valor, liberty, and virtue. 
Displays distinguished merit, is a noble 
Of Nature's own creating. 

Coriatanits. ^Ict iii. Sc. r^. J. THOMSON. 

None but himself can be his parallel. 

The DottbU Falsehood. Louis THEOBALD. 

He lives to build, not boast, a generous race ; 
No tenth transmitter of a foolish face. 

The Bastard. R. SAVAGE. 

Such souls. 
Whose sudden visitations daze the world, 
Vanish like lightning, but they leave behind 
A voice that in the distance far away 
Wakens the slumbering ages. 

Philit Van Artefeldt. Act i. Sc. 7. SIR H. TAYLOR. 



Snobbeky. 

Let wealth and commerce, laws and learning die, 
But leave us still our old nobility. 

England's Trust, and other Poems. LORD J. MANNERS. 

In men this blunder still you find, 
All think their little set mankind. 



Florio. Part I. 



HANNAH MORE. 



Glendowkh. And all the courses of my life 
do show, 
I am not in the roll of common men. 

I can call spirits from the vasty deep. 

Hotspur. Why, so can I, or so can any man ; 
But will they come when you do call for them ? 

k'tng Henry ir.. Part I. Act iii. Sc. I. SHAKESPEARE. 

Know ye not then, said Satan, filled with scorn, — 
Know ye not me ? 

Not to know me argues yourselves unknown. 
The lowest of your throng. 

Paradise Lost, BmA- iv. MiLTON. 

And if his name be George, I '11 call him Peter; 
For new-made honor doth forget men's names. 

Kins yohn. Act '\,Sc. I. SHAKESPEARE. 

What woful stuff this madrigal would be I 

In some starved hackney sonneteer, or me, 
But let a lord once own the happy lines, 
How the wit brightens ! how the style refines ! 

Essay on Criticistn, Part II. POPE. 

'T is from high life high characters are drawn ; 
A saint in crajie is twice a saint in lawn. 

Moral Essays, Epistle I. POPE. 



St.\te-craft. 

For just experience tells, in every soil. 

That those that think must govern those that toil. 

The Traveller. GOLDS.MITH. 

'T is thus the spirit of a single mind 
Makes that of multitudes take one direction. 

Don yuan. BVRON. 

What should it be, that thus their faith can bind ? 
The power of lliought — the magic of the Mind ! 
Linked with .success, assumed and kept with skill, 
That moulds another's weakness to its will. 

The Corsair. BVRON. 

Treason doth never prosper : what 's tlie reason ? 
For if it prosper, none dare call it treason. 

Epigrams. SIR J. HARRINGTON. 



FRAGMENTS. 



813 



A ciitpurse of the empire and the rule, 
That Irom a shelf the precious diadem stole, 
And put it in his pocket 1 

HamUI. Act iii. Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE. 



Measures, not men, have 

Tlu GooiSaturtd Mtiti, Act n. 



been my mark. 

GOLDSMITH. 



Abuse of Authority. 

Oh ! it is excellent 
To have a giant's strength ; but it is tyrannous 
To use it like a giant. 

Could great men thunder 

As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet ; 
For every pelting, petty officer 
Would use his heaven for thunder, — 
Nothing but thunder. Merciful Heaven ! 
Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt, 
Split' st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak. 
Than the soft myrtle : but man, proud man ! 
Drest in a little brief authority, — 
Most ignorant of what he 's most assured. 
His glassy essence, — like an angry ape, 
I'lays such fantastic tricks before high lieaven. 
As make the angels weep ; who, with our spleens. 
Would all themselves laugh mortal. 

Measure /ttr Measure, Act ii. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE. 



The People. 

Who o'er the herd would wish to reign, 
Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain ! — 
Vain as the leaf upon the stream. 
And fickle as a changeful dream ; 
Fantastic as a woman's mood, 
And fierce as Frenzy's fevered blood. 
Thou many-headed monster thing, 
0, who would wish to be thy king ! 

Lady o/tht Lake. Cant. v. SCOTT. 

He that depends 
Upon your favors swims with fins of lead, 
And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye ! 

Trust ye ? 
With every minute you do change a mind ; 
And call him noble that wa.s now your hate. 
Him vile that was your garland. 

Ctfriolanus, Act L Sc. \. SHAKESPEARE. 

The scum 
That rises upmost when the nation boils. 

Don Sebastian. DRVDEN. 

Prom lowest place when virtuous things proceed, 
The place is dignified by the doer's deed. 

Ait's tVelt that Ends H'ett, Act It. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE. 



Through all dLsguise, form, place or name, 
ISeneath the flaunting robes of sin, 

Through poverty and sipialid shame, 
Thou lookest on the man within. 

On man, as man, retaining yet, 

Howe'er debased, and soiled, and dim, 

The crown upon his forehead set — 
The immortal gift of God to him. 

Democracy. J. G. WHITTIER. 



MISCKLLANEOUS. 

Solitude. 

Alone ! — that worn-out word, 
So idly spoken, and so coldly heard ; 
Yet all that poets sing, and grief hath known. 
Of hopes laid waste, knells in that word — Alone! 

The New Timon, Part //. E. BULWER-LVTTON. 

All heaven and earth are still, — though not in 

sleep. 
But breathless, as we grow when feeling most ; 
And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep ; — 
All heaven and earth are still ; from the high 

host 
Of stars, to the lulled lake and mountain-coast. 
All is concentred in a life intense. 
Where not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost, 
But hath a part of being, and a sense 
Of that which is of all Creator and defence. 

Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt 
In solitude, where we are least alone. 

Childe Harold. Cant. iiU BVRON. 

Such was that happy garden-state. 
While man there walked without a mate : 
After a place so pure and sweet, 
What other help could yet be meet ! 
But 't wa.s beyond a mortal's share 
To wander solitary there ; 
Two paradises are in one, 
To live in paradise alone. 

Tlie Garden ( Translated). A. M AKVELI. 

Facing through the forest. 
Chewing the cud of sweet and bitter fancy. 

As You Lite It, Act iv. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE. 

A feeling of sadness and longing. 

That is not akin to pain. 
And resembles sorrow only 

As the mist resembles the rain. 

The Day is Done. LONCPELLOW. 

Converse with men makes sharp the glitteringwit. 
But God to man doth speak in solitude. 

Highland Solitude. J. S. BLACKIB. 



814 



POEMS OF SENTIMENT AND REFLECTION. 



But if much converse perhaps 
Thee satiate, to short absence I could yield ; 
For solitude sometimes is best society, 
And short retirement urges sweet return. 

Paradise Lost, Book ix. MILTON. 



Social Pleasures. 

Here thou, great Anna ! whom three realms obey, 
Dost sometimes counsel take — and sometimes tea. 

Rape of the Lock, Cant. \\u POPE. 

She that asks 
Her dear five hundred friends, contemns them all, 
And hates their coming. 

The Timepiece: The Task, Book ii. COWPER. 

Tlie company is " mixed " (the phrase I quote is 
As much as saying, they 're below your notice). 

Beppo. BYROX. 

Hands promiscuously applied. 
Round the slight waist or down the glowing side. 

The li'attz. B^'RON. 

give me the sweet shady side of Pall Mall. 

Tottin and Country. C. MORKIS. 

AVe may live without poetry, music, and art ; 
We may live without conscience and live without 

heart ; 
We may live without friends ; we may live 

without books ; 
But civilized man cannot live without cooks. 
Wc may live without books, — what is knowledge 

but grieving ? 
We may live without hope, — what is hope but 

deceiving ? 
We may live without love, — what is passion 

but pining ? 
But where is the man that can live without 

dining ? 

Lucile. Cant, ii. R. BULWER LVTTON {Owen Meredith). 

There my retreat the best companions gi-ace. 
Chiefs out of war, and statesmen out of place ; 
There St. John mingles with my friemUy bowl, 
The feast of reason and tlie flow of soul. 

Intttations of Horace. Satire i. Book 2, ' POPE. 

Across the walnuts and the wine. 

The MiUer's Daughter. TENNYSON. 

When in the Hall of Smoke they congress hold, 
And the sage berry sunburnt Mocha bears 
Has cleared their inward eye ; then, smoke- 
enrolled. 

The Castle 0/ Indolence, Cant. i. J. THOMSON. 



Sublime tobacco ! which from east to west. 
Cheers the tar's labor or the Turkman's rest, 

Divine in hookahs, glorious in a pipe. 

When tippsd with amber, mellow, rich and rfpe ; 

Like other charmers, wooing the caress 

More dazzlingly when daring in full dress ; 

Yet thy true lovers more admire by far 

Thy naked beauties — Give me a cigar ! 

Tlie Island, Cant, ii. BYRON 

Yes, social friend, I love thee well. 

In learned doctors' spite ; 
Thy clouds all other clouds dispel. 

And lap me in delight. 

To tny Cigar. ' C. SPRAGUE. 

And when the smoke ascends on high. 
Then thou behold'st the vanity 

Of worldly stuff, 

Cione with a puff : 

Thus think, and smoke tobacco. 

And seest the ashes cast away, 
Then to thyself thou mayest say, 
That to the dust 
Return thou must. 

Thus think, and smoke tobacco. 

ANONYMOUS. — Before 1689. 



Manners and Customs. 
Such is the custom of Branksome Hall. 

The Lay 0/ the Last Minstrel, Cant. i. SCOTT. 

But to my mind, — though I am native here. 
And to the manner born, — it is a custom 
More honored in the breach, than the observance. 

Hamlet. Act i, Sc. 4. SHAKESPEARE. 

i\Ianners with fortunes, humors turn with climes. 
Tenets witli books, and principles with times. 

Moral Essays. Epistle /. POPE. 

Plain living and high thinking are no more. 
The homely bea\ity of tlie good old cause 
Is gone ; our peace, oiu' fearful innocence, 
And pure religion breathing household laws. 

fVritten in London, Seplemher, 1S02. WORDSWORTH. 



Differing Tastes. 

Dift'erent minds 
Incline to difl'erent objects ; one pursues 
The vast alone, the wonderful, the wild ; 
Another sighs for harmony, and grace, 
Aud gentlest beauty. 

Such and so various are the tastes of men. 

Pleasures o/the Itnn.i.ination, Book IH. M. AKENSIDE. 



FRAGMENTS. 



815 



What 's one man's poison, signer, 
Js anotlier's meat or drink. 

Lwt's Cure, Act iii. Sc. a. UliAUMONT and FLETCHER. 

Variety 's the very spice of life. 
That gives it all its flavor. 

TheTtmtfirct: TheTasi.Soeta. COWPER. 

Not chaos-like together crushed and bruised, 
But, as the world, harmoniously confused, 
Wliere order in variety we see, 
And where, though all things differ, all agree. 

iniuUor Fortsl. POPE. 



QUAUUEULINO. 

0, shame to men ! devil with devil damned 
Firm concord holds, men only disagree 
Of creatures rational. 

Paradise Lost, Book\\. MILT( 



Trifles. 

Think naught a trifle, though it small appear ; 
Small sands the mountain, moments make the 

year, 
And trifles life. 

Love a/ Fame, Satire \i. DR. E, YOUNG. 

I'retty ! in amber to observe the forms 
Of hair, or straws, or dirt, or grubs, or worms ! 
The things, we know, are neither rich nor rare. 
But wonder how the devil they got there ! 

Epislte to Dr. Arbuthnot : Protosut to Satires. POPE. 

What dire otfence from amorous causes springs. 
What mighty contests rise from trivial things. 

The Rape o/the Loci, Cant, i . POPE. 

A little fire is quickly trodden out. 

Which, being sutfered, rivers cannot quench. 

f^ing Henry VL, Part II L Act iv. Sc. 8. SHAKESPEARE. 



Craft. 

Our better part remains 
To work in close design, by fraud or guile. 
What force effected not ; tliat he no less 
At length from us may find, who overcomes 
By force hatli overcome but half his foe. 

Paradise Lost, Book i. MILTON. 



Temptation. 

How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds 
Makes ill deeds done ! 

A'm^ John, Act iv. Sc. a. SHAKESPEARE. 



Prudent Speech. 
Let it be tenable in your silence still. 

Give it an understanding, but no tongue. 



Hamtit, Act i. Sc, 



SHAKESPEARE. 



Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice ; 
Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judc- 
ment. 

Hamlet, Act i.Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE. 

And oftentimes excusing of a fault 
Doth make the fault tlie worse by the excuse, 
As patches, set upon a little breach. 
Discredit more in hiding of tlie fault 
Than did the fault before it was so patched. 

AV«i' yohH, Act iv. Sc, 2. SHAKESPEARE. 

Moderation. 
Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, 
Lie in three words, — health, peace, and compe- 
tence. 
But health consists with temperance alone. 
And peace, Virtue ! peace is all thine own. 

Essay on Matt, lipistte IV. POPE. 

Tliese violent delights have violent ends. 

And in their triumph die ; like fire and powder, 

Which as they kiss consume. 

Therefore love moderately ; long love doth so ; 
Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. 

Romeo and Juliet, Act ii. Sc. 6. SHAKESPEARE. 

They surfeited with honey ; and began 

To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little 

More tlian a little is by much too much. 

A'lV/^ Henry 1V„ Part I. Act iii. 5c. 2. SHAKESPEARE. 

He that holds fast the golden mean, 
And lives contentedly between 

The little and the great, 
Feels not the wants that pinch the poor. 
Nor plagues that liaunt the rich man's door. 

Translation of Horace, Book ii. Odj: x. COWPER. 

If then to all men happiness was meant, 
God in externals could not place content. 

Essay on Man, Epistle IV. POPE, 



Idleness and Ennui. 

'T is the voice of the sluggard ; I heard him 

complain, 
"You liave waked me too soon, I must slumber 

again." 

TIte Sluenard. DR. I. WATTS. 

Absence of occupation is not rest, 

A mind quite vacant is a mind distressed. 

Retirenunl. COWPER. 



SIG 



POEMS OF SEXTDIENT AND REFLECTION. 



To sigh, yet I'eel no paiu, 

To weep, yet scarce know why ; 
To sport an hour with Beauty's chain, 

Then throw it idly by. 

Tht Blue Stockttig. T. MOORE. 

The keenest pangs the wretched find 

Are rapture to the dreary void, 
The leadess desert of the mind. 

The waste of feelings unemployed. 

Tfu Giaour, EVRO.N. 

Their only labor was to kill the time 
(And labor dire it is, and weary woe) ; 
They sit, they loll, turn o'er some idle rhyme ; 
Then, rising sudden, to the glass they go, 
Or saunter forth, with tottering step and slow : 
This soon too rude an e.xercise they find ; 
Straight on the couch their limbs again the}- 

throw. 
Where hours on hours they sighing lie reclined. 
And court the vapory god, soft breathing in the 

wind. 

Tht Castlt c/IndoUna, Cant. L J. THOMSON. 



H.\NG Sorrow ! 

And this the burden of his song forever used 

to be, 
I care for nobody, no not I, if nobody cares for 

me. 

/.otr in a ViUait, Act I. Sc. 5. I. BICKERSTAFF. 

AVithout the door let sorrow lie ; 
And if for cold it hap to die. 
We '11 buiy 't in a Christmas pie, 
And evermore be merry. 

And Jack shall pipe, and Gill shall dance. 
And all the town be merry. 

For Christinas comes but once a year. 
And then they shall be merry. 

Tliough others' purses be more fat, 
AYliy should we pine, or grieve at that ? 
Hang sorrow ! care will kill a cat. 
And therefore let 's be merry. 

Chnslmas. G. WITHER. 



Night and Sleep. 

Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy Sleep ! 
He, lilce the world, his ready visit pays 
Where fortune smiles ; the wretched he forsakes : 
Swift on his downy pinions flies from woe. 
And lights on lids unsullied with a tear. 

Kight Thoughts, Night i. DR. E. YOUNG. 

Thou hast been called, sleep ! the friend of 

woe ; 
But 't is the happy that have called thee so. 

Curse 0/ Kehatna, Cant. xv. R. SoUTHEV. 

She bids you on the wanton rushes lay you down. 
And rest your gentle head upon her lap. 
And she will sing the song that pleaseth you. 
And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep. 
Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness ; 
Making such difference betwixt wake and sleep 
As is the dilference betwixt day and night. 
The hour before the heavenly-harnessed team 
Begins his golden progress in the east. 

Kiug Henry IV„ Part 1. Act m. Sc. I. SHAKESPEARE 

Weariness 
Can snore upon the flint, when restive sloth 
Finds the down pillow hard. 

Cymbetine, Act iii. Sc. 6. SHAKESPEARE. 

Care-charming sleep, thou easer of all woes. 
Brother to Death, sweetly thyself dispose 
On this afflicted prince ; fall like a cloud 
In gentle showers ; . . . sing his pain 
Like hollow murmuring wind or silver rain. 

yatentinian BEAU.MONT and FLETCHER. 

Midnight brought on the dusky hour 
Friendliest to sleep and silence. 

Paradise Last. Book \. MlLTOf4 

And the night shall be filled with music, 

And the cares that infest the day 
Shall fold their tents like the Ai-abs, 

And as silently steal away. 

The Day U Done. LONGFELLOW. 

To all, to each, a fair good-night. 

And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light ! 

Marmion: VEnvoy. To the Reader. SCOTT. 



j^^^^y. 




POEMS OF FANCY. 



e^i^ 




o<3 
> 

1 



■=^ 



i^ 






r 






=^ -4 



•J 



r ^ 



i 



1 i 



•4 
1 



i 



'>r 






POEMS OF FANCY. 



FANTASY. 

FROM "THE VISION OF DELIGHT." 

Break, Fantasy, from thy cave of cloud. 

And spread thy purple wings. 
Now all thy figures are allowed, 

And various sliapes of things ; 
Create of airy forms a stream, 
It must have blood, and naught of phlegm ; 
And though it be a waking dream. 

Yet let it like an odor rise 
To all the senses here. 

And fall like sleep upon their eyes, 

Or music in their ear. 

Ben Jonson. 



DELIGHTS OF FANCY. 

FROM " THE PLEASURES OF TMAGINATION." 

As Memnon's marble harp renowned of old 
By fabling Nilus, to the quivering touch 
Of Titan's ray, with each repulsive string 
Consenting, sounded through the warbling air 
Unbidden strains ; e'en so did Nature's baud 
To certain species of external things 
Attune the finer organs of the mind ; 
So the glad impulse of congenial powers. 
Or of sweet sound, or fair-proportioned form. 
The grace of motion, or the bloom of light, 
Thrills through imagination's tender frame, 
From nerve to nerve ; all naked and alive 
They catch the spreading rays ; till now the soul 
At length discloses every tuneful spring, 
To that hai-monious movement from witliout. 
Responsive. Then the inexpressive strain 
Diffuses its enchantment ; Fancy dreams 
Of sacred fountains and Elysian groves. 
And vales of bliss ; the Intellectusil Power 
Bends from his awful throne a wondering ear. 
And smiles ; the passions gently soothed away. 
Sink to divine repose, and love and joy 
Alone are waking ; love and joy serene 
As airs that fan the summer. atteiuJ, 
Whoe'er thou art whom these delights cau touch. 



"Whose candid bosom the refining love 
Of nature warms ; 0, listen to my song, 
And I will guide thee to her favorite walks, 
And teach thy solitude her voice to hear, 
And point her loveliest features to thy view. 

MARK AKENSIDE. 



FANCY. 

Ever let the Fancy roam, 

Pleasure never is at home : 

At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth. 

Like to bubbles when rain pclteth ; 

Then let winged Fancy wander 

Through the thought still spread beyond her : 

Open wide the mind's cage-door. 

She '11 dart forth, and cloudward soar. 

sweet Fancy ! let her loose ; 

Summer's joys are spoilt by use. 

And the enjoying of the Spring 

Fades as does its blossoming : 

Autumn's red-lipped fruitage too. 

Blushing through the mist and dew. 

Cloys wHh tasting. What do then ? 

Sit thee by the ingle, when 

The sear fagot lilazes bright. 

Spirit of a winter's night ; 

When the soundless earth is muffled. 

And the cakid snow is shuffled 

From the ploughboy's heavy shoon ; 

When the Night doth meet the Noon 

In a dark conspiracy 

To banish Even from her sky. 

— Sit thee there, and send abroad 

With a mind self-overawed 

Fancy, high-commissioned : — send her ! 

She has vassals to attend her ; 

She will bring, in spite of frost. 

Beauties that the earth hath lost ; 

She will bring thee, all together. 

All delights of summer weather ; 

All the buds and bells of May 

From dewy sward or thorny spray ; 



820 



rOKMS 01- KANCV, 



All t.l>i> Uoai>{Kl Antn\i)ii'!! wiviUli, 

With 11 still, mystoi'ioiis sti-siltlv ; 

Slio will mix tlipsi' ploiisuivs uji 

l.ikt' Ihivo lit wiiuw in ;> ouiv 

Aiul tliiHi sl\;ilt nu:>l1' it ; tliou shall hour 

Oistikut lmrvi>st-<-!UMls oloiii ; 

Uvisth" i>f thi' u>«i«\l I'oni ; 

Swivl l>ii\ls i«i\tln'm>ii)« tl\i> itioi'ii ; 

Aiivl in thi< sitnio uioini>i\t hiirk I 

"V is llu> iwily Ajiiil liU'k, 

Or tho ivxks, with hnsy i':>\v, 

Konijjini; l'>>r sticks ami simw. 

Thon shiilt, M oi\o jjhui>v, IvhoUl 

Thp >l;tisy i\nil tho i«iii'ij;>>hl ; 

Whito-niunirtl lilios, :uul tho first 

ll«lj?'-i;i»»n primiwso that hath Initst ! 

Shailoil livaoinlh. alway 

Sjipi'liiiv .|in-on of tho mivlMay ; 

An>i ovovy U>al'. an>l ovory llowor 

TtvirhVl with tho st'lf-s;»mo shv>\vor. 

Thon shall soo tl\o fioUlinonso ih'oj> 

Mt\ij;ix> ftvin its oolh\l sloi>p ; 

Ami tho snako all wintor-thin 

Cast on snnny Iviuik its skin ; 

KivokUvl nostoiQjs thon shall sjv 

llal.'hii\j; in tho hawthorn tivo, 

Whoii tho honhiixl's winj; iloth ivst 

Ijniot oti hor mossy nost ; 

Thon tho hnrry anil ahum 

Whon tho Kh'-Iuvv oasts its swarm ; 

Aoortis rii«' vlowtt-jmttoriii}; 

AVhilo tho autnniu lm'o*i>s sitig, 

s\v»H<l Fanoy ! lot hor hnwo ; 

Kvorythiiijt is siH>ill l>y \iso ; 

Whoiv's tho ohook that iloth Uv>t liuK 

Tv>o mnoh jjsuihI at t Whoiv 's tho maul 

Whoso lip niatvuv is ovor now t 

\Vhoiv 's tho oyo, howowr Wvio, 

IVitli not wi>»ry ! Whoix>'s tho fiu-o 

t>no wonUl ntool in ovory phnv I 

Whoiv 's tho voioo, howovor sol\, 

Ono \vo\ihl hoar so vory oft 1 

At a t>>noh swool Tloastuv moltoth 

I.iko to hnhhlos whi'n i-iiin (loltoth. 

l.ol thon winj^VI I'am-y linil 

Thw a misliwss to thy mii\il ; 

Pnhvt-oyrtl as Ootrs' ilanghlor, 

Krt- tJio goii of tormoiit tanght hor 

ll>>w to iVnvn ami how to oliiilo ; 

With a xttiisl ami with a siilo 

Whito as llolv's, whon hor »ono 

Slipt its j!\>Uloi\ olasjs and down 

Foil hor kirllo to hor foot 

Whilo sho hohl tho j^>l>lot swoot. 

Ami .lovo ifivw langniil. Ihi-jik tho \nosh 

OS tho Kauov's silkon l«k$h : 



Qnioklv liroak hor jnison-striiijt, 
Alul snoh joys as thoso sho '11 hrin^; ; 
- Lot Iho winjpVl Kanoy iwnn, 
rioasuw iiowr is at homo, 

lOIIN KB.kfS. 



UAl.l.O, MY FANCY. 

In molai\i'holii' l'a«oy, 

l>nt of niysolf. 
In tho vnloan ilanoy, 
All tho worhl survoyinj;. 
Nowhoiv slayinjt, 
.Inst liko a I'airy olf ; 
iVit o'or tho to|v<of hijjho.st moniilaiiis ski|ming, 
t'nl o'or tho hills tho livos ami valloys lri)>)<in);, 
Ont o'or ihooooansoius wit honi aniMiror.shiiijiinjj, 
Uallo, my fanoy, whithor wilt thou gvi f 

.\mi>lst tho misty xiijiors. 

Fain wonhl 1 know 
What (loth oanso tho lajioi's ; 
Why tho ohnuls InMiight us, 
.\n>l allVight us 
Whilo wo tmvol hoiv Iwlow, 
Fain would 1 know what inakos tho iMarini; 

thnmlor, 
.\nd what llnvso lijfhtnin^us W that ivnd tho 

ohnids asnndor, 
.\nd what thoso i\>nn>ts aw on whioh wo jpwio 
and womlor. 
Hallo, my fanoy, whithor wilt thou >?> ( 

Fain wAmld I know tho ivason 

Why tho lilllo ant. 
All thi' sninn\or si-aso», 
Ijiyoth up |>i\ivisi\>n, 
tin ooiidition 

To know no wintor's want ; 
.\nd how thoso lilllo tishos, that swim Wnoath 

salt wator, 
Po m>vor blind thoir oyo ; mothinks it is a uiattor 
.\n inoh alwvo tho ti-aoh of old Krra Vator I 
Hallo, my fanoy, whithor wilt thon j;v> t 

Fniu WMuld I Ih> ri>solv<Hl 
How thint<:s aiv dono ; 
Ami whoii' tho Inill was oalvod 
Of hhxniy Fhalavis, 
.\nd whoiv tho tailor is 
Thai works to tho man i' tho nunni ! 
Fain would I know how t^ii)>id aims so rijrhtly : 
.Viid how tlii>so littlo I'airios do vianoo and lojip 

so li,shtly ; 
Ami whoiv fair t\ntliia makw hor amhlos 
nightly. 
Hallo, my fanoy, whithor wilt thou pi f 



I'OKMH 01' i'an<;y. 



H21 



In I'oiMwIl Ilk" I'lwntoii, 

I 'II iiiHiiiil. I'li'itliim' liiiuir, 
lliivlii;( ijn'iT a liitt on, 
All my liitlr ri-liiiriiinf{ 
In my JonimylnK, 

llnrryhiK UiroiiKJi Um- iiir, 

Kiilr wimM I Iumi liln ll>'ry Iixidi-k niti;{liin;{, 

Aijil ni'i li'iw lliity on Timiny liiU lun |iliiylnK ; 

All till! atiirn itn>l pliinctH I will ln' niiivi'yln|{ ! 

Iliill'i, my fiincy, wlilllnir will, Umhi j/n'l 

I), f'lorn wliiil Kroiiml ril' niiLiiln 

lliilli III'' |ii'lii'nn, 
't'liiil Hi'lf 'iji'vinring cninliiro, 
I'riivi^ »!) Iiiiwiu'il 
Anil nntowiii'il, 

llir vilalu for to wtrnin '( 
Ami why Ilin militlr! i'nx, wlilli! in iliiiitJi'n woun'lu 

l« lyi"«i 
Dotli not liirm:nt liln iinn^n liy liowlliiK lui'l by 

'■•■yi'iK ; 
Ami why th'! niilk-whiln Hwiin iloUi Hinx wli'in 
niiK'n n-ilyin((. 
Hallo, my fttm;y, whlthnr will thou «o ( 

Knin wonhl I <:iiui.UiiW thi>i, 

At Iwihl miik<: l:Hl«iy, 
What nimilitnih; i»; 
Why lowU of II fiittthnr 
Klo'k itiirl lly liinid\li;r, 

Ami himhx know IhihhIh of priry i 
llow Natnrii'd iil<:hyni|j»tJt, th«i«i itniall Idlxirionii 

(;iifttturi;>t, 
A(:knowlwl«ii ntlll u jniiK/i In oiilfilng th«lr 

niatUrn, 
Ami niiffcr nonri to llvu, wlio MlothinK lowj thnlr 
fi'iitiirijii. 
Hallo, my fancy, whitln^r will thou «o '( 

J 'ni rapt with n'Imiration, 

Whi:n I 'lo rnminati!, 
Mi:n of un owMijmtion, 
llow "•!u:h on« <all>i him l/roth'T, 
Vnt «mh cnvioth olhi;!-, 
Ami y<!t Klin inlimaUi ! 
Yiin, I iKlmirK [/> mm tuniiK tiuliiri!)i farther itun- 

rl'rwl, 
Than antiiH)'h!)i Ui iw, I* It not i/i Vc; wori'lViwI '( 
In myriailn yi;'!! flml, of oni; min<l lU'.urrA: a hun- 
.I1.-I r 
Hallo, my fancy, whitlier wilt tliou go f 

Wliat rnultituilii of notioiM 

Uolli [xirturli my \MUt, 
f.'onai>l':rinK th<; motionii, 
llow till! hcavcmi urn \iiKii'irvi:il, 
An'l thl)i worhl (xfrvfxl 

In moi«tur«, light, an>l he**- I 



lloh' iiMi : I ho ontmoNt i:'iri:l« turning, 
Or omi lurnt anolhiir, I'onllnning In journeying, 
If rapiil rlri;h%i' motion lia that whii:h Ihity call 
Imriiliig ! 
Hullo, my lamy, whlthiir will thou go? 

Kain alito woiiM I provi: thin, 

liy comiiliiriiig 
Whal that, wljii:li you i:all lovi', Ix ; 
Wli.'tliijr it Im a folly 
Or a midanrlioly, 

Or Honn! hiu'oio thing I 
I'ain I M havi! It inovwl, hy ona whom lov; hath 

wonn'li»l, 
And fully npon onn hl» ilnnlro hath loumliMl, 
Whom nothing alwi miil'l plKuw! tho>i|/li tlm 
worhl wr.rii rounilwl. 
Hullo, my liimy, whilhiir will, llion go ? 

'I'o know thin worhl's m^ntri!, 

Ili'ight, rliTplh, lirnultli, an>l l<;nglh, 
Kaln wonhl I lulvi^ntiiro 
To Hi^arch tlio hid attriudiono 
Of nmgmrtii: a/'tiomt. 

Ami ailamantimt ntrKngth. 
Kain woiiM I know, if in !iom« lolly mountain, 
Whi:r<; tha moon Hojoiirmi, II th«;ra in: trwta or 

fountain ; 
If th<rr« l«! IxiiuttK of prey, or yd h: (Iftl'ln t» 
hunt in. 
Hallo, my fam;y, whllliBr will thou go» 

Kain would I huvo it lri<!'l 

l)y axpioimant, 
liy noni! niii Ixt ili!nli!<l I 
ir in thiit hulk of nutuTK, 
Tlniri! Ixi vr<i<|ii li;»>i or grwitfsr, 
Or all raniaimi M)m]<h;t<!. 
Kiiln would I know if Ix-iutx havn any ri-iuuiii ; 
If falwjiiN killing ifaglcK do w/inmll a Iriiaic/;! ; 
If f«ar of wlnt<!r'» want nittk« Dwallowa lly tlw 

WHM'in. 

Hallo, my funoy, whither will thou go? 

Hallo, my fanny, Inillo I 

Htay, xlay at homa willi mi, 

I I'an th«" no long'-r follow, 

I'or thou haul txilray/l m<!. 

And Id^wraycd (oa ; 

It I* too nnndi for tliw. 

8tay, Ktay at honia with im: ; havn off thy lofty 

wmring ; 

Htay thou at liom« with me, a/id on thy lKK)k» 

Ix! I><<ring ; 

For he that grxx ol>ro;ul l«iy» llttl« up In utoring : 

Tlnm'rt. w«l':«ni« home, iny faiKfy, whU-mii* 

lwni« t'l nw:, 

wn.r.iAM <:i,ttt.AKii, 



822 



POEMS OF FANCY. 



THE CLOUD. 

' I BiUNO. fresh showei-s for tlio thirsting flowers, 

From tho sens mul the strraiiis ; 
I boar light shailo for the k'avos whoii h\iil 

111 tlii'ir iiooiuiay ilreaius. 
From my wiiiip are shaken tho dews that waken 

The sweet biuls ovevv one, 
When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, 

As she daneos alunit tlie sun. 
I wield the flail of the lashing hail. 

And whiten the grooii plains under ; 
And then ag:iin I dissolve it in rain, 

.\nd laugh as 1 pass in tliunder. 

I sift the snow on the mountains below. 

And their groat iiinos groan aghast ; 
And all the night 't is my pillow white. 

While 1 .sleep in the arms of the blast. 
Sublime on the towers of my skyey bowers 

I.ighlniiig, my pilot, sits : 
In a oavorn under is fettered tho thunder ; 

It struggles and howls by flts. 

Over earth and ooean, with gentle motion, 

This pilot is guiiliiig me, 
Lured by the love of the genii that move 

III the depths of the purple .sea ; 
Over the rills and the erags and tho hills, 

Over the lakes and plains, 
Whei-ever he dream, under mountain or stream, 

The sjiirit ho loves reinains ; 
And 1 all tho while bask in Heaven's blue smile. 

Whilst he is dissolving in rains. 

The sanguine sunrise, with his meteor eyes, 

And his Viurning plumes outspread, 
Leaps on tho liaok of my sailing raek. 

When tho morning star shines dead. 
As, on the j.ag of a mountain erag 

Wliiih an eartlupiake nieks and swings, 
An onglo, alit, one moment may sit 

In the light of its golden wings ; 
And when sunset may breathe, iVoni tho lit .sea 
beneath, 

Its ardors of rest and of lovu. 
And tho crimson pall of ovo may fall 

From the depth of heaven above. 
With wings folded 1 rest on mine airy nest. 

As still as a brooding dove. 

That orbt^'d maiden with white lire laden. 

Whom mortals call the moon. 
Glides glimmering o'er my flooce-liko floor 

My the midnight breezes strewn ; 
And wluncvor the boat of her unseen feet. 

Which only the angels hear. 
May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, 

The stars peeii behind her and peer ; 



And 1 laugh to see them whirl ami llee. 

Like a swarm of golden boos. 
When 1 widen the rent in my wind-built tent, 

Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas. 
Like strips of tho sky fallen through me oil high, 

Are each paved with the moon and these. 

I bind the sun's tlirono with a burning zone, 

And the moon's with a girdle of pearl ; 
The volcanoes aroilim, and thostais reel and swim, 

When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl. 
From cajio to cajie, w'ith a bridge-like shape. 

Over a torrent .sea, 
Sunbeam-|U'oof, I hang like a roof, 

Tlio mountains its coluiiins ho. 
The triumphal aivh through which 1 march 

With hurriciinc, lire, and snow. 
When the powers of the air are chained to my 
ehair. 

Is the million-colored bow ; 
The siihoro-liro above its soft colors wove. 

While the moist earth was laughing below. 

I am tho daughter of the earth and w.nter ; 

And tho nursling of the sky ; 
I piss through tho pores of tho ooean and shores ; 

I change, but I cannot die. 
For after the rain, when, with never a stain, 

The pavilion of heaven is bare, 
.\iid the winds and sunbeams, with their convex 
gleams. 

Ihiilil up the blue dome of air, — 
I silently laugh at my own oenotaph, 

And out of the caverns of rain, 
Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from 
the tomb, 

I rise and upbuild it again. 

I'aRcv DvssHB Shelley. 



FANCY IN Nl'lUBrS. 

0, IT is pleasant, with a heart at ease. 

Just after sunset, or by moonlight skies. 

To make the shifting clouds be what you plo.isp. 

Or lot the easily persuaded eyes 

Own each quaint likeness issuing from the mould 

Of a frioinl's fancy ; or, with head bent low. 

And chock aslant, see rivers flow of gold, 

'Twixt crimson banks ; and then a traveller go 

From mount to mount, through Clomlland, gor 

geous laud ! 
Or, listening to the tide with closed sight, 
He that blind Bard, who on the (^hian strand, 
Hy those deep sounds possessed with inward light, 
Uehold tho lliail and the Odyssey, 
Rise to the swelling of tho voiceful sea. 

Sauui:l Taylor Coleridgk. 



I'OEMS OK FANCV. 



823 



THK 8UNHKT CITY. 

( Tl( Kill', 'h II city tlmt licH in tliii K iiiKilmn "f loinl't, 
III tlii^ ((liirioiiH I'liiiiiUy KM l>iK'>> 
Wliicli an ii/.iirii iiijil HilvKiy riiitiiin i^iiHliruiiiU, 
To Hcrcrn il I'joiii niorhil ryu ; 

A I'ily (]f li'iiipli'M anil liiilotH nf H«\'l, 

Tliatnli'iiin liy a Ha|i|ililr>i wa, 
Likojijwi'lM inoid Niiliniiiil llian I'liilli may bi'liolil, 

Or 1111^ (IriMiTiii'il (if liy yim ami liy mi'. 

Anil alfiiul. il ai'ii lii;^Iilarii|H of antln-r that, M;a,(;h 
Far away till tlii'y inrit in the f^limm ; 

Anil waturH that hi'Mi an immaiMilati'. hi'auli 
With I'nngi'n "i IniniiiDiiH I'uam. 

Arrial hriit^i'H i>(" ]icarl then; ari', 
Anil lirll'rii:M III' nnirvi'llmiH Hliapiw, 

Anil li^;ljtliiiiiHrH lit hy tin: (iviming uliir, 
That H|iarkl(! (in viiilct itapiw ; 

Ami liiinKiiiK giiril''nn that far iiway 

Kni'hantcilly llnat aloof; 
Kairihow jiavilioiiH in iiviinilcH gay, 

Ami loinniMH of glurions woof I 

Whi'ii thr Siiinini'r Hiinwst'H criniHoiiing flrcH 

All! aglow in Ihii woHtnrn Hky, 
Thr [lilgrini ilisrovi'iH tha ilonii'M ami HpiroB 

Of thin womlMifnl i:ity on high ; 

And gazing cnrnpt an tlin giitliitriiig vhodo 

('riM'pH over tliii twilight lia, 
Si;i:H palai'i; uml pinnai^lit totlir ami faili', 

Ami Hink in the Happhire mm ; 

Till till' viHion lowit liy hIow di'grocH 

The magical Hplemlor it wore ; 
The Hilvery enrtain ia ilriiwn, ami he hvkh 

The tiittiitifill eity no more ! 

MltNUV HVI.VV.HlV.tt COKNWRLL. 



THE CAKTMO IN TIIIC AllC. 
addrimud to a i.Anr who datiid mkr LiiTTKiia prom 

"TMR LI-nXK COKNKR OP TIIR WORLD." 

/Ik the region of cloudn, where the whirlwindH 
i ariHC, 

My eiiRtle of fancy v/nn Imilt. 
The turrclH refleeteil Ihe hlne of the iikieii, 

And the wiiidowH with HiinlieumH were gilt. 

The riiinJmw Hfiinotimeii in iti lieaiitifiil utiite 

Knamelled the mnuHion around ; 
And the lignreH Ihnt Ikney in elomlH eaii create 

Hiipi)lied me with gardenH and groniiii. 



I hud grottom und foiiiitaiiiH and orango-trco 
gtovcH ; 
I hail all that eni'liantnn-nt liin lolil ; 
I hail HWei-t iihaily walloi lur t.lii- f.iiiila and their 
lovi'H ; 
I had iiMiiiiiliiinii III mial iiml gold. 

ISiit a Htiii'in that I felt nut had iIhi'Ii and rolli'd, 
While wrapped in a Hliimlier I lay ; 

And U'hi'ii I awoke in the morning, lieliold, 
My eautle wim earried away 1 

It piWHcd over riveiH and valleya and groveit ; 

The world, it wan all in my view ; 
I thonght of my friemln, of their lati-ii, of thi-ir 

loVCH, 

And often, full often, of yon. 

At length it came ovej- n, lnjintifnl Hcene, 
Which Nature in Hilenee had miuhi ; 

The place waa Imt Nina 11, lint 'twaHKwectlyHerene, 
And checkered with HiinHhine and Hhitde. 

I git/ed and I envied, with |iainfnl good-will. 
And grew tiled of my aeat in the air. 

When all of a Hudilcn my eautle Htood Htill 
Ah if Hoinn attraction wan there. 

Like a lark in the nky it came (luttering down, 

And placed me exactly in view. 
When, wliiini kIioiiIiI I meet in thin eharmiiifi 
retreat, 

TIiIk corner of ciilmncKH, lull, yon ? 

DeIight.iMl to find yon in honor and coxii, 

I felt no more Horrow nor pain, 
But, the wind coming fair, I aHccmled thi' breeze, 

And went hack to my iiiHtle again. 

I IJOMA". I'AINI!. 



flN 



THK MIST. 



HlTTIN'i all day in a hilvcr iniMt, 
In Hilver Hilenee all the day. 
Have for the low, Hoft kixH of Hpray 

And the linp of aaniU liy wateia kiHMed, 
An the tide drawH nji the hay. 

Little I hear and nothing I nee, 

Wrapped in that veil liy fairien Mpitn ; 
The Kolid earth Ih vaninhed for me. 

And the Hliining Iioiiih Kpced noiHelcHnly, 
A woof of hIiikIow und HUn. 

Suddenly out of the nhifting veil 

A magical hark, hy the minlxiumH lit, 
KlitH like a dream - or Keema to flit -- 
With a golden prow and a gonmimer nail, 
I And the wavcH make room for it. 



824 



POEMS OF FANCY. 



A fair, swift bark from some radiant realm, — 
Its diamond cordage cuts tlie sky 
In glittering lines ; all silently 

A seeming spirit holds the helm, 
And steers. Will he pass me by ! 

Ah ! not for me is the vessel here ; 

Noiseless and swift as a soa-bii-d's flight 
Slie swerves and vanishes from the sight ; 

No llap of sail, uo parting cheer, — 
She has passed into the light. 

Sitting some day in a deeper mist, 

Silent, alone, some other day. 

An unknown bark, from an unknown bay, 
By unknown waters lapped and kissed, 

Shall near me through the spray. 

No flap of sail, no scraping of keel, 
Sliadowy, dim, with a banner dark, 
It will hover, will pause, and I shall feel 

A hand which grasps me, and shivering steal 

To the cold strand, and embark, — 

r^ 
Embark for that fir, mysterious realm 

Where the fathomless, trackless waters flow. 

Shall 1 feel a Presence dim, and know 

Thy dear hand. Lord, upon the helm, 

Nor be afraid to go ? 

And through black waves and stormy blast 
And out of the fog-wreaths, dense and dun. 
Guided by thee, shall the vessel run, 

Gain cne fair haven, night being past. 
And anchor in the sun ? 

Sarah WoolSEV [Susan Coolidge). 



THE BLESSED DAMOZEL. 

The blessed damozel leaned out 
From the gold bar of heaven ; 

Her eyes were deeper than the depth 
Of waters stilled at even ; 

She had three lilies in her hand. 

And the stars in her hair were seven. 

Her robe, ungirt from clasp to hem. 
No wi'ought flowers did adorn. 

But a white rose of Mary's gift, 
For service neatly worn ; 

Her hair that lay along her back 
Was yellow like ripe corn. 

Her seemed she scarce had been a Jay 

One of God's choristers ; 
T!.c ivonder was not yet quite gone 

From that still look of hers ; 



Albeit, to them she left, her day 
Had counted as ten years. 

It was the rampart of God's house 

That she was standing on ; 
By God built over the sheer depth 

The which is space begun ; 
So high, that looking downward thence 

She scarce could see the sun. 

It lies in heaven, across the flood 

Of ether, as a bridge. 
Beneath, the tides of day and night 

With flame and darkness ridge 
The void, as low as where this earth 

Spins like a fretful midge. 

Heard hardly, some of her new friends 

Amid their loving games 
Spake evermore among themselves 

Their virginal chaste names ; 
And the souls mounting up to God 

Went by her like thin flames. 

And still she bowed herself and stopped 

Out of the circling charm ; 
Until her bosom must have made 

The bar she leaned on warm, 
And the lilies lay as if asleep 

Along her bended arm. 

From the fixed place of heaven she saw 

Time like a pulse shake fierce 
Through all the worlds. Her gaze still strcvfl 

Within the gulf to pierce 
The path ; and now she spoke as when 

The stars sang in their spheres. 

" I wish that he were come to me, 

For he will come," she said. 
"Have I not prayed in heaven ? — on earth, 

Lord, Lord, has he not prayed ? 
Are not two prayers a perfect strength ? 

And shall I feel afraid ? " 

She gazed and listened, and then said. 

Less sad of speech than mild, — 
"All this is when he comes." She ceased. 

The light thrilled toward her, filled 
With angels in strong level flight. 

Her eyes prayed, and she smiled. 

(I saw her smile.) But soon their path 

Was vague in distant spheres ; 
And then she cast her arms along 

The golden barriers. 
And laid her face between her hands. 

And wept. (I heard her tears.) 

Dante Gabriel Rossetti. 




Goethe, ^t Ei^httt. 



I'OKM.S 01' I'ANCV. 



825 



•rilK HUNKKN (;ITV. 

(^lUiiK ! tliii riiint lii'Ilii iif till! niiiiki'ii rUy 

IVttl oiirai iiirjii' tlii'ir wonli'il iivi^iiiii|{ rliiiin! I 
From Hill ilcM!|) iiliysHiiH lloiiU jt ilill.y, 

Willi unci WKInllUliH, III' till! llMl'll liirii:. 

Ti!iii|iliiH, Uiwom, null ilomim of iiiiiiiy HtoriiiH 

'i'Iii:rii lin lmrii:il in iiii moiui ){mvi', 
riiil(iKi:riiril, hiivii wlii'ii llioir K'll'li'X KloiiiM 

(ill^lllll, al HIIIIHid, Ull'lillgll lll<^ li^lltl'll WItVll, 

Aim! Uin iniiriiiiT wli'i liuil Hirrii tlniii ^{litti'ii, 

ill wliriHI; i'ltl'H tllOHl; llJII^ic hfllH llo hOUIMl, 

Nin'it liy iiIkIiI. Iiiil™ tlii:rii III wiitili mill lixti^ri, 
'I'liiiii;<li iliMitli liirkn ln'.liiiiii i;iiuh iliirk roi:k 
roiiiiil. 

Sii till! liirlU of iiiiimiiry'H woiiiliir-i;ily 
I'iMil for till- tlii'ic kIiI innlmliiMli) lOiiiiii; ; 

Ho my liwiit |Kiiir)i forth ii i:liiiii)(i;riii ilitly, 
Hull mill jilitiiHiuit, iriiiii tliii liygoiio tiiiii!. 

l)i/iiii'H ami tnwirrH find i.-iihIIch, I'am'yliiiililMl, 
'riii;r'it Mr loHt til iIiiyli;{lit'H f^ttrinli lii^mnii, 

'I'liiTi' 111! Iiiilili:ii till iinvi;ilwl niiil j^ilili'il, 
<!liiiyKil<li!il, liy my nightly ilruiiiiH I 

Aii'l thi!ii }ii;(tr 1 miiHii! HWi'i:t ii|fkiii'lliii^ 
From many u wi:II-kiiown |iliaiiti>in l«iml, 

Anil, thrijii;/li ti-ai'H, can hi:I] my mttiiial ilwi-lling 
Faroiriii till; Hpirit'H liiminniiH lanil ! 

^ruuiltiT l/crHmii Iff Wll.lll'.I.M Muifl. 1,1(1*. Triiit*. 
Intluli of JAUUH l.:i,AkI(N[.H MANCAN. 



TIIF, iA)Mr-\A'A. 

I KNOW nut whi'ni:« it riwii, 
TIiIm tliunght no lull of won ; — 

l!ut a tall! of tin: timi'H ilrjiart/'il 
MaiintH mi] - anil will not go. 

The air id i.ool, anil it iluiki-nd, 
Ami calmly floWH the Ifhini! ; 

The miiiuitain jwukH un: H]iarkling 
I II thii itunuy evcning-Hhiiii;. 

Ami yonilcr Hitn n muiilcii, 

The fairiHl of the fair ; 
With gohl in her garment glittering, 

Ami Hhe eomliH her golden hair. 

With a golilen euinh nhe eomliti it, 
Ami a Willi Hong Hingetli hIii;, 

That melln tlin heart with u woiiilrouH 
Anil powerful melody. 



'I'he himtman I'eelM liin liiiHom 
With a iiameleHH longing inovi! ; 

He HeeH not the giillii lieloie him, 
IIIh ga/ii \h llxed aliove, 

Till over boat and hoatman 
The Kliliie'H ilee|) watiMH iiin ; 

Ami IhiH with iter inagle ningliig 
Till: Lore-liei iiuth done I 

InitmiKl^inutnttf Ifl-.lSkielf IflilNlt. 



TIIK FIHHFJl, 

TiiK wnterH |mrli!il, the wut<!r« Bwulled, — 

A (ihher Hat near liy, 
And eanieHtly hU line helield 

With tiam|iiil heart ami eye ; 
And wiiiie he hIIh and wateiieH there, 

He Keen the waven divide, 
And, io ! a maid, with glinlening hair, 

HgiringH from the Iron hied tide. 

Hhe. Kang to him, Hhe Hjinke to him, — 

" Why liir'»t tlinii from l«;iow, 
In cruel mood, my ti^nder hi-ood, 

'I'd die in i|ay'n lierce glow ? 
All ! diditt thou know liow Hweetly tliurc 

The little linlieH dwell, 
Thou wiiuidHt come down their lot t<> Mlmre, 

And be forever well. 

" iiatiicH not the xmiling nun lit night — 

The moon too — in the waveH ? 
(Jomea lie not forth more frenh ami bright 

From ocean'H cooling cavcH ? 
Camit thou unmoved that deep world nee. 

That heaven of tramjiiil blue. 
Where thine own face in ijcckoning tlico 

iJuwn to till) eternal dew '( " 

Thfi watcnt purled, the wat<!n4 Hwelled, — 

They kinHed hix naked feet ; 
lli» heart a nameienH traimport held. 

Ah if liin love did greet. 
Hhe Hpake to him, nhe Hang to him ; 

'I'hen ail witli him wan o'er, — 
Half drew nhe him, half Hank he in, — 

He Hank to rifio no inoro. 

I'roifi ilm l^rifMn of CoitTHR. Traai 
Imloil r/f CIIARIJIH T, DKOOKH. 



TIIK .SIKKNK' SONO. 

I'kOM Tint "INNllW Tl'.Ml'LR UA%QfJV..' 

Htkkk hither, Bteer your wingtd pine*. 

All lH;alin maiincrH : 
Here lib undixcovered niineu, 

A prey to panHengeni ; 



M>o 



n>K.MS OV FVN*\ 



JVri\H««>s far swwu-r tlw« t)>i> Wt 
TK»t mskp the phiviux «ni anvl \>i>sl ; 

K<«r not >\>ur sliijvs 
Nor aiij' U» ol^^^v■s^> \-\«i san> our )ijv< ; 

Wlwtv no jv\v>Uos till lovx> has j!v>tto)i >how, 

Fv»r s>vt'U«vj! \vavs >>«r iv«nti«jt l«vi>sts, 

WUow Howr stottus aris»\ 
Kxohanjji> ; anil Iv aw liilo our jjvuvsts ; 

For siai's, ^» ou vnir o\'<>s, 
Tho (\Muiv\ss. loxx> shall lvourl>i- siuj; ; 
And. as he j^x^s alvut tUo ring. 

Wo will not miss 
IV h'll oaoU jwint ho iianiolh with a kiss, 

WltLLVH &Kv>\VNS. 



THK KOUSAKKN MKRXIAX. 

(^CviMK, vU\<r ohihlron, lot hs awsy ; 
IVwu and away Ivlow, 
Xow my hwthoi-s 0.^11 ftvni tho lv>y ; 
Now tho )fi\>j»t wiiuls sho)x>wai>ls Mow ; 
N ow tho salt tidos stvaw-awl flow ; 
Xow tho wilvl whitv hoi-sos j\l;i\\ 
Ohaiun an.l ohafo and t>ws iu tho sj<ray. 
ChiUlron >Uwr, lot us away. 
This w-ay. this way. 

Oall Uor vm<H> U>iVm\> you gvv 

t>»ll vM>vH> \1>t. 

In a v\ttO«> that sho will know : 

" M,it>!!iivt ! Marjiaix't '. " 
Ohilvlivu's \\«v\* shouUl lx< lUw 
tt\<ll ouv~o n\oiv> to a mothor's <>ar : 
OhiUlrou's moos wiUl with iv>iH, 

Suroly sho will vvmo aj^in. 
Call hor ouvv, and ivmo awaj'. 

This way. this way. 
'• Mother vloar. w<> oauuot stay ! 
Tho wiUl whito horsiv* lVv>u> and (W't. 

Matgaivt ! Marjfaivt ! " 

tAMno, diwr ohildivu, >vn\o axx-ay down. 

t^»ll i\o motv. 
Ono last Iwk at tho whito-walliM hiwn, 
An>l tho littlo gray ohuwh on tho windy shoro. 

Thou ovnuo down. 
Sho will not oomo, thon^sli \>n» o*U sUl da^v, 

tVme away, ooiuo awaj-. 

t^viUlrou vloar, was it wtvrvlay 

Wo hoatxl tho swoot IwUs o\n-r tho Iwy f 

In tho oavorns whoiv wv lay. 

ThiMUjih tho surf and thrvwijsh tlw s«\>U, 
Tho far-off sound of a aitwr WU t 



Sand-sttown oav-ortts owil and doojs 

Whoiv tho winds ar<> all asUv)* ; 

Whoiv tho siH'ut lijjhts <(uivor an.l eloiim ; 

Whoiv tin' salt wihnI sw^iys iu tho stix>ain ; 

Whoix' tho s\\a-l>Oi«sts. i-;«vj!\>l all iMund. 

K«^l in tho 0vw\' of thoir jvistuiv-gixmnd ; 

Whoiv tho sv^a-siiakos ivil aiul twiuo. 

Ory thoir mail and Kisk iu tho l-rino; 

Whoiv jtix>j»t whalos <vuio sailitvj{ l>y, 

Sail and sjiil, with nnshnt o\i>. 

Kouud tho wvrld foivvor and jijv f 
Whou did musio v><>u\o this wsvy f 
Ohildivn d<>ar. was it y>vstoi\l,\v f 

Ohildr\'n doar. was it \^>s^>l^^,■^y 
tt?»ll wt v»no»>\ that sho wvnt awsvy t 
0«iv sho sat with yon and mo. 

On a >\\l jjv>ld tluvuo iu tho h<\<rt of tho ,v,\). 

And tho >^>nuJP'st sat on hor kinv. 
Sho^^u«l>o^l its hri^sht hair,au>l sho toudod it woll, 
Whou down swunj! tho s>inud of tho fai'-olV Iwlh 
Sho sighwl, sho Uvkwl up tluvujsh tho oloar 

glWU SlM, 

Sho ,s;«d, "• I must )^s for my kinsMk pray 
In tho littlo jfray ohuivh ou tho shoiv to-day, 
'T will Iv h^istor-limo in tho WvuUl, — ah mo ! 
And I hvso my jnwr soul, Monuan. Iumv with 

tho<>." 
I said ; "Oo ui\d<\ir h<>j»rt, thi\>Ujth tho w^ivos : 
Sa,v thy piMwr, and vvmo Iwok to tho kind s<>a- 

vN»\-os," 
Sho smiltHl. sho wont np thivngh tho surt" in thu 

lv>y. 
Childrou doar, was it j-ostotxlay ? 

Childivn diw. \ri-iv wv loutt aUmo f 
"Tho st'a gtvws stoiu\y, tho littlo ouos m>v>u ; 
l.otig pra\-vrs," 1 !>-«id, "iiv tho wvrld thoy say," 
"(!\nno." I said, au.l wo i\»so thivnigh tho surf iu 

tho Kty. 
Wo wvut up tho IxMoh iu tho sandy down 
Whoro tho s<v>-stvvks hlovnn, to tho w hit»>-wallod 

town, 
Thivntjjh tho narrow (vw-od strtvts, whoro all w as 

-still, 

To tho littlo gray ohuivh ou tho windy hill, 
FVom tho ohuivh oaino a murmur of folk at 

tlioir prayors, 
Unt wo st.xxl without iu tho rt\ld Mowing aii-s. 
Wo oliniKnl ou tho gi-avtxs, on tho stoiios woin 

with rains, 
.\nd wo jpiiiyi up tho Aislo thivugh tho small 
Irtidinl iviuo.s, 
Sho sat hy tho pillar ; wv Siiw hor oloar ; 
" Margarot, hist I 0\Muo ipiiok, wv aiv hoiv 
IVir hrtirt," 1 s.ii.1, "wo ar<> horo alono, 
Tho soa givws stormy, tho littlo ouos ui.vau." 



J'(;KMS OK FANC'V, 



827 



Hut, nil, ulic (pivd nifl ncviir it UuiU, 

F'lr licr I'ycK w<t« wihIikI I<. tlm lioly twxik, 

" l/Oiid iirnyx llin in-limt ; uliiil KtiiiiilK llxi 

dooi," 
C'(»iii« iiwiiy, cliil'Iri'ii, cull 110 iiiofp, 
(Vdiiii iiwny, finnn down, i^ill no iiioio, 

Mown, ilowii, down, 

Oown-lo l,liit<li.(i(|iii of |.|,i< Bjiit, 
Hlin nlU lit, linr wheel in tlni liiiinniin(( UiWli, 

Hln«ln(; iiiofil joyfully, 
lliirk wlml. «li<' iiln;<i ; " O joy, OJoy, 
Kioni t.liii liiininiliif{ utritet, nuil tlin idilld witli 

lln Uiy, 
l-'ioni llie |,ti(.i(i iind llin Ixdl, imd tlin holy wiill, 

Kroni IIki whwl whem I ii(/nii. 

And III'! hh'»««l li((hl of Ihii min." 

And DO niiK i<iuf(i> her fill, 

Hin;<in(( inoal, joyfully. 

Till III.' nhnttlii fidh fr'/rn h«r hand. 

And the whiz/.in« wheel ntjinda still, 
Hhe dleiiU I/, the window, iind looks lit Iho ixir/d. 

And over thn fuiiid lit the win j 

And her iiyes urn net In ii stiiro ; 

And itnon there hrenks n sit(li, 

And iinon there drojM » l.eur. 

From II Mirroweloiided eyu. 

And II heiirt wirrowdwlon, 
A lon)(, \iiiiK isl<(h, 
Kor the eold striiiii<e iiyes of u little Mimnnlden, 
ind the ((leiini of her Koldon hair. 

'-'oine iiwiiy, iiwiiy, children, 
fy'onie, children, r^niiii down. 
The hiBirw' wind hlows radder, 
l,i((hts ihinn in the Uiwn, 
Hhe will iitnrl. from her sliimW 
When nunU shake the d'K/r ; 
Hhe will hear the wlnd» liiwUiiK, 
Will hear the waves roar. 
We shall V); while alwivii im 
Thi! waves rintr iind whirl, 
A mUiiiK of anilier, 
A |«venieiit of [x-arl, — 
HinifinK, " Kern came a wrrtni, 
I'lit ftiithless WHS she.. 
And iilone <lwell forevur 
The kin^s of tli6 sea," 

Hilt, children, at mldnl((ht. 
When «/,ft the win/Is h|/,w, 
When ihur fr,l|, i(,„ tui»,uUK)it, 
When Sf.rinx-tides are \irw ; 
When Dv/fi-t airs nrtin- w«iward 
Vtmn heaths stnrre/l with ^trtxnn ; 
And liij^h rwks throw mildly 
<>>i the Munched mnds « f(lofmi : 



tt(i the still, (/lisl^eniiiK l/eiwdios. 
Dp the creeks we will hi'i ; 
Over l/anks of hrit^hl seawcml 
The (ihli-lide leaves diy. 
We will v.iim from the sand-hills, 
At the white sleepln;/ |y,wn ; 
At the church on the hillsi'le 
And then conie txiek, down. 
HiiiKinK, "There dwells a love/I one, 
Itiit cruel is she : 
Hhe left lonely forever 
The kin({8 of the u-n," 

ktAt tfip.W APMOI.n. 



UNA A,VO TIIK, UVAi (AUlHHK KNIOHT, 

fkim "IIIH HkKIK IjiJUKHK," (K/OK /, CjtWTO ( 

A iiKHri.K Kiiiidil WAS irriekInK on the (dalne, 
Velm/d In ini((litle amies and silver shieldn. 
Wherein old 'lints of dee)M woiindes did rtf 

niaine. 
The eriiell ninrkeit of many a hl/<ody /ielde ; 
Vet amies till that lime did he never wield : 
)fis anj{ry st/r«de did chide his (inniiin l.iti,. 
As much disdiiynln« t,o the eurhe Ui yield ', 
Full lolly kni;(ht he s<'.eind, and faire did *)tt« 
As one f/»r knif()itly ^iust« an/| lierc.*! mimniuUif* 

fill. 

And mi h(» }iT<mt a l/loodle eri/sse he Jx/re, 
The deiire reinemhran'K of his dyin({ //,rd, 
Kor whose sweete wike that xlori'/iis Ui/|j(« li« 

wore, 
And diia/l, aa living nvirr, him n/l/rr'd ; 
(/'|>'<n his shiehl the like waa iiloo s/Wd, 
Kor s^,verain« lio|«, which in his heljie he Iwl, 
Ui^lit, faithfiill, true he wiw in dw'/le and word ; 
Hut of his cheere,* did w*nie t/»o s/demne sad ; 
Vet tiiitliinn <M he drea/l, Irtjt hvkt waa ydrsd.t 

IJjifrti a ((reat adventure he was Ic/iid, 
That great^TSt Cloriana t/( him ;{(ive. 
That Kri:ttU:ol K\),ni,u< '(iieene of Ka<^ lond. 
To winne him worshif>)K:, and her nm/v, to hare, 
Which of all earthly thin((es he ni'istdid cr*r«! 
And <;ver, as he r'«le, his hart di/I e«m« 
To (irove hia jniiiMtnnce in t«ttell l/r«ve 
Vfuni his foe, and his new f»/r'« t/; l«irri« ; 
IJfK/ri his f<«, a l>rag'/n horrihle and nUmrwi, 

A lovely I,«i/|)e fwie hitn faire lieside, 
tffxrn a lowly »sw more whit/i then snow ; 
Y<rt she ninch whiter ; Imt the same di'l hide 
Hnd/rr a vele, that wlm|>lc'l was fnll h/w ; 



828 



rOEMS OF lAM'Y. 



Aud over lUl a blaok* stole shoe Uiil tlivow : 
As ono that iiily luournil, so wns she sail, 
Aud hesivie sate upon hev pall'iey slow ; 
Swilled in heart some hidden e.iie she had ; 
And by her in a line a luilke-white huiiK' she lad. 

So jmiv and inuoeent as that same lambe 
She was in lil'e and eveiy vertnous loiv ; 
And by descent t'lvni royall lynaj;:e came 
Of ancient kinges ami unecnes, that had ot'yore 
Their scepters stn>tcht from east to westernc 

shoii', 
Aud all tlie world in their subiection held ; 
'1111 that inferuall feend with foide upixnv 
Forwasted * all their land, anil then exjield ; 
Whom to avengi', slie had this Knight fivui far 

eouijield. 

Beliiiul her t'arre away a Dwarfe did lag. 
That lasie seemd, iu being ever last. 
Or wearied with bearing of her bag 
Of needments at his Ivacke. Thus as they past, 
The day with cloudes was suddeine oveivast. 
And angry love an hideous storme of n>ine 
Pid pouiv into his lennms lap so last. 
That everie wight to shiwwd it did constrain ; 
And this fail* couple eke to shivud themselves 
were fain. 

Enforet to seeke some covert nigh at hand, 

A shadie grove not farr away they spide. 

That proiuist ayde the temiH'st to withstand ; 

Whose loftie trves, yclad with sommei-s pride, 

Did spivd so broad, that heavens light did hide, 

Not peiveable with power of any starr : 

And all within were jwthes and alleles wide. 

With footing worne, and leading inwai\l farr : 

Fair* harbour that them seemes ; so iu they 

euti-ed ai'. 

Hl^mund Spenser. 



THE CAVE OF SLEEP. 

FROM THK "FAHRIB OOBBNB." BOOK 1. CANTO 1. 

H B, making sjH'edy way through siiei-st-d t ayi'e, 
And through the world of watei's wideanddeepe. 
To Morpheus house doth hastily rei^aiiv. 
Amid the bowels of the earth full steepe. 
And low, where dawning day doth never peepe. 
His dwelling is ; there Tcthys his wet beil 
Uoth ever wash, and Oyntliia still doth steepe 
In silver deaw his ever-drouping bed. 
Whiles sad Night over him her mantle black doth 
spred. 



And, moro to lulle him in his slumber soft, 
A trickling sti'eiune from high rock tumbling 

downe. 
And ever-drizling niiue upon the loft, 
Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the 

sowue * 
Of swarming bees, did cast him in a swowne.t 
No other noyse, nor peoples troublous cryes, 
.\s still are wont t' annoy the wallid towne. 
Might there be heai\l ; but carele.sse Quiet lyes 
Wrapt in eternall silence, farre from euimyes. 

i:i>MUNO SrUNSHR. 



• i^^r U hcf« iatcnsivc. 



t v)up»nt^il 



UNA AND THE I. ION. 

FROM THE "FAKKUt yUttUNB," BOOK I. CANTO Ml. 

OxK day, nigh weario of the yrkesome way. 
From her nnhastie beast she did alight ; 
And on the grasse her dainty liml>s did lay 
In secrete shadow^ far from all nuns sight ; 
Fiwn her t'ayi-e head her lillet she undiglit. 
Ami layd her stole aside. Her angels face. 
As the great eye of heaven, sliyned bright. 
And made a sunshine in the shady place ; 
Did never mortall eye Ivhold such heavenly grace. 

It fortunid, out of the thickest wood 
A ramping lyon rusht'd siuldeinly. 
Hunting tnll greedy after salvagi> blood :( 
Soone as the royall virgin he did spy. 
With givping mouth at her ran givedily. 
To have attonce devoutvd her tender coi-so ; 
Hut to the pniy whenas he divw moro ny. 
His bUwdy iiige aswaged with remorse,§ 
And, with the sight amazd, forgjit his furious 
foi'se. 

Instead theivof, he kist her wearie feet. 
And lickt her lilly hands with fawning long ; 
As he her wronged innocence did weet. || 
how can beautie inaister the most strong, 
And simple truth subdue avenging wrong ! 
Whose yielded pryde aiul proud submission, 
Still divading death, when she had marked long. 
Her hart gaii melt in gK'at compassion ; 
And drizling teares did shed for pure atlection. 

" The lyon, loixl of everie boiist in field," 
tjuoth she, "liis princely puis-sance doth abate. 
And mightie proud to humble weake does yield, 
Foi-getfuU of the hungry iiig<>, which late 
Him prickt, in pittie of my sad estate : — 
Hut he, my lyon, and my noble loitl. 
How does he find in cruell hart to hate 
Her, that him lovd, ami ever most adoixl 
As the g<.nl of my life ? why hath he me abhorvl • ' ' 



• wunil. 

I l>l»od of wild aniuuUfc 



t 4woott — d««p ale*p. 

§ pay. ] uiiJerstAna. 



I'OKMS OK KANCV. 



829 



Itfdounding tears did clioke til' end of her plaint, 
W Inch softly ccchoed from the neighbour wood ; 
And, Kud to slm; lier sorrowfull eonstraint, 
The kingly beast upon her gazing stood ; 
With jattie ealnid, downc fell his angry mood. 
At last, in close hart shutting up her payne. 
Arose the virgin borne of heavenly brood. 
And to her snowy palfrey got agayne. 
To seeke her strayed champion if she might at- 
tayne. 

The lyon would not leave her desolate, 
But with her went along, as a strong gai'd 
Of her ehast person, and a faythfull mate 
Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard : 
Still, when she slept, he kept both watch and 

ward ; 
And, when she wakt, he wayted diligent. 
With humble seiTice to her will prepard ; 
From her fayre eyes lie took commandment. 
And ever by her lookea conceived her intent. 

Edmu.mo Spenser. 



THE BOWER OF BLISS. 

FROM THE "FAERIE gOEENE." BOOK II. CANTO XII. 

TiiKi'.E the most daintie paradise on ground 

Itselfe doth offer to his sober eye. 
In which all pleiisures plenteously abownd. 
And none does others happinesse envye ; 
The painted flowres ; the trees upshooting hye ; 
The dales for shade ; the hilles for breathing 

space ; 
The trembling groves; the christall running by; 
And, that which all faire workes doth most 

aggrace, * 
The art, which all that wrought, appeared in no 

place. 

One would have thought (so cunningly the rude 
And scorned partes were mingled with the line) 
That Nature had for wantones.se ensude t 
Art, and that Art at Nature did repine ; 
So striving each th' other to undermine. 
Each did the others woike more beautify ; 
So dill" ring bfjth in willes agreed in fine : 
So all agreed, tlirough sweete diversity, 
This gardin to adome with all variety. 

And in the midst of all a fountaine stood, 
Of richest suUstance that on earth might bee. 
So pure and shiny that the silver flood 
Through every channell running one might see ; 
Most goodly it with curious ymageree 

* give gnce to. f iuuuted 



Was over wrought, and shapes of naked boyes, 

Of which some .seemed with lively ioUitee 
To lly about, playing their wanton toyes, 
Whylest others did themselves embay * in liquid 
ioyes. 

And over all, of purest gold, was spred 
A trayle of yvie in his native hew ; 
For the rich metall was so coloured. 
That wight, who did not well avLsed t it vew. 
Would surely deeme it to bee yvie trew : 
Low his lascivious amies adown did creepe, 
That, themselves dipping in the silver dew, 
Their fleecy flowres they fearefully did steepe, 
Which drops of chrLstall seemed for wantones to 
weep. 

Infinit streanies continually did well 

Out of this fountaine, sweet and faire to see. 

The which into an ample laver fell. 

And shortly grew to so great quantitie, 

That like a little lake it seemed to bee ; 

Whose depth exceeded not three cubits hight, 

That through the waves one might the bottom 

see, 
All pav'd beneath with iasjiar shining bright, 
That seeinil the fountaine in that sea did sayle 
upright. 

Eftsoons t they heard a most melodious sound, 
Of all that mote delight a daintie eare, 
Such as attonce might not on living ground, 
Save in this paradise, be heard elsewhere. 
Right hard it was for wight which did it heare. 
To read wli.at manner musicke that mote bee ; 
For all that pleasing is to living eare 
Was there (»nsorted in one harmonee ; 
Birdes, voices, insti-uments, windes, waters, all 
agree : 

Tlie ioyous birdes, shrouded in ehearefuU shade. 
Their notes unto the voice attempred sweet ; 
Tir angelicall soft trembling voyces made 
To tir in.struments divine respondencc meet ; 
The silver-sounding instruments did meet 
With the base murmure of the waters fall ; 
The waters fall, with difference discreet, 
Now soft, now loud, unto the w^ind did call ; 
The gentle warbling wind low answered to all. 

EOMUND SPENSER. 

— »^— 
THE LADY LOST IN THE WOOD. 

FROM ■■COMUS." 

TiiLS way the noise was, if mine ear be true, 
Jly best guide now ; metlioiight it was the sound 
Of riot and ill-managed merriment, 
Such as the jocund flute or gamesome pipe 



f with attention. 



I iiuinediately. 



sao 



K>KAtS OF FANCY. 



Stirs uj> ftimtnj^t th* l<.xw«>, unlot !<<)'«>() hiiuls, 
When for tlioir tivmiiij; Hivks lunl J!mlVJ^^•^ l\iU 

III Wamoll <i;»IUH> |1|>\Y pi'siSl' tllO l>OlllltlMUS l\ui. 

Ami tlitiiik tlio J^Hls jiiiiiss. I sIvoiiM l><< Kmtli 

To ii\<vt lUo nult'iioss ami s\vilK\l iiisoloiuf 

0( siu'li lato \V!iss:iiloi-s : yot O, w lu'iv olst> 

Shall I iuforiu my iiiiiiisiuaiulod tit<t 

III tlio Miiul iiiiwos of lhi.< I!«hj;1ihI \vo>vi f 

My bivthoi's, whon tlioy ssiw luo w<>«riiHl out 

With this loiij; way, i'<'s\>lviii4; hinv to Unl|^> 

I'luior tho sjMX'wiliiij; favor of tlu'sv (liiuvs 

Sioj>|H>\l, as tlioy stiiii, to tho iioxt tliiokct siJo 

To briiij; mo K'rviivs or such oiH>linj; iVuit 

As tho kiiiil, luvspitaMo \v\hhIs )>i\>viilo. 

I'lioy lol't mo thou, wlion tlio gi-.iy-hooiloil ovoii, 

1 .iko a s;ul votarist in jviluior's wiisl, 

Kivso fiviii tho hiuilmost whoolsof riuohus' wain. 

TmU whoiv thov aiv, aiul why tliov oanio not 

Kiok, 
Is now tho lalvr of my thonj;lits ; 't is likoliivst 
riioy hail onipiji^i'il tlioir waiiilorinjj stojvs too far, 
Aiul ouvioiis vtarkiu\<,s oiv thoy >MnUl ivturii, 
llail stoh> ihom f»\>iii mo ; olso, t^tliiovish iii^i;lit. 
Why -shoiiKlst thou, hut for -sonio folonioiis oiul. 
In thy (lark laiitoni thus oKv<<> np tho stai's. 
That natiiiv hmij; in lu>i\von, aiul lilhsl Ihoir 

laniivs 
Witli ovortasliiij! oil, to givo duo lij;Ut 
To tho misloil aiiil loiioly titivoUor ! 
This is tho jilaoo, as woU as 1 may sutvss, 
\Vhon>t> own now tho tumult of louvl mirth 
Was rifo, and jwrftvt in my listoniiij; «ir, 
Yot uau>;ht but -sinjjlo ilarkiuvss vlo 1 liml. 
What ini^itht this Iv • A thousand lantasios 
IV'ijin to tlironj; into my momory. 
Of lalUiii; sliaivs, aiul Kvkoninj! shadows diro. 
And airy tongiu^s that syllaMo moii's nam<\-< 
t^ii Siinds aiivl short's ami dost'rt \vildoriu\ss<vs. 
Tlu'.so thonjjhts may -staitlowoU, Imt not astound 
Tho virtuous mind, that ovor walks attoudtsi 
Hy a str\>iij;-siilinj; ohann>ion, t\msoioniH>. 

wohvnio, iniiv-oy>sl K^iitli, wliito-haiidod Uojx', 
Thou howriiij; aiij:\it jjirt with .svdvloii wing*. 
And thou unhlomish<>d form of Chastity ; 

1 soo you visihly, and now Iwliovo 

flial ho. tho Siiinvmo tJinnl, to whom all things ill 
Aiv but as slavish olhooi-s of vonjp-anoo. 
Would solid a jjlistoriiis; j^iai\liaii, if iuhhI wott". 
To ktv)! my lil'o and honor unassiihsl. 

MII.TON. 

TllK NYMTll OK THK SKVKliN. 

KK.>U "vVMVS." 

I'liKUK is a giMitlo nynmh not far fi\>ni lioiuv 
fliat with moist ourh sways tho siiuH>tli Sowni 

strwun, 
SalniuH is hor namo, a vii-jjin jiuiv : 



I Whilom slw was tho da«}tl>'<"r «!' Looriiio, 
That had tho soojitix' iVuii his fathov Unit*. 
Slio. );uiltU\ss daiusol, llyiu}! tho mad (mi'snit 

i l>f hor oui'!ij!>\l sloiHlamo r.uoiidolou, 
(.VmmondiHl hor fair iniivH-oiuo to tho lUiod, 
That stayinl hor llij;hl with his oixws-tlowin^ 

ivni'so. 
Tho \vatoi--nyniplis that in tho Kittoni |<lay<Hl, 
Hold up Ihoir iioarliVi wrisis, and took hor in, 
iM-aiiiig hor strai^i'lit to a^sl Noiviis' hall. 
Who, pitis'iis of hor woos, ii>iir<sl hor lank hoad. 
And jpivo hor to his dan.i'htoi's to iniKitlu' 
III iioolaivd lavoi-s slii'woil with asphodol, 
.\iid lliivnj;li tho \>oivh and iiilol of Mi'h sons«> 
1''i\<1>1'(hI in ainhiwsial oils till sho ivvivwl, 
.\nd iindorwoiit a i|iiiok imniorlal olian,i;<>, 
Mado tivnldo.ss of tho rivor ; still sho ivlains 
llov niaidon jipMitlonoss, and ol"! at ovo 
Visits tho horvls aloiijl tho twilijjlit im>adows, 
Hol|>iu); all mvhiu blasts, and ill-lnok si^ns 
That tho -shivwd moildliiij; olf dolij;hts to uiako, 
Whioli sho with luvvioiis vialovl linnoi-s hwils ; 
For wliioh tho shoi>hi'i\ls at tlioir foslivals 
Caivl hor jpiodiioss U>nil in rsistio lays, 
.\nd thiN'W swiH't jpirland \vi\\»ths iiili> horslivain 
l>f (vinsios jiiiiks, and >?indy dalloilils. 



TllK llAl'NT OK TllK SOIUM'.KK.U. 



t'KOM -iVMI': 



WlTlilN tho navol of this liivliH>ns wihhI, 

Immiiivd ill oy[>i\'ss shados a soiwi-or dwolls. 

Of Rioi-hus and of t^ivi^ Knii, gi'wit Ooinus, 

IVvji skillod in all his mothor's witohorios ; 

And lioiv to ovory tliii-sty wandowr 

liy sly ontiitMuoiit jtivos his Ivinofiil oujv 

With many inurnmrs niixwl, wliost> jvUMising 

jwistm 
Tho visajp" >|nito tiiiusforms of him that drinks, 
.\nd tho iiij;lorious likoiioss of a Ins'ist 
hHxos iiistivid, niiiuoiildinj! i^'ason's miutagv> 
Oliai-aotortnl in tho fa>v ; this I havo hsirnt 
Toiuliiij; my Ihn-ks liai\l by i" tho hilly oivlts, 
That bivw this Kutom-glado, wlionoo nijjlit by 

nij;ht. 
Ho and his monstivus iviit aiv hoai\l to howl, 
l.iko stabhvi wolvos, or ti^s^i'i-s at tlioir jnx-y, 
IXniijt abllon■^^l ritos to llo^•at^ 
In tlioir oK«-ui\h1 haiiiils of iniiuvst Kwors. 
Yot havo thoy many Kiits. and jjiiiloful sjndls, 
T' invoiglo and invito tho unwary sonso 
Of thom that jwss ninvootiiij; by tho way. 
This ovoninjj lato, by tlioiii tho oliowins Hooks 
Had ta'oii thoir s\n>(H>r on tho savory liorb 
Of knot -grass dow -iHspivnt, and woiv in fold. 




r 



J5hi;iHOVK.\'S rHll<l> SVMI'HON'y. 

Fas:->ion and \mn, iht outcry of (lc;^j>air, 

'I"hc i<ang of the unattainable dchirc. 

And youth'H rk-ligbt in pIcaxurcM that expire, 
And swc<.-t high drcanrjingis of the- good ami fair 
Clanhing in Hwift nDnl-sVnm, through which no \)raya 

L'pliftcd xtayn the rlcstincl death-«trokc dire. 

Thc-n throuj(h a mighty w^rrowing, a» through fire, 
The hoit] burnt pure yearns forth into the air 
Of the dear earth ami, with the wx-nt of flower* 

And )c>ng of Wrd« a«»uaged, take* heart again. 

Made cheerier with thi» drinking of (i'j<r» wine. 
And turn* with healing to the world of men. 
And high above a *wcet »tr'rtjg angel tower*. 

And Jxive make« life triumphant and divine. 



KlCHAH/ H'/.K-, 





i 


•1 




A 




i 


1 


i 

n 

I 


*i 


H 


1 


4 


n 


1 






i 
1 

j 


, 




1 



.■{/h^>- ,1 /^/«*j';wv f-y Kmi'f AVV'A'K, 



1111-: voNAr.K ov si.i'i'i 



To sleep I j;ivo mysoll' ;uv;(y, 
riu'las|) tlu' llitois of ilu- niiiul, 

l"\)i'j(cl the sonows o\ \hc il,;\. 
The Iniiilens ol iho lu'ul imlMn.l. 



O worv ilay. V> wo.ny day, 

'I'hai tlauns ii\ fear aiul ends in strite 

That liriiij-s no eooliuL; ihalt lo all.o 
riie Inn'niui; lever lliiiM o\' lite. 



With empty sail this tired lurk O siered niuht when ani^el hands 
l)ril\s oui upon the sea ol" rest. Are pressed upon tlie lireil hiMw . 

While all the shore behind ,s;ro\vs ilark. And when tl>e soul on shining sands 
And >iK'nee reigns iVom e.ist to wesl. Oeseends with angels (vom the prow. 



At la>t awakes the hidden hree/e 
That heat's nre to the land ol" dre.iins. 

W'liere musie sighs among the trees. 
And murmurs in the winding stivams. 



Vo sleep 1 give m\ sell' away. 

M\ heart lorgels its vague imrest. 
And all the clamor ol" the da\, 

A\ul drills toward lite i|uiet west. 



AKrniK W. 11. 



I'OKM.S OK KANCY, 



H:il 



I nut mil liowM lo wiilcli upon ii Imiik 
With Ivy •■nriii|iii"l, iiiiil itiliMWovii 
Willi lliiiiiil.in|{ lii<ni'yiiiii'l(li', iiiiil lm({aii, 
\Vi'a{il. ill a |iliMnili){ lit nl' iiii'liinilioly, 
'I'll iiic«lilat" my rural miimlirlny, 
'i'ill I'aiicy liail lii^i' llll, Iml, I'l'it a i^lomi, 
'I'lii' wiiliNiil riiai' wan up iiiniilid lliii wiiiiiIh, 
Ami lllli^ii lliii air willi liiii'liai'iain illHKiiiiaiica ; 
Al. wliii'li I i'I'iihimI, anil IIhIimm'iI IJii'Iii awliilo, 
Till all iiniinual ntiip iil' iiinlili'ii hi|i'iii:ii 
liavit ri'iipilii III Ijiii ilriiwuy IVi){lil.i»l hIiiimIm, 
Tlial ili'aw tliM litLi!!' of i'luHir-i:iirliiiiiril hliiisp ; 
Al. Iiiiil a niiR ami Hiiliiiiiii'lii'i»il.liiii;{ kuiiiiiI 
lliiHi! likii It nlivaiii III' I'ii'li ilinlilli^il pi'iliiiiii'ii, 
Ami nliiln iipijii Uiii air, Uial i:vru Hiliimi^ 
WiiH t.iiol( nrii hIio wiih wari% ami wiitlicl nin^ iiii^tit 
liriiy liiir naliirii, ami lai imvar imiri', 
HUH lij llll Hii iliHjilariMl. I wiiH all itar, 
Ami liiiik ill HliaiiiH Llial tiii^lil, I'li^aln a iiuiil 
I'ihIiM' tliii rilm nfiliuitli : Iml. O, inu loii|{ 
'I'liii wiill 1 iliil jii'iri^ivii il. waa lliii voirii 
III luy imml liiimiriul liiuly, ymuili'ur Mi«l.nr. 
Aimi/.i'il I hUiiiiI, liarriiwi:il wil.li Kiinraml I'Miir, 
Ami O, poor liaplnHa iiiKJillii^ulii, llioii){lil 1, 
I low HWi'iit Hum Hiii^'al, liow iiiiar Urn iliMully 
Kiiari! I 

Mll.l'.'i. 



'I'lIK lAHTM'; (jK inijomcn(;k. 

i'kijm canto I. 

Tlin cnttln Itllfllt nt ln(1<tlnlir:o. 

Ami ll« fnliio luxury t 
Wltnra fitr a lllllo lima, nloftl 

We llvcil rliflil Jolllly. 

O MiiiiTAi, man, wlm llvimt liirrii liy toil, 
Do nut I'liiiiplain of HiIh lliy lianl iwtat<i ; 
That likii an i^mmut tlioii niiiHt nvnr moil, 
U a Hiul Niilili!ni:ii of alt aiirii-iit iJaU; ; 
Anil, i!ijitiiH, tliiiKi ill (or it rraiKoii giiMit ; 
I''or, tliiiii;{li Homiilimiiit it niaknH lliim wi^ip ami 

wail, 
Ami I'lirHi; tliy Hlur, ami narly ilrmlgii anil lato ; 
Willioiiliiii tliat woiiM iioiiiii a lii'aviiir Imlii, 
Ijiiohii lii'ii, unruly pamiionH, ami iliHiMiwH palit, 

III lowly ilali', fa«t liy ii rivur'n hIiIii, 

With woolly hill o'nr hill iini'.ompaMwil roiiml 

A moHt ■■nciiuntin^ wi/anl ilid aliiili-, 

Than whom it llnnil mora M] in nowln'in foiiml. 

It WIIH, I wi'i'ii, a lovily Hpot ol'j^iouml ; 

Anil thi'iii a nimihom atwitim .Iiiim ami .May, 

lliilf |iraiikt with Kpiiii«, with iiiiiiimi:r half 

iiiiilirowiii'il, 
A UhIIi'kh I'liniatt! mitilii, whuri'. Booth t.o 8ny, 
No livin|{ wight r.oiM work, na iritrKil (iveii for 

pluy. 



WitH iiuii({ht itroiMul hut Imagiw of riwt : 

Hli'i'p-iiiiotliiii({ grovi^ii, ami ipiii't Iiiwiim Im- 

twri-ii ; 
Ami llowi'iy lii^iln that nliiiiiliioim inlliH'iioii kimt, 
Kioiii popjiicH liri^allutil ; ami IhmIh oI' pli'imanl 

Kinrii, 
Whnrii iMrVnr yi't whh i-iiMfpin;^ rri'iiliii'i; hi-i'Ii, 
Miaintliiir, MiHiiiiiil»'ii'<l f^lill'TJij^ iitii'iiiiili^la 

jilayi^il. 
Ami liiirli'il i!Vi-rywlii-ii! thi-ir wali-ni bIhwii ; 
That, aa tlii'y lili'ki'ii'il thriiil){li tlmaiiiiiiyghiili% 
Thoii(/li I'iMlliaia atill thi^iiwlvi'ii, a lulling; iinir- 

iiiiir iiiiiilit. 

.Iiiim;i| In till' piiillh' III iIm^ piiiliii|.r rllhi 
Warn liiianl tin' lowing hi'iila along thu vain. 
Ami lliinkn lomi Imating Iroiii tin: iliiitant liillii, 
Ami valiant itlmplmril;i Jiijiiiig in thn iliiln : 
Ami, now ami tln-ii, iiwrnt I'hilonii'l woiiM wail, 
Or atoiikilovim plain aiiii'l thn loriiiit ilnnp, 
That ilroway nialliMl to Ihii iiighing gain ; 
Ami Htill a I'oil tlin gi'aNiilioppnr ili'l kniiji ; 
Vat all tliitiiii noiiinlH yhliint iimlin'Ml all to h1iii![i. 

Knll in till! piiKKiiga oC thn vali;, ahovn, 

A Halila, xilKnt, Holi'iiin rorniil Ntooil ; 

Wlinri! miiight hut ahailowy t'ornm whh Mr-i:n to 

IIIOVI', 

Ax lillnwi lain'li'il In Imr ilri'itmiiig niooil : 
Ami up tim liilirt, on I'ithnr hiila, a wooil 
or hlai:ki'ning pimm, aya waving to himI fro, 
.Sunt I'ortli a hli-i-py horror through tlia hlooil ; 
Ami wlii'i'n thin vallay wimlail out, halow, 
Tliii iiiurmiiriiig main whh hutril, uinl wrurculy 
hiianl, to How. 

A pli:aniiig lami ol'ilroWHyhml it wiiM, 
OI'ilri-aniH that wavn hnlora tin; liaM'-Nliut ayii ; 
Ami of gay ranlloa in tin: elomla that pitHH, 
l''ori;vi-r lliiMliing roiinil a Hiimnmr aky ; 
Thiirii akii llu' noil ili'lighta, lliat witchingly 
liiHtil a wanton HWniitnaan through thn liri'itHt, 
Ami till! iialni pliraaiiri« alwayn hovnnul nigh ; 
lint whali:'i'r «miu:ki'il ol' noyani'i: or unra»t 
Wioi I'ar, far oil' i-.k|ii||i''I riom thin i|i;lii;iou'i iin^il. 

Thn lanilHi'apa HUah, iniipiring pfirl'ai't i-itw, 
Whi'iii Imlolnni'i! (Uir ho thn wizanl higlit) 
('lonn-liiil liin niiHtIn niiil nmliowming trnnH, 
That haH'ithiitout thn hnaiiiH ol' I'lnnhiiH hright, 
Ami mii'ln a kimi of nhnnkniml ilayami night ; 
Mnanwhiln, iini'.naHing at thn maHny gatn, 
Itnnnath a Hpanioim palm, thn winkml wight 
Whh plitnnil ■, anil to hia liitn, ol'nninl lata 
Ami lulior liitrHh, vompliilncil, lumeiiting man'n 
CHtato. 



832 



POEMS OF FANCY. 



Thitlu'r contimml jiilyrims crowiled still, 
From all the niiids of earth that pass theie by ; 
For, as they ehaueod to breathe on iieighlnn- 

iiig hill, 
The tVesliness of this valley smote their eye, 
And drew them ever and anon more nij;h ; 
Till clusterini; round the enchanter I'alse they 

hung, 
Ynuilten with his siren melody ; 
While o'er the euleeliling lute his hand he 

Hung, 
And to the trembling chords these toiaiitiug 

verses sung : 

" Behold ! ye pilgrims of this earth, behold ! 
See all, but man, with unearned pleasure gay : 
See her bright robes the butterlly unfold, 
Broke from her wintry tomb in prime of May ! 
What youtliful bride can eijual her army ? 
Who can with her for easy pleasure vie .' 
From mead to mead with gentle wing to stray. 
From Mower to Uower on balmy gales to Hy, 
Is all she has to do beneath the nidiant sky. 

■' Behold the merry minstrels of the morn, 
The swarming songsters of the careless grove, 
Ten tliousaud throats ! that, from the tUnvcr- 

iug thorn. 
Hymn their good God, and carol sweet of love. 
Such grateful kindly raptures them emove : 
They neither plough nor sow ; ne, fit for flail, 
E'er to the barn the iioJden sheaves they 

drove : 
Yet theirs each harvest dancing in the g;ile, 
Whatever crowns the hill, or smiles along the 

vale. 

" Ontcast of nature, man ! the wretched thrall 
Of bitter dropping sweat, of sweltry pain. 
Of cares that eat away the heart with gall. 
And of the vices, an inluiman train. 
That all proceed from savage thirst of gain : 
For when hard-hearted interest tirst begun 
To poison earth, Astiiva left the plain ; 
Guile, violence, and murder seized on man. 
And, for soft milky streams, with blood the 
rivers riui. 

" Come, ye who still the cumbrous load of life 
Tush hanl up hill ; but as the furthest steep 
You trust to gain, and put an end to strife, 
Down thunders back the stone with mighty 

sweep, 
And hurls your labors to the valley deep, 
Forever vain : come, and withouten fee, 
I in oblivion will your sorrows steep, 
Your cares, your toils ; will steep you in a sea 
Of full delight : 0, come, ye weary wights, to me ! 



" With me, you need not rise at early dawn, 
To [lass the joyless day in various stounds ; 
I'r, louting low, on upstart fortune fawn. 
And sell fair honor for some paltry pounds ; 
Ov through the city take your dirty rounds. 
To cheat, and dun, and lie, and visit pay, 
Now tlattering base, now giving secret wounds ; 
Or prowl iu courts of law for human prey. 
In venal senate thieve, or rob on broad higliway. 

" No cocks, with me, to rustic labor call. 
From village on to village sounding clear ; 
To tardy swain no shrill-voiced matrons sipiall ; 
No dogs, no babes, no wives, to stun your ear ; 
No hammers thump ; no horrid blacksmith 

sear, 
Ne noisy tradesman your sweet slumbers start. 
With sounds that arc a misery to hear : 
But all is calm, as would delight the heart 
Of Sybarite of old, all nature, and all art. 

" Here nanght but candor reigns, indulgent 

ease, 
Good-mitured lounging, sauntering up and 

down : 
They who are pleased themselves must always 

please ; 
On othei-s' ways they never squint a frown, 
Nor heed what haps in hamlet or in town : 
Thus, from the source of tender Indolence, 
With milky blood the heart is overllown. 
Is soothed and sweetened by the social sense ; 
For inteix'st, en\-T,-, pride, and strife are banished 

hence. 

" What, what is virtue, but repose of mind, 
A pure ethereal calm, that knows no storm ; 
Above the reach of wild antbition's wind. 
Above those passions that this world deform. 
And torture nmn, a proud malignant worm ? 
But here, instead, soft gides of passion play. 
And gently stir the heart, thereby to form 
A quicker sense of joy ; as breezes stray 
Across the enlivened skies, and make them still 
moK gay. 

" The best of men have ever loved repose : 
They hate to mingle in the lilthy fray ; 
Where the soul sours, and gradual rancor 

grows, 
Imbittered more from peevish day to day. 
E'en those whom fame has lent her fairest ray. 
The most renowned of worthy wights of yore. 
From a base world at hvst have stolen away : 
So Scipio, to the soft t^umffian shot* 
Retiring, tasted joy he never knew before. 



I'OEMS OF FANCY. 



833 



" But if a littlo exercise you clioose, 
Some zest for ea.su, 'tis not forbidilcii liere : 
Amid tlie proves you iiuiy inilulg<; tlie Muse, 
Or tend the hloonis, ami deck tlie vernal year ; 
Or .softly stealing, with your watery gear, 
Along the brooks, the crimson-spotted fry 
You may delude : the whilst, anmsed, you hear 
Now the hoarse stream, and now the zephyr's 
sigh, 
Attunfed to the bird.s, and wooiUaml melody. 

" grievous folly ! to hea]i up estate, 
Losing the days you see Ijeneath the sun ; i 
When, sujlden, comes blind unrelenting fate, j 
And gives the untasted portion you have won i 
With ruthless toil, and many a wretch umlone. 
To those who mock you, gone to Pluto's leign. 
There with sad ghosts to [line, and shadows 

dun : 
But sure it is of vanities most vain. 
To toil for what you here untoiling may obtain." 

He cea-sed. But still their trembling ears re- 
tained 
The deep vibrations of his witching song ; 
That, by a kind of magic j)ower, constrained 
To enter in, pell-mell, the listeidng throng. 
Heaps poured on heaps, and yet they slipt 

along. 
In .silent ease ; as when beneath the beam 
f)f summer moons, the distant woods among, 
Or by some flood all silvered with the gleam. 
The soft-embodied fays through airy portal 
stream : 

r>y the smooth demon .so it onlered was. 
And here his baneful bounty first began : 
Though some there were who would not fur- 
ther pass. 
And his alluring baits suspected han. 
The wi.se clistrust the too fair-spoken man. 
Yet through the gate they cast a wishful eye : 
Not to move on, p('rdie, is all they can : 
For do their very best they cannot fly, 
]!ut often each way look, anil often sorely sigh. 

When this the watcliful wicked wizard saw. 
With sudden spring he leaped upon them 
straight ; j 

And soon as touched by his unhallowed paw, I 
They found themselves within the cursed gate : 
Full hard to be repa.ssed, like that of fate. 
Not stronger were of old the giant i-rew, I 

Who sought to pull high Jove from regal state ; 
Though feeble wretch he seemed, of sallow hue : j 
Certes, who bides his grasp, will that encounter 
rue. 



Ye gods of quiet, and of sleep profound ! 
Whose soft <lominion o'er this castle sways. 
And all the widely silent places round, 
Foi'give me, if my trembling pen disjplays 
What never yet was sung in mortal lays. 
But how shall I attempt smdi arduous string ? 
1 who have spent my nights and nightly days 
In this .soul-deadening place loose-loitering : 
Ah 1 how shall I for this uprear my moulted wing ? 

Come on, my Muse, nor stoop to low despair, 
Thou im[) of .love, touclicd by celestial fire ! 
Thou yet shalt sing of war, and actions fair. 
Which the bold sons of Britain will inspire : 
Of ancient bards thou yet shalt sweep the lyre ; 
Thou yet shalt tread in tragic pall the stage, 
I'aint love's enchanting woes, the hero's ire. 
The sage's calm, the patriot's noble r.age. 
Dashing corruption down through every worth- 
less age. 

The doors, that knew no shrill alarming bell 
Ne cursed knocker jilieil by vill.iin's hand, 
Self-opened into halls, where who can tell 
What elegance and grandeur wide expand ; 
The pride of Turkey and of Persia land ? 
Soft quilts on quilts, on cai-pets carpets .spread. 
And couches stretched around in seemly band ; 
And endless pillows rise to prop the head ; 
So that each spacious room was one full-swelling 
bed ; 

And everywhere liuge covered tables stood, 
With wines high -flavored and rich viands 

crowned ; 
Whatever sprightly juice or tasteful food 
On the gieen bosom of this earth are found, 
And all old ocean 'genders in his round : 
Some hand unseen these silently displayed. 
Even undemanded by a sign or sound ; 
You need but wish, and instantly obeyed. 
Fair ranged the dishes lose, and thick the glasses 
played. 

Here freedom resigned, without the least alloy ; 
Nor gossip's tale, nor ancient maiden's g.all. 
Nor saintly spleen duist muinmr at our joy, 
And with envenomed tongue our pleasures pall. 
For why ? there was but one great rule for all ; 
To wit, that each should work his own desire, 
And eat, drink, study, sleep, as it may fall, 
Or melt the time in love, or wake the lyre. 
And carol what, unhid, tlie Muses might in- 
spire. 

The rooms with costly tapestry were hung, 
Where was inwoven many a gentle tale ; 
Such as of old the rural poets sung, 
Or of Arcadian or Sicilian vale : 



^o4 



rOKMS OK FANCY. 



RwliniHj! lovers, in tho lonoly dali% 

Pouivtl fortJi «t larg<> tho sw\<tly tv>rt«r<Hl 

hoart ; 
Or, sigliius tciulor jvission, s^voll^^l tlio giilo, 
Aiui taught ohaniievl ooho to ix'souuJ their 

smart ; 
While flocks, vtvkhIs, streams around, rejHwo and 

pe«c« imivtrt. 

Eaoh sound tiv hor<> to lanjfuishiuont inoUnod, 
l,ulU\l tho \vo;>k Kwoni, :>\id il\^u:^^d oaso ; 
Aerial musio in tlio warWins wind. 
At distan»-o rising oft . l\v sni.-iU dogroes. 
Nearer and ut^iivr oan>o, till o"or tho trees 
It hung, and br<\>tho»l such soulnlissvilving airs. 
As did. alas ! with soft ixMvlition nUv;>se : 
Entanglrtl deep in its onohanting snartts. 
The listening heart forgot all duties and all oar>>s. 

A oortain niusio, novj'r known lx'for<\ 
Hon> IuIUhI tho jxMisive, moUinoholy mind ; 
^'^^ll ejisily ohtainisl. l5ohiH>vos no mor<\ 
Bnt sidoloivg. to tho gently waving wind, 
To lay tho woll-tun<\l instruniont ivolintnl ; 
Frxmi whioh, with airy tlying liug<>rs light, 
IVyond iNioh mortal touoli the most ri'tin<Hl. 
Tho gxvlol" winds dr<>w sounds of deep delight ; 
Whe.uoe, with just cause, tho harp of .Kolns it 
hight. 

Ah mo; what hand oan touch the string so tine t 
Who up tho lofty »Iiaiv>S\>n rv^U 
Such s«-wt, such sad, such solemn airs divine. 
Then lot thorn down again into the siiul ; 
JJow rising love they fauno<l; now phvjsing dole 
They hi-eatlu\l, in tender musings, thtvmgh tho 

heart ; 
And now a graver Sixcnsl strain they stole. 
As when soR>phic h.ands a hymn imivirt ; 
Wild wsrWing nature all, alvve the Tt\<ch of .art ! 

J.^MUS TllOStSCN, 



Krni.A KHAN'.» 

Is Xanadu vlid K>iMa Khan 
A stately pU\isur\>-douio dtvroe 
Whoiv Alph, tho saciivl river, ran, 
Thrvutgh caverns measureless to mau, 
IXiwn to a sunless s<>a, 

• " \n tht summer of the x-cat »*,a" the SMthi^r. then in il!-he.itth. 
ha.l tvtirwl til A tvinely f»n«4uH»se betm-een IVikvl. An.l I int.^n. .m\ 
the FvnuvM ..v\^,ii-> .-i S.\;ii.-tv,-: .»!-..l IV. .-.v'l::,- 1; . .■ i..N;,i.;u-.' 
of* slight 
eHK-t of » ' 

liti; the (-. • , - 

/Vn-**j",. /i,.i'',,v4j^. * Here li>c klwii KnU- 
nee ^^ t*e Ntilt. aikI a stAtelv irAMeit there*iiit\i : 
•f fertile STvMin.) wet* et>,-Kisev\wth*WAU,' T^.■ - ! 

tut About tlkre« houTk in « vvofovM »1««)\ «t WAAt ,4' the i^AuitMl 



St> twiot> live miles of ft.'rtile gT\>und 
With w-alls and towers woiv gi\>lU'd round ; 
.\nd thoiv worr' gsmlous, bright with sinuous rills, 
\Vhort> hUvssomtsl many an incense-Waring trw ; 
Anil heix> wvre fort^sts ancient as the hills. 
Infolding suuuy spots of grx-enory. 

But O that deep mmantic chasm, which slante»l 

Down tho giwn hill aihwjirt a ctHiari\ eo\-er ! 

A s;>>-!Vg<< place ! as holy and ouchantoil 

As o'er lvni>alh a waning mivm was haunted 

By woman wailing for hor demon-lover ! 

And ftvm this chiism, with o»\asoless tunnoil 

s»\>thing. 
As if thistsjirth in fast thick jvints were hnwthing, 
A mighty fountain momently was foroiM, 
Amid whose swift, half-intermit ttnl hurst 
Hngi' fragnumts N-anlttxl like ivlhninding hail. 
Or chally grain Ivnoath tho thix^shor's Hail ; 
And mid these dancing rvx-ks at once and over 
I It flung >ip momently tho saciwl river. 
j Fiv»> ntilos, meandori\ig witli a nniry n\otion 
I Tlmnigh wivhI and dale, tho sac^•»^^ river ran, — 
Then n^tchtnl the caverns nuv>sun'h>ss to man. 
And sank in tumult to a Ufoh'ss ocean, 
And mid this tumult Kuhla hoaixl from far 
Ancestiul \Micos pivphosying war. 

Tho shadow of tho dotne of pleasure 
KKwttHl inidwiiy on tho wavi>s 
Whoix" was hoiirvl the mingUsl moasurf 
Fnun the fonntsiin and the caves. 

It was a miracle of raix> tloviix>, — 

A sunny ph\>sure-diuue with oaves of it.>e I 
A dan>sol with a tlulcinuT 
In a vision onco I S!»w ; 

It W)»s an Ahyssinian maid. 

And on her diilciuu-r she playtsl. 

Singing of Mount Alvra, 

l\nil.l I rx^vivo within nu» 

Her symphony and song. 

To such a dt-o|> ilelight 't would win tne 

That, with music loud ami long, 

I would huild that dome in air, — 

That sunnv dome ! those o«ves of »<;« ! 



r he ^.•.■^ the n>.vt >i,;.1 .•^n^.i.-n.e 



.;:he 



senses, ,tut1itc w^tk-h ti'M 
cewM iH>* hax-e ,^^>l • 
if thAti»,lee,t CAn U 
up be^Mr him At f 
s^vwitent eMMrjsi.MiN «:; 
etfoit. Oti AWAkiiis he Apr 
le\tivMi of the wh,>le. .»ii,!, 
AJivi eAireriy wxxite .! - 

ItKMiteiit he "AAN V:r 
t>V«ti l\-«Kvi., A'.! .' 
t\' his txHMll ' 

tho«);h he - 

,vr tvn scAtteiv^l Itii.sAii.i •.i.i.,,;.^ a;i ;^v ivs; iva.i i\*ss.Ni A„Ay. 
Hlce the iaiAces ,ut the \vitlA."e ,m"a stre.Aiii iiitv^ whioh a stoite hA.l 
beeii v'Ast. tMit. Ai-ts: withvMit theAtXor feit\%rAtton ,if the lAtter."— 
THK AVTHOR. tStft. 



i .xit l'\ A \*ers,w ,in Ki^ m-' 



I'OKMH OK l''AN(;V. 



H:;r, 



Anil III! wlio liimnl hIjoiiIiI mmi tliriii tlinrn, 
Ami nil hIkiiiM iry, I'.i'Hinr I Ih'Wiiiu 
IIJH iliiMliiiiK "yi'H, IiIm lliiiiliii;{ liiiir I 
Wfrnvii n rli'i'lii r»iiiiil lilrii Uiririi, 
Ami clone y"'ir ".V'^ ^^i"> l<"ly •Injiiil, 
Kor liiMiri liiiiii'yiji'w liitlli CimI, 
Ami <lniiik llm iriilk nl I'liiiiiliwi, 

fiAMUItr. "lAVI.OH (;ol.RH(ri(, 



HONd OK WOOIi-NYMrilM. 

• 'riMF, licri), cofnd linrc, mid ilwi;ll 

III roiciil (Imi|i I 

roimi Ih'I'", i*omi5 Iior/i, iiinl li^ll 

Why tliiiii ilont wcup I 

Ih it, fur Idvi' (hwi'cI. piiiii !) 

'I'liiil lliiiH lli'Mi iIui'hI' I'liiiiiilaiii 

rntn our |ili'iiimiit. hIiikIiim, our Kuminor Iciivcn, 

Wlmni iiiiu((lil. I Imi xrinviin I 

'oiiic hiii'"', loMKi lirii', ami lio 

I'.y w)ilii|iiW'liiK Hirwuii I 

lliTi! m> omi ilarcH to (lio 

Kor Iovi:'h itv/v.vA. ilrmiiii j 

I'ut liciilUi nil Hi'i'k, iiml joy, 

Ami hIiiiii prrvirwMiMiioy, 

Aij'l iiici: iiloiig f{rmri {lutliH till cloito of ilny, 

An<l litugli - iilwny I 

Or ilw, tlirouKli half tli« yciir, 

Oil rii«liy floor, 

Wi! Ill; liy wiiUirB ihiiT, 

Whili! dkylarkn pour 

Tlixir HoiiKK into tliii mm I 

Ami wlii^ii liri^lit liny in ilomi, 

Wii liiilo 'iicdtli liiill" of flowers or noddinff wmi, 

Ami drcttiii — till morn I 

BKVAH WaLLIIK I'K'jCTBK {JIarry Carmm:!). 



THK KAMtIKH' LIJIXAI5Y. 

Pftou "Mii>ftUMMnii Nir;M'r'ii iikkam/ act ii. ^. -f. 

Rnlcr Titan I A, wUh lir.r Irain. 
TiTANlA. ('limn, now a roundid, ami a fairy 

M.ii« ; 
Tli'Ti, for tin: tliird [>nrl of a rriiriiit's licnwi ; — 
Honii!, to kill raiikorn in tin; inunk-rofK; bmlfi ; 
Horno war witli ruar-iiii'ar for tlicir lcatlii;rn wiiijc. 
To niakii my iirnall clvim iMmtn ; ami itoinc ki*p 

tmck 
Till; clanioroiiii owl, tliat ni«litly liootd, and 

wondiini 
At our (jiiaiiit iipirit«. Sing m« now asleep ; 
Tfien to your olficot, and let me re»t. 



I I''a ; II Y. Villi njKiUr.d uniih-ii, iiiUhi/jntlilr. I,imyur, 
'/'hornj/ hi-'^f/i'/t'iffi, lif, 'luil miMi ; 
Niyii'li 'I'li'l htiiiil iiiiirnin, ilii nil iimmy : 
lliimr- nid w-'ir iinr J'nirjl i/urai, 

'lloiii'H. I'liilitmr.l, mUli mr.ldil.jf, 

Siv<i TO iru/r niiiml liiJIiiliji ; 
ImUii,, LiiMa, iiUMiii : tiUla, luUu, luUal/i/: 
JVe.vr.r hii.riii, 
NiiT Hfir.tl ■ihiiT r.lmrm, 
C'miir, HUT Immiy Uid\i niflh ; 
No, yodU-niyU, with IuUmIih, 

'I Kaiiiv. Wrmnhm npitlnn, r.imiA mil Imn, 

Iliii.ir, i/iiii, /(/«(/-/(•(/(/«/ njiinwrn, 
h.r.iu-i: I 
Jlcr.Ur.ii hlmlc, (iffiTdiifh mil, nfd/r i 
IVitnii, nor mmi/, do no ojfrnce, 

Ciioiiim. liiiloinrl, viilh mf.lodti, otc. 

I Kaiiiv. lli'iirin away ; now all in well •. 
Ono, aloof, ntnnd unilini'l. 

{BMWid b'w'vrka, Titania hUijih. 

SilAKIlSI'BAKIi. 



KAIUIKH' HO>ra, 

Wk llid fairies lilitlie and antic. 

Of iliim'nniomi not ((i«aiitie, 

'I'lioii^li till'. Mioomiliim: mostly keep u«, 

Olt ill oreliardd frisk ami |K*p im. 

HUiliin dwceto arc alway« nweetw ; 
Htoli^n ki/mefi iniieli eornplet^ir ; 
Htoien looka are iilee in eliafielx ; 
8t<ilen, (»t<;lo7i 1* your applesi. 

Wlien tf) hed ttie world are l«>Wiiri«, 
Tlien '» the time for oreliard-roM>iiiK ; 
Yet the fruit were deariM! worth jieelinK 
Were it not for utealinx, iitealin(<. 

Vtimi Iho (j»ln '* TIIOMA'! KAMflOI-rn " 
Irantlall'm (A \.MIM HUNT, 



COMPLIMKNT TO QUKKN KLIZAUETH. 

fllOH "MIMOMMBR XICHru nRKAM." ACT II. SC. a. 

Obbiwin. My gentle I'lick, coine hither. Tliou 
rerneniher'nt. 
K\wi: one* I sat ii[K)|i a prornont/iry, 
And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin'a \w\., 
Utt«!ring •iicli dul(«jt and liannonioua hreath, 

• Rnn'l/.ll'h WJii « mMl^fly wh'.lnr, «nrt « \irrAf^mA %inMTA r4 
III*! /WtfM dml I.<ttln t,*iru. tuUfV wf]tlni£\ If IntitAU-it In o,f.**l*ft- 
(IUA(f.>«, «»kI wtKrt« IrillK^ocr wit\ rnnrV^/l In lil« I'ntfihh wrNifHf*. 
Ma /IlT'l (I'/MI HI Ih*! *ff^ of twrnty-nin*:, nfA fulWIIrtu 11^ iKtnti 
\inmAvA t.y lil« e*rly y««f« 



83C 



POEMS OF FANCY. 



That the rude sea grew civil at her song, 

And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, 

To hear the sea-maid's music. 

Puck. I remember. 

Obe. That very time 1 saw (but thou couldst 
not). 
Flying between the cold moon and the earth, 
Cupid all armed : a certain aim he took 
At a fair vestal throned by the west. 
And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his bow. 
As it should pierce a luuidred thousand hearts : 
But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft 
Quenched in the chaste beams of the watery moon, 
And the imperial votaress passed on. 
In maiden meditation, fancy free. 
Yet marked I where the bolt of Cupid fell : 
It fell upon a little western Hower 
Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound. 
And maidens call it Love-in-idleness. 
Fetch me that flower. 

SHAKESPEARE. 



QUEEN MAB. 

FROM "ROMEO AND JULIET," ACT I. SC. 4. 

0, TiiEX, I see. Queen Mab hath been with you. 
She is the fairies' midwife ; and she comes 
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone 
Ou the fore-finger of an alderman, 
Drawn with a team of little atomies 
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep ; 
Her wagon-spokes made of long spinners' legs ; 
The cover, of the wings of gi'asshoi>pei'S ; 
The traces, of the smallest spider's web ; 
The collars, of the moonshine's watery beams ; 
Her whip, of cricket's bone ; the lash, of film ; 
Her wagoner, a small gray-coated gnat. 
Not half so big as a round little worm 
Pricked from the lazy finger of a maid : 
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut. 
Made by the joiner sijuirrel, or old grub. 
Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makei-s. 
And in this state she gallops niglit by night 
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of 

love ; 
On courtiers' knees, that dream ou court'sies 

straight ; 
O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees ; 
O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream, — 
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, 
Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are: 
Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose. 
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit ; 
And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail, 
Tickling a pareon's nose as 'a lies asleep, 
Then dreams he of anotherbenefice : 



Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck. 
And then dreams lie of cutting foreign throats, 
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades. 
Of healths five fathom deep ; and then anon 
Drums in his ear, at which he starts, and wakes ; 
And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, 
And sleeps again. This is that very Mab 
That plats the unvnes of horses in the night ; 
And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs, 
Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes : 
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs. 
That presses them, and learns them first to bear. 
Making them women of good carriage. 



SHAKESPEARE. 



THE FAIRIES. 

Up the airy mountain, 

Down the lushy glen, 
'We dare n't go a hunting 

For fear of little men ; 
Wee folk, good folk, 

Trooping all together ; 
Green jacket, red cap, 

And white owl's feather ! 

Down along the rocky shore 

Some make their home, — 
They live on crispy pancakes 

Ot yellow tiile-foam ; 
Some in the reeds 

Of the black mountain-lake. 
With frogs for their watch-dogs, 

All night awake. 

High on the lull-top 

The old King sits ; 
He is now so old and gray 

He 's nigh lost his wits. 
With a bridge of white mist 

CoUimbkill he crosses. 
On his stately journeys 

From Slieveleague to Rosses : 
Or going up with music 

On cold starry nights, 
To sup with the queen 

Of the gay Northern Lights. 

They stole little Bridget 

For seven years long ; 
■yVTien she came down again 

Her friends were all gone. 
They took her lightly back, 

Between the night and morrow ; 
They thought that she was fast asleep, 

But she was dead with sorrow. 



POEMS OF FANCY. 



837 



They have kept her ever since 

Deep within the lakes, 
On a bed of tlag-leaves, 

Watching till she wakes. 

By the craggy hillside, 

Through the mosses hare, 
They have planted thorn-trees 

For pleasure here and there. 
Is any man so daring 

To dig one up in spite. 
He shall find the thornies set 

In hia bed at night. 

Up the airy mountain, 

Down the rushy glen. 
We dare n't go a hunting 

For fear of little men ; 
Wee folk, good folk, 

Trooping all together ; 
G reen jacket, red cap. 

And white owl's feather I 

WIILLIAM ALLINGHAM. 



KILMENY. 

FROM "THE OUEEN'S WAKE." 

Bonny Kilmeny gaed up the glen ; 
But it wasna to meet Duneira's men, 
Nor the rosy monk of the isle to see. 
For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be. 
It was only to hear the yorlin sing, 
And pu' the cress-flower round the spring, — 
The scarlet hypp, and the hindberrye. 
And the nut that hung frae the hazel-tree ; 
For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be. 
But lang may her minny look o'er the wa', 
And lang may she seek i' the green-wood shaw ; 
Lang the laird of Duneira blame, 
And lang, lang greet or KUnieny come hame. 

AVhen many a day had come and fled, 
When grief gi'ew calm, and hope was dead, 
When mass for KUnieny's soul had been sung. 
When the bedesman had prayed, and the dead- 
bell rung ; 
Late, late in a gloamin, when all was still, 
When the fringe was red on the westlin hill. 
The wood was sear, the moon i' the wane, 
The reek o' the cot hung over the plain, — 
Like a little wee cloud in the world its lane ; 
When the ingle lowed with an eiry leme, 
Late, late in the gloamin Kilmeny came hame ! 

" Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where hare you been ? 
Lang hae we sought baith holt and den, — 
By linn, by ford, and green -wood tree ; 
Yet you are halesome and fair to see. 



Where got you that joup o' the lily sheen ? 
That bonny snood of the birk sae green ? 
And these roses, the fairest that ever was seen ? 
Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have you been ? " 

Kilmeny looked up with a lovely grace. 
But nae smile was seen on Kilmeuy's face ; 
As still was her look, and as still was her ee, 
As the stillness that lay on the emerant lea, 
Or the mist that sleeps on a waveless sea. 
For Kilmeny had been she knew not where. 
And Kilmeny had seen what she could not 

declare. 
Kilmeny had been where the cock never crew, 
Where the rain never fell, and the wind never 

blew ; 
But it seemed as the harp of the sky had rung. 
And the airs of heaven played round her tongue. 
When she spake of the lovely forms she had seen, 
And a land where sin had never been, — 
A land of love, and a land of light, 
Withouteu sun or moon or night ; 
Where the river swa'd a living stream, 
And the light a pure celestial beam : 
The land of vision it would seem, 
A still, an everlasting dream. 

In yon green- wood there is a walk, 
And in that walk there is a wene. 
And in that wene there is a maike, 
That neither has flesh, blood, nor bane ; 
And down in yon green-wood he walks his lane. 

In that green wene Kilmeny lay. 
Her bosom happed wi' the flowerets gay ; 
But the air was soft, and the silence deep, 
And bonny Kilmeny fell sound asleep ; 
She kend nae mair, nor opened her ee. 
Till waked by the hymns of a far countrye. 

She awaked on a couch of the silk sae slim. 
All striped wi' the bars of the rainbow's rim ; 
And lovely beings around were rife. 
Who erst had travelled mortal life ; 
And aye they smiled, and 'gan to speer : 
" What spirit has brought this mortal here ! " 

" Lang have I journeyed the world wide," 
A meek and reverend fere replied ; 
' ' Baith night and day I have watched the fair 
Eident a tliousand years and mair. 
Yes, I have watched o'er ilk degree, 
Wherever blooms femenitye ; 
But sinless virgin, fiee of stain, 
In mind and body, fand I nane. 
Never, since the bancjuet of time, 
Found I a virgin in her prime. 
Till late this bonny maiden I saw, 
As spotless as the morning snaw. 



838 



POEMS OF FANCY. 



Full twenty years she hiis lived as fi-ee 

As the spirits that sojourn in this lountrye. 

1 have brought lier away frae the snares of men, 

That sin or death she may never ken." 

They clasped her waist and her hands sae fair ; 
They kissed her cheek, and they keincd her hair ; 
And round came many a blooming fere, 
Saying, " Bonny Kilmeny, ye "re welcome here ; 
Women are freed of the littund scorn ; 
0, blest be the day Kilmeny was born ! 
Now shall the land of the spirits see. 
Now shall it ken, what a woman nuiy be ! 
Many a lang year in sorrow and pain, 
Many a lang year through the world we 've gaue. 
Commissioned to watch fair womankind. 
For it 's they who iiurice the immortal mind. 
We have watched their steps as the dawning 

shone, 
And deep in the gieenwood walks alone ; 
By lily bower and silken bed 
The viewless tears have o'er them shed ; 
Have soothed their ardent minds to sleep, 
Or left the couch of love to weep. 
We have seen ! we have seen ! but the time must 

come. 
And the angels will weep at the day of doom ! 

'• 0, would the fairest of mortal kind 
Aye keep the holy truths in mind, 
That kindred spirits their motions see, 
VTho watch their ways with anxious e'e. 
And grieve for the guilt of humanitye ! 
0, sweet to Heaven the maiden's prayer, 
And the sigh that heaves a bosom sae fair ! 
And dear to Heaveu the words of truth 
And the praise of virtue fnie beauty's mouth ! 
And dear to the viewless forms of air 
The minds that kythe as the body fair ! 

" bonny Kilmeny ! free frae stain. 
If ever yovi seek the world again, — 
Tliat world of sin, of sorrow and fear, — ■ 
0, tell of the joys that are waiting here ; 
And tell of the signs you shall shortly see ; 
Of the times that are now, and the times that 
shall be." 

They lifted Kilmeny, they led her away. 
And she walked in the light of a sunless day ; 
The sky was a dome of crystal bright. 
The fountain of vision, and fountain of light ; 
The emerald fields were of dazzling glow, 
And the flower's of everlasting blow. 
Then deep in the stream her body they laid. 
That her youth and beauty never might fade ; 
And they smiled on heaven, when they saw her lie 

In the stream of life that wandered bv. 



And she heard a soug, — she heard it sung. 
She kend not where ; but sae sweetly it rung. 
It fell on her ear like a dream of the morn, — 
" 0, blest be the day Kilmeny was born ! 
Now shall the land of the spirits see, 
Now shall it ken, what a woman may be ! 
The sun that shines on the world sae bright, 
A borrowed glcid frae the fountain of light ; 
And the moon that sleeks the sky sae dun, 
Like a goudeu bow, or a beamless sun. 
Shall wear away, and be seen nae mair ; 
And the angels shall miss thcni, travelling the air. 
But lang, lang after baith night and day, 
When the sun and the world have cdyed away, 
M"heu the sinner has gane to his waesome doom, 
Kilmeny shall smile in eternal bloom ! " 

They bore her away, she wist not how, 
For she felt not arm nor rest below ; 
But so swift they wained her through the light, 
'T was like the motion of sound or sight ; 
They seemed to split the gales of air. 
And yet nor gale nor breeze was there. 
Unnumbered groves below them grew ; 
Tliey came, they past, and Iwckward flew, 
Like floods of blossoms gliding on. 
In moment seen, in moment gone. 
0, never vales to mortal view 
Appeared like those o'er which they flew. 
That land to human spirits given. 
The lowermost vales of the storied heaven : 
From whence they can view the world below, 
And heaven's blue g;ites with sapphires glow, — 
More glory yet unmeet to know. 

They bore her far to a uuiuntain green. 
To see what mortal never had seen ; 
And they seated lu>r high on a ])urple sward. 
And bade her heed what she saw and heard. 
And note the changes the spirits wrought ; 
For now she lived in the land of thought. — 
She looked, and siie saw nor sun nor skies. 
But a crystal dome of a thousaiul dyes ; 
She looked, and she saw nae land aright, 
But an endless whirl of glory and light ; 
And radiant beings went and came. 
Far swifter than wind or the linked flame ; 
She hid her ecu frae the dazzling view ; 
She looked ag;iin, and the scene was new. 

She saw a sun on a summer sky. 
And clouds of amber sailing by ; 
A lovely land beneath her lay. 
And that land had glens and mountains gray ; 
And that laud had valleys and hoary piles. 
And marled seas, and a thousand isles ; 
Its fields were speckled, its forests green. 
And its lakes were all of the dazzling sheen. 



POEMS OF FANCY. 



839 



Like magic mirrors, where slumbering lay 

The sun and the sky ami the elouillet gray. 

Which heaveJ and trembled, aii<l gently swung ; 

On every shore they seemed to be hung ; 

For there they were seen on their downward plain 

A thousand times and a thousand again ; 

In winding lake and placid firth, — 

Little peaceful heavens iu the bosom of earth, 

Kilmeny sighed and seemed to grieve. 
For she found her heart to that land did cleave ; 
She saw the corn wave on the vale ; 
She saw the deer run down the dale; 
She saw the plaid and the broad claymore, 
Ami the brows that the badge of freedom bore ; 
And she thought she had seen the land before. 

She saw a lady sit on a throne. 
The fairest that ever the sun shone on : 
A lion licked her haml of milk. 
And she held him in a leish of silk ; 
And a leifu' maiden stood at her knee. 
With a silver wand and melting ee ; 
Her sovereign shield till love stole in, 
I And poisoned all the fount within. 

Then a gruff untoward bedesman came, 
And hundit the lion on his dame ; 
And the guardian njaid wi' the dauntless ee, 
She dropped a tear, and left her knee ; 
And she saw till the queen frae the lion fled. 
Till the bonniest flower of the world lay dead ; 
A coffin was set on a distant i)lain. 
And slie saw the red blood fall like rain : 
Then bonny Kilmeny's heart grew sair, 
I And she turned away, and could look nae mair. 

Then the gniff grim carle gimed amain. 
And they trampled him down, but he rose again ; 
And he baited the lion to deeds of weir. 
Till he lapped the blood to the kingdom dear ; 
And weening his head was danger-preef. 
When crowned with the rose and clover leaf, 
lie gowled at the carle, and chased him away 
To feed wi' the deer on the mountain gray. 
He gowled at the carle, and he geeked at Heaven ; 
I'.ut his mark was set, and his arles given. 
Kilmeny a while her een withdrew ; 
She looked again, and the scene was new. 

She saw below her fair unfuiled 
One half of all the glowing world, 
Where oceans rolled, and rivers ran, 
To bound the aims of sinful man. 
.She saw a people, fierce and fell, 
liurst frae their bounds like fiends of hell ; 
There lilies grew, and the eagle flew. 
And she herked on her ravening crew, 



Till the cities and towers were wrapt in a blaze, 
And the thunder it roared o'er the lands and the 

seas. 
The widows they wailed, and the red blood ran, 
And she threateneil an end to the race of man : 
She never lened, nor stood in awe, 
Till caught by the lion's deadly paw. 
Oh ! then the eagle swinked for life. 
And brainzelled up a mortal strife ; 
But flew she north, or flew she south. 
She met wi' the gowl of the lion's mouth. 

With a mooted wing and waefu' maen, 
The eagle sought her eiry again ; 
But lang may she cower in her bloody nest, 
And lang, lang sleek her wounded breast, 
Before she sey another flight, 
To play wi' the norland lion's might. 

But to sing the sights Kilmeny saw. 
So far surjtassing nature's law. 
The singer's voice wad sink away, 
And the string of his harp wad cease to play. 
But she saw till the soitows of man were by. 
And all was love and harmony ; — 
Till the stars of heaven fell calmly away. 
Like the flakes of snaw on a winter's day. 

Then Kilmeny begged again to see 
The friends she had left in her own countrye. 
To tell the place where she had been. 
And the glories that lay in the land unseen ; 
To warn the living maidens fair. 
The loved of heaven, the spirits' care. 
That all whose minds unrneled remain 
Shall bloom in beauty when time is gane. 

With distant music, soft and deep, 
Thej' lulled Kilmeny sound asleep ; 
And when she awakened, she lay her lane, 
All hapjied with flowers in the green-wood wene. 
AVhen seven long years had come and fled ; 
When grief was calm, and hope was dead ; 
When scarce wa.s rememliered Kilmeny's name. 
Late, late in a gloamin, Kilmeny came hame ! 
And 0, her beauty was fair to see. 
But still and steadfast was her ee ! 
Such beauty bard may never dcilare. 
For there was no pride nor passion there ; 
And the soft desire of maidens' een 
In that mild face could never be seen. 
Her seymar was the lily flower. 
And her cheek the moss-rose in the shower ; 
And her voice like the distant mclodye 
That floats along the twilight sea. 
But she loved to raike the lanely glen. 
And keeped afar frae the haunts of men ; 



S40 



POEMS OF FANCY, 



lli<r holy liymiia uiihoniM to sing, 

To sm-k till' tlowors mid iliiiik thi' siuing. 

Hut wlu'ivvor hor iH-iu-oriil tVuni tinpoiuoil, 

Tlu> will! lu'iists of tlu' hills wfiv I'luvn'd ; 

Tlio wolf I'lnyoil hlytht'ly ivuiui tho liilil ; 

Tlip loi\ily liysou Unvoil ami kin'i'lnl : 

Tlio (lull iU'(>r woooii with iii;\niu'r hlaiul. 

Ami oowoivd nn«>th luT lily liniul. 

And whon at oven tho woodlamls rung, 

Whon liyinns of othor worlds sho sung 

In oostasy of sweet devotion, 

0, then the glen was all in motion ! 

The wild K'asts of the foitv-st eanie, 

HivkefiMm their Iniglits and faulds the tame. 

And goved aivnnd, eharnu'd and amazed ; 

Even the dull eatlU' eivoned, and gsi/ed. 

And mnvmnivd, and looked with anxious imin 

For something the mystery to explain. 

The bui'jaixl eame with the tliivstle-eoek. 

The eorliy left her lionf in tho iwk ; 

The hlaokhii\l alang wi' the eagle How ; 

The hind came triin>ing o'er the dew ; 

The wolf ami the kid their raike Wgnn : 

And the tod, and the lamh, and the leveivt ran ; 

The hawk and the hern attour them hung, 

And the merl and the mavis forhooyed their 

young ; 
And all in a jwieeful ring weiv hurled : 
It was like an eve in a sinless world ! 

When a month and day had conio and gane, 
Kilmeny sought the green-wood wene ; 
Theiv laid her down on the leaves sae green. 
And Kilmeny on earth was never inair seen. 
But O the woi\ls that fell from her mouth 
Weiv woixls of wondi'r, and words of truth ! 
Unt all the land weiv in fear and divad. 
For they kend na whether she was living or dwvd. 
It wasna her hame, and she eouldna iiinain ; 
Sho left this world of sonvw and jwin. 
And returned to the land of thought agjiin. 

JAMhS 1KV.0.. 



THE FAIKY CHIl.a 

The summer snn was sinking 

With a mild light, ealm and mellow ; 

It shone on my little Uiy's l>oni\ie elieeks, 
And his loose looks of yellow. 

The riihin wsts singing sweetly. 
And his song was sad and tender ; 

And my little lx\v"s eyes, while he lieaixl the soug, 
Smiled with a sweet, soft splendor. 

My little Kn- lay on my l«>som 

While his soul the song was iiuaffing ; 



The joy of his soul had tinged his eheok, 
.\nd his heart and his eye were laughing. 

1 sjite alone in my cottagi', 

'I'lie midniglit needle plying ; 
1 feared for my eliild, for the rush's light 

In the socket now was dying ; 

Theiv eame a hand to my lonely lateh. 
Like the wind at midnight moaning ; 

1 knelt to pray, hut ivse again. 
For 1 heaixl my little hoy givaning. 

1 eivssed my hrow and 1 erossed my hreast, 
lint that night my eliild departed,- — 

'I'liey left a weakling in his stead, 
And I am la'okenhearted ! 

0, it eannot ho my own sweet hoy, 
For his eyes aiv dim and hollow ; 

My little Imy is gone — is gone, 
And his mother soon will follow. 

The dirge for the dead will lie sung for me. 
And the ma,ss he chanted meetly. 

And I shall sleep with my little Ih\v, 
In the moonlight ehnreliyaixl sweetly. 

John Anstkr. 



TllF. cri.l'KlT FAY. 

"Mr visual ofht are puriretl frxMn film. and. to! 

Instctil of Amtcr's turnip-bearing vales. 
1 see oil! ftiiry Lintrs n»iras:ulous show 1 

Her Trees ol" tinsel V.tsse\l by freakish £nles. 
Mer ouphs th.\t. cloakesl in tcTf'^ld. skim the breeze. 

Ami fairies, swarminc — ^^^-^ ." 

Tbnnants Anstrk fair. 

T ts the middle wateh of a summer's night, — 
The earth is dark, but the heavens aiv bright ; 
Naught is setMi in the vault on high 
But the moon, and the stai-s, and the cloudless 

sky. 
And the Hood wliiidi ndls its milky hue, 
A river of light on the welkin blue. 
The moon Uuiks ilowii on old l^iv'nest : 
She mellows the shades on his sliagi;y breast. 
And seems his hugr' gniy form to thnnv 
In a silver cone on the wave Mow. 
His sides aiv hivkeii by spots of sliaih>. 
By the walnut bough and the cedar made ; 
And tluvugli their clustering bninehes dark 
Glimmers ami tlies the tiivlly's spark, — 
Like starry twinkles that momently hrvak 
Through tlie rifts of the gtithering tempest's rack. 

The stars aii> on the moving stream. 
And lling, as its ripples gently How, 

A burnished length of wavy Ix-am 
In (Ui eel-like, spintl line below ; 



I'OEMS 01'' I'ANCY. 



841 



Tho winds are wliiBt, and tlic owl is still ; 

The bat in tlie Hlielvy rock in liiil ; 
And naught i» lirMird on tlie lonely liill 
But the cricket's cliiip, and tlie answer shrill 

Of the gauze-winged katydid ; 
And llie plaint of the wailiiig whijipoorwill, 

Who nioan.s unseen, anil ceaseless sings 
Kver a note of wail and woe, 

Till morning spreads her rosy wings, 
And earth and sky in her glances glow. 

'T is the hour of fairy ban ami spell : 
The wood-tick has kept the minutes well ; 
He has counted them all with idick and stroke 
Deep in the heart of the mountain-oak. 
And he lias awakencnl the sentry elve 

Who sleeps with him in the haunted tree, 
To hid him ring the hour of twelve, 

And call the fays to their reveliy ; 
Twelve small strokes on his tinkling hell 
('T was made of the white snail's pi^arly sliell) ; 
" Midnight conies, and all is well ! 
Hither, hither wing your way ! 
'T is the dawn of the fairy-day." 

They come from beds of liclien green. 

They creep from the mullein's velvet screen ; 

Some on the backs of beetles lly 
From the silver tops of moon-touched trees. 

Where they swung in their cobweb hammocks 
high. 
And rocked alxjut in the evening breeze ; 

Some from the hum-bird's downy nest, — 
They had driven him out by elfin |)ower. 

And, pillowed on plumes of his rainbow breast. 
Had slumbered there till the charmfid hour ; 

Some had lain in tlie scooji of the rock, 
With glittering ising-stars inhiid ; 

And some had opened the four-o'clock, 
And stole within its jiurple shade. 

And now they throng the moonlight glade, 
Above, lj<dow, on every side, — 

Their little minim foniis arrayed 
In the tricksy pomp of fairy pride ! 

They come not now to piint the lea. 
In freak and dance around the tree, 
Or at the mushroom board U) sup, 
And drink the dew from the buttercup : 
A scene of sorrow waits them now, 
For an oiiphe has broken his vestal vow ; 
He has loved an earthly maid. 
Anil left for her his woodland shade ; 
He has lain upon her lip of dew, 
And suniierl him in her eye of blue, 
Fanned her check with his wing of air, 
Played in the ringlets of her hair, 



An<l, nestling on her snowy breast, 
Forgot the lily-king's behest. 
For this the shadowy trilies of air 

To tlie ellin court must haste away : 
And now they stand exjieetant there, 

To hear the doom of the- culprit fay. 

The throne was reared upon the grass, 
01' sjiiec-wood and of sassafras ; 
<Jn pillars of mottled tortoise-shell 

Hung the burnished canojiy, — 
And o'er it gorgeous curtains lell 

Of the tulip's crimson drapery. 
The monarch sat on his judgment-seat, 

On his lirow the crown imperial shone, 
The prisoner fay waa at his feet. 

And his peers were rangeil around the throne. 
He waved his sceptre in the air, 

He looked around and calmly sjioke ; 
His brow was grave and his eye severe:, 

liut his voice in a softened accent broke ; 

" Fairy ! fairy ! list and mark : 

Thou hast broke thine ellin chain ; 

Thy llanie-wood lam]) is fjuenchcd and dark. 

And thy wings an: dyed with a deadly stain, — 
Thou hast sullied thirje ellin purity 

In the glance of a mortal maiden's eye ; 
Thou hast scorned our dread ileeiee. 

And thou shouldst [lay the forfeit high. 
Hut well I know her sinless mind 

Is pure as the angel forms above. 
Gentle and rneck, and chaste and kind, 

Such as a spirit well might love. 
Fairy ! had she spot or taint. 
Hitter had been thy punishment : 
Tied to the hornet's shaidy wings ; 
Tossed on the pricks of nettles' stings ; 
Or seven long ages doomed to dwell 
With the lazy wonii in the walnut-shell 
Or every night to writhe and bleed 
IJeneath the tread of the centipede ; 
Or bound in a cobweb-dungeon dim. 
Your jailer a spider, huge and grim. 
Amid the carrion bodies to lie 
Of the worm, and the bug, and the nmidcred fly : 
These it had been your lot to bear. 
Had a stain been found on the earthly fair. 
Now list, and mark our mild decree, — 
Fairy, this your doom must be : 

" Thou shalt seek the beach of sand 

Where the water bounds the ellin laud ; 

Thou slialt watch the oozy brine 

Till the sturgeon leajis in the bright moonshine, 

Then dart the glistening arch Ixdow, 

And catch a drop from his silver Ijow. 



842 



POEMS OF FANCY. 



The water-sprites will wivUl their arms 
And dash around, with roar and ravo, 

And vain are the woodland spirits' charms ; 
They are the imps that rule the wave. 

Yet trust thee in thy single might : 

If thy heart be pure and thy spirit right. 

Thou shalt win the warlock tight. 

" If the 8pifiy-bead gem be won, 
The stain of thy wing is washed away ; 

But another ermnd must U' done 
Ei'e thy crime he lost for aye : 

Thy Hame-wood lamp is ipienched and dark. 

Thou must re-illume its spark. 

Mount thy steed, and spur him high 

To the heaven's blue canopy ; 

And when thou seest a shooting star, 

Follow it fast, and follow it far, — 

The last faint spark of its burning train 

Shall light the eltin lamp again. 

Thou hast heard our sentence, fay ; 

Hence ! to the water-side, away I " 

The goblin marked his monarch well ; 

He spake not, but he Unved him low. 
Then plucked a crimson colen-bell. 

And turned him round in act to go. 
The way is long, he cannot tly. 

His soili'-d wing has lost its {lOwer, 
And he winds adown the mountain higli, 

For many a soiv and weary hour. 
Through dreary beds of tangled fern. 
Through groves of nightshade dark and dern, 
Over the glass and through the brake, 
AVheiv toils the ant and sleeps the snake ; 

Now o'er the violet's azure Hush 
He skips along in lightsome mood ; 

And now he thrids the bramble-bush. 
Till its points are dyed in fairy blood. 
He has leaped the Iwg, he has pierced the brier, 
He has swum the brook, and waded tlie mire. 
Till his spirits sank, and his limbs grew weak. 
And the red waxed fainter in his cheek. 
He had fallen to the givnnd outright, 

For ruggetl and dim was his onwai\l track, 
But there came a spotted toad in sight. 

And he langhed as he jumped upon her 
back ; 
He bridled her mouth with a silkweed twist. 

He lasheil her sides with an osier thong ; 
And now, through evening's dewy mist, 

With leap and spring they Iwund along. 
Till the mountain's magic vei-ge is past, 
And the beach of sand is reached at last. 

Soft and pale is the moony beam, 
Moveless still the glassy stiwiu ; 



The wave is clear, the beach is bright 

With snowy shells and sparkling stones ; 
The shore-surge conies in rijiplcs light, 

In nnuinurings faint and distant moans ; 
And ever afar in the silence deep 
Is heard the splash of the sturgeon's leap. 
And the bend of his graceful bow is seen, — 
A glitterii\g arch of silver sheen. 
Spanning the wave of burnished blue, 
.\ud dripping with gems of the river-dew. 

The eltin east a glance around. 

As he lightetl down from his courser toad. 
Then nnmd his breast his wings he wound, 

And close to the river's brink he strode ; 
He sprang on a rock, he breathed a prayer. 

Above his head his arms he threw. 
Then tossed a tiny I'urve in air. 

And headlong plunged in the waters blue. 

Up sprung the spirits of the waves 

Fituu the sea-silk beds in their coral caves ; 

With snail-plate armor, snatched in haste, 

They speed their way through the linuid waste ; 

Some are rapidly borne along 

On the mailed shrimp or the prickly prong ; 

Some on the blood-itnl leeches glide, 

Some on the stony star-lish ride. 

Some on the back of the lancing squab, 

Some on the sideling soldier-crab ; 

And some on the jellied ijnarl, that tliugs 

At once a thousjind streamy stings ; 

They cut the wave with the living oar, 

And hurry on to the moonlight shore, 

To guaul their realms and chase away 

The footsteps of tlie invading fay. 

Fearlessly he skims along. 
His hope is high, and his limbs aiv strong ; 
He spreads his arms like Uie swallow's wing, 
And throws his feet with a frog-like lling ; 
His locks of gold on the waters shim-. 

At his breast the tiny foam-bees rise. 
His back gleams bright alwe the brine. 

And the wake-line foam behind him lies. 
But the water-sprites are' gathering near 

To cheek his course along the tide ; 
Their warriora come in swift career 

And hem him remnd on every side ; 
On his thigh the leech has fixed his hold, 
The quarl's long arms are round him rolleil, 
The prickly prong has pieiveil his skin. 
And the sijuab has thrown his javelin ; 
The gritty star has rubbed him raw, 
And the erab lias struck with his giant claw ; 
He howls with rage, and he shrieks with pain ; 
He strikes around, but his blows are vain ; 



POEMS OF FANCY. 



843 



Hopeless is the unequal fight, 
Fairy ! naught is left but lliglit. 

IIu turned liiin round, and fled amain, 
Willi hurry and dasli, to Uie beach again ; 
He twisted over from side to side, 
And hiid liis clieek to the cleaving tide ; 
The strokes of his iiliiiiging arms are fleet. 
And witli all liis niiglil lie (lings his feet, 
I'.iit the water-sjirites are round him still. 
To cross his path and work him ill. 
'I'liey bade the wave before him rise ; 
They Hung the sea-fire in his eyes ; 
And they stunned his ears with the scallop-stroke. 
With the porpoise heave and the drum-fish croak. 
( ), but a weary wight was he 
When he readied the foot of the dogwood-tree. 
( iaslicd and wounded, and stilf and sore. 
He laid him down on the sandy shore ; 
He blessed the force of the charmed line. 

And he banned the water-goblins' spite, 
For he saw around in the sweet moonshine 
Their little wee faces above the brine. 

Giggling and laughing with all their might 

At the piteous hap of the fairy wight. 

Soon he gathered the balsam dew 

From the sorrel-leaf and the henbane bud ; 

Over each wound the balm he drew. 

And with cobweb lint he stanched the blood. 

The mild west-wind was soft and low, 

It cooled the heat of his burning brow ; 

And he felt new life in his sinews shoot, 

As he drank the juice of the calamus-root ; 

And now he treads the fatal shore 

As fresh and vigorous as before. 

Wrapped in musing stands the sprite ; 
'T is the middle wane of night ; 

His task is hard, his way is far, 
lint be must do his errand right 

Ere dawning mounts her beamy car, 
And rolls lier chariot wheels of light ; 
And vain are the spells of fairy-land, — 
Ho must work with a human hand. 

He cast a saddened look around ; 

Hut he felt new joy his bosom swell, 
When, glittering on the shadowed ground, 

He .saw a purple muscle-shell ; 
Thilher he ran, and he bent him low. 
He heaved at the stern and lie heaved at the bow, 
And he pushed her over the yielding .sand 
Till he (fame to the verge of the haunted land. 
She was as lovely a pleasure-boat 

As ever fairy had paddled in. 
For she glowed with purple paint without, 

And shone with silvery pearl within ; 



A sculler's notch in the stern he made. 
An oar he shaped of the bootle-blade ; 
Then sprung to his se:it with a ligbtsonie leap, 
And launched afar on the calm, blue deep. 

The imps of the river yell and rave. 

They had no power above the wave ; 

But they heaved the billow before the prow, 

And they dashed the surge against her side, 
Ami they struck her keel with ji'ik and blow. 

Till the gunwale bent to the roifking tide. 
She wimpled about to the pale moonbeani. 
Like a feather that lloatson a wind-tossed stream ; 
And momently athwart her track 
The ipiarl upreared his island back, 
And the fluttering scallop behind wouhl float. 
And patter the wat(U' about the boat ; 
But he bailed her out with his colen-bell. 

And he kept her trimmed with a wary tread, 
While on every side, like lightning, fell 

The heavy strokes of his bootle-blade. 

Onward still he held his way. 

Till he came where the column of moonshine lay, 

And saw beneath the surface dim 

The brown-backed sturgeon slowly swim ; 

Around him were the goblin train, — 

But he sculled with all his might and main. 

And foUoweil wherever the sturgeon leil. 

Till he saw him upward jioint his head ; 

Then he dropped liis paddle-blade. 

And held his coleii-goblet up 

To catch the drop in its crimson cup. 

With sweeping tail and quivering fin 

Through the wave the sturgeon flew, 
And, like the heaven-shot javelin. 

He siuamg above the waters blue. 
Instant as the star-fall light 

He plunged him in the deep again. 
But he left an arch of silver bright. 

The rainbow of tlie moony main. 
It was a strange and lovely sight 

To see the puny goblin there ; 
He seemed an angel form of light, 

With azure wing and sunny hair. 

Throned on a cloud of puiple fair, 
Circled with blue and edged with white. 
And sitting, at the fall of even. 
Beneath the bow of summer heaven. 

A moment, and its lustre fell ; 

But ere it met the billow blue 
He caught within his crimson bell 

A droplet of its sparkling dew ! — 
Joy to thee, fay ! thy task is done, 
I Thy wings are pure, for the gem is won, — 



S44 



nvKMS or FANOV> 



Attvl h»sj* «\v«y lv> <h« vWu »hv«'«>, 

IW turns, »«vl. U» ! >v» «<it))t>r sivW 

Th«> t-n>j<l<vs vM> his )v«th >UvW(> ; 

.\ml tUo uwv'k v>Vv whivli liis Kvnt (oust jv»ss 

Is s)Hvy>th (♦s <« sUw« »vt' (hvUsIxnI j;l»»s, 

.\u>uuvt »h<>>r UihIvs \\w ,m\>-«;^u\|J>s Uwv 

WiiU snv>\vy *n>\s h«)r swvUiti^i; out. 
WKiW »x« tW jiUnss^sI »uv1 jttwmvj \v»v* 

'rU<>if S«N«vi;tv,.u nujslotS UHVS<vi;» tU^xt. 

They swim sivvuul with smiW jmivI svxuj: ; 

They |\>\>ss \lw \<aA. with {><>«rly hitu^l. 
A«»l jyuily u»>5<> hot' vvurs«> »U>uj; 

'lV\Vi«\l th* l><\>»oh v><' stHvkUnl SAitvi. 

Au4 *s he lijihtly U-ojhxI tv> Uud, 
They l«\l<> »vli<>u xvith u»sl »Hvl K>\v ; 

Then ir\vly kiss»\l ««»h little hsu^l. 
Au\i vh\<i>jH>vi iu \iw ofyst»l vl««|> lvK«v, 

A i«vv»«e«t sts»y«i the fiwiry therv ; 

He kissevl the K'«vh suvi iM^'othivl » jw^j-vr; 

Tlh'W s(\»xis»\l his « iujTs v>t' ^Mrti Wuev 

Atul K<»» tv> the eltiu vvuii he Itew. 

As ewr y<> s«w * ImhWe i'\s«>, 

Athl sliiue with at thwusMUvi oh*«,ijius vlyes, 

T»U. lesseniitj; (su-, thiwtjjh ethev virivvju 

l\ tuiivjtW with the hues vxj" heavvu ; 

As. «l the j;l"'U^** »*• «>>>r«ii\jf t<*le. 

The l*»er>-tly s(\i\\-«>ls his silken ssul, 

Athl ^e«utts witlv Weudiivjps s\»t'\ *H>1 hifisht 

Till Kvst iu the sh«vU>s vxJ" ta«viiiv< uij^hU — 

So nv* lV\\«u eauih the U>vvl\ tsy ; 

S» Y»ui$hevl. 6»r i« hesvvu »wsy ! 

• * * * • 

I'lv fairy ; »)u\t tlty vhi»-kv»ee\l Ivwer, 
The eneket h*s e<»Uevl the sevwuvl hv>ur ; 
Twivv tD^u. suul the Urk will rise 
tV» kiss the stivwkiivj; vxf the skies. — 
V(> ! thy ehstftnJsi su-tuvxj- ,Uxi\, 
ThvHt 'U Meevl it ew the nij^it l>e jjvwe. 

He j»ut his »A»r*» helmet v»»i ; 

It w»s jJumevl v»t' the silk ^>t' the thistlenlown ; 

The ^\«rselet (Jstte tl>)»t j^wrvlevl his breast 

\V*» kut*'* the wilvl hee's s^xUleu vtwt ; 

His vUvtk, k»f » thvHisaiul nv ■," s' .i\y\s. 

Was f\vn»wvl vx«" the wiu^fs ^ ; 

Uis shieW was the shell ,■ . . ,j; t)ueetu 

Stinls »\(' J^^K^ \vt a sr\>u«xl i»»" jittwu ; 

Att.l the v)ni\vr»Ujt huuv whieh he hratulishevi 

hjAjiiht 
Was the stinvr o!" .* ^^^«,■«^ !■.• V.ul slaiix in Hjjsht. 
JSwirt he N\<;: \l ; 

Ue Wwl 1;,> ''.t-israss N>w ; 

He ^l^>^■v his s{wvs v>f the »\vkle-<s<H\l. 

Ai«\l «w;*y tike a j;)a)K'<^' ihv^t^t he ilew 



I IV skim the heavens, aiul l\»lK>w tar 
I The (ietry twxl »>t" the rwkvtsjtw. 

I The mv^th>tty. as he shot i« air, 
i 0>Y|>t uuvler the h>al", auvl hid her there t 
The katyAlivl lvU)5\>t its lay. 
The i«\>wliujt j^>at llevl fast aw>y, 
] The iVll iUKVv\|uitv> eheek«l his ilwue 
Auvl l\4vlevl his wiujpi till the fsvy was )^me. 
I A«vl the wily l>e<>tle >l»\>|>tx><l his he«»l, 
I Auvl fell o« tJ>e sivuuvl as if he wvw vU>aU ; 
They e(\>uohe>l themoUvi»>iu thevlark«M»esl>a4le» 

They (juakixl all o'er with awe au^l lAtr, 
Fw they havi felt the Wue-lvut WaiU\ 

An»l writhwl at the jvriok vxf theelliu sj>ear. 
M»u\ a time, ou a sutumer's uijsht. 
When thesky wasoUv»r, »U\l the mvHvu wasl»ij;ht. 
They ha>l l>eeu «vus<\l tVyu the hauute^l jjivuuvl 
By the yel(> auvl h*\' v»f the tairy houuti ; 

They hiol h<<ai\l the tiuy lmj*le-ho»'U, 
They havl hea)\l the t waujt of the main<^lk striujt. 
When the viue-twiji K>ws wet* tijihtly virawn. 
Ami the urtsUesshalt thtvu^^lx air was K>rm\ 
>\>«therevl with »lowu of the hum-Wixl's wiivjt. 
A«vl now they Ueemevl the ivurier vm|>he 
8\>«»e huuterxsjxrite v^f the eltiu jtivuuvi, 
Auvl they w»tehe%l till they saw him »k>uuI therv»>f 

That ^^.■<»oJ\it^s the worUl aivuuvi ; 
Then j;la»l they left their wwrt lair, 
A»kI tVeakevl aUutt iu the mitl»i)^t air, 

I'p tv> the vaultwl lirmameut 

His j«th the tiivtly >,\>«rser Ivut, 

Ami «» e\-ery jsalloj* iu* the wind 

He tln«^ a jjlitteriu^; sj\»rk hehiittl : 

He fti<NS like a IVvather iu the Wast 

Till the first lijjht olouil iu heawu is |v«s». 

But the shajyss v»f air haw lw^«> their wwrk, 
Attd a vlriwly tuist is ^^uu^l hiu» v-«kst ; 

He v'««u>>t see thrvmjth the luautle umrk ; 
He shi>ft>rs with >\4vl. Imt he ur^y* fast ; 

Thro*tjth stv^nu ami viarkuess. sleet ami shavle. 
He l»sl\es his ste^sl, au\l sfmrs aiuaiu, 
FVvr shavlowy hau\ls have twitehe^l tlie iviu. 

Ami tlamessl\ot tou^j^xes alwiml him (4a\i:\l, 

Ami tiear him ■■..lisJi ey« 

Olarwl with a v. 

Ami \vlls of i-aj,^ . c.„>; ^,,1 teks of fcwr. 

t.^ue si-«\>amiiv»; ou his staiiW ear, 

Uis wiuj;s aw w-et aivuml his bireast. 
Vhe jJxuue Ixauj^ vliii'-.-i-v- !;\'".\ liU ,ivs». 
His eyv>s ai'e Wurrxsl ;j"s sl*re, 

Amlhise«rsa«vsiuu. . - ■..ler's Natv, 

Bx»t he s»\v a slu>>it, ai\vl his Wavle he »lrvw. 

He thrust lv:v:> ;•,.■. Iu- stnxek Miiu>l, 
TW he (viervvv'. \ Knlies thi\' ;':, 

Ami ^shed '..-. -. > . . ..wy liiuK< .<t » / .1 



I'OKMM 01' J'ANOV, 



mr, 



IlowliiiK lliii tiiinty Hiiiutli'iM IIhw, 
'I'lii'V ri'inl Ihit nil Willi liiKliK'ul iirldii ; 

For liii liiw Hiiiiii'il iIm^ williiii liliii:, 

And IIm- IiumI .<r<'|.iU'l;. l.rnwiMi l,iiii I|..m. 

l/p |j) III" ii;|m i:iiri«!riii;< nwlCl, 

III llll'illllllinil lliuljllll llllgl., 

I liii't im iIhi nwiilliiw riii.i |.||i! ililfl, 

Or llin niut'irx! tlilim l|l'^ liliiol, 
'I'll"! i«i|i|ilii|ii lll|i:f;l. III' I'Vii in oliot, 

'I'llll .1|llliTi-,ll IIIOIXI \» |«U)t, 

'I'lii! Mftilli lull, wuiiiiii u lliiy |,|i,l 

On II nliirril 111' llZIII'l! r.llDl, 
O, il wiu BWiHit, ill Uii! i:\intr imi'iiillpjlit, 

'I'd tii!iul llii! nbtiry |iliiiii i/f iivi^li I 
T'l llli'rl till! I,liiiii»iiiii| nyifit III' lllpjiil,, 

Ami Irail l,lii! ':iii»llii« liniiil.li III' lii'iivmi | 
Hill. Ilii! I'lliii fiimli: nil nlnji or sluy 
Till 111! i:iiiiiii III llir liiiiik 1)1' till! .Milky Wiiy ; 

'I'lllrll III! i:l|l!i:kl!<l llin l^l<llllK:r'l| tout, 

Ami witli;liinl Im- till! )/_\iui\w.ii( tin- |iliiiiiilnlii(i/t, 
Hinliliiii ii|iiii;{ till! niinivy tiiln 

'I'llllt BWnllwl Ul IIIIKit tlldr C<II|tllt.l!j)!l' Cllll, 
'I'lllI liyl|illll III' l|i'llVi:ll WIJIH l«!«|| Ul «lii|i!, 

Alliniil ill iniiiinjt'it i;ri(iii<i;ii |iitll ; 
Aniiiinl till! I'liy tln-y ivi-uvii llin i|iiiii:«, 

'l'lii!y (iki|i l«!fiiiii liiiii 1)11 till! (il/ilii, 
Ami mil! Iiiui titkijfi Itin wimpntiiiK liiicifl, 

Aiiil oiH! ii|ilii)|i|ii llin liiii||i!-ririii ; 
With wiiil)liii«ii wilil tlii'y liiul liliii 0(1 
'I'll wlii!ii-, tliroiij^li iili/inln iiI'iiiiiIk!! hivii, 
HliuMwl witli ntiiiB, ri'ii|)|i!iii|iiil nli'iiiij 

Till! imliiiw of till) nylj/liiil i(iii!i!ii. 
I In >i|iiriil lailiiMiiin, pflMiiiiiii/^ lirip;lit, 
Wiiri! nt(''iiiiii;rn nC tlii! iii//tlii-Mi lij^ht ; 
ltd <:iif'litiii'H li({lit iiiiil lnvuly lliinli 
Wiui of till! fiiiiiiiiiif^'n rimy liliinli ; 
Ami till! i^!iliii({ Ciiir tlial tiimi itlniini, 
Till! wliitii mill I'willicry Ilii4!ia! i,f luinii, 

lint, 0, liKW fair till! (timjx! llutt lay 

li<;iii»ttli u riiiiitKiw lK!iiiliii|{ \ir\nUt I 
Bill! n<;«i(ii!/| t») till! i:iitiiiii':iMl (ay 

'lln: |i<vi!lii!nt lit till! foniin i/f liglit ; 
l|i:r iiiaiitli! wun tlii: |>iiiji|i; niWi/l 

At twili;{lit ill till! wi.'iil ttfur ; 
"r wax tiinl witli tliRiwU ii( liitwuiiiK nohl, 

Ami Idilt/i/iij'l witli u n|Kiikliii({ aljir. 
Il'-r Uu/! wioi liki: till; lily rmin 

Tliflt veiln tin: viinlal |)laiii;t'n liiii! ; 
lli-r <!yi;«, twn ln'aioli!)* (rum tin. (i);;i,(i, 

H<:t Ili*lltill« ill till! Wftlkill llllJO. 
III!!- Imir in lik/; till! mjiiiiy Ixiajn, 
Ami tlur iliaiii'/ii'l gi-iiw wlil/:li rouiiil it gluam 
Am! till! \iitri'. 'Iiojin of i|/!wy i'Vi:ii 
'Diat (i«!'i:r Iwvi! ]i:h tlnrir (iiiliv<: li'iavmi. 



HIitt ruliMiil liur nyuN to tlm wi/iiiliirlii({ njiHUi, 

Ami tlmy liiii)ini| tvilli niiiilim ( Iki' iv«II I wwKi 
•Vitviir Id'fiiiii ill till! Ixiwiirn nf li^jlil 

ll/i'l till! I'oriii of an liiiitlily fay l»i!«ii wuiii, 
liiiiiK nlni Iwiki'il ill Ilia tiny I'mw ; 

l/Oii(( Willi llin liiitti-illy i:liMk nliii iilayixl ; 
Hill' niiiootlniil llin y/Uiifi nt a/.iini ]iv;i;, 

Ami liiiml|i!<l till! Uiamil of liin IiIikIh ; 
Ami an Im lol<l. In iu!i!i!iil,n low, 
'Mil! story of llin lon! ami won, 
Hill! fi!lt iii!W |ialiii) ill lii!r lionoiii liw, 
Aii'l till! tiiar'ilro|i nturUjI in liiir isyiia, 
Ami "O, nwi:i!t n|iiiit of narlli," kImj nriml, 

" l('!liirii no iiior<! Ui yoiir woiWltinl U';tnUl, 
I'lil i!Vi!r iii!i<t witli nil! aliiili; 

III till! lami of i!Vi!rlii3tlii(;j li«lit I 

Witllill til-! I|.'i-.!y iliilt Wli'll lil!, 

VVi:'|l linii({ iijioii till! lainliow'x ilin ; 
Aiiil 1)11 tin- ji-wnin of till! nky 

Ai'iiiml tliy hiow nliall liiipjlitly l)<:a/n ! 
Ami tlioii nlialt liatlii! tliw in tin: ntiMiin 

'I'lial rolln lt» wliiU'iiin^ foam alioon, 
Ami il'li! Ilium till! Ii;{litnin;<'n jjiwini. 

Ami ilaiimi 11(10/1 till! orl/ml moon I 
Wi!'ll nit within till! I'|i!iji<l iin«, , 

\Vi:'ll ri'Kl on Orion's nljirry Imlt, 
Ami I will l)|i| niy nylfilm to nin({ 

'I'lin iniiiK that ni«ki!» thi! iIdw-hiIkI niiilt ; 
'l'lii!ir liarjin aii! of tlin iiiiil)i-r »lia/|i! 

That iii'li!* thi! Iilnnh of wakiiij/ ilay, 
Ami I'Virry ((Iwuny ntiinpj in ina/ln 

Of nilvwy nioonshim!'!! liuiiilliKiifA ray ; 
Ami thou shall jilllow on my hiwwt, 

Whili! hiavnnly l)ri!athln(4» """•■ aioiinij, 
Ami, with th/i Byl|)lin of i;tli«r itkat, 

Korget till! jiiyn of fttiry grouiul," 

Hhi! wan lovftly »n/l fair to vj;, 

Ami th/j ftlfin'H In-art Ixiitt (itfiilly ; 

lint Uivi:Hi:r far, an>l still tnor« fair, 

Till! <'a(llily fodii inipriiit'i'l tliftrn ; 

Naught III! naw in llii! I)<!ayi!jii( alioyi! 

Wan half sut ilcar an liin inoital lov«, 

I'or h'! thought n|X)n hi-r looks lei iii'itk. 

Ami h(! thoH({lit of lh« li(<ht Hush on li<;r chmk, 

Ni!Vi!r a((ain ini({ht In; l/onk ami li); 

f»n that »iwi!i;t /;ln'.<;k ami nnionliglil i;yi; ; 

Hut in llin ilri'ttinn hi;r form to ifui, 

To '!la«|) ln;r in liin r<;V";ry, 

To think ii|i<)n hin vitfjln liritUt, 

Wax worth all li<!av<:n, ami earth l«;ahl/;, 

" J/mly," In; crii;'!, " I liavi; nworn to-ui((ltt, 

On tin; word of a fairy knight, 

To ilo my w;nfci!M<a;-ta*k aright ; 

My honor ic.'ar';i; l» (rw from utaln, — 

1 may not miU itn nnown a((ain ; 



s-tc. 



rOKMS 01' KAM'V 



Bofiilo iiK" woal, lH>tuU> mi< woi-, 
}fs iiiamlnto must K- answcivd now." 
Hot- Ikwoiu lioavod with luany a sigh, 
Tlu> toar W!>s in hor ilivoping i>vo j 
But slio loii hiu> to llu> lahuv ,scat>'. 

Aiiil oatlivl till' syli>l\s who hovi-ivil thoiv, 
AuJ Kulo tUoiu lly an.i bring liini straight. 

Of clouds oouiltMisoil, a sablo oar. 
With ohanu ami sih'U she bli-ssod it tlieiv, 
tV>iu all tho I'lonils of \i]iiit'r air ; 
Then ivuml hiui oast tho shadowy shivud, 
Ai\d tied his stood IxOiind tho oloud : 
An>l unvssod his hand as sho Iwdo liin\ fly 
Far to the vorg»> of tho northorn sky, 
For by its w-ano anii wavering light 
Theiv was a star would fall to-night. 

Borne alar on the wings of tho blast, 
Northwiinl away he speeds him last. 
And his oourser follows tho cloudy wain 
Till tho hoof-sti\ikes fall like jwtteriug i-aiii. 
Tho clouds ivll l\iokwai\i as he llios, 
Eiieh lliekoring star Ivhind him lies, 
.Vud he has ix>achod the northern plain. 
And Kicked his tiivfly stoi'd ag!>in, 
IJeady to follow in its llight 
The stivaming of the iwkot -light 

The star is yet in the vault of heaven, 

But it ivcks in the summer g-ale ; 
And now 't is litf\il and uneven. 

And now "t is deadly (wle ; 
And now 't is wrapped in sulphur-smoke, 

And (luonehed is its rayloss beam ; 
Ai\d now with a rattling thnndor-stixiko 

It bursts in flash and flame. 
As swift as the glanee of the arivwy lance 

That tho storui-spirit flings from high, 
The star-shot flow o'er the welkin blue. 

As it fell fi\im the sheeted sky. 
As switi as the wind in its train Ivhind 

The ollin g:illoi>s along : 
The tiends of the clouds aiv IvUowiug loud. 

But tho sylphid charm is stixwg ; 
He giiUops unhurt in the shower of liiv. 

While tho elond-lieuds fly from the blaze ; 
Ho watches each flake till its sfvuks expiiv. 

And rides in tho light of its rays. 
But ho drove his stood to tho lightning's speed, 

.\nd caught a glimmering sjvirk ; 
Then wheeled around to the fairy ground. 

And sjxhI through the midnight dark. 
• » • • • 

Oupho and goblin ! imp and sprito ! 

F.lf of evo ! and starry fay ! 
Yo th.it love tho moon's soft light. 

Hither, ^hither wend your way ; 



Twine ye in a jocund ring, 

Sing and trip it merrily. 
Hand to hand, and wing to wing. 

Hound the wild wilch-hiUel tive. 

Hail the wandeivr again 

With dance and song, and lute and lyiv ; 
I'uiv his wing anil strong his chain, 

And doubly bright his fairy fliv. 
Twine ye in an airy round. 

Brush the dew and print the lea ; 
Skip and guubol. hop and Kiuud, 

Kouud the wild witch-hazel tree. 

The Ivetlo guai\ls our holy gixwud. 

He flies about the haunted place. 
And if mortal Ihoiv Iv found. 

Ho hums in his eai-s and flaps his face ; 
The leaf-harp .sounds our roundelay, 

Tho owlet's eyes our lanterns bo ; 
Thus we sing and dance and play 

luHiiid tho wild witchdiazel tive. 

But hark ! from tower to tive-top high, 

Tho sentry -elf his call has made ; 
A stivak is in the eastern sky. 

Shapes of mooidight I flit and faile ! 
The hilltops gleam in morning's spring, 
The skylark shakes his dappled wing, 
The day-glimi>se glimmers on the lawn. 
The cock has crowed, and the fays aiv gone. 

Joseph Kodman dkako. 



FAIRY SONG. 

SuFn no tear ! 0, shed no tear ! 
The flower will bloom another year. 
Weep no moiv ! O, weep no moiv ! 
Young buds sleep in tlie root's white core. 
Dry your eyes ! l1, dry your eyes I 
For 1 was taught in Taradise 
To ease my bivast of melodies, — 

Shed no tear. 

("•vorhoad I look overhead ! 
'Mong the blossoms white and ivd, — 
Look up, look up ! 1 flutter now 
On this fivsh jwmegranate bough. 
See me ! 't is this silvery bill 
Ever euivs the good man's ill. 
Shell no tear I O, shed no tear ! 
Tlie flower will bloom another year. 
Adieu, adievi — I fly — adieu ! 
I vanish in the heaven's blue, — 

Adieu, adieu ! 

Jons Keats 



I'OEMS fJl' FANCY. 



847 



KAKKWKLL TO TIIK KAIUIES. 

Faiikwbi.i, luwarilH nml fuiiioH, 

(Jowl h'liiKi^wifi^H now iiiiiy «iy, 
I''or now foul HlntH in (luii'ii:» 

Do full! liH wi;ll im tlii^y. 
Ami tliou«li tlioy Hwi;i:p llieir )icitrt)u) no Ichh 

'I'liiili nmiilii wi;ri! wont Uj ilo, 
Yet who of liiUt, for clwinlincHS, 

Fiiidx itix|M;nc(i in livr Hhoo t 

Ijiimnt, liiinmit, old Ablxjyn, 

Till! !'uiiii!H' loHl i!oriiin(in'l : 
Tliny <li<l l^iit cliaiigi! |)rii:»I.H' l)(il)ii!ii, 

IJiit Honii! Imvfi cliiuigijil your liiml ; 
Anil III! your rliildron 8[inin« from thenc* 

Ari! now grown I'liritaiiH, 
Who livi! tiM changirlingH ever since, 

Kor love of your ()onmin». 

At morning iiii'l iit i!Vi!ning Ixilh, 

Yoii niitrry wi'n^ ami ghul, 
Ho Hull! '■ari: of mIi!C[) or hloth 

Th<!i«! [iictty Iiwlji-H liiul ; 
Whi!ii Tom '-anio lionn! from labor, 

Or f'in to milking row!, 
TIii:n mi!rrily wirnt thuir UiUir, 

Ami nimbly wi^nt their U>i:m. 

Witneitfi tho*: ring* and roiindelayft 

Of ihirirH, which yet rtmain, 
Wiiri! fiioU'A in Qtwui Mary'n days 

On many a graoiiy plain ; 
But «ini:e of late Klizabeth, 

And \iiU:r, .laini:>i rami- in. 
They never damwd on any heath 

All when the time hath been. 

By which we note the fairie* 

Were of the old jirofewiion, 
Tlii!ir wingK were Ave-Maries, 

Tlieir danc<!» were [irowwiion : 
But now, ala« ! they all are dea/1. 

Or gone txjyond the wrait ; 
Or farther for religion (l<!'l. 

Or clue they take their eawj, 

A t<!ll-tale in tlieir eom[«ny 

They never could endure. 
And whow) kept not wicri-tly 

Their mirth, wan puniKhed irare ; [ 

It wan a jiiHl and ChriHtian dec/1. 

To pinch Buch bla<:k and blue ; 
O. how the c'jinmonwealtb doth need 

Buch iu«ticei* a« you I , 

' RICIIAKO COBBHT. | 



TAM O'HIIANTKU. 



"or tiriiviityU nlKl of lirrnUtit full la ltil« fluka," 

(,AWlH DOUCLAIW, 

WllKN i:lia|iinan billieit le.ave the utreet, 
And droiithy neeborn jieebom meet. 
Ah inuikel-dayH are wearing hitfl, 
An' folk begin U> tak the gate ; 
While we Nit boiining at the nappy. 
An' getting foil and unco happy. 
We think na on the lang Hcotn milen, 
The niow«!H, wat<!iii, Hla[n(, and Htyleit, 
That lie lietween iin and our harne, 
Whare nitit our milky, Hiillen darne, 
Oalhering her brown like gathering dtonii, 
NurHing lier wrath to keep it wnnn. 

Thin tiiith faiid hone«t Tain O'HIiantcr, 
An he friui Ayr ae night did canter 
(Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a t^iwn Muri)a«««!H, 
For lioncHt men and iMinnle Ihhimsh). 

O Tam '. Iiiulitt thou \x:im but wuj wiiw 
A» tfU!ii thy niii wife Kat<:'H a/lvice ! 
8he taiild the; weel thou wan a Hkelliini, 
A blethering, bliiatering, dninken blellurn: 
That I'lae Novemix^r till Oct/jtxrr, 
Ae market-day thou wax na iiol*;r ; 
That ilka melder, wi' the miller, 
Tlioii Hilt ax lang m thou ha<l iiiller ; 
That wery naig waa ca'd a olioe on, 
Tlie amith and thee gat roaring foil on ; 
That at the ly -(I'm IioiiiK!, ev'n on Hiinday, 
Thou drank wi' Kirtoii Jean till Monday. 
She propheHied that, lat>: or noon, 
Tlioii would be found deep drowned in Do'rti j 
Or catched wi' warlwkH in the mirk, 
By Alloway'aauld haunt<!'l kirk. 

Ah, gentle dameH ! it gar» me gre<.-t 
To think liow inonie c/jiiiiwiIh aweet. 
How nioiiie lengthened Hage ailvi(»j», 
The huHtjaiid fra/! tJie wife de»pii«!<t I 

lint to our tale : Ae market night 
Tam \iiiil got plant^^l unco right, 
Fant \iy an ingle, bleezing finely, 
Wi' reaming iiwato, that drank divinely ; 
And at hia eliiow w<ut';r .(ohnny. 
Ilia ancient, trusty, drouthy crony. 
Tam WfA him like a vera brilher ; 
Tliey liail f/<!en fou for weeka theipther. 
The niglit drave on wi' HangJt and clatter. 
And aye the ale waa growing }ii;iU;r ; 
The landla/ly and Tain grew gracioud, 
Wi' favora iiwiret, aweet, and preciouji ; 
The K'liit'ir tauld hia 'pieereat aloriea ; 
The landlord's laugh wan rea/ly chornii ; 
The Mt/mn witlioiit iniglit rair and nintle, 
Tam did na mind the irtonn a whistle. 



848 



POEMS OF FANCY. 



Oaj¥, mad to s»h< tt »uui stio li»\>iiy, 

VVt'u >lv\>\viu\t himsolf iuiiiinj; tlio iiuppy ; 

As Uvs lUv liaiuo wi' Imlos o' tivosuiv, 

Tht' uiim\tos \viiij:<Hl tlioir w»_v wi' \>l«>s>\iv ; 

Kii>^ may Iv Mt'sl. but Tarn was glorious, 

i.'>"<r a' tlio ills o" lil'o viotorious. 

Hut i>U>«suftw are liko i>oi<i>i<v; si<i'<\ui ; 

You st'ifo tlio llowor, its IiKhmu is slusl ; 

Or lik<> thtf suow-fall ii> tlio livor. 

A nioutoiit white. — thou raivlts forvwr j 

Or liko tlio Ivi^-alis r«it<. 

That tlit oix> you o;ui jx>iiit tlioir \>lai"t> ; 

Or liko tho raiuK>»'s lovoly t'oiiu 

Kviu>isl>iuj; aiuiil tlio storm. 

Xao ui.-ui oau totlior tiuio or tido : 

Tho hour ajipuvtohos Tam uiauu rido ; 

That hour o" night's black arx-li tho koystatie. 
That dtr>iuy hour ho uiouuts his Iwist in ; 
And sio a uiglit ho take* tho rv>ad iu 
As no' or jHvr siiiuor wsis abixwd in. 

Tho wind blow as 't wad blawu its last ; 
Tho rattling showors r\>so on tho blast ; 
Tho s(HH\ly gloanis tho dsu-kiu^ss swallowwl ; 

Loud, dtvjv, .-uid Uiuj; tho thundor Ih-UowihI ; 
That night a ohild might uiidorst.aiid 
Tho IVil had businoss on his liajid. 

Wool niounttxl on his gniy inaix', Mog, 
vA K>ttor novor lilV\l log,l 
Tarn skolpit on thi\>' dul> and uiiiv, 
Pt'sjn.sing wind and rain and tirt<, — 
Whylos holding fast his guid blno Kumot, 
WhyU^ oi\x>ning o'or svuuo auld Sv~ots s»innot, 
Whylos gloworing ivuiid wi' prudont oaivs, 
l.«tt K^gUvs oatoli him unawait's ; 
Kirk-Allow!iy was lirawing nigh, 
Wharo gh.aists and houlots nightly ory. 

15\- this tinio ho w.ss oivss tho t'oixl, 
\Vh.>>rv in tho snaw tho ohajnnan suukhwI ; 
And jwst tho bivks and nioiklo stano, 
Whaiv di-unkon t.liarlio brak 's no»'k-l>ano ; 
And thivugh tho whins, and by tho oairn, 
Wharv liuntors land tho mui\ioivd Kairn ; 
And u«\'«r tho thorn. aKxMi tho woU, 
AVhaiv Mungo's niithor hang<><l hoi'svl'. 
IV'foro hiiu IVxui ihmu-s all his IUhxIs ; 
Tho doubling storm rvvu-s thrxnigh tho wixkIs ; 
Tho lightnings tla.sh fiviu (vlo to jv>lo ; 
X<\->r and nioiv uoar tho thuudors ivll ; 
Whon. gliiuiuoring tlir\>ugli tho gr\>aning tivos, 
Kirk-AUoway Sivm<->1 iu a bUvio ! 
Thivugh ilka Knv tho Iwims wore ghmoing, 
And loud ft'SvuiiuUxl mirth and dauoing. 

Insinriug Iwld .lohn Ivirloyooru ! 
A\Tiat dang<<rs thou otuist tuako us &Mru ! 
Wi' ti{>{H'nny wo f<\ar nao ovil : 
Wi' nsiiuoKio wo '11 I'aoo rtio IVvil ! — 
Tho swats sap r^-uutxl in Taiuiuio's UMtdl«, 



Fair jjay, ho oared na Ooils a IhhUo. 
lint Mii^io stiHHl right sjiir astoiiishod, 
'nil, by tho hwl and hand admonishod, 
Sho vontutXHl forwaivl on tho light ; 
And, wow ! Tani s;>w an uium sight ! 
WarUvks ami witohos in a daiuH> : 
Nao iMtillou brent now l'r;u> Franoo, 
Hut hornpiivs, jigs, strathsiH-ys, and iwls 
Tut lifo and inottlo in thoir hwls. 
A wiiiiuH'k-buiikor in tlio o.wst, 
Thore .Silt auld Niok. iu shajv o' K>ast, — 
A towiio tyko, blaok, grim, and lai'g*", — 
To gio tliom niusio Wiis his oliargx- ; 
Ho sorewoil tho |>iiH's and gsirt tlioin skirl 
Till rwf an' raltoi-s a' diil dirl. 
I Collins stiHxl ivuiid liko o|h>ii presses, 
j That shawAsl tho dt\id in thoir last dpfsscs ; 
And by siuno dovilish oantrip sloiglit, 
I Kaoli in its oaiild hand hold a light, — 
Uy wliioli hoi\iio Tain was ablo 
To noto, uiKMi tho lialy tablo, 
A mui\lorer's Kmos, in giblvt aims ; 
Twa si>an-lang. ww, unohristonovl Uurns v 
A thiol', now outtinl frao a rajH', 
Wi' his last gsisp his gab did g!i|K> : 
Fivo tomahawks, wi' bluid iihI rustinl ; 
Kivo soymitai-s, wi' numlor orusttxl ; 
A giirtor, which a IviW had stninglod ; 
A kiiifo, a father's thivwt had niaiiglwl, 
Whom his ain son o' lil'o K-ivft, — 
Tho gray liaii-s yrt stack to tho hoft ; 
Thiw lawyoi's' tonguos turiuxl iusi>lo out, 
Wi' lios soanusl liko a Ivggar's clout ; 
And priests' luvirts, rottou, black as muck, 
U»y stinking, vile, iu every neuk : 
Wi' niair o' horrible and awfu' 
Which oviii to muuo wad In- nnlawl'u'. 

.\s Tanunio glowonxl, amaxiHl and curious. 
The mirth iuid l\>n gix>w last and furious ; 
Tho piix'r loud and louder blew ; 
Tho danct-i's iiuick and quicker How ; 
They i\>el<xl, they set, they crv^ssetl, they cleekit, 
'nil ilka carlin swat and iwkit. 
And iHxvst her duddios to tho W!>rk, 
And liiikot at it in her sark '. , 

Now Tarn. l> Tain ! had they Ixvu queans. 
A' i>liiiui< and strai>|iing in their twiis : 
! Tlioir stirks, instead of creeshio IliUiiion, 
Been snaw-whitr sevoutivn-hundor linen ; 
Thir brex'ks o' mine, my only jviir. 
That ani-e were jdush. o' guid blue Inur, 
I Wild liao gi'on them all' my hnrvlies 
For ao blink o' the lx>iinie burvlies ! 

15ut withortxl Ixldams, auld lUid droll, 
Rigwoixlio hags w-ad six\iu a fival, 
l^wi>ing an' flinging on a enimnHX'k, — 
I I wonder didna turn thv stoin.ich. 



1'UI;M.S (J|- lANCV. 



84;> 



Kill Titiii kcnn'il wliiil wuk wliiit f'u' Imiwlii;. 
Tiller': wioi lu: wiiiHoiiiit wiriiiili iiml wulii:, 
Tliiit iii«lit irilinli^il ill lliu toiij 
(l/jiiiK nlUir ki:i]ii'il 1)11 '.'urrlck ulioro ; 
Kor irioiiii! a Imutt l<> ilniul alii: Nliot, 
Aii'l |ii;ripih<:'l iii'iiiic (I Ixjiiiiii! Ixxil, 
Anil Hlii)'>k iKiitl) miikli! rnrii iiml Uiar, 
Ami ki-|)l U]i; cimiitiy-Hiili! in fi!(ii). 
Il<!r nitly-Hark o' l'iii»l<ry ti.ipii, 
1 1 J ill wliili: a limiiii; hIii; iiiul wiiii, 
III Irjiigitii'li; llioii;<li Kornly w^iiiity, 
It wan Iht Im^hI, iiii'l »ili« wiot vaiiiity. — 
Ah ! littli! k"Miiii-il lliy ri;V(ir<;ii<l ((rannic 
'I'tiiit nark Bill! •■lift for liur v/m ,Naiiiii« 
Wi' twa |iiiiiil Hifotii ('I wiw a' lii;r richcit) 
Wail i:viT Kiaiitil a ilaiici; o' witi;li«ii I 

lint li<;r<; my Miiwj lier vriiiK niaiiri wjwer, 
Hie lli;{liU an; far Ixfyoml lii;r |)iiwi:r ; 
To *iii({ liow Namiii! lap anil llaii« 

I (A iKiii[ili! jaili! hIii: v/im ami hIihii^), 

Ami liDW Tarn iiUxxl liki: am; l«:wit.<:lii:'l, 
Ami tlmii^lil liiii very wn i;i)iii:lii;'l. 
j-.v'ii Haljtii kUivii-ti-A, ami liilgivl f'u' fain, 

I Aii'l lii)ti:lii:'l aiii| lili:w wi' nii^lit ami main ; 
Till limt a<! <:a[x;r, Hym: anitlnrr, — 
'I'ani lint liix niMiii a' tlii;({ittii!r, 
Aii'l roam out, " Wi«:l <loiii;, Outty-dark I " 
Aii'l iu an iniitjtnt a' wax ilark ; 
Ami vnrcMy luul In; Maggie ralliwl, 

I Whi-ii out till; helliHli legion nalliwl. 
An in-iM l/i/.z out wi' angry lyke. 
When pliinilering henU aiuiail their byke ; 
At (ifK-.u puii»i>;'H mortal foes. 
When, ixip 1 »he ntarit Iwfore their nwie ; 
At eager riirm the niarket-erow'l, 
When (MfM lliA IhirJ I reiciuniU aloud ; 
Vot Magjfie nJBH, — the wit':heH follow, 
Wi' monie an eliJritijh nkrweh an<l hollow. 

Ah, Tain '. ah, 'I'am ! thou 'II get thy fairin' 
III hell they 'II roant thi;<; like a herrin I 
III vain thy Kat/; await« thy wrnin' — 
KaU; noon will \»: a wo<:l'ir woman ! 
Now, <lo thy HiH-rAy iitni'rtt, Meg, 
Ami win the key-ntane of the hrig ; 
There at them thou thy tail may Vxm, — 
A running ntnani they <larc na ciiihh. 
I'/Ut ere the key-Mtane nhe lyiuhl make. 
The (lent a tail "he hail tii >ihak« ; 
Kor Nannie, far Ixjfore the rent, 
llani u|Kjn nohle Maggie |>r<»t. 
Anil flew at Tain wi' fiirioii'. <;ttle : 
iJut little widt the Maggie'* mettle, — 
Ae K|/ring hroiight aff lier ma«ter hale, 
I'.ut left lx;hin'l her ain gray tail : 
The larlin clauglit her }iy the nimp, 
Aud left poor VUnypi m-juui a ntuiup. 



Now, wha thiH tale o' truth Hhall ri;iiil. 
Ilk man ami mother'H win ttike hei;d ; 
Whene'er to drink you are iiielinwl. 
Or eiilty-HarkH run in your mind. 
Think, ye may hiiy the joyn o'er dear, 
lt<:meniU;r Tain O'HlianUjr'H mure, 

HollKIIT IIUKNII. 



TIIK I'IKI) l'11-l.ll or IIAMKUN. 

Hamki.im Town 'k in liriiiiKwiek, 
liy famoim Hanover City ; 

The river Wei«;r, ile<;[i and whle, 

Wioilied ilx wall on the Hoiithem id/lft ; 
A iilea*ttnt<!r »jx(t yon never >(|;iwl ; 
But when lx;gin>i my ditty, 

Almost five hundred yiairn ago, 

To tuM: the t'/wimfolk miHei no 
.Krom vermin wax a j/ity. 

\lu.U\ 
They fought the dogx, and killed the eat*, 

And I/it the hahiett in the r.raiWi-M, 
And at/! the eheew;* out of the vat«. 

And WkVpA the miwy from the '»X)k'it own bullcN, 
Hplit o|x;n the keg* of Haltz-^l >i|iratii, 
,M;ule nentK inxiih; men'* Sunday hat*, 
And even n\>iit\iA the women'* ehat*, 
liy drowning their ii[x:ttking 
With ithrie.king and if|ui»tkin^ 
In fifty different »harj« and (l«t». 

At la*t the (x«<j)le in a Ixxly 

To the Town Hall lanie fhx;king : 
" "f ix i:UMr," crii-A they, "our Mayor'tian'xUy ; 

And an for our ''orjx/ration, uli'xjking 
To think we t/iiy gown* lined with ennirie 
For ihdt* that lain't or won't det<;rniinc 
i What'* IxMt t/> rill ua of our vermin I" 
At thiit the ilnyiir and f^rjx/ration 
Quiik':<l with a raighty mfMUimntviii. 

An hour they nut': in <;oMriiw:l, — 
At length the Mayor hroke iiilenee : 

" for a guilder I 'd my ermine gown nell ; 
I wijih I were a mile hen';e ! 

It '» ea«y U) hid one raek one'* brain, — 

I 'til Kiire my fxx>r h<»i/I lu.hm a<^in, 

I 've m:riit/:\ii-A it »o, and all in vain, 

for a trap, a trap, a trap ! " 

Jiwt »M he naid thi*, what thoiild hap 

At the ehamtx-r lUxir bit a gentle tap ? 

" HI'** iw," miA the Mayor, " what 'n that ? " 

" Come in '." — the Mayor eried, Wiking higger ; 

And in did e/<me the (itran«'«t figure ; 

He a/lvaneed Ui the c/iineil-tahle ; 

And, " Pleane your iumi/n," «ai/l h«, " I 'm able. 



850 



POEMS OF FANCY. 



By means of a secret clmrm, to draw 
All cieatures living beneath tlie sun, 
That creep or swim or tly or run, 
After me so as you never saw ! 

Yet," said he, "poor piper as I am. 
In Tartary I freed the t'liani, 
Last June, from his huge swarm of gnats ; 
I eased in Asia the Ni^aui 
Of a monstrous brood of vampire-bats ; 
And as for what your bi-ain bewildei's, — 
If 1 can rid your town of rats, 
Will you give me a thousand guilders ?" 
'■ One > fifty thousand ! " was the exulamatiou 
Of the astonished Mayor and Corporation. 

Into the street the piper stept. 

Smiling first a little smile. 
As if he knew what magic slept 

In his quiet pipe the while ; 
Then, like a musical adept. 
To blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled. 
And green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled, 
Like a candle llame where salt is sprinkled ; 
And ere three shrill notes the pipe uttered, 
You heard as if an army muttered ; 
And the muttering grew to a grumbling ; 
And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling ; 
And out of the houses the rats came tumbling. 
(Jreat rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats. 
Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats, 
O lave old plodders, gay young friskers, 

Fathei's, mothers, uncles, cousins, 
Cocking tales and pricking whiskers ; 

Families by tens and dozens. 
Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, — 
Followed the piper for their lives. 
F'rom street to street he pipeil advancing. 
And step for step they followed dancing. 
Until they came to the river Weser, 
Wherein all plunged and jierished 
Save one who, stout as Julius Caisar, 
Swam across and lived to carry 
(.\s he the manuscript he cherished) 
To Hat-land home his commentary. 
Which was : " At the fii-st shrill notes of the pipe, 
I lieai-d a sound as of scraping tripe, 
.\nd putting apples, wondrous ripe, 
Into a cider-press's gripe, — 
.\nd a moving away of pickle-tub-boards, 
.\nd a leaving ajar of conserve-cupboards. 
And a drawing the corks of train-oil-flasks. 
And a breaking the hoops of butter-casks ; 
And it seemed as if a voice 
(Sweeter far than by harp or by psaltery 
Is breathed) called out, rats, rejoice ! 
The world is grown to one vast drysaltery ! 
So numch on, crunch ou, take your luincheon. 



Breakfist, suiijier, dinner, hinclieon ! 

And just as a bulky sugiir-punclieon. 

Already staved, like a great sun shone 

Glorious scarce an inch K'fore me. 

Just as nu'thought it said. Come, bore me ! — 

I found the Wescr rolling o'er me." 

You should have heard the Hamelin people 
Kinging the bells till they rocked the steeple : 
' 'Go," cried the Mayor, "and get long poles ! 
Poke out the nests and block up the holes ! 
Consult with cariienters and builders. 
And leave in our town not even a trace 
Of the rats ! " — when suddenly, up the face 
Of the piper perked in the market-place. 
With a "fii-st, if you pleiuse, my thousand guil- 
ders ! " 

A thousand guildei-s I the Mayor looked blue; 

So did the Corporation too. 

For council-dinners made rare havoc 

With Claret, Moselle, Vin-de-Orave, Hock; 

And half the money would replenish 

Their cellar's liiggest butt with Khenish. 

To pay this simi to a wandering fellow 

With a gypsy coat of red and yellow ! 

" Beside," quoth the Jlayor, with a knowing 

wink, 
"Our business was done at the river's brink ; 
We saw with our eyes the vermin sink. 
And what 's dead can't come to life, I think. 
So, friend, we 'i-e not the folks to shrink 
From the duty of giving you something to drink. 
And a matter of money to put in your poke ; 
But as for the guilders, what we spoke 
Of them, as you very well know, was in joke. 
Beside, our losses have nuide us thrifty ; 
A thousand guilders ! Come, take fifty ! " 

The piper's face fell, and he cried, 

" No trifling ! I can't wait 1 beside, 

I 've promised to visit by dinner time 

Bagdat, ami accept the jirime 

Of the head cook's pottage, all he's rich in. 

For having left, in the Caliph's kitchen. 

Of a nest of scorpions no survivor, — 

With him I juoved no bargain-driver ; 

With you, don't think 1 '11 bate a stiver ! 

And folks who put me in a passion 

May find me pipe to another fashion." 

"How?" cried the Mayor, "d'ye think I'll 

brook 
Being worse treated than a cook ? 
Insulted by a lazy ribald 
With idle pipe and vesture piebald ? 
You threaten us, fellow ? Do your worst. 
Blow your pipe there till you burst .'" 



POEMS OF FANCY. 



851 



Oiae more lie stept into the street ; 

And to hist lips uguin 
Laid his long pipe of smooth stralglit cane ; 

And ere he blew three notes (such sweet 
Soft notes as yet musician's cunning 

Never gave the enraptured air) 
There was a rustling that seemed like a bustling 
Of merry crowds justlingat pitching and hustling; 
Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clatter- 
ing. 
Little hands clapping, and little tongues chat- 
tering ; 
And, like fowls in a farm-yard when barley is 

scattering, 
Out came the children running : 
All the little boys and girls. 
With rosy idieeks and flaxen curls. 
And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls. 
Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after 
The wonderful music with shouting and laughter. 

The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood 

As if they were changed into blocks of wood, 

Unable to move a step, or cry 

To the children merrily skipping by, — 

And could only follow with the eye 

That joyous crowd at the piper's back. 

But how tlie Mayor was on the rack. 

And the wretched Council's bosoms beat, 

As the piper turned from the High Street 

To where the Weser rolled its waters 

l.'ight in the way of their sons and daughters ! 

However, he turned from south to west. 

And to Koppelberg Hill his steps addressed, 

And after him the children pressed ; 

Great was the joy in every breast. 

" He never can cross that mighty top ! 

He 's forced to let the piping drop. 

And we shall see our children stop ! " 

When, lo, as they reached the mountain's side, 

A wondrous portal opened wide. 

As if a cavern was suddenly hollowed ; 

And the piperadvauced and the children followed; 

And when all were in, to the very last. 

The door in the mountain-.side shut fa-st. 

Did I say all ? No ! One was lame. 

And could not dance the whole of the way ; 

And in after years, if you would blame 

His sadness, he wa.s used to say, — 

" It 's dull in our town since ray playmates left ! 

1 can't forget that I 'ni Ijereft 

Of all the pleasant sights they see. 

Which the piper also promised me ; 

For he led us, he said, to a joyous land, 

.Joining the town and ju.st at hand, 

Where waters gushed, and fruit-trees grew, 

.And flowers put forth a fairer hue. 

And everything wa<> strange and new ; 



The sparrows were brightei- than peacocks here, 

And their dogs outran our fiillow deer. 

And honey-bees had lost their stings. 

And hor.ses were born with eagles' wings ; 

And just as I became assured 

My lame foot would be speedily cured, 

The music stopped and 1 stood still. 

And found myself outside the Hill, 

Left alone against my will. 

To go now limiiiiig as before. 

And never hear of that country more ! " 

Robert brownin& 



THE TOAD'S JOURNAL. 

(It is said that Belzoni, the traveller in E^pt, discovered a liv. 
ing toad in a temple, which had been for ages buried in the sand-l 

Is a land for antiquities greatly renowned 
A traveller had dug wiile and deep under ground, 
A temple, for ages entombed, to disclose, — 
When, lo ! he disturbed, in its seciet repose, 
A toad, from whose journal it plainly appears 
It had loilged in that mansion some thou-sands 

of years. 
The roll which this reptile's long history records; 
A treat to the sage antiquarian affords : 
The sense by obscure hieioglyphics concealed, 
Deep learning at length, with long laboi', revealed. 
The first thousand years as a specimen take, — 
The dates are omitted for brevity's sake : 
" Crawled forth from some nibbish, and winked 

with one eye ; 
Half opened the other, but could not tell why ; 
Stretched out my left leg, as it felt rather queer. 
Then drew all together and slept for a year. 
Awakened, felt chilly, — crept under a stone ; 
Was vastly contented with living alone. 
One toe Ijecame wedged in the stone like a peg. 
Could not get itaway, — had the cramp in my leg. 
Began half to wish for a neighbor at hand 
To loosen the stone, which was fast in the sand ; 
Pulled harder, then dozed, as I found 't was no 

use ; — 
Awoke the next summer, and lo ! it was loose. 
Crawled forth from the stone when completely 

awake ; 
Crept into a comer and grinned at a snake. 
Retreated, and found that I needed repose ; 
Curled up my damp limbs and prepareil for a doze; 
Fell sounder to sleep than was usual before, 
And did not awake for a eentuiy or more ; 
But had a sweet dream, as I rather believe : 
Methought it was light, and a fine summer's eve ; 
And I in some garden delieiouisly fed 
In the pleasant moist shade of a strawberry-bed. 
There fine speckled creatures claimed kindred 

with me, 
And others that hopped, most enchanting to see. 



S52 



I'OKMS OK KANOY. 



Hero long 1 tv^jsaUni with omotion exttvm* ; — i And so fiunfly yon panic tamnnj;, Dxpjnng itt n>y 

Awoko, - - ilis<\>iuHTtiHl to ru\>l it ;» ilr<\ni> ; I oliimiK-r iIihh-, 

t5rf\v iH'nsive. — JiswvpnHl thut lil'o is a Uwii ; That 1 si\ii\h> was sniv \ h«>r\l yon " — Hoiv 1 

IVjpm to set WKiry of Iviuj; a ti\ul ; oin-nwl w\il<> tho diHir ; 

Wivs fi>>tfv\l at lirst, iuul then sIhhI a fow twvrs " — | Paikni'ss thoiv, ami nothing moiv. 

H«re *uds tho actxmnt of tho fii-st thoviSi\ni.l ywirs, 

Poop into that ilarknoss jHH'ring, lonj; 1 stooil 



MOKAl. 

It sooms thut lifo is all a void. 
On st'llish tluxvghts alono oniployiM ; 
That loiiijtU of <la_\-s is not a giHxl, 
Unless tJieir uso Ih> nnilorstwHl. 

JANK Taylor. 



TllK liAVKX. 



thoiw wondorinj;, lV>arinj;. 
IXinhting, ilnvnninj; tlivanis no mortal over liaivil 

to diwun K'l\m> ; 
But tho siloniv was iinlnvkoM, an.l tho darkni-ss 

ipivo no tokon. 
And tho only wowi thoiv sjHikon was tho whis. 

jh>hhI woivl " l.ouoiv ! " 
This 1 whisjHMwi, and an ooho ninrniuitnl Kaok 

tho worvl "■ l.onoiv ! " 
Moivly this, and nothin); nioro. 



OSCK uiHin a niidniglil dix\»ry, whilo I pondonnl, 

woak and wwuv. 
Ovor tnanv a ,)«aint and ourions volmno of for- i '^"'^ ""'' ""' ohaniWr turnins, all my sonl within 

Cx.lton lor,., - | '»" »"'">>'«.>!. 

Whilo I n.HldtHl. n«>vlv nanmnjr. MuUlonlv thoiv '^*'" "S""' ' '"^"^' " '«in'''<S. soinothing londor 

camo a tai.,.iuv'. " 1 , , <''^>" >^-f^'<'«' : 

As of somo ono gx-utly i-ai>inng, nippitiS «t n.y : "^^^^'k' «>>vl L "s'xv'y tl>«t >« somothing at 

ohanilior d>H>r. 



"'Tis si<mo visitor." I ninttovxHl. "tapping at 
my ohamlvr diHir ; 
Only this, and nothing n\oiv." 



All, distinotly 1 r«>mombor, it was in tho lil««k 

DtvoinK-r, 
And ..aoh soiwr-ato dying onilwr wrought its ghvvst '^^l^'" «''<"" • rt»<'S tho shuttor. whon. with msny 



my window-laltioo 
Lot mo soo thon what thortsit is, and this mys- 

tory oxploiv, — 
Let my hoart W still a moniont, and this mystory 

oxploiv ; — 
'Tis tho wind, and nothing nioiv," 



np»>n tho IIiH>v, 
Kagorly 1 wish^l tho morrow : .vainly I had 

songht to Iwrrow 
Krvmi my Uwks suiwaso of svirivw, — sorrow for 

tho Kvst l.onoiv, 



a llirt aiul lluttor, 
In tlioro stopp<Hl a statoly ravon of tho saintly 

days of yoiv. 
Not tho h>fist olwisjimv mado ho ; not an instant 

sfopiHHl or stayisl ho ; 



For tho taiv and radiant niaidon whom tho angv>ls l^"*. «ith mioii of loixl or lady, iXMvh«l aWvo 

my ohamiH'r divr, — 
IVrchovl upon a bust of Tallas, just alwo my 
ohaniK-r door, — 
IVivhod, and «it, and nothing nioiv. 



naniiHl l.oriorv, — 
Is,«noloss hoix fon>vorinori>. 



And tho silkon, sad, nnot>rt!un rustling of o,aoh 

purplo onrtain 
ThrilUnl mo, — lilloii mo with fantastic tonvrs Thon this ohony Viiiil Iwguiling my sad fancy into 

no\-vr foU Ivfoiv : [ smiling. 

So that now. to still tho Ivatiug of my heart, I Hy tho gr5i\-o and sN>rn lUnHmim of tho wniito- 

stixHi ivivating, I nanco it wor<\ 

" 'T is somo visitor ontrojitiug onti-anco at my "Though thy civst In- shorn and -shavou, thou," 

chain Vx>r door, — I 1 said, "art sun- no craven ; 

Some lat«> visitor entreating entrance at my l^hastly, grim, and ancient rawii, wandering 

ohamlvr diH<r ; i fivm the nightly shore. 



That it is, and nothing inoiv." 



Toll mo what thy loi\lly name is on the night's 
rintonian shore ■ " 
tjuoth tho i-avou, " Xevormoiv ! " 



Presently my soul grew stning<>r ; hesitjiting theti 

no longi'r, 
" Sir," Siiid 1, "or mad.iiu, truly your forgi\t>- | Much I niarwlhHl this niigjunly fowl to hcas- 

noss 1 iinj<lorx> ; dis<'ourse so plainly. 

But tho fuct is, I was napping, wid so gently you i Though its answer little meaning, little relo- 

caine rapj^ing, » vancy Kmv ; 



POEMS OF FANCY. 



853 



For wo cannot lielp agreeing tliat no living liu- 

niun )ii;ing 
]>i;r yet wuh IjIcjhhciI witll Beeing l)iiil atiovo Iiix 

(;liiinil)iT iloor, 
liinl or bciiHt npon Hie sculptured buHt iiliove liin 

cliiinilmr door, 
With Hueh name im " Neveniion: I " 

liiil the raven, sitting lonely on tin: phieid huht, 

Bjioki; r,nly 
'i'lint one word, an it lii» «oul in that one word he 

did outpour. 
Nothing further then he uttered, — not a leather i 

then he lluttered, — I 

Till I Heareely more than muttered, "Other; 

I'riendii liave llown before, - 
<lr] the morrow he will leave mc, a« my hopen 

have llown before." 
Then the bird naid, " Nevermore I " 

Siarth-d at the stiUneos, broken by reply so aptly 
Bpoken, 

" Doubtleiis," Ftaid I, " what it utter» i» it« only 
stock and Htore, 

Caught from some unhapjjy master, whom un- 
mereiful diHaster 

Followed fimt and followed Oister, till his song 
one burden bore. 

Till the dirges of his ho[X! tliat melancholy bur- 
den bore , — 
Of ' Nevermore, — nevermore ! ' " 

I5ut the raven still beguiling all my »a<J soul into 

smiling, 
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of 

bird and bust and door. 
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook my«elf 

to linking 
Fancy unt<j fancy, thinking what thi* ominouM 

bird of yore — 
Wliat this grim, ungainly, gliastly, gaurjt, and 

oHiinouB bird of yore — 
Meant in croaking " Nevermore ! " 

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable 
expressing 

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into 
my bosom's core ; 

This and more I sat divining, with my heatl at 
ease reclining 

On the cushion's velvet lining ttiat the lamp- 
light gloat<!d o'er, 

Hut whose velvet violet lining, with the lamp- 
light gloating o'er, 
She shall press — ah ! nevermore ! 

Then mcthought the air grew denser, perfumed 
from an unseen censer, 



Swung by scniphim, whoso footfalls tinkled on 

the tiilb-d door, 
" Wretch," I cried, "thy Ood hath lent lliee, — 

by these angehi he hath sent thee 
Respite, — resjiile and nejienthe fioni the miimo- 

ries of l>cnore ! 
Quail', 0, ijuair this kind nepenthe, and forget 

this lost lyenore ! " 
Quoth the raven, " Nevermore ! " 

" rroplnt ! " said I, " thing of evil ! - prophet 

still, if bird or devil ! 
Whether t<;mpt4'r sent, or whether tempest 

tfwtsed thee h<:re ashore, 
Desolate yet all undaunt^^d, on this desifrt land 

cnehant<;d, — 
On this home by horror haunt<Ml, — tell me truly, 

I imiilore, — 
Is there — is there balm in Oileail ? — tell me, — 

tell me, I iin|ilore ! " 
Quoth the ravi:n, " Nevennore !" 

" Prophet ! " said I, " thing of evil I — [irophet 

still, if bird or ilevil ! 
By that heaven that bends above us, — by that 

Ood we both a<lore. 
Tell thu) soul with soiTOW laden, if, within the 

distant Aidenn, 
Itsliall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angchi 

nami; l,enorc, 
Clasp a fair and nuliant maiden, whom the angeU 

name Lenore ! " 
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore !" 

" Be that word our sign of parting, bird or 

fiend ! " I shrieked, upstarting, — 
"Get thee W;k into the temiHst and the night's 

Plutonian shore ! 
Leave no black plume an a token of that lie thy 

soul hath spoken ! 
Leave my loneliness unbroken ! — quit the bust 

above my door ! 
Take thy Ixrak from out my heart, and take thy 

lorn] from olf my door I " 
Quoth the raven, " Nevermore ! " 

And the raven, never Hitting, still in Kitting, 

still is sitting 
On the jmllid bust of Palla», just alwve my 

chamber door ; 
And hi* eyes have all the seeming of a demon 

that is dreaming, 
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws 

his shadow on the fl'wr ; 
And my s^jul from out that sliadow that lies 

floating on the floor 
Shall Ijc lifted — rwwrmare .' 

EOCAK A1.I.AM POE. 



854 



POEMS OF FANCY. 



RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER. 



and detain' 
eth one. 



An Ancient Jx is an Ancient Mariner, 

Manner ' 

meeieth And he stoppetli one of three. 

ihreeeal- ., n t ■, ■> it 

iants bidden " Bv thv long grav beard and glitteimg 

to a wed- 

eye, 
Now wherefore stopp'st tliou me ? 
The Bridcgrooiu's doors are opened wide, 
And I am next of kin ; 
The guests are met, the feast is set, — 
Mayst hear the merry din." 

He holds him with his skinny hand : 

" There was a ship," quotli he. 

" Hold off ! unhand me, graybeard 

loon ! " — 
Eftsoons his hand dropt he. 



The Wed- 
ding-Guest 
is spell- 
bound by 
the eye of 
the Old sea- 
faring man, 
and con- 
strained to 
hear his 
tale. 



The Mari- 
ner tells 
how the 
ship sailed 
southward, 
with a good 
wind and 
fair weather, 
till it 

reached the 
line. 



He holds him with his glittering eye, — ■ 
The Wedding-Guest stood still ; 
He listens like a three years' child ; 
The Mariner hath his will. 

The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone, — 
He cannot choose but hear ; 
And thus spake on that ancient man, 
The bright-eyed Mariner : 

" The ship was cheered, the harbor 

cleared ; 
Merrily did we drop 
Below the kirk, below the hill. 
Below the light-house top. 

The sun came up upon the left, 
Out of the sea came he ; 
And he shone bright, and on the right 
Went down into the sea ; 

Higher and higher every day. 
Till over the mast at noon — " 
TheWedding-Guest here beat his breast. 
For he heard the loud bassoon. 



The Bride hath paced into the hall — 



The Wed- 
ding-Guest 

heareth Red as a rose is she ; 

the bridal -kt t j ■ i ■ i 

music; but Noddiug tlicir heads before her goes 

the Mariner «,, . ^ , 

continueth 1 lie merry minstrelsy. 

his tale. 

The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast, 
Yet he cannot choose but hear ; 
And thus spake on that ancient man. 
The bright-eyed Mariner : 



The ship 
drawn by a 
storm to- 
ward the 
south pole. 



"And now the Storm-blast came, and he 
Was tyrannous and strong ; 
He struck with his o'ertaking wings. 
And chased us south along. 



With sloping masts and dipping prow — 
As who pursued with yell and blow 
Still treads the shadow of his foe. 
And forward bends his head — 
The ship drove fast ; loud roared the 

blast. 
And southward aye we fled. 

And now there came both mist and snow. 
And it gi'ew wondrous cold ; 
And ice, mast-high, came floating by, 
As green as emerald. 

And through the drifts the snowy cliffs J^<^ land of 

° ^ ice and of 

Did send a dismal sheen ; fearful 

A' 1 > 1 1 sounds. 

^ or shapes of men nor beasts we ken — where no 
I he ice was all between. was to be 

seen. 

The ice was here, the ice was there. 

The ice was all around ; 

It cracked and growled, and roared and 

howled. 
Like noises in a swound ! 



Till a great 
sea-bird, 
called the 
Albatross, 
came 
through 
the snow- 
fog, and was 
received 
with great 
joy and hos- 
pitality. 



At length did cross an Albatross — 
Thorough the fog it came ; 
As if it had been a Christian soul. 
We hailed it in God's name. 

It ate the food it ne'er had eat. 
And round and round it flew. 
The ice did split with a thunder-fit ; 
The helmsman steered us through ! 

And a good south wind sprang up be- And lo t ihe 

° lot- Albatross 

proveth a 
bird of good 
omen, and 
followeth 
the ship as it 
returned 
northward 
through fog 
and Hoating 



hind ; 
The Albatross did follow. 
And every day, for food or play. 
Came to the mariners' hollo ! 

In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud. 

It perched for vespers nine ; 

Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke 

white, 
Glimmered the white moonshine." 



"God save thee. Ancient Mariner ! The Ancient 

Marmer in- 

From the fiends, that plague thee thus ! — hospitably 

killeth the 

AVhy look'st thou so?" — "With my pious bird oi 

cross-bow 
I shot the Albatross. 

PART II. 

The Sun now rose upon the right : 
Out of the sea came he, 
Still hid in mist, and on the left. 
Went down into the sea. 

And the good south wind still blew 

behind. 
But no sweet bird did follow. 



good omen. 



POEMS OF FANCY. 



855 



Nor any day, for food or play. 
Came to the mariners' hollo ! 



And 



utter 



And I had done an hellish thing, 



Hi5 ship- 
IliiUC-s cry 

..111 against j^pj j^^ ivould Work 'ein woe : 

the Ancient 

Mariner for For all averreil, I had killed the bird 

k;ilin.; the 

I ir,i of good That made the breeze to blow. 

All wretch ! said they, the bird to slay, 
That made the breeze to blow ! 



But when 
the fofj 

cleared off. 
they justify 
the same, 
and thus 
make them- 

comphresin 'T was right,said they, suoli birds to slay 
'"" """"■ That bring the fog and mist. 



Nor dim nor red, like God's own head 
The glorious Sun uprist : 
Then all averred, I had killed the bird 
That brout;lit the fog anil mist. 



The fair 
lireeze con- 
tinues ; the 
shiji enters 
tile Pacific 
I ' ean. and 
^ .;;s nortli- 
l^ ltd, evel 
nil It reaches the line. 



The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew. 
The furrow followed free ; 
We were the first that ever burst 
Into that silent sea. 



The ship 
hath been 
suddenly 
becakned ; 



Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt 

down, — 
'T was sad as sad could be ; 
And we did speak only to break 
The silence of the sea. 

All in a hot and copper sky 
The bloody Sun, at noon, 
Right up above the mast did stand, 
No bigger than the Moon. 

Day after day, day after day. 

We stuck, — nor breath nor motion ; 

As idle as a painted ship 

Upon a painted ocean. 

Water, water everywhere, 

did shrink : 



and the 
Albatross 

begins to And all the board 

Water, water everywhere, 



Nor any drop to drink. 

The very deep did rot : Christ ! 
That ever this should be ! 
Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs 
Upon the slimy sea ! 

About, about, in reel and rout, 
The death-lircs danced at night ; 
The water, like a witch's oils. 
Burnt green, and blue, and white. 



A Spirit 
had fol. 



And some in dreams assured were 

lowed them : Q{ the Spirit that plagued us so ; 
one of ' I r^ ' 

the invisi- Nine fathom deep he had followed us 

ble mhabit- , i , 

ants of this From the land of mist and snow. 

planet. 

neither departed souls nor angels : concerning whom the learned 
Jew losephus, and the Platonic Constantinopolitan. Michael Psellus. 
may l.c consulted. They are very numerous, and there is no cli- 
mate or element without one or more- 



every tongue, throii 

drought, 
Was withered at the root ; 
We could not speak, no more than if 
We had been choked with soot. 

Ah ! ^ell-a-day ! what evil looks 
Haa I from old and young ! 
Instead of the cross the Albatross 
About my neck was hung. 

PAKT III. 

There pa.ssed a weary time. Each 

throat 
Was parched, and glazed each eye — 
A weary time ! a weary time ! 
How glazed each weary eye ! — 
When, looking westward, I beheld 
A something in the sky. 

At first it seemed a little speck, 
And then it seemed a mist ; 
It moved and moved, and took at last 
A certain shape, I wist — 

A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist ! 
And still it neared and neared ; 
As if it dodged a water-sprite, 
It plunged and tacked and veered. 



With throats unslaked, with black lips At its near- 

,11 er approach 

baked, itseemelh 

We could nor laugh nor wail ; sh'i]i'°andlt 

Through utter drought all dumb we 'om t""' 

freetli his 
Cecil from 



The ship- 
mates, in 
their sore 
distress, 
would fain 
throw the 
whole (jiiilt 
on the An- 
cient Mari- 
ner : in sign 
whereof 
they hang 
the dead 
sea-bird 
round his 
neck. 



TheAncient 
Mariner be- 
holdeth a 
sign in the 
element afar 
off. 



stood ! 
I bit my arm, I sucked tlie blood, 
And cried, * A sail ! a sail ! ' 



spci 

the bonds of 

thirst. 



With throats imslaked, with black lips 

baked. 
Agape they heard me call ; 
Gramercy ! they for joy did grin, 
And all at once their breath drew in, a flash of 
As they were drinking all. ^°^' 



she tacks no more ! And horror 

follows. For 



can it be a 
ship that 
conies on- 
ward with- 
out wind or 
tide? 



*See ! see!' I cried. 
Hither to work us weal — 
Without a breeze, without a tide, 
She steadies with upright keel ! ' 

The western wave was all a-flame ; 
The day was well nigh done ; 
Almost upon the wa^stern wave 
Rested the broad bright sun. 
When that strange shape drove suddenly 
Betwixt us and the Sun. 



And straight the Sun was flecked with it seemeth 

* liim but the 

oars, skeleton of 

(Heaven's Mother .send us gi'ace !) ^'''"^' 



Sot) 



POEMS OK FANCY. 



As if tlirousli « dmiji^*n-grate lie peeiwi 
With liitwd niui bmniiig liice. 

Alas ! tliought I — ami my heart Ivat 

loml — 
How fast she iieai's ami iieai-s ! 
Are those her sails that glance in the sun. 
Like ivstless gossaiueivs ? 

AndiKribK Aivtliose her rilvstlii-oushwhiehthoSim 
Uusoinhc Dul iicci-, as thivinrh a i-mte ! 

ucc of th« ... , , I r 

senilis suiu Ana IS that woiiiau all lier erew ? 
irc-mSSu Is that a death ? ami ai-e there two ? 
5M«h"wK. Is Death that woman's mate < 

Jtnil HO other 

on Imxu\) the skeleton ship. 

Her lii>s weiv ivd, her looks were free, 
ike';^f'- ll'">' '"'^•ks were yellow as gohl ; 

Her skin was as white as lepivsy : 
The night-niaiv, Life-in-l")eath, was she, 
Who thicks man's bUHxl with cold. 



I'ART IV. 

"I KK.\K thoe. Ancient Mariner! 
1 f«u- tliy skinny htmd ! 
-Uul thou art long, am 

brown, 
As is tlte ribbed sea-sand. 



The Wed- 
diny.Ciiest 
Tcareth that 
A spirit is 

ank, and taikuii; to 

him ; 



I fear thee and thy glittering eye, 
Ami thy skinny hand so bivwn." 
"Kear not, fear not, thou 

truest I 
This hotly divpt not tlown. 



Wcdtling- i>"tthe A«. 

* ciont M,tli- 
net Assurvtik 
him of his 
bodily life, 
nitd pro- 
cccdeth to 
rcLtte his 
horril^lc 
penance. 



Death and 
Lifc-in- 
Dc,«h have 
tticevl for the 
«hii>"s oiew. 
and she (the 
latter) win- 
neth the An- 
cieitt Mart, 
ner. 

No twili^t 
within the 
cvHirts of the 
Sun. 



The naked hulk alongsiile came, 

And the twain were casting dice : 

' The gt»n>e is done. I 've won ! I" ve 

won ! ' 
Quoth slio, and whistles thrice. 

The Sun's rint dips ; the stai's rush out ; 
At one stride comes the dark : 
With lar-he!ii\l whisper, o'er the sea. 
Off shot the si>ectre-bark. 



He despis- 
eth the 
creatures of 
the calm : 



and envieth 
that they 
should live, 
and so many 
lie dead 



one aftef 
another. 



*'the^& ^^ listened and looketl sideways up ! 
Fe.^r at my heart, as at a cup ; 
My life-blood seemed to sip ! 
The stai-s were dim, and thick the night. 
The steei-sman's face by his lamp 

gleametl white : 
From the sails the dew did drip — 
Till domlie aliove the etistern liar. 
The horiit'd Mtxm, with one bright stjir 
Within the nether tip. | 

One after one, by the star-do^eil Moon, I 
Too quick for groan or sigh. 
Each tununl his face with a ghastly (mug, 
And cursed me with his eye. 

hisshiis- F^mr times fiftv livinj men 

mates drop ^ 

dowudeai (And 1 heai>l nor sigli nor giwtn). 
With heavy tliump. a lifeless lump. 
They dropped down one l>y one. 

ivatVK"' The souls did from tlieir bodies fly, - 
Kins her Thev fled to Wiss or WIH- ! 

work on the • . 

Ancient Autl cverv soul, it Tvtsseti me bv. 
Mariaev. _ ., , ' , . .. . " .. 

l.ike the \vIuz4,idI my crv>ss-liow ! 



Alone, alone, all, all alone, 
Alone on a wide, wide sea ! 
Antl never a saint took pity on 
My soul in agony. 

The many men so Iwautiful ! 

.\ntl they all dead did lie : 

And a thousjintl thousand slimy things 

l.iviHl on ; and so did I. 

1 looked upon the rotting seti. 
Ami drew my eyes away ; 
1 looked upon the rotting deck. 
And there tlie dead men lay. 

I looked to heaven, and tried to pray ; 
But, or ever a pitiyer had gusht, 
A wicked whisper came, and made 
My heart as dry as dust. 

I closed my lids, and kept them close. 

And the Iwlls like pulses beat ; 

For tlio sky and the sea, ami the sea 

and the sky. 
Lay like a lotid on my weary eye. 
And the deatl were at mv feet. 



The cold sweat meltetl from their limbs, f ",^i'n^,^ 

Nor rot nor reek did thev : ""' •>''" '" 

fill 1 1 " *^ '^^ 

1 he look with which they lookeil on me the dead 

Had never passed awtiy. 

An orphan's cui-se would drag to hell 
A spirit from on high ; 
But oh ! more horrible than that 
Is a curse in a detul man's eye '. 
Seven days, seven nights, I saw that 

curse. 
And yet 1 could not die. 



The moving Jtoon went up the sky, 
And nowhere ditl abide : 
Softly she wi»s going uji. 
And a star or two Wside — 



In his 
loneliness 
.ind i>\ed- 
ncss he 
ycirneth 
towrarvls the 



the.: 
thi- 



ll :.ts that are c<rt,ii 

1 is a silent jO> at tllett arrival. 



H'urn, >-et still move onward ; and cvervwhere 
:o them, and is their appoinlevl rest, .itid their 
•I'.rir own natural homes, which thev enter 



ily expected, and >ir: there 



I'OKMS OK KANCV. 



867 



Her bi'iiiiiH lionioukcd the snlliy nmiii, 
Like A|iiil Imar-frost spread ; 
Hut wliciv the »lii|)'s l]ii{,'e slmdow lay 
The i'luuiiii:d wiiter Iniriit iilway, 
A still and awful red. 

Bvthcllciii Unyoud the shadow of tlio sliiii 

he hciic.ui. 1 watched the water-.siiaki's , 

crcaiiiii-, of They uiDvod in tracks of shining white ; 

Anil when they reare<l, the elfish light 

Full olfin hoary llukcs. 

Within the shadow of the ship 

1 watehed their rich attire — 

Blue, glossy green, and velvet hlack, 

They coiled and swam ; and every track 

Was a Hash of golden lire. 



cilri). 



Their hciu- 
ty and tliclr 
li.ii)|jincM. 



O happy living things ! no tongue 

Their lieauty might declare ; 

A spring of love gushed from my heart, 



"cm'™h's' A'"' 1 IjIushwI them unawa,.-- 
'"-■■'"■ Sure my kind saint tool; pity on mc 

And I blessed them unaware. 

ilcBiiii'io '^''"' >«'lfsime moment I eouM pray ; 

brciik. 



And from my neck so fre 
The Albatross fell off, ami ; 
Like lead into the sea. 



ink 



PAIIT V. 

SLF.RP ! it is a gentle thing, 
IJeloviMl from pole to pole ! 

To Mary Queen the praise be given ! 
She sent the gentle sleep from heaven 
That slid into my soul. 

ZViT°' The silly buckets on the deck, 
AncicM"" That had so long remained, 
Mariner ii I dreamt that they were filled with dew; 
with rain. And when I awoke, it rained. 

My lips were wet, my throat was cold, 
My garments all were dank ; 
Sui'e I had drunken in my dreams, 
And still my body drank. 

1 moved, and could not feel my limbs ; 
I was so light — almost 

I thought that I had died in sleep, 
And was a blessfed ghost. 

He heareth And sooii I heard a roaring wind — 

•oundsand t. ,• i . 

teeih It did not come anear ; 

liKtusand Hut with its soupd it shook the sails, 

fnThT°kT That were so thin and sere. 

and the ele. 

""* The upper air burst into life ; 

And a hundred fire-llags sheen, 
To and fro they were hurried about ; 



And to and fro, and in and out, 
'I'he wan stars danced between. 

And the coming wind dill loar more loud, 
And the sails did sigh like seilge ; 
And the rain poured ilown from oiio 

black cloud — 
The Moon was at its edge. 

The thick bliuk elmid was cleft, and 

still 
The Moon wiw at its side ; 
Like waters shot from some high eiag, 
The lightning fell with never ftjag — 
A river steep Jind wide. 

The loud wind never readied the ship. 
Yet now tlie ship moved on ! 
iieneath the lightiiiiig and the Moon 
The dead men gave a groiiii. 

Tliey groaned, they slirreil, they all 

uiirose — 
Nor spake, nor moved their eyes ; 
It had been strange, even in a dream, 
To have seen those dead men rise. 

The helmsman steiM'ed, the ship moved 

on ; 
Yet never a breeze up blew ; 
The mariners all 'gan work the ropes, 
Where they were wont to do ; 
They raised their limbs like lifeless 

tools — 
Wo were a ghastly erew. 

The Hody of my brother's son 
Stood by me, knee to knee : 
The l5ody and I pulled at one rope, 
But he said naught to me." 

" I fear thee. Ancient Mariner ! " 
" lie calm, thou Wedding-finest ! 
'T was not those souls that lied in |iain, 
Which to their corses came again. 
But a troop of spirits blest : 

For when it dawned — they dropped 

their arms. 
And clustered round the mast ; 
Sweet sounds rose slowly through their 

mouths. 
And from their bodies passed. 

Around, around, flew each sweet sound, 
Then darteil to the Sun ; 
Slowly the .sounds came back again, 
Now mixed, now one by one. 



The lio.liel 

crew are In- 
hiiireil. and 
Ihe slll|, 
llirjvc^ ijll ; 



but not hy 
tllc kouIh of 
tile men, nor 
by d:emun<> 
of earth or 
nilildle air, 
but iiy a 
blcKned 
troop of 
aiiffciic spir- 
its, fecnt 
down by |I|« 
invocation 
of the ifuar* 
dian saint. 



8o8 



rOKMS or FANCY. 



The lone- 
some spirit 
froiu the 
south jHvle 
cjf ries on 
the ^iu »s 
far as tlte 
line, ii\ ol^e- 
(liffnce to the 
ait'.lic 
ti\>oi\ Imt 
still reqviir- 
elh \-en- 



ThePolM 
Spirit's fel- 
low*ttje- 
mons. the 
invisiMe in- 
habitants of 
the element. 
take |Mtt in 
his wron;; ; 
anil tN^'O of 
them rekite. 
oite to the 
other, that 
pcn,\ito: 
lonj; Aw\ 
heavv lor 
the Aisii.nt 
M.u;;uth..:li 
been.t,x-orvl- 
<h1 to the 
IVlar Spirit, 
who return- 
eth south- 
ward. 



Sonu'timos ii-droinnii!; I'lviu tlio sky, 
I heavtt tho skylark siiij; ; 
SoiiU'timos all little Innls that iiio. 
How tlu"v scoiiuhI ti> till tlio st-a ami air 
With tlu'ir swoot J!\i>;i>niiii; ! 

And now 'twas like all instnmii'iits, 
Now like a loiioly llutc ; 
And now it is an augi'l's song 
That makes the heaviuis b« ninte. 

It ceastnl ; yet still tho sails mado on 

A plt>a.sjiiit noise till noon, 

A noise like of a hidden liivok 

In the leal'y month of , lime, 

That to the sleeping woods all night 

Singeth a ijuiet tnne. 

Till noon we unietly sjiiltHl on. 
Yet never a bive/e did bivathe : 
Slowly aiul smoothly went the shijs 
Movetl ouw^u^l from beneath. 

Under tho keel nine fathom deep, 
Fivm the land of mist and snow, 
The Spirit slid : and it was he 
That made the ship to ^o. 
The sails at noon left oil" their tune. 
And the ship stood still also. 

The Snn, right up alwve the mast, 
Had tixed her to the oeean ; 
Hnt in a minute she "gtni stir, 
AVith a sliovt nneasy motion ^ 
Baekwanls and t'ortttmts half her length 
With a short nneasy motion. 

Then like a jxtwing horse let go. 
She made a sudden V>oun>l : 
It flung the bloixl into my head 
Ami 1 fell down in a swound. 

How long in that sjune lit I lay, 
I have not to deelaiv : 
But eiv my living life ivturned, 
I heanl, and in my soul diseerni\l 
Two voiees in the air. 

' Is it he ?' ijuoth one, ' Is this the man! 
By Him who died on eross, 
With his cruel Kw he laid full low 
The hiu-mless AllxUivss ! 

The Spirit who bideth by himself 
In the land of mist and snow. 
He loved the bii\l th:it lovinl the man 
Who shot him ))rith his bow.' 



Tho other was a softer voiee. 

As soft us honey -dew ; 

Quoth he, • The man hath penance done. 

And penauce more will do.' 



FIRST VOICIl. 

' But tell .ne, tell me .' speak again, 
Thy soft ivsponse ivnewing — 
What makes that ship tlrivo on so fast ? 
What is the ocean doing !' 

SECONO VOICE. 

' Still as a slave Ix-foiv his lorvl. 
The ocean hath no blast ; 
His givat bright eye most silently 
Up to the Moon is cast — 

If he may know which way to go ; 
For she guiiles him smooth or grim. 
See, brother, see ! how gi-aciously 
She looketh down on him.' 

FIKST VOICB. 

' But why drives on that ship so fast. 
Without or wave or wind » ' 

SECOND VOICE. 

' The air is cut away before. 
And closes from behind. 

Fly, brother, fly ! more high, more high! 
I'^r we shall Iv Ivlated : 
For slow and slow that ship will go. 
When the Mariner's trance is abated.' 



TheMariner 
hath bcnn 
cast into a 
trance : for 
the anjfelic 
power caus- 
elh the ves- 
sel to drive 
northwarvt 
faster th,\n 
human life 
ci^uUt en- 
dure. 



I woke, anil we wore sjtiling on L'turaim^ 

.\s in a o;t>ntle weather : !"", "■"■,. 

^ tartte^l ; the 

'T was night, calm night — the moon Mariner 

^ awakes, ami 

his i^eitancc 
begins 



was high ; 
The dead men stootl together. 



All stood tog»>ther on the deck. 
For a eharnel-tlungeon fitter ; 
All fi.\ed on me their stony eyes. 
That in the Moon diil glitter. 

The pang, the curse, with which they 

ditnl. 
Had never (wsseil away ; 
I could not draw my eyes from theirs, 
Xor turn them up to pray. 

And now this spell wassnapt; once more Ji^n^j"^? 
I viewivl the ocinui given, "'^■ 

.\nd looked far forth, yet little saw 
Of what had else been seen — 

Like one that on a Uuiosome i-oad 
Potli walk in fear and dread. 



POEMS OF FANCY. 



8i39 



And, having once turned round, walks 

on. 
And turns no more liio liead ; 
Because lie knows a friglitlul licnd 
Doth close behind him Iread. 

But soon there breathed a winil on nie, 
Nor sound nor motion made ; 
Its path was not upon the sea, 
In ripjile or in shade. 

It raised my hair, it fanned my eheek, 
Like a meadow-gale of S|irinx — 
It mingled strangely with my fears. 
Yet it felt like a welcoming. 

Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship, 
Yet she sailed softly too ; 
Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze — 
On me alone it blew. 

O dream of joy ! is this indeed 

'^-i'i'm'^"' '"'"'" l'f?''t-l"'"*"2 top I see ? 
r"UimW. Is this the hill ? is this the kirk 1 
-country. Is this mine own countree ? 

We drifted o'er the harbor-bar. 
And I with .sobs did [>ray — 
let me be awake, my God ! 
Or let me sleep alway. 

The harbor-bay was clear as gla.ss. 
So smoothly it was strewn '. 
' And on tlie bay the moonlight lay, 
And tlie shadow of the moon. 

The rock shone bright, the kirk no less 
That stands alwve the rock ; 
The moonlight steeped in silentness 
The steady weathercock. 

And tlie bay was white with silent light, 
Till rising from the same. 
The angelic Full many shapes, that shadows were, 

•pints leave 

the derail In cniusoii colors came. 

bodies, 

juiri appear A little distancc from the tirow 

in their own . 

f-M-iin of I hose cnmson shadows were : 
" "■ I turned my eyes upon the deck — 

Chriiit ! what saw I there ! 

Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat. 
And, by the holy rood ' 
A man all light, a seraph man. 
On every corse there stood. 

This seraph-band, each waved his liand : 
It was a heavenly sight ! 



They stood as signals to the land. 
Each one a lovely light ; 

This seraph-band, each waved hig hand, 
.Vo voice did they imp.irt — 
.No voice ; but oh ! the silence sank 
Like music on my heart. 

liut soon 1 heard the dash of oars, 
1 heard the (lilot's cheer ; 
My head was turned peifoice away, 
.\iid I saw a boat apjieai'. 

The |iilot and the [lilot's boy, 
I hi'aiil them coming fast : 
Dear Lord in Heaven ! it was a joy 
The dead men could not bhist. 

I saw a third — I heaid his voice : 

It is the hermit good ! 

He singeth loud his godly hymns 

That he makes in the woo<l. 

He 'II shrieve my soul, he 'II wash away 

The Albatross's blood. 



The hermit 
of tile wood 



This hermit gooil lives in that wood 
Which slopes down to the sea. 
How louilly his sweet voice he rears ! 
He lovi.'S to talk with marineres 
That come from a far countree. 

He kneelsat nioni,and noon, and eve — 
He hath a cushion plump : 
It is the moss that wholly hides 
The rotted old oak-stump. 

The skifT-boat neared : I heard them 

talk, 
' Why, this is strange, I trow ! 
Where are those lights so many and fair, 
That signal made but now ? ' 



.Strange, by my faith ! ' the bennit Jf,fJJ^,'yp 

said — J^'h «<">■ 

Ami they answered not our cheer ! 
and 



see 



The planks look'd waqjed ! 

those sails 
How thin they are and sere ! 
I never saw aught like to them, 
L'nless perchance it were 



Brown skeletons of leaves that lag 

My forest-brook along ; 

When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow. 



S60 



rOEMS OK FANCY. 



The ship 
siKlitenljr 
sinlteth. 



And the owlet whoojw to the wolf Wlow, 
That c«ts the slie-woirs young.' 

' Pear l.oi\l I it hath .■» Iiendisl\ look 
Cl'he pilot niailo ivply) — 
I am a-lVart'd.' — ' Push on, imsh on ! " 
Said the hermit cheerily. 

The boat eaine closer to the ship. 
But 1 nor siwke nor stirred : 
The Ixwt came cUvse Wneath the isliiji. 
And straight a sound was he.ii\I. 

Tnder the water it nnwWed on. 
Still louder and mor* drv.id : 
It ivaclu'd the ship, it split the lv>y ; 
The ship went down like lead. 



Ttw Ancwnt Stunneil hv that loud and diwulful 

MAni\«r is ' , 

»vTv1 in lh« sounvl, 

'■ Which sky and ocean smote. 

Like one that hath K-en seven daj-s 

drviwned 

My Ixxiy lay alloat ; 

But swift a.s dreams, mj-self I fauml 

Witliin tlie pilot's boat 

ITjKin the whirl wher«> sank the ship 
The Kvit sjvin round .and round ; 
And all was still, Si»ve that the hill 
W.as telling of the sound. 

I moved my lii« — tlie pilot sliriekcvl 
And fell down in a lit ; 
The holy hermit i-ais<\l his eyes. 
And prayed where he did sit. 

I took the oars ; the pilot's boy, 

Who now doth crsiry go. 

Laughed loud and long; andall tl»e while 

His e_\-»>s went to and fix> : 

' Ha ! ha I ' quoth he, ' full pUin I see. 

The Devil knows how to row." 

And now, all in my own eountree, 
I stoovl oi\ the lirm laud 1 
The hermit stepjvvl forth I'lvm the ho.<it. 
And scanvlv he iMuld stand. 



Tht Anient • shrieve me, shrieve me, holv 

titsil}' ci\- maj» ! — 

hCTinit N. The hermit ojossed his brow : 

.nTthr (^J ' S;\y quick," quoth he, ' I bid thee 

*TiCt t^ lli> , 

Oabentiini »■''> — 

What msumer of mivn art thou > ' 



Forthwith this frame of mine was 

wrenoheil 
AVith a wofid .agtny. 



Which forceil me to begin my tale - 
And tl\cn it left me free. 

Since then, at an uncert!»in hour. 
That agviuy returns ; 
.\nd till my ghiistly t;de is tohl 
This heart within me burns. 

I jwss, like night, from land to land ; 
1 have St rangx' jniwer of sjkh-cIi ; 
That moment that his face 1 see 
1 know the man that must hear me — 
To him mv tale I teach. 



What loud upixxir bursts from that 

diwr ! 
The wedding-guests are theiv ; 
But in the g!>i\lcn-lKiwer the Bride 
.\nd bride-maids singing are ; 
.\nd hark the little vesj^r Ih'11, 
Which biddeth me to prayer ! 

AVeilding-tiue.it ! this soul hath been 
Alone oi\ a wide, wide sea — 
So lonely "t w!\s, that Gixl himself 
Scattte seemW there to be. 

O sweeter than the marriage-feiist, 
'T is sweeter far to me. 
To walk together to thf kirk 
With a goovlly comjvmy ! — 

To walk together to the kirk, 

.\nd all togt'ther pray. 

While each to his givat Father bi>uds — 

Ohl men, and Kilvs, and loving friends, 

.Vnd youths suut niaidens gay ! 

F.arewell ! farewell ! but this I tell 
To thee, thou Wed<liug-Ouest ! 
He prayeth well who loveth well 
IVith man and bird and lieast. 

He prayeth best who loveth Kist 
All things Kith grvat and snnvll ; 
For the de,w Inxi who loveth us. 
He made and loveth all." 

The Mariner, whose eye is bright. 
Whose Ivarvl with .agi- is luvir. 
Is gone. And now the Wcvlding-Guest 
Turned from the Bridegiwin's door. 



Anti cxxr 

Jtiiti an.Mi 
thrvHi^hi^it 
hi-, future 
liic m .\)^Miy 

(.-.MiMMin- 

cth hiui tv> 
tMvel fnMii 
tAiid to Undl 



and to te«ch 
by his o*« 

tort Ami 
rcx-etrnce to 
Jill Ihincv 
th«t C^yt 
in.i.)e And 
lo\«th. 



He \rent like one that hath been 

stunneil, 
.\nd is of sense forlorn ; 
.V s;>ddcr aiid a wisei man 
He rose the morrow morn. 

SAUl'EL TAVIOR COlERlPCt 



I'OEMS OK FANCY. 



Hill 



ALONZll 'I'llK l;i!AVF, AND Till', KAIK 
I.MOCINK. 

A WAiiitioit !o liiilil, anil ii vir^ii] nu liri^lit, 

CiMivcTM'tl us tlii'v Mit (jii lilt* (^rcon ; 
'I'lioy jji"'!'!! "» '''xli "tlii'i- will] trnilcr il>'li);lil : 
AIdiizu the Univu was ilic iiaiiu! of llic kiii^lit, — 
The iimiden's, the Fair Iiii(i|;iiie. 

"Anil ()," saitl llieymith, " siiicii IciTiioinivv 1 |,'(i 

'I'll li^'ht in a far distant hunl, 
YiMir tears lor my ahsciieu soon ceusiii;; u> linvv, 
Siiine other will court yon, anil yon will heslow 

( )n a wealthier suitor your hainl I " 

" ( >, imsh these snspieions," I''iiir Inio^int; saiti, 

" OtVensive to love anil tt) me; 
l''or, if yon he living, or if yon he deail, 
I swear hy the Virgin that mine in yonr steail 

Khali luishand of Imogine he. 

. " If e'er I, hy lust or hy wealth led aside, 

I Forget my Alonzo the Hrave, 

' Ood Knint that, to ])Uiush my falsehood and |ii ide, 
Your (;ho»t at the marriage may sit hy my side, 
May tax me with jjerjury, elnim me ns hride, 
And liear mc awny to the (;rave I " 

To I'alestinc; hastened the hero so hold. 

His love she lameiiteil him sore; 
Hut .searee had a twelvc^inonlh ila|iKed when, he- 

hidd! 
A haron, nil eovered with jewels and K"l'li 

Arrived at Fair Imogine's door. 

I His treasures, his |iresenls, his B|ini'iiiiis domuin, 
Soon made her uiilrue to her vows; 

lie dazzled her eyes, he hewildereil her hrain ; 

Me caught her afli'ctions, so li(;ht ami so vain. 
And carried her home as his s|)onsi'. 

And now had thi^ marriage luen hiest hy the 
priest ; 
The revelry now was hegnn ; 
The tallies they gronned with the weight of the 

feast, 
Nor yet had the laughter uiul nnrrimint ceased, 
I When the hell at the euntle tidied — one. 

Then (irst with amazement Fair Imngine found 

A stranger was placed hy her siile : 
His air was terrilie ; he uttered no sound, — 
He spake not, he moved not, he looked not 
around, — 
Uut earnestly gazed on the liriile. 

I lis visor was closed, and gigantic his height. 

His armor was sahle to view; 
All pleasure and laughter were hushed nt his 
sight; 



The dogs, as they eyed him, drew huek in affright ; 
The lights in the chaiuher huriuid hluii I 

His presem'e all hoHoms appeared to dismay ; 

The guests sal in Hilencii and fear ; 
Al length Hpake the hride, — while she licijihled, 

— " I iiray. 
Sir knight, that yonr helmet aside yon wnnid lay, 

And diMgn to partake of our cheer." 

Tlie lady is silent ; the stranger cotnplirn 

His visor he slowly unehiseil ; 
I) find I what a sight mirl Fair Imogiue's eyes I 
What wmiU i^in express her dismay and HUrpiise, 

When a skeleton's head was ex|iose(l I 

All priHcnl then uttered a terrified shout. 
All turned with disgnst from the seem' ; 

The worms they erejil in, and tlnr worms they 
crejit out. 

And sported his eyi^s ami his Irriiplcs ahiint. 
While till: spectre addressed Iniogine : 

" liehold me, thou false one, Inhold nie ! " ho 
cried, 

" Hememher Alonzo the Urave ! 
(loilgranlsthat, to iiiinish thy hdsehood and pride, 
My ghost at Ihy niiirriage should sit hy thy side ; 
Should tax thee with perjury, claim thee as hrido, 

.And hear thee away to the grave I" 

Thus saying his arms round the lady he wound, 
While loudly slie aliriekcd in dismay ; 

Then sniik with his |irey Ihruiigh the wide- 
yawning ground. 

Nor ever again was Fair Imogine foiiinl, 
< Ir the spectre that here her away. 

Not long lived the haron ; and none, since that 
lime, 

To inhahit the castle ]ircsuine ; 
For chronicles tell that, hy order suhlime, 
There Imogine siill'ers the pain of her crime. 

And inoiiriis her de]ilornhle doom. 

At midiiighl, four times in each year, does her 
sprite. 

When mortals in sliimher are hoiiiiil. 
Arrayed in her hridal apparel of white. 
Appear in the hall with the skeleton knight, 

And shriek as he whirls hor around I 

While they drink out of skulls newly torn from 
the grave. 
Dancing round them tlii! spectres are seen ; 
Their liipior is hlood, and this horrihle stave 
They liowl : "To the health of Alonzo tho Brave, 
And Ills consort, the Fair Imogine!" 

Maitio'w i;ui«;okv I.rwis. 



8G2 



IVKMS OF KAXOY, 



THK KINO OK THri.K, 

MAKvUKttr'y SVVSV. (N "KVVSV," 

TiiKKK was « kiiij; in Tliulo, 
Whs t!iitl>l\il till tlic jjravo, — 
To wlu>i» his mistix^ss, tlyiiig, 

Ka\ijjht w»s tv< Uim uum' piwious ; 
Ho iti-!«iu\l it at owry K»>t : 
Ills oyw with t<>«i-s rail ovw. 
As ot^ as ho ilniuk thonvut. 

Whon ^■wnio his tiiuo of I'yinjj, 
Tho tv<«»is in his hiinl ho toKl, 
Naiijiht olso to his hoir lioiiyiiijt 
hjciv).>t tlio gviMot of sv»Kl, 

Ho sat at tho rv\val l>ann«ot 
With his kiiijthts of hi^sh d«>STOo, 
111 tho U>t\y hall of his tatliors. 
In tho (.\»stlo by tJio S»>a. 

Thoro stvHxl tho old oaivusor, 
Aiivl ilrank tho last lifo-glow ; 
Aiul hurliHl tho hallowovl jv^Wot 
liit\> tho tivlo l>olow. 

Ho saw it I'hmjrfn}! and lilUiij^ 
And siiikiuj; d<vp in tho so«. — 
Thou toll his owlids for>'\i>r, 
Aud uo\-x>r inoiv drank ho. 

tUkMK >»' &(V.\K» TAYLOK. 



THK VHUAV^OniKKS SOAl.K^ 

A MOSK, whou his ritos saiTjtvlotal woiv o'or, 
In tho dopth t'jr his osll vrith its stxHHMrovowd 

tloor, 
Kosi^iinjj to thon^it his ohimorii-al l>rain, 
l^iiv-o t'oniu\l tho wntrivaiiiv w<' now sliall ox)\lain: 
l>ut whothor hy maijio's or aiohoniy's jvwvrs 
Wo know not ; indo<^l, "t is no Inisinoss of oufs^ 

IVrhajvs it was only by jwtioiu-* «iid v'arv. 
At lt»st, tliat ho hrvHijjht his iiiwntion to l>o«r. 
In wutli "t was i»t\\jtvt<\l, \mt y<Mi's stvJo away. 
And ovo >w»s vxmi^loto ho was \vrinklo«i and 

jjray : 
l>ut suv\'vvss is s<\Hm\ nnUxss onojjiv' fails ; 
And at loiijah ho i»i\>vUioti\1 n«K ruiu>si>rHKK's 

Sv-AIKS. 

•• What xTvjw thoy • ' yv>« ask. You shall jxtvs- 

ontlj- so# ; 
Thosio svoIm wow not u\«N» K> »\%h snjstf ajul t»«. 



I O no ; for suo.h ^u\^portios wondiwis had tlioy. 
That >iu;>litios, toolings, suid thovi^thts thoy could 

woi^h, 
Toj^>tlior with artiolos small or immouso, 
Kvvuu inouutains or planots to atoms of w<nso. 

X«Uj!ht was tlioiv s<> bulky but thoiv it wvuld lay. 
1 And naught so othomd hut tlioix> it wouM stay. 
[ And naught s^i ivhu-tant hut in it innst g\> ; 

All wliioli s»nno o.xanmlos nior<> oh\irly will sliow; 

Th« first thing ho woiglnnl was tho ho«d of Vol- 

tairv, 
Whioh rotaiuod all tho wit that had owr Uvu 

thoro ; 
As a wvight. ho throw in tho torn si-raj* of a loaf 
Containing tho |>raj-»>r of llio {vnitont thiol" ; 
Whon tho skull r«s»< aloft witli s\< suddon a sjvH 
That it Unuiooxl liko a ball on tho nx>f of tho o<-ll, 

Ono tiino ho jnit in Alo\-anvlor tho Or<>at, 

With tho gannoiit that l\u\-as had iiiado, for a 

wvight ; 
And though olad in armor IVom sandals to orv>wn. 
Tho hotv< i\»so ujs, aiul tho garuionl wvnt down, 

A long ivw of alinsliousos, amjdy ondow<sl 
I4y a woll-ostwHiKHl riiajisoo, busy and j>i\>ud, 
N#st h»»ilotl ono soalo ; whilo tho otlwr was 

l>rvisw>\l 
l\y th«v$(i mitos tho jxior widow dt\^n{>od into tho 

ohost : 
rj> How tho ondowniont, not wx-igliiug an vuuuv. 
And down, down tho farthing-wvrth oamo with 

a KniiKf, 

Uy t\irthor oxjvrimouts \no mattv'r hvw> 

Ho founvl that ton ohaiiots woigho^i loss than vmio 

ixlvuigh i 
A swoaI with gilt t(ai>(ting ros* xip in tho soalo. 
Though Iwlanivil by >vuly a ix-u-jvuuy nail : 
A sliiold and a holinot, a Inxoklor and sjioar, 
Woighoxl U'«s than a widow's unor.vstsvllia\l twur. 
A h«\l ,and a l,ady w\>nt nj> at t\ill sail, 
Whou a h«> chauo««l to light on tho oj»jx»sito 

Si-alo : 
T^fn d*'tK»rs, tvn law\-\'rs, tw» ovnirtiors, ono oarl. 
Tv>n >\Hinsollons" wigs, full of |vw\ior and ourl. 
All hoa|x\l in ono Iwlanoo and swinging fivui 

thonoo, 
Woigho<l loss than a fow grains of oauvUvr and 

sonso ; 
A liRst-wator diamond, with brilliants ly^irt. 
Than oiio gvy^l jvtato just w-ash#»l fr\>in tho dirt : 
Yot nv»t mountains of silvrr ai\d gold oonld sutliio 
Ono j>o(«rl h> iHitwx-igh, — "t was thk rsAKi ov 

«RKAT rtuvK. 



I'OliiMS OK l'.\.\('Y. 



so;! 



Last of nil, tlip wlu>lii worlil wiis liowli'il in iil tlii' 

Willi llic soul iifu lM'(-;f.;iu- In siTvi' I'm ii wi'inlil, 
Wji.'ii 111!' riiiiiuT s|iiiin^; iqi Willi Mil >.lriiiij{a I'ti- 

liiiir 
Tliiil il. iimilo II viist I'l'iil Mini iwi'iiiii'il 111 I III' null! 
Wlii'ii liiiliiiit'i'il In nil', il iisri'iiili'il mi lii^'li, 
Anil Niiiliul ii|i nliil'l, ii IiiiIIimiii in llii' nky ', 
Wliilr till' siiili' willi till' Miml ill "I Nil inif^litilv 

I'rll 
'I'lllll il ji'lkinl llir |i|liliisii|illi'l' iilll III' llIM null. 

JANU I AVI UK. 



'I'lIK XlcllTINli.M.K .\N|i i;l,n\V WiHiM. 

\ Niuni'iNii.vi.K, Hull nil iliiy ImiK 
Hint I'lii'iTi'il llli' villiinn willi liis siin^, 
N<ir ynl iil I'vn liis imln hilsimiihIi'iI, 
Niif Vdt wlloll nvi'llliili' wil.s rllili'il, 
Itrfjiin 111 I'lml — lis wnll lin iniKJil 
Till! ki'i'ii iluniiiiiilM 111' ii|i|ii'lili> : 
Wlii'ii, liiiilviii;; nifji'ily iiiiiiliiil, 
111' Kpii'il, I'm' nil', iiiuin llin uniuinl, 
A Hnnirlliiii^' sliiiiiii^' in llir iliiik, 
Anil UiH'W (111' ^;ln» ■wiiini liv liii i\mv\i ; 
.*<ii, Nlnii|iiii^' ilinvn I'l'iini liitwlliniii lii|i, 
III' lliiiiiglil 111 |iiil liiin in IiIh rni|i. 
Tim wiiini, Mttiiri' nl'liiH inli'iil, 
lliii'iin^'iiKil liini lliii.s, ijiiili' i'lni{iii'iil, 

" l)iil yiiii ailiniiii my liini|i," i|iiulli In', 
"Ah iiiiii'li iiM 1 yiinr ininslii'lsy, 
You woiilil iililiiii' III iln inn \vriinf{, 
Ax iiiiii'li iiH I 111 H|iiiil yiiiir snii^' ; 
Kill' 't. wiiM Uin Ni'ir-Hiinin I'liwiT iliviiin 
TiiiikIiI ynil 111 hIii^', iiinl inn In hIuiiii ; 
'I'lllll yiiii witli niiisii', I willi li^lil. 
Mi^lil lii'iiiiliry iiinl I'lini'i' Ilin iiif,'lil." 
Till' Mnii){»liir lii'iiril hit slnul iiriilinn, 
Anil, wiii'liliii); mil IiIh a|i|iriiliiillun, 
Hi'li'iisnil liini, iiM my slnry Ii'IIm, 
And liiiiiiit It Hiiii|ii'i' Hiininu'lii'rn i'Ikk. 



lAM I UVVI'I'U. 



TIIK I'l'lTIMKIKI) KKIiN. 

In a vnllny, I'l'iiliiiinN agn, 

(Iri'W a lillln I'l'in-li'iir, j,'ii'i' I himnliT, 

Vi'iniiiK ili'lii'iiln anil liliii'H liinilnr ; 

Waving wIll'll till' Wilnl l'll'|i| ilnwii sn lnw. 
liiiHlii'H lull, iiinl iiiiiNH, anil ^'I'iihi ^inw nninil il, 
riiiyl'iil Hiinlii'iinm ilailnil in ami rniiinl il, 
l)rii]iN iil'ili'H' slnli' in liy iiixlil, iiinl I'lnwiinil it, 
Hilt mi I'lllll nr man n'nr liml llint wiiy ; 
Kartli wii" yiiiin^;, iiml kri'iiin;.; Imliiluy 



Mnimlnl' llHlum nwain tlin nljnnl iiiiiln, 

.•^lali'ly I'iui'mIm wiivml lin'ir ^'ianl- lii'iini'lii'H, 
MiiiinliiiiiH liiii'li'il Un'irMiiiwy iiviilaiii'linH, 
Mamniiitli I'lnatilinH Hlnlkml iii'i'imn llin |i|iiiii ; 
Naliiin invi'lli'il in giaml niynlnrii'ii, 
Illll llin lillln I'l'l'll wiiH mil 111' lliiiiin, 
Mill mil niiinlii'i' wllll llin IiIIIm ami Irnnii ; 
Only Ki-nw anil wiivnil its wilil swnnt way, 
Nil nlln nilllln In nnln il iliiy liy ihiy. 

Klll'lll, lilIK lillli', |illl nil II Irulii' lilnnil, 

llnavi'il Uin I'links ami iliaii^'iil llin iiii;.',lily 

imilinn 
or llin ili'i'|i, strung' niin-nnls nl' tlin mniin ; 
Mnvi'il III!' jiliiin mill Hlinnk llin liail^'lily wninl, 
I'lnNlinil llin lillln I'l'iii in Hull iniiisl I'lay, — 
t'livninil il, ami liiil il sarnaway. 
O, llm Iniif-, lung nnnllirinH siiinn lliiil iliiy 1 
O, llin nllallgl'H I O, lil'n's liil Inr I'lisl, 
'Sinnn llial. iinnlnNs litlln li'iii was Insl I 

|l.snliiMH'f l.iislf Tlinrn I'liiiin a IliiiilgliU'iil iiinii 
.Snai'i'liing Natlirn's hi'i'Ii'Ih, I'mi' iiinl ilni'|i ; 
Ki'iim a IIhhiii'ii in ii innky nlni'|i 

Iln williili'i'W II Hliinn, ii'ni' wliinli llii'in nin 
l''iiii'y pi'iii'llliiigH, a i|iiainl ilnHigii, 
Vi'iiiings, Inal'iign. llliinH I'Iniii' ami linn. 
Ami tlin Inrn'H lil'n lay in nvnl'y linn I 

I Sn, I lliiiik, (iiitl liiilns wiiiin hiiiiIh iiwiiy, 
iSwni'lly 111 siirinisi' ns, llin IiihI iliiy. 

MAHV I.. IIUI.LllH IIHANCII, 



TIM'. I'O.MKT. 

Ill iiiiiitit, iii^ii, 

KliliAi'iii .'^iiiil 111' winin gi'nal I'lirpiisi', iliinninil 
Til Inink llm wilil illiiiiiliililn H|iai'i', 
Till sum pi'ii|iill>iliiin liiis linnii niiiiln 

Kill' llm ilivini inmissinii niipmruriimil I 

Wlial was thy nrinin '/ Aliiisiiniii',' niii 

VVnrii nut liinli' slni'ii mi I'lnlli lliiiii lliiim in 
liniivi'ii ! 

All llimi llm Spiiil nriinmi' .\w^r\ W'niM, 
Pm- giavn I'nlii'lliiHi liiinislmil IVmii lliy pni'is, 
('oilipi'llnil 111 wati'li llm I'lilin, iiiimmliil Hlai'H 
C.'irnling in rapliiin llin nnlnsliiil vniil, 
Wliiln llm iivi'iigi'i' rnllnws III lliy Irani 

Til Mplir limn nil In w I r! rlmilnnsH I'Ininn / 

Or nun 111' NiiIiiiu'h wililnsl fiinliisii'H, 
Kl'iim wliinli slm llli'H III Inniii- hii pinrmiml, 
Ami willi siinli wlili'l nl' Inriimnl in Imr liinaitt, 
Tliiil luiglily nai'lhi|mikns yiiwn wlmrn'ni' slm 

1 mails ; 
Wliiln Will' inilkns mil ils Innilil" riglil Inilnl. 
Anil l''iiiniuij Hliilks iilniunl all Iniiii ami wiiii I 



86i 



POEMS OF FANCV. 



To us thou art as exquisitely fair 
As the ideal visions of the seer. 
Or gentlest fiinoy that e'er floated down 
Imagination's bright, unruffled stream. 
Wedding the thought that was too deep for words 
To the low breathings of inspired song. 

When the stars sang together o'er the birth 
Of the poor Babe at Bethlehem, that lay 
In the coarse manger at the crowded inn. 
Didst thou, perhaps a bright exalted star. 
Refuse to swell the grand, harmonious lay, 
Jealous as Herod of the birth divine ■ 

Or when the crown of thorns on Calvary 
Pierced the Redeemers brow, didst thou disdain 
To weep, when all the planetary worlds 
Were blinded by the fulness of their tears ? 
E'en to the flaming sun, that hid his face 
At the loud cry, " Lama Sabachthani ! " 

Xo rest '. yo rest '. the very damned have that 
In the dark covincils of remotest Hell, 
Where the dread scheme was perfected that sealed 
Thy disobedience and accruing doom. 
Like Adam's sons, hast thou, too, forfeited 
The blest repose that never pillowed Sin ! 

So I none can tell thy fete, thou wandering 
Sphinx ! 
Pale Science, searching by the midnight lamp 
Through the vexed mazes of the human brain, 
Still fails to read the secret of its soul 
As the superb enigma flashes by, 
A loosed Prometheus burning with disdain. 

Charles S-vngster. 



SOXG OF THE LIGHTXIXG. 

" PVCK. I H put a girdle rMmd abcat the eaith 
In focty nuxnttes.' 

AAwat ! away ! through the sightless air 

Stretch forth your iron thread : 
For I would not dim my sandals fair 

With the dust ye tamely tread I 
Ay, rear it up on its million piers. 

Let it circle the world around. 
And the journey ye make in a hundred years 

I 'U clear at a single bound : 

Though I cannot toil, like the groaning slave 
Ye have fettered with iron skill 

To ferry you over the boundless wave, 
Or grind in the noisy mill. 

Let him sing his giant strength and speed ! 
Why, a single shaft of wine 



Would give that monster a flight indeed, — 
To the depths of the ocean's brine ! 

Xo 1 no • I 'm the spirit of light and love I 

To my unseen hand t is given 
To pencU the ambient clouds above 

And polish the stars of heaven ! 
I scatter the golden rays of fire 

On the horizon far below. 
And deck the sky where storms expire 

With my red and dazzling glow. 

With a glance I cleave the sky in twain ; 

1 light it with a glare. 
When fall the boding drops of rain 

Through the darkly curtained air ! 
The rock-built towers, the turrets gray, 

The piles of a thousand years. 
Have not the strength of potter's clay 

Beneath my glittering spears. 

From the Alps' or the Andes' highest crag. 

From the peaks of eternal snow. 
The blazing folds of my fiery flag 

Illume the world below. 
The earthquake heralds my coming power, 

The avaUinche bounds away. 
And howling storms at midnight's hour 

Proclaim my kiugly sway. 

Ye ttvmble when my legions come, — 

When my quivering sword leaps out 
O'er the hills that echo my thunder down. 

And rend with my joyous shout. 
Ye quail on the land, or upon the sea 

Ye stand in your fear aghast. 
To see me bum the stalworth trees. 

Or shiver the stately mast. 

The hieroglyphs on the Peftian wall, — 

The letters of high command, — 
Where the prophet read the tyrant's fall. 

Were traced by my burning hand. 
And oft in fire have 1 wrote since then 

What angry Heaven decreed ; 
But the sealed eyes of siufhl men 

Were all too blind to read. 

At length the hour of light is here, 

And kings no more shall bind, 
yor bigots crush with craven fear 

The forward maix'h of mind. 
The words of Truth and Freedom's rays 

Are from my pinions hurled ; 
And soon the light of better days 

Shall rise upon the world. 

George w. clttejl 



POEMS OF FANCY. 



865 



ORIGIN OF THE OPAL. 

A DEW-DROP came, with a spark of flame 
He had cauglit from the sun's last ray, 

To a violet's breast, where he lay at rest 
Till the hours brought back the day. 

The rose looked down, with a blush and fiown ; 

But she smiled all at once, to view 
Her own bright form, with its coloring warm, 

Eeflected back by the dew. 

Then the stranger took a stolen look 

At the sky, so soft and blue ; 
And a leaflet green, with its silver sheen. 

Was seen by the idler too. 

A cold north-wind, as he thus reclined, 

Of a sudden raged around ; 
And a maiden fair, who was walking there, 

Next morning, an opal found. 

ANONYMOUS. 



THE ORIGIN OF THE HARP. 

. "T IS believed that this harp, which I wake now 

for thee. 
Was a Siren of old, who sung under the sea ; 
And who often, at eve, through thebright billow 

roved, 
To meet, on the green shore, a youth whom she 

loved. 

But she loved him in vain, for he left her to 

weep. 
And in tears, all the night, her gold ringlets to 

steep. 
Till Heaven looked with pity on true-love so 

warm, 
And changed to this soft harp the sea-maiden's 

form. 

Still her bosom rose fair — still her cheek smiled 

the same — 
While her sea-beauties gracefully curled round 

the frame ; 
.\nd her hair, shedding tear-drops from all its 

bright rings, 
Fell o'er her white arm, to make the gold strings ! 

Hence it came, that this soft harp so long hath 

been known 
To mingle love's language with sorrow's sad tone ; 
Till thou, didst divide them, and teach the fond 

lay 
To be love when 1 'm near thee, and gi'ief when 

away ! 

THOMAS MOORE. 



ECHO AND SILENCE.' 

In eddying course when leaves began to fly, 

And Autumn in her lap the store to strew, 

As mid wild scenes I chanced the 11 use to woo, 

Through glens untrod, and woods that frowned 

on high. 

Two sleeping nymphs with wonder mute I spy ! 

And, lo, she 's gone ! — In robe of dark-green hue, 

'T was Echo from her sister Silence flew, 

For quick the hunter's horn resounded to the sky t 

In shade affrighted Silence melts away. 

Not so her sister. Hark ! for onward still, 

With far-heard step, she takes her listening way, 

Bounding from rock to rock, and hill to hill. 

Ah, mark the merry maid in mockful play 

With thousand mimic tones the laughing forest 

fill! 

Sir Samuel egerton Brydces. 



A MUSICAL INSTRUMENT. 

What was he doing, the great god Pan, 

Down in the reeds by the river ? 
Spreading ruin and scattering ban. 
Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat, 
And breaking the golden lilies afloat 

With the dragon-fly on the river ? 

He tore out a reed, the great god Pan, 
From the deep, cool bed of the river, 

The limpid water turbidly ran, 

And the broken lilies a-dying lay. 

And the dragon-fly had fled away, 
Ere he brought it out of the river. 

High on the shore sat the great god Pan, 

While turbidly flowed the river. 
And hacked and hewed as a great god can 
With his hard, bleak steel at the patient reed, 
Till there was not a sign of a leaf indeed 

To prove it fresh from the river. 

He cut it short, did the great god Pan, 

(How tall it stood in the river !) 
Then drew the pith like the heart of a man, 
Steadily from the outside ring. 
Then notched the poor dry empty thing 

In holes, as he sate by the river. 

" This is the way," laughed the great god Pan, 

(Laughed while he sate by the river !) 
" The only way since gods began 
To make sweet music, they could succeed." 
Then dropping his mouth to a hole in the reed. 
He blew in power by the river. 

* Declared by Wordsworth to be the best Sonnet in the English 
language. 



866 



POEMS OF FANCY. 



Sweet, sweet, sweet, Pan, 

Piercing sweet by the river ! 
Blinding sweet, gi'eat god Pan ! 
Tlie sun on the hill forgot to die. 
And the lilies revived, and the dragon-fly 

Came back to dream on the river. 

Yet half a beast is the great god Pan, 

To laugh, as he sits by the river. 
Making a poet out of a man. 
The true gods sigh for the cost and the pain, — 
For the reed that grows nevermore again 

As a reed with the reeds of the river. 

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. 



THE CALIPH AND SATAN. 

VERSIFIED FROM THOLUCK'S TRANSLATION OUT OF THE 
PERSIAN. 

jlir heavy sleep the Caliph lay. 
When some one called, " Arise, and pray ! " 

The angry Caliph cried, " Who dare 
Rebuke his king for slighted prayer ?" 

Then, from the corner of the room, 

A voice cut sharply through the gloom : 

" My name is Satan. Rise ! obey 
Mohammed's law ; awake, and pray ! " 

" Thy words are good," the Caliph .said, 
" But their intent I somewhat dread. 

For matters cannot well be worse 

Than when the thief says, ' Guard yonr purse ! ' 

I cannot trust your counsel, friend, 
It surely hides some wicked end." 

Said Satan, " Near the tlirone of God, 
In ages past, we devils trod ; 

Angels of light, to us 't was given 

To guide each wandering foot to heaven. 

Not wholly lost is that first love, 
Nor those pure tastes we knew above. 

Roaming across a continent. 

The Tartar moves his shifting tent, 

But never quite forgets the day 
When in liis father's arms he lay ; 

So we, once bathed in love divine, 
Recall the taste of that rich wine. 



God's finger rested on my brow, — 
That magic touch, I feel it now ! 

I fell, 't is true — O, ask not why, 
For still to God I turn my eye. 

It was a chance by which 1 fell. 
Another takes me back from hell. 

'T was but my envy of mankind. 
The envy of a loving mind. 

Jealous of men, I could not bear 
God's love with this new race to share. 

But yet God's tables open stand. 
His guests flock in from every land ; 

Some kind act toward the race of men 
May toss us into heaven again. 

A game of diess is all we see, — 
And God the player, pieces we. 

White, black — queen, pawn, — 't is all the same. 
For on both sides he plays the game. 

Moved to and fro, from good to ill. 
We rise and fall as suits his will." 

The Caliph said, " If this be so, 
I know not, but thy guile I know ; 

For how can I thy words believe, 
Wien even God thou didst deceive ? 

A sea of lies art thou, — our sin 
Only a drop that sea within." 

" Not so," said Satan, " I serve God, 
His angel now, and now his rod. 

In tempting I both bless and curse, -— ., 
Make good men better, bad men worse. ^ 

Good coin is mixed with bad. my brother, 
I but distinguish one from the other." 

"Granted," the Caliph said, "but still 
You never tempt to good, but Ul. 

Tell then the truth, for well I know 
You come as my most deadly foe." 

Loud laughed the fiend. " You know me well. 
Therefore my pmpose I will tell. 

If you had missed your prayer, I knew 
A swift repentance would ensue : 

And such repentance would have been ) 
A good, outweighing far the sin. ^ 




FROM "CORN." 

Look, out of line one tall corn-captain 

stands 
Advanced beyond the foremost of his 
bands, 
And waves his blades upon the very edge 
And hottest thicket of the battling hedge. 
Thou lustrous stalk, that ne'er inayst walk 
nor talk. 
Still shalt thou type the poet-soul sublime 
That leads the vanward of his timid time 
And sings up cowards with commanding 
rhyme — 
Soul-calm, like thee, yet fain, like thee, to 

grow 
By double increment, above, below; 

Soul-homely, as thou art, yet rich in grace 

like thee, 
Teaching the yeomen selfless chivalry 
That moves in gentle curves of courtesy ; 
Soul-filled like thy long veins with sweet- 
ness tense, 

By every godlike sense 
Transmuted from the four wikl elements. 
Drawn to high plans. 
Thou lift'st more stature than a mortal 

man's. 
Yet ever piercest downward in the mould 

And keepest hold 
Upon the reverend and steadfast earth 

That gave thee birth ; 
Yea, standest smiling in thy very grave, 
Serene and brave. 
With unremitting breath 
Inhaling life from death, 
Thine epita])h writ fair in fruitage eloquent, 
Thy living self thy monument. 

SiDNEV Lanier. 




FROM "WORDSWORTH'S GRAVE." 

Poet who sleeijest by this wandering wave! 

When thou wast born, what birth-gift hadst thou then ? 
To thee what wealth was that the Immortals gave, 

The wealth tliou gavest in thy turn to men ? 

Not Milton's keen, translunar music thine; 

Not Shakespeare's cloudless, boundless human view ; 
Not Shelley's flusli of rose on peaks divine ; 

Nor yet the wizard twilight Coleridge knew. 

What hadst thou that could make so large amends 
For all thou hadst not and thy ]}eers possessed, 

Motion and fire, swift means to radiant ends? — 
Thou hadst for weary feet the gift of rest. 

From Shelley's dazzling glow or thunderous haze. 
From Byron's tempest-anger, tempest-mirth. 

Men turned to thee and found — not blast and blaze, 
Tumult of tottering heavens, but jjeace on earth. 

Nor peace that grows by Lethe, scentless flower. 
There in white languors to decline and cease; 

But ])eace whose names are also rapture, power. 
Clear sight, and love : for these are parts of peace. 

William Watson. 



FRAGMENTS. 



867 



I chose this luiiiilileness divine, 

Borne out of fault, should not be thine, 

I Preferring prayers elate with pride 
\Tosiu with penitence allied." 

James Freeman Clarke. 



AIRY NOTHINGS. 

FROM "THE TEMPEST," ACT IV. SC. I. 

Our revels now are ended. These our actors, 
As I foretold you, wci-e all spirits, and 
Are melted into air, into thin air ; 
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, 
The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces. 
The solemn temples, the great globe itself. 
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve. 
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded. 
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stutf 
As dreams are made on, and our little life 
Is rounded with a sleep. 

SHAKESPEARE. 



PRAGMEXTS. 

Im.\oin.\tiox. 

Within the .soul a faculty abides, 
Tliat with interpositions, which would hide 
And darken, so can deal that they become 
Contingencies of pomp ; and serve to exalt 
Her native brightness. As the ample moon, 
In the deep stillness of a summer even 
Rising behind a thick and loftj- gi'ove. 
Burns, like an uuconsuming fire of liglit, 
In the green trees ; and, kindling on all sides 
Their leafy umbrage, turns the dusky veil 
Into a substance glorious as her own. 

The Excitnicfi, Book iv. WORDSWORTH. 

And, as imagination bodies forth 
The forms of tilings unknown, the poet's pen 
Turns them to .shapes, and gives to airy nothing 
A local habitation and a name. 

Jiftiisitmtrurr Xi^hr's Dreiint. Act v,Sc.t, SHAKESPEARE. 

for a muse of fire, that would ascend 
The brightest heaven of invention ! 

KiHg Henry V., Chorus. SHAKESPrAKE. 

Hark, hi.s hands the lyre explore ! 
Piright-eyed Fancy, hovering o'er. 
Scatters from her pictured urn 
Thoughts that breathe and words that burn. 

Progress 0/ Poesy. T. GRAY. 



Conception and Execution. 

We figure to ourselves 
The thing we like, and then we build it up 
As chance will have it, on the rock or sand ; 
For thought is tired of wandering o'er the world, 
And home-bound Fancy runs her bark ashore. 

Philip Van Artctelde. Part /. Act i. Sc. 5. SIK H. TAYLOR. 

Of its own beauty is the mind diseased, 
And fevers into false creation : — where. 
Where are the t'orins the sculptor's soul hath 

seized y 
In him alone. Can Nature show so fair ? 
Where are the charms and virtues which we 

dare 
Conceive in boyhood and pursue as men. 
The unreached Paradise of our despair. 
Which o'er-informs tlie pencil and the pen. 
And overpowers the Jiage where it W'ouhl bloom 

again .' 

Childe Harold, Cant. iv. BVRO.N. 



Cloud-Visions. 

A step, 
A single step, that freed me from the skirts 
Of the blind vapor, opened to my view 
Glory beyond all glory ever seen 
By waking sense or by the dreaming soul ! 
The appearance, instantaneously disclosed. 
Was of a mighty city, — boldly say 
A wilderness of building, sinking far 
And self-withdrawn into a boundless depth. 
Far sinking into splendor, — withont end ! 
Fabric it seemed of diamond and of gold. 
With alabaster domes, and silver spires. 
And blazing terrace upon terrace, high 
Uplifteil ; here, serene pavilions bright. 
In aveniu.'S disposed ; there, towers begirt 
With battlements that on their restless fronts 
Bore stars, — illumination of all gems ! 

The E.xetirsion, Boo/: ii. WORDSWORTH. 



The Mind'.s Eye. 

Ha.mlet. ily father, — inethinks I see my 

father. 
HoKATio. ! where, my lonl ! 
Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio, 

Hamlet, .4ct i. Sc, 2. SHAKESPEARE. 

On man, on nature, and on human life, 
Musing in solitude, I oft perceive 
Fair trains of imagery before me rise, 
Accompanied by feelings of delight. 
Pure, or with no unpleasing sadness mixed. 

The Excursion : Prelude. WORDSWORTH. 



SC8 



POEMS OF FANCY. 



But O, what solemu scenes ou Suowdon's height 
Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll ! 

Visions of glory, spare my aching sight I 
Ye unborn tiges, crowd not ou my soul ! 

7"*< BarJ. T. GRAY. 

Spirits. 

Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth 
Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep. 

fariMiitSf lifsf, Bwi iv. MlLTO.N. 

Spirits when they please 
Can either sex assume, or both, 

Can execute their airy purposes. 
And works of love or enmity fuldl. 

Faraa':se L^sr. B^vi i- MILTON. 

Worse 
Than fables yet have feigner!, or fear conceived, 
Gorgons, and Hydras, and Chimseras dire. 

Paradise Last, BooJt ii. MlLTO.N*. 

'T is the djinns' wild-streaming s^vami 
Whistling in their tempest-Hight ; 
Snap the tall yews neath the storm. 
Like a pine-flame crackling bright ; 
Swift and heavy, low, their crowd 
Through the heavens rushing loud ! — 
Like a lurid thunder-cloud 
With its bolt of fiery night ! 

TttelipHits, 7>aj«r. (fiTJ. L.O'SUt.UV.\N. V. HUCO- 

But shapes that come not at an earthly call 
Will not depart when mortal voices bid ; 
Lords of the visionary eye, whose lid. 
Once raised, remains aghast, and will not fall ! 

Ditm. WORDSWORTH. 



Ghosts of the De.\d. 

Macbeth. Thou canst not say I did it ; never 
shake thy gory locks at me. 

Lady M.u-beth. proper stuff ! 

This is the very painting of your fear ; 
This is the .air-dr:\wn dagger which, you said, 
Led vou to Duncan. 



Avaunt ' and quit my sight. Let the earth hid* 

thee! 
Thy bones are niaiTowless, thy blood is cold ; 
Thou hast no speculation in those eyes, 
Which thou dost glare with ! 

Hence, horrible shadow ! 
Unreal mockery, hence ! 



JJa<;Mh, Aet iti. ^V. 4. 



SHAKESPBARb 



And then it started, like a guilty thing 
Upon a fearful summons. 1 have heard. 
The cock, that is the trumpet xo the mom. 
Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat 
Awake the god of day ; and at his warning. 
Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air. 
The exti-avagant and erring spirit hies 
To his confine. 

HantUc. Aa i. ^-. I. SHAKESPEARE. 

This is the very coinage of your brain. 

HamJe: Act iU. ^c. 4. SHAKESPEARE. 

By the aiwstle Paul, shadows to-night 
Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard 
Thau can the substance of ten thousand soldiers. 

Kin^ KtcAara tU . Acty, Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE. 



Witches. 

B.\SQro. What are these. 

So withered, and so wild in their attire ; 
That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth, 
And yet are on 't ! 

The earth hath bubbles, as the water has. 

And these are of them. — Whither have they 

vanished ? 
M.\CEETH. Into the air, and what seemed 

corporal melted 
As breath into the wind. 

JfM^^tJk. Act i.Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE. 

Show his eyes, and grieve his heart ; 
Come like shadows, so depart. 



MacM*.Actir.Sc.t- 



SHAKESPHAES 



: look! 



Fairies. 



Macbeth. Pr'ythee, see there ! behold ! 
lo ! how say you ? 

[ They're fairies ! he that speaks to them shall die: 
The times have been, I "U wink and couch ; no man their sports must 
That, when the brains were out , the man would : eye. 

die, \ Mfrry lyrtres^iyiHds^. ActT.Sc.^ SHAKESPBARE. 

And there an end ; but now they rise again, I 

With twenty mortal murders on their crowns. This is the fairy land : 0, spite of spites ! 

And push us from our stools. We talk with goblins, owls, and ehish sprites. 

I C t wm 4 f ^Brwrs. Ac: li. Sc. & SHAKESPEARE. 



FRAGMENTS. 



8G9 



I took it for a faery vision 
Of somo gay creatures of the element, 
Tliat ill tlie colors of the rainbow live 
And play i' tli' plighted clouds. 

ComMs. Milton. 

Arikl. Where the bee sucks, there suck I ; 
In a cowslip's bell I lie ; 
Tliere I couch when owls do cry. 
Oil the bat's back 1 do fly 
After suuinier, merrily. 
Merrily, merrily, shall I live now. 
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. 

r/u Temftst, Act>i Sc. I. SHAKESPEARE. 

Puck. How now, spirit, whither wander you ? 

Faihy. Over hill, over dale, 
Thorough bush, thorough brier, 
< Iver park, over pale, 
Thorough Hood, thorough fire, 
1 tlo wander everywhere. 
Swifter than the moon's sphere ; 
And I serve the fairy queen, 
To dew her orbs upon the green : 
The cowsli]is tall her pensioners be ; 
In their gold coats spots you see ; 
Those be rubies, fairy favors. 
In those freckles live their savors : 
I must go seek some dewdrops here, 
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear. 

Midsummer Nishes Dream, ActW. Sc. i. SHAKESPEARE. 

Fairies use flowers for their charactcry. 

Merry Wives e/ Windsor, Act v. Sc. 5. SHAKESPEARE 



Water Sprites. 

Come unto these yellow sands, 

And then take hands ; 
Court'sied when you have, and kissed 

The wild waves whist. 
Foot it featly here and there ; 
And, sweet sprites, the burden bear. 
Hark, hark ! 

Bmcgh, wowrjh. 
The watch-dogs bark : 
Bowgh, wowgh. 
Hark, hark ! 1 licar 
The strain of strutting chanticleer 
Cry, Cock-a-doodle-doo. 

Full fathom five thy father lies 
Of his bones are coral made : 



Those are pearls that were his eyes : 

Nothing of him that doth fade, 
But doth sull'ei a sea-change 
Into something rich and strange. 
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell : 

[Burden] Ding-dong. 
Hark ! now I hear them, — Ding-dong, bell. 

The Tempest, Act i. Sc. i. SHAKESI'EARBi 

Sabriiia fair, 

Listen wliere tliuu art sitting. 
Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave, 

In twisted braids of lilies knitting 
The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair. 

Listen for dear honor's sake, 

Goddess of the silver lake, 
Listen and save. 

Cotniis. MILTON. 



Wood-Nymphs. 

Egeria ! sweet creation of some heart 
Which found no mortal resting-place so fair 
As thine iileal breast ; whate'er thou art 
Or wert, — a young Aurora of the air. 
The iiympholepsy of some fond despair ; 
Or, it might be, a beauty of the earth, 
Who found a more than common votary there 
Too much adoring ; whatsoe'er thy birth. 
Thou wert a beautiful thouglit, and softly bodied 
forth. 

Childe Harold, Caiif. iv. BVRQN. 

Quite spent and out of breath he reached the 

tree. 
And, listening fearfully, he heard once more 
The low voice murmur "Rhircus !" close at hand: 
Whereat he looked around him, but could see 
Naught but the deepening glooms beneath the 

oak. 
Then sighed the voice, " Rhcecus ! nevermore 
Shalt thou behold me or by day or night. 
Me, who would fain have blessed thee with a love 
More ripe and bounteous than ever yet 
Filled up with nectar any mortal heart ; 
But thou didst scorn my humble messenger. 
And sent'st him back to me with bruisid wings. 
We spirits only show to gentle eyes. 
We ever a.sk an undivided love. 
And he who scorns the least of Nature's works 
Is thenceforth exiled and shut out from all. 
Farewell I for thou canst never see me more." 

Rkoicvs. J. R. LOWELL. 



X i 1 




•^ 




i 







^ ^ 



"N**©^ 




1^,- 



FORMS or TRA(;in)Y. 



f^ 



\ 











POEMS OF TUAGEDY. 



irmOENEIA AND ACAMEMNON. 

IrilicjKNi'.lA, wlion slui limird licr (loom 
Al Aiilis, mid when iiU Imsidi^ Uui kiii^ 
lliiil giiiu! iiwiiy, took luH linlit Imiid, mid siiid ; 
■" () liilhur ! 1 mil young mid very liiippy. 
I do not tliiiik till! pious (.'alclms lutiird 
Dialiui'lly wlmt tlio froddcas .s|iukii ; old iiKii 
Otisciiros till' souses. If my iiiirso, wlio knew 
My voioo HO well, sometimes iiiisuinli^rstood, 
While I wiis resting on liei' knee botli miiis, 
And liittilig it to iimke liei- mind my words, 
And looking,' in her l'«ce, and she in mine, 
Miglit not lie, also, hear one word amiss. 
Spoken IVoni so fur olF, even I'rom Olympus I" 
The lather placed his elieek upon her head. 
And tears dropt down it ; but the kinj^ ol" men 
l!(!pli(!d not. Then the maiden spuke oiiiMi nioro : 
*' father I sayest thou nothing; 1 llearest thou 

not 
Me, whom thon ever hast, until this hour, 
Listened to fondly, and awakened mo 
To hear my voice amid the voii'c of birds. 
When it was inarticulate ns theirs, 
And the down deadened it within the nest ? ' 
lie moved her gently from him, silent still ; 
And this, and thi.s iilone, broiij^ht tears from her, 
.\lthouf,'h she .saw fate nean^r. Then with si}{lis : 
" 1 thouf,'lit to have laid down my hair before 
Hcni'^nant Artemis, and not dimmed 
Her polished altar with my viixin blood ; 
I thou^dit to have selected the while llowcrs 
To ph'a.se the nym|>lis, and to have asked of isaeh 
By name, and with no sorrowful regret. 
Whether, since l)otli my parents willed I lie change, 
I might at Hymen's feet bend my clipt brow ; 
And (aftiu' the.su who mind us girls tlic most) 
Adore oiir own Athene, that she would 
Ucgard me mildly with her azure eyes, — 
liut, father, to .see you no more, and Hce 
Your love, () fathiir ! go ero I am gone I " 
(iently ho moved her olf, and drew her back, 
Iteniling his lofty head far over lieiH ; 
And the ilark dc^pths of nature heaved and burst. 
Ho turned away, — not far, but silent still. 



She now first shuddered ; foi- in him, ho nigh, 
So long a silunco .si^iiined the approach of death, 
And like it. Once again she riiised her voice ; 
" () father ! if the ships are now delained, 
And all your vows move not the gods above, 
When the knife strikes mci there will be one prayer 
The less to them ; and purer can there bo 
Any, or more ferveni, than the daugliter's prayer 
For her dear father's safety and Huccess ? " 
A groan that shook liiiii shook not bis resolve. 
An aged man now entei'cd, and without 
One word stepped slowly on, and look the wrist 
Of the pale maiden. She looked up, and saw 
The lillet of the priest and italiii, cold (tyes. 
Thi'ii turned she where her parent stood, and cried : 
"() father I grieve no more ; llie ships can sail." 

WAl.ri'.R SAVntiK l.ANUOK. 



THE ROMAN FATHER'S SACRIEICE. 

I'KOM '* VIKGINIA." 

STUArciM IWAV Virginius led the maid 

A little space aside. 
To where the reeking shainbles stood, 

I'iled U]) with horn and bide ; 
Clo.sc to yon low dark archway. 

Where, in a (Crimson Hood, 
l,eaps down to the great sewor 

'I'lio gurgling Htroum of blood. 

Ilniil by, a llesher on a block 

Had laid bis wliiltle down : 
Virginius cauglit thi! whittle up, 

And hid it in his gown. 
And tlii'ii bis (lyes gri^w very dim. 

And his throiil began to swell. 
And ill a hoarse, changed voice be spake, 

" Farewell, sweet cliild ! Farewell I 

"O, how I loved my darling I 
Though stern I sometimes bo. 

To thee, lliou know'st, I was not 90, — 
Who could lie so to thee ! 



874 



POEMS OF TRAGEDY. 



And how my dailiug loved me ! 

How glad she was to hear 
My t'ootsteji on the threshold 

When I came back last year ! 

" And how she danced with pleasure 

To see my civic crown, 
And took my swoiil, and hung it up, 

And brought me forth my gown ! 
Now, all those things are over, — 

Yes, all thy pretty ways. 
Thy needlework, thy prattle, 

Thy snatches of old lays ; 

" And none will grieve when I go forth, 

Or smile when I return, 
Or watch beside the old man's bed. 

Or weep upon his vim. 
The house that was the happiest 

Within the Roman walls. 
The house that envied not the wealth 

Of Capua's marble halls, 

' ' Now, for the brightness of thy smile. 

Must have eternal gloom. 
And for the nuisic of thy voice. 

The silence of the tomb. 
The time is come ! See how he points 

His eager hand this way ! 
See how his eyes gloat on thy grief. 

Like a kite's upon the prey ! 

"With all his wit, he little deems 

That, spurned, bctniyed, bereft, 
Thy father hath, in his despair. 

One fearful refuge left. 
He little deems that in this hand 

I clutch what still can save 
Thy gentle youth from taunts and blows, 

The jwrtion of the slave ; 

"Yea, and from nameless e\-il. 

That ivisseth taunt and blow, — 
Foul outrage which thou knowest not. 

Which thou shalt never know. 
Then clasp nie round the neck once moi-e. 

And give me one more kiss : 
And now, mine own dear little girl, 

There is no way but this. " 

With that he lifted liigh the steel, 

And smote her in the side. 
And in her blood she sjink to earth, 

And with one sob she died. 
Then, for a little moment. 

All people held their breath ; 
And through the crowded forum 

Was stillness as of death ; 



And in another moment 

Brake forth, from one and all, 
A cry as if the Volscians 

Were coming o'er the wall. 
Some with averted faces 

Shrieking lied home amain ; 
Some ran to call a leech ; and some 

Ran to lift up the slain. 

Some felt her lips and little wi-ist. 

If lil'e might tliei'C be found ; 
And some tore up their garments fast. 

And strove to stanch the wound. 
In vain they mn, and felt, and stanched ; 

For never truer blow 
That good right arm had dealt in fight 

Against a Volscian foe. 

Wlieu Appius Claudius saw that deed. 

He shuddered and sank down, 
-Vnd hid his face some little space 

With the corner of his gown ; 
Till, with white lips and bloodshot eyes, 

Virginius tottered nigh. 
And stood before the judgment-seat. 

And held the knife on high. 

"O dwellei-s in the nether gloom, 

Avengei-s of the slain, 
By this dear blood I cry to you 

Do right between us twain ; 
And even as Appius Claudius 

Hath dealt by me and mine. 
Deal you by Appius Claudius, 

And all the Claudian line ! " 

So spake the slayer of his child, 

.\ud turned and went his way ; 
But lii'st he cast one haggsiiil glance 

To where the liody lay. 
And writheii, and groaned a fearful groan. 

Ami then, witli steadfast feet, 
Strode right across the market-place 

Unto the Si>cred Street. 

Then up sprang Appius Claudius •. 

" Stop him : alive or dead ! 
Ten thous;ind pounds of copper 

To the man who brings his head. " 
He looked upon his clients ; 

But none would work his will. 
He looked upon his lictors ; 

But they trembled, and stood still. 

And as Virginius through the press 

His way in silence cleft. 
Ever the mighty multitude 

Fell biick to right and left. 



PORMS Ol-' TRAGEDY. 



And lie liatli jiassed in safety 

Unto his woful lioiue, 
And tliere ta'en horse to tell the camp 

What deeds are done in Konie. 

Thomas Babington MAtAri.AV. 



LUCIUS JUNIUS BRUTUS OVER THE 
BODY OF LUCRETIA. 

I-KOM "BRU1US-" 

■Wiii-LD you know why I summoned you together 
Ask ye what brings me here ? Behold this dagger 
Clotted with gore ! Behold that froziMi corse ! 
See wliere the lost I^ueretia sleeps in death ! 
She was the mark and model of tlie time, 
The mould in which eacli female face was formed, 
The very shrine and sacristy of virtue ! 
Fairer than ever was a fonii created 
By youtliful fancy when the blood strays wild. 
And never-resting thought is all on fire ! 
Tlie worthiest of the worthy ! Xot the nymph 
Who met old Nnma in his hallowed walks. 
And whispered in his ear her strains divine, 
Can I conceive beyonil her ; — the young choir 
Of vestal virgins bent to her. 'Tis womlerful 
Amid the darnel, heinloc'k, and base weeds, 
■Which now spring rife from the lu.xurious com- 
post 

Spread o'er the realm, how tliis sweet lily rose, 

How from the shade of those ill-neighboring 

plants 
Her father sheltered her, that not a leaf 
Was blighted, but, ai'rayed in purest grace. 
She bloomed unsullied beauty. Sucli perfections 
Jlight have called back the torpid breast of age 
To long-forgotten rapture ; such a mind 
Might have abashed the boldest libertine 
And turned desire to icverential love 
And holiest affection ! my countrymen ! 
You all can witness when that she went forth 
It was a holiday in Rome ; old age 
Forgot its cnitch, labor its task, — all ran, 
And mothers, turning to their daughters, (M-ied, 
" There, there 's I.ucretia ! " Now look ye where 

.she lies ! 
That beauteous llowei', that innocent sweet rose, 
Torn up by ruthless violence, — gone ! gone ! gone ! 
Say, would you seek instruction .' would ye ask 
■VVhat ye should do ? Ask ye yon conscious walls, 
Which saw his [loisoned brother, — 
Ask yon deserted street, where Tullia drove 
O'er her dead fatlier's corse, 't will cry, Revenge ! 
Ask yonder senate-liouse, whose stones ai'e purjile 
With human blooil, and it will cry. Revenge ! 
Go to the tomb where lies his murdered wife. 



I And the poor queen, who loved him as her son, 
I Their unapjie.-ised ghosts will shriek, Revenge ! 
The temples of the gods, the all-viewing heavens, 
The gods themselves, shall justify the cry. 
And swell the genei'al sound, lievenge ! Revenge ! 

And we will be revenged, my countrymen ! 
Brutus shall lead you on ; Brutus, a mime 
Which will, when you 're revenged, lie dearer to 

him 
Than all the noblest titles earth can boast. 

I'.rutus your king !— No, fellow-citizens ! 
If mad ambition in this guilty flame 
Had .strung one kingly fibre, yea, but one, — 
liy all the gods, this dagger which I hold 
Shoulil riji it out, though it intwineil my heart. 

Now take the body up. Bear it before ns 
To Taninin's iialace ; there we '11 light our torches, 
And in the blazing conflagration rear 
A pile, for these ch.-iste relics, that shall simkI 
Her soul amongst the stars. On ! Brutus leads 
you ! 

JOH.N Howard 1'avne. 



ANTONY'S ORATION OVER THE BODY 
OF CESAR. 

FROM ■■JULIUS C/ESAR," ACT 111. SC. j. 

j Anto.ny. OmightyC-esar! dostthoulicsolow? 

I Are all thy conc|uests, glories, triunijihs, .spoils, . 

Shrunk to this little measure ?— Fare thee well. 

( To /lie people.) 
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your 
ears ; 
I come to bury Cajsar, not to praise him. 
The evil that men do lives after them ; 
The good is oft interred with their bones ; 
So let it be with Cffisar. The noble Brutus 
Hath told you Cai.sar was ambitious : 
If it were so, it was a grievous fault ; 
And grievously hath Ca>sar answered it. 
Here, under leave of R,rutus and the rest, 
(For Brutus is an honorable man ; 
So are they all, all honorable men,) 
Come I to speak in ( 'a;sar's funeral. 
He was my friend, faithful ami just to mc : 
But Brutus says he was ambitious ; 
And Brutus is an honorable man. 
II(^ hath brought many captives home to Rome, 
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill : 
Did this in Caesar .seem ambirious? 
When that the poor have cried, Csesarhath wept : 
Ambition shouM be made of sterner stuff: 
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious ; 
And Brutus is an honorable man. 
Vou all did see that on the I.npercal 



870 



I'OKMS tU' rUACKOY. 



1 Uiriw i>r<vsejited him » kingly la-owii, 

Wluoli ho iliil lliiioo riifuso ; \V!>s this miihitioii ? 

Yot linitus says ho was ambitious ; 

Anil, smv, ho is an honnnililo man. 

1 s(H>ak not to ilisiuwo what Toutus siwko, 

lUit hoiv I am to spoak what I do know. 

You all iliil lovo him onro. not without oauss • 

What oaiiso withhoKis you, thon, to mourn for 

him * 
t^ ju>l,i!inont, Ihoii art tUnl to brutish boa,<ts. 
Anil n>ou havo Uv;t thoir ivason I Iioar with u>o : 
My hoiirt is in tlio o>>lliu thoiv with I'tosar, 
And 1 must (wuso till it oomo Iviok to uio. 

liut yostoi\iay. tho woi\l of iVsiir might 
Havo stiH»l ajpiinst tho worUl • now lios ho tlioiv, 
And nono .so (Kmr to do him ivvoivnoo. 

mastoi-s ! if 1 wviv disjHisod to stir 
Yovir hoarts and minds to mutiny .ind iiigo, 

1 should do Urutus wivng, and Cassius wrong, 
Wlio. you all know, ar\' liouoi-.iblo nu'U : 

1 will not do thom wivug ; 1 nithor oho^vso 

To wnmg tho d«»d, tv> wivng niysolf, and you, 

Thau 1 will wi\u>g suoh houoitiblo mon. 

liut hoiv 's a {«ivhn\ont, with tho soal of iV'SJir, — 

I found it in his olvwot, — "t is liis w ill . 

Lot but tho oonimous ho.ir this tostamont, 

tWhioh. iwi\lou mo. 1 do not moan to ivad,) 

And thoy would J^^ andki.ss do;id I'a-sjir's wounds. 

And di|> thoir nankins in his s;>oi\\t bUHnl : 

Y<>i>, Ivg a hair of hiu\ for mouiory, 

.\nd. dying, montion it within thoir wills, 

Ut><)U>>athiug it, sis .■» rioh logaoy. 

Unto thoir issuo, 

4 Oiri/IKN. Wo 'U lu\»rtho will : iv^d it, Mark 
Antony. 

I'lriUKSs. Tho will, tho will! \n> will hwir 
t"a«,s;»r"s will. 

.\nt. Havo jwtiouvv, gontlo tVionds, I must 
not i>>ad it ; 
It is not nroot >\>n know how ^^os;^r lovisl yo>i. 
You arx> not wvHvi, you ar«> not slono.s. but u\ou ; 
.\ud, lH'ii\g mon, hoaring tho will of Oav<;>r, 
It will ii\Han\o you, it will mako you mad ; 
"r is gvHxl you know not that yon an< his hoii-s, 
Kor if you -should, 0, what would oomo of it ! 

■1 t'ir. Koad tho will ; wo 'II hoar it, .Vntoiiy ; 
You shall ivad us tho will, — IVsju's will. 

Ant. Will you 1h> jwtiont ' Will you stay 
awhilo • 
1 havo o'orshot m^-solf to toll tou of it, 
1 foar I wi\>ng tho honorablo n>on 
Wluwo daggors havo stabKnl iVsiir : 1 do ftNir it, 

4 OlT, Thoy w<'t\> traitoi-s : hvnioraWo mon ! 

OlT. Tho will ! tho tostamont ! 

3 Oiv. Thoy wore villains, munlotvi-s ; tho 
will ! rw»d llio will ! 



Ant. You will ooin])«l me, thon, to rwid Uw 
will ? 
Thon mako a ring alxuit tho oorso of iVsiir, 
.\nd lot mo show you hiiu that mailo tho will. 
Shall 1 do.soond 1 and will you givo mo loavo ' 

Ciri/.KNs. t.\>mo down. 

An r. Nay, pivss not so U)hiu mo : stand far oH". 

CiriKKNs. Stand Ixiok ; nuun ; lioar Kuk. 

Asr. If you havo toai's, luvjiiiiv to shod thom 
now. 
You all do know this nnuitlo : 1 ivmomlK>r 
Tho tii-st timo ovor I'avsar put it on ; 
"r was on » summor's ovoning, in his tent ; 
That day ho ovoivauu- tho Norvii ; — 
Look, in this plaoo ran Ca.ssiiis' dagg\<r thi\>ngli : 
Soo what a ivut tho ouvious I'asoa mado ; 
Thivugh this tho wollK'tovi^d lirutns stablnnl ; 
.\ud, as ho pUu'ktHl his oui^^od stool away, 
Mark luiw tho bloml of t"iV'.s;ir followod it, 
.\s rushing out of dooi's, to K' wsolvovl 
If Urutus so unkindly kuookod, or lui ; 
For Urutu.s as you know, was Oa'siu's angi-l : 
.ludgi\ you gvids, how doarly iVsjir lovivl him ! 
This W!>s tho imist unkiuvlost out of all ; 
Kor whon tho noblo Ca-sar sjiw him stal>, 
lugratitvulo, moiv stivug than traitoi-s' arms, 
i^^nito \-!»unui,shod him : thon bui-st his mighty 

hoart ; 
.\nd, in his mantle mnllling uj> his faoe, 
Kvon at tho Ki.so of Touiivy's stntua, 
Whioh all tho whilo ran bloinl, great Oa"s;>r foil, 
0, what a fall was thore, my oouutrymou ! 
riion 1, and you, and all of us foil down. 
Whilst bloiHly treason tlourishod ovor us. 
t\ now you woop : and, 1 jwreoivo, you find 
Tho dint of pity : those are gracious diM|>s. 
Kind souls, what, woop you whon you but Ivhold 
l>ur iVsar's vesture woundrti .' Lixik you here. 
Here is himself, marit-d, as you see, with traitoi-s. 

tuHxl friotuls, sweet friends, let mo not stir 

you up 
To sueh a sudden IUhhI of mutiny. 
They that havo done this diHsl are honorable ; — 
What j>ri\-!»te griefs thoy have, .ilas, I know not. 
That made them do it ; — they are wise and 

honorable. 
.\nd will, no doubt, with iv;i.sons answer you. 
I oomo not, friends, to sto;il away your luvuts ; 
I am no orator, .is Hrutus is ; 
Uut, as )vu know n\o all. a plain blunt msui. 
That love my IVieiul : auvl that thov know lull 

well 
That gave mo publio leave to sjHvik of him ; 
Kor 1 have neither wit, nor wonls, nor worth. 
.\etiou, nor utterani-o, nor the jx>wor of sjHHvh, 
To stir mens IJoovl : 1 only sj>eak right on ; 



I'OKMH OF 'I'HACKIiy. 



877 



I lull you tlint wliic:li yoii yoiiiwlv™ do know ; 

Show you SWC(!l (IiUHIU'k WOUinlH, |""M-, |"ii)I' 
lluilill IMOUtllH, 

Anil l)iil lli<-iM spciik for iiir ; Imt won: I linilus, 
Anil liruluK Antony, Uku'ii worn an Antony 
Woulit rullli! n|i your Hpirits, luiil put ii tonsil' 
In livery wonnit oi' ('ii;Hiir, tliiit hIiouM inovo 
Tlu: HtoniiH of Kuncr to riso in nmliny, 

Hon; is tho will, lunl iimlor (Ukmiv'h hi'iiI :-- 
To uvcry Uonnm oilizim Ini f,'ivi!H, 
To every sevi-ml man, Hnventy-tive ilraohina.s, 

2 CiT. Most nohli! CiLsurl — we'll reven^"' 

liin iloatli. 

3 <-'rr. O royal ('icsar I 

Ant. Hour ine with iratioiice. 

(Irn/.KNH. I'laoc, lio I 

Ant. Moroovifr, ho hath loft you all inn walks. 
His privato arbors, and now-phintod orchunls, 
On this side Tilior ; hu hath loft Ihoni you. 
And to your hoirs forovor, — common ploasurcs, 
To walk abroml, and rooreato yoursolvos. 
Hero was a (Jiesur ! when comes suoh anothor ? 

1 Crr. Never, nover ! — Come away, away ! 
We '11 bum his body in the holy plaeo, 
And with the brands (ire the traitors' houses. 
Take up tlio body. 

SHAKesi'I'.AKO. 



OTHELLO'S UKMORSE. 

PROM "OTHIiLI-O," ACT V. SC. 3. 

Behold, I have a weapon ; 
A better never did itself susluin 
Upon a soldier's tliif;h ; I liave seen the d.-iy, 
That, with this little arm and this good sword, 
I have made my way throiif^h more im|)odiujoiils 
Than twenty times your stop : - but, O vaiji 

boa.st I 
Who e.in control his fate ? 't is not so now. — 
lie not afraid, though you do see me woaponed ; 
Here is my journey's end, here is my butt, 
And very sea-mark of njy utmost sail. 
JJo you go back dismayed '( 't is a lost I'eai' ; 
Man but a lush against Othello's brea.st. 
And he retires : — where should Othello go ' ~ 
Now, how dost thou look now? ill-Htirred 

wench I 
Pale as thy smock I when wo shall inoet at coinjjt, 
This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven, 
And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl? 
Even like thy chastity — O, cursed slave I - 
Whip me, ye devils. 

From the pos.sossion of this heavenly sight ! 
Klow nie about in winds ! roast me in sulphur ! 
Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liipiid lire ! — 
iJesdemomi ! Uesdemona ! ilead I O ! O ! 

SUAKBSI'flAKfl 



THK KXKCUTION OK MONTItOSK. 

tJainirn Gralliini, Mrtri|liW iil Monlrohc, wiiH r«<;(:utr(l In I'.dill- 
I'lir^')), M'ty tfi, 1650, for an attciiiiit (•■ ovcfUirow tlie Coiiitiion- 
wd.illli, anil rc6tore CItarlctt 11.) 

CoMK hither, Kvan Cameron I 

Come, stand behind my knee — 
I hoar the river roaring down 

Toward the wintry soa. 
There 'k shouting on the mouiilMin-sido, 

There 's war within the blast - 
Old laocs look ujion me, 

Old forms go troojiing past. 
I hear the ]iibroch wailing 

Amidst the din of light, 
And my dim spirit wakes again 

Ujion the vorgi; of night. 



'T was I that led the Highland ho8t 

Through wild Ijochaber's snows, 
What time the ]>laidi'il clans ciime down 

To battle with Montrose. 
I 've told thee how the Southrons fell 

lioneath the broad claymore. 
And how wo smote the Camjjbell clan 

liy Invorlochy's shore. 
1 've told thee how wo swept Uundce, 

And tamed the Lindsays' ]irido ; 
lint never have I told thee yet 

How the great Murquis died. 

A traitor sold him to his foes ; — 

O deed of deathless shame ! 
I charge thee, boy, if o'er thou meet 

With one of Assynt's name — 
lie it upon the mountain's side, 

Or yet within the glen, 
Stand he in martial gear alone, 

Oi' backed by annod men -~ 
Face hiin us thou wouldsl I'aco the man 

Who wronged thy sire's renown ; 
liomenibcr of wdiat blood thou art. 

And strike the caililf down ! 

They brought him to the Watergate, 

Hard bound with liempon s])aii, 
As though they held a lion there, 

And not a 'fenceless man. 
They set him high upon a cart — 

The hangman rode below — 
Thoy drew his hands behind his back, 

And bared his noble brow. 
Then, as a hound is slipped from leanh. 

They cheered the common throng. 
And blow the note with yell and shout, 

And bade him pass along. 



878 



POEMS OF TRAGEDY. 



It would have made a brave man's heart 

Grow sad and sick that day, 
To watcli the keen, malignant eyes 

Bent down on that array. 
There stood the Whig west-countiy lords 

In balcony and bow ; 
There sat their gaunt and withei'ed dames, 

And their daughters all a-row. 
And every open winiiow 

Was full as full might be 
With black-robed Covenanting carles. 

That goodly sport to see ! 

But when he came, tliough pale and wan. 

He looked so great and high, 
So noble was his manly front, 

So calm his steadfast eye ; — 
The rabble ront i'orbore to shout. 

And each man held his bi'eath, 
For well tliey knew the liero's soul 

Was face to face with death. 
And then a mournful shudder 

Tlirougli all llie people crept. 
And some that came to scoff at him 

Now turned aside and wept. 

But onward — always onward. 

In silence and in gloom, 
The dreary pageant labored. 

Till it reached the house of doom. 
Then first a woman's voice was lieard 

In jeer and laughter loud. 
And an angry cry and a hiss arose 

From the heart of the tossing crowd : 
Then, as the Grteme looked upward, 

He saw the ugly smile 
Of him who sold his king for gold — 

The master-fiend Argyle ! 

The Marquis gazed a moment, 

And nothing did he say, 
But the cheek of Argyle grew ghastly pale, 

And he turned his eyes away. 
The painted liarlot by his side. 

She shook through every limb, 
For a roar like thunder swept the street. 

And hands were clenched at him ; 
And a Saxon soldier cried aloud, 

" Back, coward, from thy place ! 
For seven long years thou hast not dared 

To look him in the face." 

Had I been there with swoid in hand, 

And fifty Camerons by, 
That day through high Dunedin's streets 

Had pealed the slogan-cry. 



Not all their troops of trampling horse. 

Nor might of nuulfed men — 
Not all the rebels in the south 

Had borne us backward then ! 
Once more his foot on Highland heath 

Had trod as free as air. 
Or I, and all wlio bore my name, 

Been laid around him there ! 

It might not be. They placed him ne.xt 

Within the solemn Imll, 
Where once the Scottish kings were throned 

Amidst their nobles all. 
But there was dust of vulgar feet 

On that polluted Hoor, 
And perjured traitors lilled the place 

Where good men sate before. 
With savage glee came Waniston 

To read the murderous doom ; 
And then uprose the great Montrose 

In the middle of the room : 

" Now, by my faith as belted knight 

And by tlie name I bear. 
And by the bright St. Andrew's cross 

That waves above us there — 
Yea, by a greater, mightier oath — 

And that such should be ! — 
By that dark stream of royal blood 

Tliat lies 'twixt you and me — 
I have not sought in battle-field 

A wreath of such renown, 
Nor dared I hope on my dying day 

To win the martyr's crown ! 

" There is a chamber far away 

Where sleep the good and brave. 
But a better place ye have named for me 

Than by my fathers' grave. 
For truth and right, 'gainst treason's might, 

This hand hath always striven. 
And ye raise it up for a witness still 

In the eye of eartli and heaven. 
Then nail my head on yonder tower — 

Give every town a limb — 
And God who made shall gather them : 

I go from you to Him ! " 

The morning dawned full darkly, 

The rain came Hashing down. 
And the jagged streak of the levin-bolt 

Lit up the gloomy town. 
The thunder crashed across the heaven. 

The fatal hour was come ; 
Yet aye broke in, witli muffled beat. 

The 'larum of the drum. 



POEMS OF TRAGEDY. 



879 



There was madness on the earth below 

And anger in the sky, 
And young and old, and rich and poor. 

Came forth to see him die. 

Ah God ! that ghastly gibbet ! 

How dismal 't is to see 
Tlie great tall spectral skeleton. 

The ladder and the tree ! 
Hark ! hark ! it is the clash of arms, — 

The bells begin to toll, — 
" He is coming ! he is coming ! 

God's mercy on his soul ! " 
One last long peal of thunder, — 

The clouds are cleared away. 
And the glorious sun once more looks down 

Amidst the dazzling day. 

" He is coming I he is coming ! " 

Like a bridegroom from his room 
Came the hero from his prison 

To the scafl'old and the doom. 
There was gloiy on his forehead, 

There was lustre in his eye. 
And he never walked to battle 

More proudly than to die. 
There was color in his ^nsage. 

Though the cheeks of all were wan ; 
And they marvelled as tliey saw him pass, 

That great and goodly man ! 

He mounted tip the scaffold, 

And he turned him to the crowd ; 
But they dared not trust the people, 

So he might not speak aloud. 
But he looked upon the heavens. 

And tliey were clear and blue. 
And in the liquiil ether 

The eye of God shone through : 
Yet a black and murky battlement 

Lay resting on the hill. 
As tliough the thunder slept within, — 

All else was calm and still. 

The grim Geneva ministers 

With anxious scowl drew near, 
As you have seen the ravens flock 

Around the dying deer. 
He would not deign them word nor sign. 

But alone he bent the knee • 
And veiled his face for Christ's dear grace 

Beneath the gallows-tree. 
Then, radiant and serene, he rose, 

And cast his cloak away ; 
For he had ta'en liis latest look 

Of earth and sun and day. 



A beam of light fell o'er bim. 

Like a glory round tiie shriven. 
And he climbed the lofty ladder 

As it were the path to heaven. 
Then came a flash from out the cloud, 

And a stunning thunder-roll ; 
And no man dared to look aloft, — 

Fear was on every soul. 
There was another heavy sound, 

A hush, and tlien a groan ; 
And darkness swept across the sky, — 

The work of death was done ! 

William Edmondstou.ve Avtoun, 



GOD'S JUDGMENT ON A WICKED 
BISHOP. 

[Hatto. Archbishop of Mentz, in the year 914, barbarously mur- 
dered a number of poor people to prevent their consuming a por- 
tion of the food during that year of famine. He was afterwardi 
devoured by rats .in his tower on an island in the Rhine. — Oid 
Legend-'\ 

The summer antl autumn had been so wet. 
That in winter the corn was growing yet : 
'T was a piteous sight to see all around 
The grain lie rotting on the giound. 

Every day the starving poor 
Crowded around Bisliop Hatto's door ; 
For he had a plentiful last-year's store. 
And all the neighborhood could tell 
His gi-anaries were furnished well. 

At last Bishop Hatto appomtcd a day 

To quiet the poor witliout delay ; 

He bade them to his great barn repair. 

And tliey should have food for the winter there. 

Rejoiced the tidings good to hear, 
Tlie poor folks flocked from far and near," 
Tlie gieat barn was full as it could hold 
Of women and children, and young and old. 

Then, when he saw it could hold no more. 
Bishop Hatto he made fast the door ; 
And whilst for mercy on Christ they call, 
He set fire to the barn, and burnt them all. 

" V faith 'tis an excellent bonfire ! " quoth he ; 
" And the country is greatly obliged to me 
For ridding it, in these times forlorn. 
Of rats that only consume the corn." 

So then to his palace retumkl he. 

And he sate down to supper merrily. 

And he slept that night like an innocent man : 

But Bishop Hatto never slept again. 



sso 



roKMs OK ruMUun. 



Ill thi» iiuwniii^ «s h« ontfuM tli* Wl, 
Wlu'rt> his jnotuiv liiiuj; a^ust tlio wall, 
A swMt Uko tUvtih ,iU ovvr him cauio. 
For the rats hiid <«t»n it out rf tlu> fmm*. 

As ho hv>krtl, thorx< v\iii><> * in.iii fivm his fanu, — 
He h.vl * cvviutousiuv whito with Alarm ; 
•■ My U<rvi, I invutsi your j;ranari<<s this morn, 
Aiul tho rats had tsittni all your i\>rn," 

Another o*m<> niuniuj; jMx'soutly, 

Aiul he WHS ivJe as jwle ivuUl l>e, 

'" Fly ! my lorvl hislioj\ fly ! " ijuoth he, 

"Ten thousjuivi rats are »MUiiivj; tJiis way, — 

The lAxrvi foryivo yvni fvir yesterday ; " 

" 1 'U ,>;»> tv^ my tower in the Rhine," ivplietl he ; 
""Tis the safest i>lavv in Oeriiiany, — 
The walls arx' hij;h, ;uul the shorxs ai\> ste<'j». 
And the tivle is strvmg, and the water lUviv" 

Bishop llatlo fixarftilly h»steuetl away : 
Ami he erv>sse»l the Khine withvMit delay. 
An»l reai'hevl his tviwer. ;uul Ivirrwl with can? 
All the windows, dvvirs, aiid Ux>ivlu\les theti\ 

He laid him d>>w« and elose^l his ey«s. 

But s<wn a sv'ream made him arise ; 

He startevl, aiid saw t«v eyws of tlaiiie 

On his pllow. fKun wheinv the screaming osune. 

He listene>l and Uv^kevl, — it was only the eat ; 
Ihit the bishop lie j;rx-w more fearful for that. 
For slie sate ser<\uniug, mad with ft\ir. 
At the anny ol rats that «vrv drawing near. 

For they hav* swum over the riv*r so vleejs 
And they have eliniKM the sliotvs so stei'jv 
And now by thousands up they crawl 
To the hiUes and the windows in the wall. 

IViwn on his knees the hishop fell, 

.\nd faster and taster his l^eads did he tx'll. 

As louder and louder, drawiiij; iu<ar. 

The saw itf their te«>th without he eouM hear. 

And in at the windv^ws. and in at the door. 
And thr^Migli the walls, by thvwsands they jxiur ; 
And vlown frvwi the eeiliug and up through the 

floor. 
From the riglit ajid the let*. (W»in behind aiul 

before, 
Fnmi within and vrithvMit, (Wan abovf aiul be- 

K«v, — 
And all at once to the bishop they go. 

They have whettinl their twth .^gainst the stvines. 
And now they piok the bishop's K>n<>s ; 
They gnawe\J the tlesh frvxm every liniK 
For they were sent to do juvlgment im him : 

# KowcKT socrxsv. 



THK SACK OF BALTIMORE, 

[K»htm,vr is x >m)iU «Mt>Mt m tl*« l*nf\>iVY ol' C«rb«nr. i» SMrtIr 
Munavf. It nxrw u|>«rv>uthl « .-juxk ,vi' ^vv^n-\\.^^il^v *ovi xr»s. »ft*r 
hisntiu. ,^^*l^»l«^^ t>T ttw b'l^luj). l>n the cv'th ,>f tuiw. leji. IW 
«.■»** .>l" t*v At^vtnt^ sat»*>7i Un,-lr,t in ttw ,***,» .m" ihc n^t. 
»t:k«,l »!»♦ hiw«. uttA N>*T .vd" inw >i]i«Yiy «U who wrir «.>< uv .*!, 
0* tvv^ ^(v^na:. v* tw lt«v«. l\v thru ^HttiNvw. Th.- i-n-vtr* «t<v 
«««*re\l »tj^ tli* iiittKJtt? .-KakikI hr ,M\r llAvkctt, it l>iinv»o*»i «>h- 
wwwiti. wtKMti th«y hAj taken «t w« ^>» the l>4Mivv« V*,^ y««r» 
>fttr,he««s,x<«<n,-te\UNrih<a<n>e«ii4en<in*,l. KtilltaKvi! never 
iecov«ir\l tK>«» this.) 

Thk sumiut'r sun is falling soft t\n Carlvry'* 

liuudnsl isles. 
The suuiiner sun is gUvuniiig still thrvnigh 

Gabriel's rough iletilt>s, — 
Old luislierkin's i-runiW»>l fane looks like a 

luoulling bii\l ; 
And in a ealin and sle«py swell the (K>»an tide is 

ht>ar\l : 
The hookers lie u|xui the beach ; the chihlren 

cease their play ; 
The gossij^ U\ive the little inn ; the housvhohls 

knetd to pray : 
And ftill of love and i<eace and n<st, — its daily 

lalvr o'er, — 
Tpou that t\wy cwek there lay the town of Balti- 

motv. 

A vleei>er i*st, a starry trance, has come with 

midnight there ; 
Xo sound, except that throbliing wavx<, in t\irth 

or sea or air. 
{ The massive caj>»>s suid niiiuxi towers seem c\ni- 
I scions of the calm ; 

The filxrvius stxl and stunttnl trees are brtvtthiiij; 

heavy lialni. 
So still the uiglit, thtvse two long Ivu-ks round 

Dunashad that glitle 
Must tn.st their oars — niethinks not few — 

ajpunst the ebbing tide, 
O, some sweet mission of true love must urg» 

thtMU to the sliore, — 
They bring .<ome lowr to his bride, who sighs in 

Baltimore ! 

All, all aslwp within t>«ch roof along thai rvvky 

street. 
And th«^> must Iv the lover's fHeuds, with gen- 
tly gliding teet. 
A stifles! gasp : a drvamy noise ! The rot>f is in 

a tlame ! 
Flv>m tnit their Kxls, and to their tUx>rs. nisli 

niaiil autl sire and danioi. 
And meet, ujxmi the threshold stone, the ^t»am- 

ing sabre's fall. 
And <i'er each black .«id bearded <ace the whittf 

i\r crimson shawl. 
The J^''ll of " .\ll,<h : " breaks «bow the jirayer 

and shriek .ind txwr — 
WessM CW ! the .\lgerine is loid of Baltimore ! 



I'OKMS or 'I'llAliKDY. 



KK| 



Tliitii (IiiiiK till) yiiiitli liiH imkcd liuiiil n;,'rtliiHt. tlio 
hIii'iiI'Iiij^ HWiinl ; 

TlUitl Hpl'llllK III" lllllllll'l' IJIl llli' Li'Illlll willi vvliirli 

liiir Null wiM ni»m\ ; 
Thmi Niink llm ^rainlsiru on liin Hum; liiM^miiil- 

IihIk^m <;1u(. riling wild ; 
'riioii Med tlin iimidi'ii inuiiiiiii;^ fuiiit, iiii<l iiciitli'd 

wilh llm (diild. 
Hilt mic, yoii ]iiniUi Hlniiif^liiif; limi, icnd I'liinln'il 

with Hiiluxliiiif; lici'l, 
Wliilo o'er liiiii in iiii Irinli Imnil (linrii HWri'pM liin 

Hyniiii Htiiid ; 
Thoiiffli vii'tiiii Hiiik, and I'lnuii^'ii I'liil, iind niiMTii 

yicdd tlicir hUii'h, 
There 'm i/nr hiMirth well avi^iigi^d in lln: i.ack ul 

liiiltiiiioi'ii ! 

Midsuinnii'i' rnnin, in woddliind iii;.;li, lln' liiidH 

lii'gin t(i Hiiig ; 
Tlicy Hi'i) not now tins niilkin;<-iniuiln, di'Mi'ili'il in 

tliii H|)rin){ ! 
MidHiiniiiior diiy, this f^iilliuit lidi'H I'roni distant 

Kimdon'H town, 
Tlwuo liookfi'K rroM.s(td froni Ht<jrniy Skull, I hal 

Hkill' f'nini Alladinvn. 
Tliry only found ihii Hiiioking walls with nci^li- 

Iioi'm' l;lood hi^Hpriuit, 
And on tin; Htniwod and tnini|>l<'d Innrh jiwhil" 

thi'y wildly wiiiit, 
Thru diLslii'd to Hi;ii, and jaiHHod (Jji{h; (Irai', and 

HIIW, liV(! lr^a^;UCH llld'oH!, 

Till) iiiratir-gallnyH vanishing that ntvajjid I'.idli- 
moro. 

0, Honio inudt tug till) gaUry's oar, ami hoiuii 

innst lend thr stiMid, 
TlUH hoy will hear a Schi'ik's i-hihouK, and lliat 

II Hciy'h jrrn^od. 
0, Homo an) for tho iirHoiialH hy h('aiitcoim I)arda- 

nollen, 
Ami Boimr an) in Iho canivan to Mcccii'h sandy 

dolls. 
Th» Iiiiiiil that Itaiidon gallant sought is dIiosi'Ii 

for tho Hoy, 
Shu 'h Niifo, — shu'sdcad, — sho stahlu'd him in [ 

till) iniilst of his Sonti ; i 

And whon to dio a ih'alh of tiii' that nohli' iiiaiil 

they hol'i', I 

Sill) only suiili)d, - O'DrisDoll'n rhild, — hIid 

thought uf Iliiltiiiioi'ii. I 

"r is two long yDurs Hiiico sunk I ho town Iioiu'ath 

that hloody hiiml, 
Ami all around its tianijilod hoarlhs a laigor 

ooiiDoiii'Hi! Htnnd, 
Where high upon a giillowK-troe a yelling wroteli 

is HDCIl, — 



"P is Iliirkett of nungarvaii, — hn who hIi'i'IwI 

III!) AlgDrlni' ! 
lie foil amid a Hiilli'iMdiiiiil, wil h rii'iii'DiMi passing 

pniy.r, 
{''or hi- had slain I ho killi and kin ot niiiiiv a 

hnmln'il IIhtd : 
Soiiii) niutliu'i'il of Mai)Morrogh, ulm lual hroiight 

till) Norman o'er, 

Sonii) Dursi'd him wilh Iscariol, that day in llul- 

tinioK'. 

'inuMAH Davis. 



rAIIIillASillW. 

I'AliluiAHiiiM stood, gazing forgotfully 
Upon Iho ninvas. 'I'liDrii I'roim'lliinis lay, 
I'liaiiiDil to till) I'old rorks of Mount ( 'auiasiis, 
Till) viillnri) lit his vitals, ami Hid links 
of till) lanii) I.Dniniiin fi'stiuiiig in his lli'sh { 
Anil, as till) paiiiti'i-'s niiml felt Ihroiigh tliii dim 
llapt myslDi'y, and plneki'd tliD hIiihIows forth 
With its far-ri'ai'hiiig faiiey, ami with form 
Ami Dohir elad tliMin, his linn, earmist oyi) 
I'Mnshi'd with a piissionati) llri', and tlieipiii'k riirl 
of liis thin nostril, and his i|uivi'riiig lip, 
VVi-ri) liki) till) wingiid god's hri)atliiiig i'roni IiIh 
flights. 

" liring nil) thi) eaptlvi) now I 
My hand I'ddIs skilful, and thi) sImdowH lift 
l<'i'oin my waked spirit airily and swift ; 

And I eould jiaiiit the liow 
Upon the hended heavens, -aroiiml iin- play 
(-'olors of sneli divinity to-day. 

" Ila I hind him on his liaek I 
Look I UN Proinethens in my pietiiri) hero ; 
'.hiiek, --or he laints I -sland with the eoi'dial 
near ! 

Now, — heiid him to the niek ! 
TreHS down the poisoned links into his (lesli ! 
And tear agajie that healing wound afresh ! 

" Ho, ^ let him writhe ! How long 
Will helivelhiiK? t^iiiek, my good peiieil, now? 
What a (iiie ugony works uiioii his hrow ! 

Ila ! gi'iiydiaired, and so strong I 
How fearl'iilly he stilles that short moan ! 
(jods I if I eoulil hut paint ii dying groan I 

" I'ity thee ! BO I do ! 
I pity the diinili vietim at the altar, 
lint does the roheil priest for his pity fuller f 

I 'd raek thee, though I knew 
A thonsainl lives weie perishing in thine ; 
What were ten thousand t)i a fiime like mine? 



882 



roKMs OK ruAOKin. 



" Ah I thwv 's « (twtthW-i name ! — 
A sini'it that tho smotlioiiiij; vaults shall s)n\in. 
Ami, likt< tt sItMtlfast |>lt)iift, iitount tiiul luiiii : 

Ami tlioHjjli its oix>wn of lluiiu' 
Oiyisumoil my bmiu to rtslios us it shono, 
Hy all tlu> tiory stai-s, 1 M luml it lUi ! 

"Ay! tho>vs;li it bill mi> ritlo 
My luy>rfs Uist iVumt tor its iusiitiato tlurst. — 
Thoiijth evory litV-^itriuij; iipcvo Ih> msildoiuHl 
lii-st, — 

'rUoiijth it !jl\ouUl hill «><> stillti 
Thf ywiniiii^ in my Ix-nit lor my s\v«>t ohiUl, 
Ainl taunt its luothor till luy brain wont wiUl, — 

" All. — I xvouUl do it all. — 
Svvm'r than (li>>, liko a dull worm, to iv>t 
Tlu'ust foully in tlio «>artU to Iv forgvit. 

O H«>vons ! — but 1 ai>jv'>ll 
Your heart, old man ' — foivivo — ha ! on vour 

lives 
Lot hiiu not faint ! raok him till ho ivvivos ! 

" Vain, — N-ain, — ,Rivo o'or. His oy<> 
t>lar>>s aj\«t>. Hod>H<s not fool yon now, — 
Stand baok I I 'II jwiut tho dt-ath-\lo\v on his luwv ! 

D^hIs ! if ho do not dio, 
Hut for ouo momout — ono — till I wlijise 
t.'onooj>tion with tho si\>rn of thoso oalm li|>s ! 

" iShivorii\»! ! Hark! ho muttors 
liivkoiily now, — that was a dilfioult brvath, — 
Another ( Wilt thou never ivmo, O IVath ? 

I.oiik ! how his temple llutters ! 
Is his heart still ! Alia I lift up his head ! 
Ho sliuddei's, — gsksfvi!, — Jovo help him ! — so, 
— he "s d«v>d I " 

How liko a mountinj; devil in the heart 
Kules the univintni ambition I Lot it oiu"# 
lint !>lay tho monaivh. and its hauj;hty brvnv 
t'.lows with a Iwouty that Ivwilders thought 
And uutluvuos i>oaiv foivver. IMttinj; »>u 
The very (vn\p of Lueifer, it turns 
■The hwrt to aslies, and with not a s)>rtnj; 
l.ot\ in the Kv!<.im for tho spirit's lijs 
Wo KK>k ui\ui our sjJondor, aiivl for^t 
The thirst of which w* porisl\ ! 

NvrUANIIU. r.AKKKK WllllS 



A DAO.OKR OK THK MIXD. 

FKOU **MAC»KTH,* ACT It. Sv\ i. 
tN« i«u^ of A .Ijii^^Vf ttt tb« Air. aikI thu> ^v^tKxutJ^n, 

Is this a dag^r which I so* holVuv mo, 
Tho handle tow!U\l luy hand t Ooauo, lot mo 

dutch thoo : — 
1 luivo tluv not, iuid yet I s^ thiv stiH. 



I Art thou not, fatal vision, sonsiblo 

To fivlinj; as to sij;ht ' or art thou but 

A dujQ^-r of tho mind, a false oii>jition, 

IVvtwliuj; f>vm the heat-opi>ivsst''d brain t 

1 stv tlnv yet, in fvuin as (vidivible 

As this which now I draw. 

Thou nuM-shal'st me tho way that I was soing ; 

And such an iiistvument I was to use. 
I Mine ey<\s aiv made the fools o" the otlier sons^^s, 

l>r else worth all the >vst : 1 see thw still ; 

.\«d on thy blade and dudj^nm J^>uts of bK>o<l, 
I Which was not so K'foiv. Thciv s no such 
I thins ■ 

] It is the l>loi>dy business, which informs 

Thus to mine ey<v<. — Xow o'er the one half 
world 

Nature swms dead, and wicked dreams abuso 

Tho curtaiuevl sht-p ; witchcmft celebrates 
I l\>le Hrt'ato's olferings ; and witheix^l munlor, 

AlarunuHl by his sentinel, the wolf, 

Wlu>so howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy 

JVICO. 

With Taixjuin's ravisliing strides, tow-,M\ls his 

design 
Movtvs liko a ghost. — Thou suiv and firm-sot 

earth. 
Hear not my ste(>s, which way they walk, for 

tear 
The very stom<s prato of my wheroaK>ut, 
And take tho prvsont horrv>r frv<ni the time. 
Which now suits with it, — Whiles 1 thrvat, he 

lives ; 
Words to tho heat of dowls too cold breath gives, 

(.i tvlt niiy,*,') 
I gv\ and it is done ; the lioll invites mo. 
Hoar it not, Puncau ; for it is a knell 
That summons thiv to heaven or to hell. 

SHAK8SI»KARi:. 



THK MVKPKK. 

FKOM "MACSBTM." ACT II. SC >. 

Soss'B »it thf Canltf. Sulrr l^ww M.\cBKTn. 

U«iY M.vcKKTll. That which hath made them 

drunk hath made uw Iwld , 
What hath ijuenche^l thorn hath givou uio tii\<. 

Hark ! — reav-o ! 
It was the owl that shriekovl, the fatal bollmaii. 
Which gives the stern'st gvxxl night. He is 

about it : 
Tho doors are ojien ; and tho surfoito^l grooms 
l\i mark their chai^ with snores ; I have 

druggo»l their ivvssots. 
That death suid natuiv do i-outeud alwut them. 
Whether they li\-o or die, 
M.vcKKni^M-ttAiHX Who's there? What, ho ' 



I'OKMS OK 'I'RAfiKOV, 



HHli 



IvAiiY M. Alttck, 1 mil utruld tliisy luive I " filiiinln Imth iiiiimImwI »1im!I) ; ainl tli«ii!ri)i« 

llWIlkcJ <':iwi|r.l 

Ami 'I in not ilorus : — tliu atliMiijil iiiiil not llm ISiiitll uliri'ji uo inori', -- Muvlwtli nliall kI<!I'|i i/« 



1,A1)V M. VVlio w.iH il tli;.l tliiiiicrii-.l ? Wljy, 
wrirlliy tliujii!, 



cIo<m1 
' Diifouiiiiii iiH. — Iliiik ! — I liiiil lliirir <liif{|{i;ri) 

iciuly ; 
llucoiihl not iiiihH lliiriii, Iliul In- not ri-manlili'il < Voii rlo iinttcnd )our nolflc Kticn^tli, to think 
My futlntr, in In; hli;|it, I Ijail iloni; 't. My Iiuh- i Ho ljrainhii:kly o( tliin({». — (in, ff:l nonii! wiiti.T, 
l«in<l '. I AjhI wuhIi tijiH filthy v<ilwm f'loni your h»n<l. 

Mai'I!, I hiiVB iloni! till! ciii'il. ItiiUt tlioii I Wliy iliil you hrinK thi^m: ilaKpfiin lioin Ihi: |)hiia;? 
not hear a noinij 'I 1 In'y nmxt liu llii'ii; ; H'l carry IhifHi ; iinil wiiwir 

Imov M. I hrairil till; owl Hi:i'iruni, iiinl llii' Tin; n|i'i;|iy ({loonin with hlooiJ, 



When ? 



i;rl<ki;tH cry 
Dill not you iipcak I 
Ma':h. 

I.AI.V M. 

Maid. 
I-Ai)V M. Ay. 
Mai.'I). Hark I — 
Who lien i' the tMMiond chamber ? 
I.AIiY M. 



Now. 
At) I dexccndcil '. 



Doniillrain. 



Mai'D, I 'II f/o no nioiij ! 

I uni ufi.'tiil to think what I huvi; done ; 
Look on 't iigitin, 1 dari: not. 

Lady M. Infirm of jiurjiow; ! 

Give me the du^giim : the Hli;ejiin;{, and the 

deail, 
Are hut OH pieturei* ; 't in the eye of childhood 
'I'hat fi;arn a |)ainti;d devil. If he do hlecd, 
I '11 «ild the facen of the ^rooinB withal ; 
Mai.I!. {Iiiiikimj im kin lunula). Thin in a xoiry I For it muitt nuem their guilt. 

Mi;<ht. [llxU, Kwickiiuj v*ilhin, 

I,AI)Y .\I. A foolwh thought, to Hay a sorry' Macd. Whence in thiit knocking V 

highl. Mow i» 't with me, when every noiw; aji|iall» nie'( 

Ma(,ii. There 'b one did laugh in '» Hlecp, and What liandu arc here I JIa ! they [iluck out 

one cried, " Murder ! " | ujine eye* ! 

That they did wake each other : I utood and Will all great Nepttine'ii o<«an wash thin hlood 

heard tln-ni ; ''lean from my hand 'i No ; thin my luind will 

I'.iit they did nay their prayent, and addreniMMl rather 



them 
Again to sleep. 

Laky M. 'I'herc are two lodged t^jgether. 

Maid. One criwl, " Ood ble«ii ub I " and, 
" Amen," the other ; 
Ah they had Keen me with tliewi hangman'H 

handn. 
I,i»tening their f<«ir, I wuld not nay, "Amen," 
When they did Bay, " Ood hleHB uji. 



'Die muItitudiiiouB Bcan iiicaiiiaiiiiie. 
Making the green — one re^il. 

ilOi-enlnr l.M>\ Ma';dki)(.; 
liAiJY M. My liand« arc of your wlor ; but I 
Bhaine 
To wear a heart »o white, (Kwickiruj.) I hear 

a knocking 
At the Boutli entry : - - retire we to our eliamlwr; 
A little water clejjiB hh of this dwl : 



Laky M. 



CoiiBider it not m deeply. 1 How isiBy \n it, then ! Your itDimtuw.y 



Macb. Hut wlicrcforc could not 1 pronouni;* 
"Amen " ? 
I had moHt nwjl of blcHBing, and " Amen " 
Stuck in my throat. 

I-Ai)Y M. ThcBc dectlo rnuiit not Ixj tliought 
Aft<-r thene wayn ; >}>>, it will make \m ma<l. 
Macb. Methought I heard a voic<! cry, "8I«p 
no more ! 
Macljeth d<j<;» murder »le«p," — the inn'xx-nt 

Bleep, 
Slc<;p tliat knits up the ravellc<l b1/«ivc of care. 
The death of earjh day's life, s^jre lalwr's l»ath, 
lialin of hurt minilo, great nature's mv/mil wjurse, 
Chief nourijiber in life'* feant, — 

\.Mit M. WJiat do you tmmu ? 

Macb. Still it cried, "8le';p no more I "to 
all the hoUK<: : 



I (ath left you unattended. (KiuKlcimj.) Hark, 

more kno<;king. 
Oct on your nightgown, li«)t occasion («ill us. 
And show us t** l« wati;liers : — tx; not lost 
So ptx^rly ill your tliouglit». 

Macb. To know my di^jil, 't were liest not 

know mysiilf. (KwkIHwj.) 
Wake Duncan with tliy knrwking 1 I would thou 

couldnt. 

SHAKIiSPieAKIL 



HIDING TOGKTHEB. 

F'<K many, many <lay» together 

Tlw; wind blew stcaxly from the ea«t J 

For many days hot grew the weather, 
AlMut the time of our I>ady's feast. 



S84 



rOKMS OK TKAGKUV. 



Yot (Ui>» \u> neuhcr ft-iouvi iu>r foo ; 

Wo saw U\o tn*s in iho hoj. brijiUt w\-«tln>r, 
^Mo»r-ouU wiU\ sl>»>lows wry U*ok, 

As t'twly wv T\>>1<' »« tv^'tht'r 
Witli holms unl*o«\l *iul bruilos sl»ok. 

And oftvn »s xw tvvU> uyjfctlior. 

\Vi>, Ivv^kin^ >K<wn tlio j:r<>on-l«nk«\i stjwun, 
S*w I\o\wi"s in tho snnny »~<\-»tlu'r, 

AnJ saw tiv> XinX\\'i^m»Jk.\ng hiv«n>. 

And in tho nijiht Uy down Uijjt'lhor, 
And hunj; slvw v»nr lu-stds iho i\x>i. 

Or waToJxxi nij^lit-lonj; in the dewy wi«ther, 
Tho whilo Uie uuwn did watvJi tho \u>>>>i. 

Our Sj'wurs sUx>l V^risln «>d thi<'k U^tlior, 
Slwi>sh« v<H( tho Ivinnors sttvaiuwi Whind, 

As \w jsalK^ivvi on in tho sunny wi^athor. 
With tS«oos l«mo>i tv«W5U\is tho wind. 

IVwn ssnk our throosivrv sjvsws tv^>thor. 

As thiok wv saw tho ^v^ans rido : 
His o*i;»'r faoo in tho oloar I'n'slt WMthor 

ShvMio v>ut thst l»st timo hy my sid^ 

Vp tho svciwp «\f tho hri.ljr<-' wv d«sh<M tx^^thor. 
It rvvkoil tv> tlxo cr*sh of tho nuvtinjt sjxmks, 

IVwu rainoiJ tho Iwds ol" tho do«r sjM-ing wwnlhot, 
Tho ohn-tKv flowvts foil liko ttvsrs, 

Thoiw. 3>s wv To]l««i suul vmthr»l txAjteUwr, 

I thn-w my sunns »lxxvi(> n»y hi\>d. 
Fvw ohxsio by my sido, in tho lowly wwithor, 

I saw him rwl and fidl b«o.k vloaxl, 

I and tho slayor mot t\>s>^thor. 

Ho WT»itifsl Tho dtv»th-sti\>ki< thone in his plan*. 
With thonsAtsof doath. in tho lowly wwjthor 

iisiNiugly n>*«\l at nxy matUlonori fik.-*. 

Madly I fvxti^t as w* fmi^ht U^thor ; 

In Tain ; tho liltlo V^iristian 1«nd 
Tho ]>a^is dtwwiHvl. as in stwnny w>Mllh-r. 

Tho rivrr drowns low-lying land. 

Thoy Khuv) my N>y>Wt3uni\l hands tv^^thor, I 
Thoy Kmnd his vNxrjvsf t«> n>vl hy my sido ; 1 

Thon on w* ivvlo. in tho brij:<>t >lar\-h woathor. 
With o}«sh of cymbals did wo rtdo. 

Wo rido no nwi*, no nwro t*>j;>'thoT ; 

My ^\ris^^n-h»rs aiv thvk and strvng, 
I tjko no hotvl of any wt>a»hor, 

Tho s\«<vt .•viiius i!J««^ live iwt-lons- 



THK ROSK AXO THE OArXTLKT. 

Low s\>akx> tho knijtht tv> tho )>oa$ant maid, 
" O, Iv not thus of my snit afraid ! 
Fl^" with mo lV«m lliis gardou small, 
And thou sltalt sit in my oastlo hall. 

"Thon .sh.^lt haw> jxnnp ami wwnlth and ploiisun-. 
■ Joys Ivwnd thy fanoy's inoasniv ; 
Hon' with \uy s\wrvl .and hors»< 1 stand. 
To Iwar thoo away to my distant land, 

"Tak*. thou f»it««t ! this f\iU-Wown roso 
A tvxkon of low that as rijvly Mows," 
I With his glow of stwl ho jxluokovl tlio tokon. 
And it MX iWn tho gauutlot cntshod and Ixrokon. 

Tho maidon ox>-laimo»l, " Thou soost. Sir Knight, 
Thy liuj^-rs of irvMi oan only sjnito ; 
And, liko tho rv^so thou hast tvxrn and sv"att«>i\\l. 
1 iu thy srasi> should l>o wttvkiHl and sliattoiwi : " 

Sho twmbW and Idusiiod, and hot- gla)kc<>s <*11, 
I But sho tnrnrti frvnn tho kuiglit, and said, " Fatv- 
! w^ll." 

" Xot so," ho oriinl. " will I hxs»' my priio ; 
, 1 ho^^^ uvxt thv w>mls, IxU 1 rtvad thino ows," 
i 

I H* lilV^i hor np in his gtasp of stwl, 
' And ho nvMintisl a>\d sjnirroxl with liory hool : 
l^it hor ory drow forth hor hoary siro. 
Who suatvhixi his bi>w fV»m aKn-o tho fiw, 

j Swift fK«n tho valloy tho warrior flo^l, 
But swiftxT tho Kdt of tho orv\ss-Kwv sjwil ; 
And tho Wright that jxtwssovl on tho floot-foot 

horse 
Was tho living man and tho wwmaji's oors*. 

i 

That morning tho rvxs<< was bright of hno. 
That nvvrniug tho maidon was swwt tvx viow ; 
l^>t tho owning sun its Kwnty slu>l 
On tho withoivd loavos and tho ntaidon doavi. 
John WILSON (OtoiaiV'AtrAVMk). 



THK KINO IS 1\>I.D. 

R.KKK tho omlvrs, blow tho ooals, 

Kindlo at on.v a lyxariiig fii* ; 

How "s si\mo jwjvr — 't is nothing, sir — 
Ij^it it (thoy 'w saw^i a thousand sottisl, 
Rwn (or (agxits, w s,-urvy knav«<s, 

Thotv ar* plonty out in tho jwblio sqnaix?, 

YvMT know thoy try tho horvti^-s thoro, 
(BtJt tioii i«wn>ivr thoir nainoloss gTavi\s ') 
fly, fly, or th# king may dio ; 



I'UKM.S (IK TltA(;KliV, 



88D 



If^li ! Iiln royiil foul mo llko huhw, 
Anil till' I'lilil in iiii)iiiiUii){ up III lilii liiiiirr. 

(Hill tliitt wiM f'l'ii^iiiii hm^^ nifi} I) 
ItiiHi'iilH, viii'lrtx, ilii iiH yiiii urn tiiM, — 
Till- kiiiK in I'old. 

IIIh Iii'iI nl'Mluli' Ih m ({lanil iillkir, 

With Hlii-ctH orHiiliii itiiil {lillowH (if (liiwn, 
Anil rlnm* Iji'hIiIh ii. Htiiiii|n iJir niiwn, 

I'lll tliiit won't kri'p liiin i'rnin ilyliiK llmi'ii I 

iliit liiiniU iii'i: wi'inkli'il, liiii Imii' in ^riiy, 
Ami lilH aiiojiMil. Iiliioil Ih Hliim{ii<li uml Miin ; 
Wlii'ii lii^ wiiH yiiiiii){ it wiiH lint witli niii, 

lint tliiit Ih ovur IIiIn iriitiiy it liiiy I 

I'uiliT llii'Hi' hIii'i-Ih i>rmitin iiml liiri! 

ill; hlrjit in tliii iirniH of IiIh i:iiiii:iiIiIiiiih ; 

Niiw tliry i-iiriiiiKi; with llm prini'M innti'iiil, 
l>iiiikin;< tin; iiiiiilili'Mt, iiH-niiMl wini;n ; 

It H iili'iiHiuit III liiiiii' Hiii:h i:ati;lii;H triilluii, 
Now till! kiun In coIiI I 

Wliiil hhdll I ilo with Mill MiiJrKty now 'I 

Kill', tliiiiil(H to my |iotion, thu iniin in ili^uil ; 

Hii|i|iow; I IjoUliT him up in lii'il, 
Ami lix till' I'i'own ii){itiii on IiIh Iiiow f 
'riiiit wiiiilil liii niiirry I but thiiii thu piinno 

Woiilil tiimlili! it, ilowii, I know, in a Iricn ; 

'T woiihl |iiiz/li! tin: l)i:vll to miiiiii a vliu; 
That woiilil niaki; Imh Kxi'i'llimt Ilixlini^HH wini:<i I 

Mark ! hu 'm coming, I know lii« ndp ; 

III' 'h HtralinK lo him: if IiIh wiHlii:H an: trm: ; 
Hill:, may your f'atlii:r'n i:nil hi: yoiini ! 

(With JiiHt Hiii:li n Hon to iniii'<l<:i' you I) 

l'i:ui:i: l^i till: ili:iul ! I,i!l, tin; l.i;lhi In; tollwl — 

'I'liu king IH colli I 

Uoitcur ItuowNim;. 



KliA (MA'^OMO. 

Al.AH, Vrn (iiii<:oirio. 

Too lati: ! - hut follow mn ; 
IIiihIi I ilraw tin: curljiin, — ho I — 

8h<; iH i|i;a<l, ijiiil,!; ilciul, you nee, 
I'oor little hu\y I hIk: IIch 
With till: light gorn: out, of her ftyijH, 
lint lii:r fcaturcH Htill wear that itoft 

finiy im:ilitatlv« cxproHHion, 
Which you iiiiiHt liiivn noticcil o(t, 

Ami a/|inii'i;'l txio, at confcHHJon. 
Mow Haintly Khn lookH, itii'l how meek ! 

'I'liough thin 111! the chain hir of ijciith, 

( fancy I fi:<:l licr hrcath 
Ah I kiHH licr on tlir: check. 
With that \iiiimv(! rcligioiiH (iw., 
She liiiH goiii! Ui a holier |ila<;c ! 
Aii'l I lianlly apiircciati:'! her, — 

Ili-r jiraying, fiiHtlng, confcHolug, 
J'oorly, I own, I inaUjd licr ; 



I tliiiiiglit IiiM' loo colli, mill ralKil liitr 
i'*oi' licr cnillcitii imiigc-i'iii'ittiiilnp;. 

'I'lio Hiilntly lor nm hy l/ir, 

Ah pure ami an colil an a Htar, 

Not riiiihloiii'il lor kluHlng ami pn'iMJng, 

Hut mailc lor a heavenly ciowii. 

Ay, I'lithcr, let iix go ilowii. 

Hut linit, if you piciiiii', yniii lili'»»ing, 

Wlnii y No? (,'iimii, COMIC, you niiiHl I 
Yoii 'II lilcHH It with your pniycrn. 

Ami i{iiiiir a cup, I tnint, 

To the health of the naint up ntali'H ) 

My lieai'l, in aching ho ! 

AimI I led HO wciiiy aiii| nail, 
Throngli the Mow that, I have liiel, 

Yiiii 'II nil,, l''ra (liaconiii I 

My I'rieml ! (ami a frleml I rank you 
Kiir llie nake of thai, Hiiiiit,,; -• nay, nay I 
I lei II 'h the wine, an you love me, ittiiy !■ 

'T Ih Montcpiilclano I - Tliiink you, 

llelgli ho ! 'Tin now hIx HiiniinerH 

Hinci! I won that angel ami marrieil her : 

I wan rich, not ohl, ami earrieil her 
Olf In the face of all comei'H, 
Ho irenh, yet no hriinniing with houI I 

A t,<:mlerer mornc|, i nwear, 
Never ni/ule the iliill lilack coal 

Of a miink'n eye glitU:r ami glare. 

V'oiir p,iii|on I nay, keep yourehalr I 
I wamlcr a little, liiit mean 
No oll'eiice 1,0 the gray gnticriiine ; 
Of the ehiirch, l''ia Oiiu-onio, 
I 'm a faithful iiph'ililer, you know, 
Mm (lininor me 1; nhe wan bh iiweet 

Ah the HnintH in your convent wiriiloWK, 
Ho gentle, HO meek, ho iliH':reet, 

Hlie knew not what liint 'loeit or i*in lUxtit. 
I 'II confcHH, llioiigh, lii:fi»re we were one, 

I ilccnieil her Ichh nainlly, anil thought 

The lilooil in her veinn li/ul eaiight 
Home natural warmth from the nun. 
I wan wrong, — I wan hliml an a Imt, 

l'nit<; that I wim, how I tiliinilereii 1 
Though niich a inintake an that 
Might have occiirreil an (lat 

To ninety-nine men in a hiimlrwl, 
YoiirHcIf, for example 'I you 've wen licr? 
Hpil/i her moilent ami pioiin ilemeanor, 
Ami the mannerH n/i nice ,'iml \iiiif-\m, 

Heemeil there not color anil light, 

liright motion ami ap(i<:tit<:, 
That were w^arcely i:onHiHt<:nt with fe ^ 
y.xV-.niith implying, you iv-j:, 

lnti:ni:ilH lenn Kiintly than human T — 
I'ray Hfwak, for U:twe<;n yon ami me 

You 're not a lia/l jii'lge of a woman ! 



880 



VOKMS OF I'liAliKDV. 



A jest, — but » ji>st ! — Vory truo : 
"1" is lumlly bwomiiig to jost, 
Ami that saint U[> stairs at ix'sf, — 
Her soul uiay K> listiMiinj;, tini I 
I was always a biulo of a I'l'Uow ! 
WoU may your visjij^' turn yolUnv, — 
l\i think how 1 iloulni'd auil doubtiHl, 
SusiHH'tt~vl, j;run(M(Hl at, llouttHl 
That soMonhaiiisl anj;i'l, - and solely 
Ivvanst' slio was zealous and holy ! 
Noon and nij;ht and morn 

8ho ilovoti'vl lu'rsclf to l>ioty : 
Not that she sooniod to siorn 

IV dislike her huslvmd's society : 
Hut till- claims of lu-r »>»/ snjH'rstHUHl 
All that 1 askinl for or not-disl, 
And her thouslits wero far away 
Fivni the lovt'l of sintul olay. 
And sho tivnil>l«l if earthly inattors 
1 ntt-rfoitHl with lu'v ci i>.< aiul fMlfrs. 
l\x<r dovo, sho so lluttoitHl in flying 

AK>vo tlu> dim vajKirs of hoU — 
IVnt on solf-s,'»notiiying — 
That sho novor thought of trying 

To sjivo her husKvnd as well. 
And while sho was duly oltvted 

For i>huv in the heavenly rv>ll, 
1 (.brute that 1 was !) svis|H-ettHl 

Her manner of saving her soul. 
So, half tor the fun of the thinj;, 
What ilid 1 ^blasphemer '.) but tling 
On my shoulders the gviwn of a monk — 

Whom 1 managiHl for that vory day 

To jp't S!>toly out of the way — 
Ami seat uu\ half soU-r, half drunk, 
With the eowl thiMWU over my faw. 
In the father eonfessor's J>laee, 

In her ortluxlox swwt simplicity. 
With that jH'Usive grsiy expn'ssion, 
She siglifnUy kuolt at ivnles-siou. 
While 1 bit my lii>s till they bUJ, 

.\nd dug my nails in my hainl, 
.\nd heai\l « ith averttnl head 

What 1 "d gnessiHl and iMuld understaiul. 
Kaoli worvl was a s\>r{H'nt"s sting. 

But. wtaj>t in my gloomy gv>«n, 
1 Silt, like a marble thing. 

As site told me .all I — Sir ihhvn. 



Mor»' wine, Fra l^tiai-omo ! 

One cuj\ — if you love me ! Xo ? 

What, have these ilry lijw drank 
So dwp of the sweets of pleasure — 
i"Jm/i rtviii, but quite without measure - 

That Moutepnloiano t.astes rank * 

Come, drink '. 't will brinj^the streaks 



Of eriinson Ivack to yonr cheeks ; 

l'onu>, drink ag!iin to the saint 

Whoso virtues you lovwl to (mint, 

Who, slivtehed on her wifely IhhI, 
Witli the tender, gmvo e.xiuvssiou 
You used to admiiv at ouufession, 

Kies [loisoiu'd, overhead ! 

Sit still, — or by heaven, you die ! 
Faee to faee, soul to soul, you and I 
Have settled aeoounts, in a tine 
rK>asant fashion, over our wine. 
Stir not, and seek not to lly, — 
Nay, whether or not, you aiv mine ! 
Thank .MoiiteimUiano for giving 

You death in sueh delieate si[>s ; 
'T is not every monk eeases living 

With so pleasant a taste on liis lij>s ; 
But, lest Moutepnleiauo unsnivly should kiss. 

Take this ! and this ! anvl this ! 

OoTOr him over, Bietro, 

And bury him in the court lielow, — 

You can Ih> secivt, '..ul, 1 know ! 

And, hark yon, men to the wnvent go, — 

Bid every b<>ll of the convent toll, 

And the monks say mass for yonr mistress' soul. 

ROPBKT BCCHANAX. 



COUNTESS LAITRA. 

Ir was a dnvrry day in Badua, 

The Countess l.a\ira, for a single year 

Fernando's wife, tiinui her bridal l>ed. 

Bike an nprv>ot<il lily on the snow. 

The withennl outcast of a festi^•!ll, 

U»y dead. She die»l of some uncertain ill, 

That stnick her ahuivst on her wediling day. 

And ching to her, and dnigginl her slowly down. 

Thinning her chwks and pinching her full li|>s, 

'nil, in her cinuice, it so'nuxl that with a year 

Full half a century was ovcqvist. 

In \-!»in liavl Baracelsus taxM his art. 

And feigiunl a kuowUHlg<> of her nndady ; 

In \-!>iu had all the divtors, far and near, 

llathert-il aivuud the inysterj- of her l>e<l. 

Draining her veins, her huslvmd's treasury. 

And physic's jai'gim, in a fruitless >piest 

For causes t\ptal to the droad result. 

The Countess only siuih\l when tliey were gone, 

Hugg<-d her fair Kxly with her little hands. 

And turiu>tl njxui her pillows wejirily, 

.\s tlunigh she fain would sleep notMmnion sleojs 

But the long, breathless slumK-r of the grave. 

She hintt\l nothing. Feeble as slie was. 

The nick i-oiild not have wrung her swr*t ovit. 

The Bishop, when he slirivtnl her, coming forth. 



POEMS (»!•' THACKUy. 



887 



Ciicil, in II voice of lunivifiily ciHtiuty, 

" O bleHxtil Houl ! Willi nothing to (•omIrhh 

Siive virtues iiiid good (IcuiIh, wliii'li »lie iiiin- 

t;iko>* — 
So liiiiiilili! iH hIio — for our liuiiiiiii HiuH ! " 
I'r.iyin;^ for (Icatll, kIio tOHHcd U])ori lier hud 
l),iy iiftcT duy ; iis niifjlit a Hliipwrwked Imrlt 
'I'liiit roel<H ujioii oni) billow, uud i:iiu uiiikc! 
No onward luotiori towtti'dK lu-r port of h*»|H!. 
At li!ii;4lli, one inorii, when tlioseuionnd lierHaid, 
".Surely the <!ounte»3 nii'mlH, so I'reKli ii li({ht 
lieiiins from lier eyes and heuiililii;n her faee," — 
One morn in spring, when evi^y jlowei' of eartli 
Was ojjening to the sun, and breathing up 
Its votive ineense, her iiniiatienl sonl 
Opened itself, anil so exhaled to heaven. 
When the CrMint lieard it, lie reeled Ijaek a j)a<;B ; 
Then turned with anger on the messenger ; 
Thi-ii eraved his pardon, and wept out his heart 
liefore the nienial ; tc^ars, uh iiie ! siieli leum 
As love sheds only, and love only oiiee. 
Then he bethought liini, ".Shall this wonder clie. 
And leave behind no shadow f not a trace 
Of all the glory tliat environed her, 
'I'liat mellow ninilius circling round my star?" 
.So, with his sorrow glooming in his face, 
lie paced along his gallery of art, 
And strode among the |)ainters, where tliey stood, 
With I 'alio, the Venetian, at their heail. 
Studying the Masters by the dawning light 
Of his transeendc-nt genius. Through the groufis 
Of gayly vestured artists moved the Count, 
As some lone cloud of thick and leaden hue, 
racked with the si^cret of a coining storm. 
Moves through the gold and i.riinsoM i;vening 

mists, 
Diaidening their splendor. In a moment still 
Was Carlo's voice, and still the prattling crowd ; 
Anil a great sluulow overwhelmed them all, 
As their white fa/;c8 and their anxious eyes 
I'ursued Fernando in his moody walk. 
He paused, as one who balances a doubt, 
Weighing two courses, then buntt out with thU : 
" Ve all liave seen the tidings in my face ; 
Or has the dial ceased to register 
The workings of my heart ? Then hear the bell, 
Tliat almost crai;ki( its frame in nttcrance ; 
The Connti.ss, — she in dead ! " " lJeii<l ! " Carlo 

groaned. 
And if a U>lt from middle heaven luul struck 
His spleiidiil features full uiwii the brow, 
lie could not liavc appeared more scathed and 

bknchwl. 
" Uead 1 — dcail ! " He staggereil to UU eaixd- 

frame, 
And clung around it, buffeting the air 
With one wild ami, as though a 'Irowning man 



Hung to a spar and fought against the waves. 
The (Joiint resumed ; " I came not here to grieve, 
Nor see my sorrow in another's eyes. 
Who 'II paint the Countess, as she lies to-night 
III Hlale within the r:hapel / Khali it be 
'I'liat earth must lose her wholly 'I that no hint 
Of licM' gold tresses, beaming cyiM, and lips 
'I'liat talki^d in silence, and tin: eiigcj' soul 
That ever seemed outbreaking tlii'oiigli her clay. 
And scattering glory round it, — shall all these 
lie dull corriii>tion's heritage, anil we, 
I'oor beggars, have no legacy to show 
That love she bore us '( That were shame to love. 
And shame to you, my masters." (Jarlo stalked 
l''ortli from his easel stillly as a thing 
Moved by nieclianie impulse. His thin lips. 
And shariieiied nostrils, and wan, sunken cheeks, 
; And the eoM glimmer in his dusky eyes, 
I Made him a ghastly sight. The throng drew 
j bac-k 

As though they let a spectre through. Then he, 
Fronting the Count, and speaking in a voice 
.Sounding remote and hollow, made rejily : 
" Count, I shall paint the Countess. 'T is my 

fate, — 
Not pleasure, — no, nor duty." But the Count, 
Astray in woe, but understood aitscnt. 
Not the strange words tluit bore it ; and he flung 
His arm round Carlo, ilrew him to his breast. 
And kissed his foreliea<l. At which ' 'arlo slirank; 
I'erhaps 'twas at the honor. Tiien the Count, 
A little reddening at his public state, — 
Unseemly to his near and recent loss, — 
Withdrew in haste Ix.-tween the downcast cycH 
That did liiin reverence an he rustled by. 

Night fell on I'ailua. In the chapel lay 

The Countess Laura at the altar's foot. 

\{(:r lyironet glitt/;red on her fiallid lirows ; 

A crimson pall, weighed ilown with golden work, 

I Sown thick with pearls, and heaped with early 

I flowem, 

Draped her still body almost to the chin ; 
And over all a thousand candles flamed 
Against the winking jewels, or streamed down 
Tlic marble aisle, and flasheil along thi; guard 
Of men-at-anns tliat slowly wove thirir turns, 
IJa<;kwaril and forward, through the dixtant 

gloom. 
When Carlo entered, hix unittcaily feet 
Scarce t)ore him to the altar, and his head 
Droo|s-d down so low that all his shining curU 
Poiiri^l on his bnsist, ami veiled hit) countenance. 
Uium his eajiel a half-finished work, 
The secret la\xtr of his studio, 
Said from the canvas, so that n»ne might err, 
" I am the Countess Laura," Carlo kneeled. 



888 



POEMS OF TUAGEDV 



And gazed upon tlio picture ; ns if thus, 
Througli those clear eyes, he s;\\v tlic way to 

heaven. 
Then he arose ; and as a swiiuniei' oouies 
Forth from the waves, he shook his locks aside, 
Kmerging from his divam, and stautling firm 
Upon a purpose with his sovereign will. 
He took his palette, ninrmuving, " Not yet !" 
Confidingly and softly to the i.or|vse , 
And as the veriest drudge, who plies his art 
Agixinst his fancy, he addressed himself 
With stolid ivsolution to his task, 
Turning his vision on his memory. 
And shutting out the present, till the dead. 
The gilded jwll, the lights, the pacing guaixi. 
And all the meaning of that -solemn scene 
Became as nothing, and creative Art 
Resolved the whole to chaos, and i-eformed 
The elements acconling to her law : 
So Carlo wrought, as tliough his eye and hand 
AVei-e Heaven's unconscious instruments, and 

worked 
The settled purpose of Omnipotence. 
And it was wondrous how tl>e red, the white. 
The ochre, and the umber, and the blue. 
From nmttled blotches, hazy and opjique, 
drew into ixiunded forms and sensuous lines ; 
Hott- just beneath the lucid skin the bhx>d 
tilimmeiwl with warmth : the scarlet lips ajiart 
liUiomed with the moistui-e of the dews of life ; 
How the light glittei-ud through and umlerneath 
The golden tresses, and the deep, soft eyes 
Became intelligeut with conscious thought, I 

And somewhat troubled underneath the aix:h 
Of eyebrows but a little too intense 
For perfect beauty : how the pose and poise 
0( the lithe figure on its tiny foot 
Su^iested life just ceased from motion ; so 
That any one might cry, in marvelling joy, 
" That creature lives, — has senses, mind, a soul 
To win f;od"s love or dare hell's subtleties ! " 
The artist jraused. The ratifying " Good ! ' 
Trembled uixm his lii>s. He saw no tonch 
To give or soften. " It is done," he cried, — 
" Jly task, my duty ! Nothing now on earth 
Can taunt me with a work left unfulfilled ! " 
The lofty flame, which Iwiv him up so long, 
Oied iu the ashes of humanity : 
Ami the mere man rocked to and fro again 
I'lKin the centre of his wavering heart. 
He put aside his pilette, as if thus 
He stepped from sacred vestments, and assumed 
A mortal function in the common world. 
" Now for my rights ! " he muttered, and ap- 
proached 
The noble Ixidy. " O lily of the world ! 
So withered, yet so lovely 1 wlnit wast tliou 



To those who came thus near thee — for I stood 
\Vitliout the pale of thy half-royal rank — 
When thou wast budding, and the stivams of life 
Made eager struggles to maintain thy bloom, 
And gladdeued heaven dropped down in gracious 

dews 
On its transplanted darling > Hear me now ! 
1 s:iy this but in justice, not in pride, 
Not to insult thy liigh nobility. 
But that tile poise of things in Ciod's own sight 
May lie adjusted : and hereafter I 
Jlay urge a claim that all the powers of heaven 
Shall siinction, and with clarions bUnv abroad. — 
l.aiii-a, you loved me ! Look not so seveix>. 
With your cold brows, and deadly, clo!!e-drawn 

"lips ! 
You pixived it. Countess, w hen you died for it, — 
Let it consume you iu tlui wearing strife 
It fought with duty in your ravaged heart. 
1 knew it ever since that suuimer day 
1 p;unted Lilla, the pale begg-ar's child, 
.\t rest besiile the fountain : when I felt — 

Heaven 1 — the warmth and moistuiv of your 

breath 
Blow through my hair, as with your eager soul — 
Forgetting soul and body go as one — 
You leaned acivss my easel till our cheeks — 
Ah me ! 't was not your purpose — touched, and 

clung ! 
Well, grant 't was genius : and is genius naught ? 

1 ween it wears as proud a diadem — 

Here, iu this very world — as that you wear. 
A king has held my palette, a grand-duke 
Has picked my brush up, and a [wjie has begged 
The favor of my i>reseuce iu his Kome. 
I did not go ; I put my fortune by. 
I need not ask you why : you knew too well. 
It was but natural, it was no way strange. 
That I should love you. Everything that saw, 
Or had its other senses, loved you, sweet, 
.\nd I among them. Martyr, holy saint, — 
I see the halo curving round your head, — 
I loved you once : but now I woi^hip you. 
For the great deed that held my love aloof, 
.\ud killed you in the action ! 1 alwolve 
Yonr soul from any taint. For from the day 
Of that encounter by the fountain-side 
I'ntil this moment, never turned on me 
Those tender eyes, unless they did a wrong 
To nature by the cold, defiant glare 
Witli which they chilleil me. Never lieanl I word 
Of softness spoken by those gentle lijis ; 
Never ivceived a Ixmnty from that hand 
Which gsive to all the world. I know the cause. 
You did your duty, — not for honor's sake. 
Nor to save sin, or suH'ering, or remorse. 
Or all the ghosts that haunt a wonuui's shame. 



POEMS OK THAGEOY. 



889 



Rut for the sake of timt ]iuro, loyul lovi; 

Your iiusbfiinl born you. (^lU'cri, by ^raco of Had, 

1 bow before the lustru of your tbroiiu ! 

1 kiss tlie edges of your garineiit-lieiii, 

And hold myself ennobled ! Answer inc, — 

If I had wronged you, you would answer mo 

Out of the dusty porches of the tomb : — 

Is this a dream, a falsehood ? or have I 

Spoken the very truth ?" "The very truth ! " 

A voiee re[)lied ; and at his side he saw 

A form, half shadow and half substanee, stand, 

(Ir, ratlier, rest ; for on the solid earth 

It had no footing, more than some dense mist 

That wavers o'er the surface of the ground 

It scarcely touches. With a reverent look 

The shadow's waste and wretched face was bent 

Aliove the picture ; as though greater awe 

.Subdued its awful Ixang, and ai>pallcd, 

With memories of terrible delight 

And fi'arful wonder, its devouring gaze. 

"You make what God make.s, — beauty," said 

the .shape. 
" And might not thi.s, this second Eve, console 
The emptiest heart '! Will not this tiling outlast 
The fairest creature fasliioned in the llesli ? 
liefore that figure. Time, and Death himself, 
Stand baffled and disarmed. What would you 

ask 
More than God's power, from nothing to create? " 
The artist gaze<l upon the boding form. 
And answered : "Goblin, if you had a heart, 
That were an idle rpiestion. What to me 
Is my crc^ative power, bereft of love ? 
Or what to God would be that self-satue power. 
If so bereaved?" "And yet the love, tluis 

mourned. 
You calndy forfeited. For had you s.aid 
To living Laura — -in her burning ears — 
One half that you professed to Laura dead, 
She would have been your own. These contraries 
Sort not with my intidligenee. But sjieak. 
Were Laura living, would tin; same stale play 
Of raging passion tearing out its heart 
Upon the rock of duty he performed ?" 
" The same, phantom, while the heart I bear 
Trembled, but turned not its magnetic faith 
From God's fix'"' centre." " If I w.ike for you 
This Laura, — give her .all the bloom and glow 
Of that midsummer day you hold so dear, — 
The smile, the motion, the impulsive soul, 
The love of genius, — yea, the very love, 
The mortal, hungiy, passionate, hot love, 
She bore you, flesh to flesh, — would you receive 
That gift, in all its glory, at my hands ?" 
A smile of malice curled the tempter's lij^. 
And glittered in the caverns of his eyes, 
Mocking the answer. Carlo jialed and shook ; 



A woful spasm went shuddering tliiungh liis 

frame, 
Curdling his blooil, ami twisting his fair face 
With nameless torture. Hut he crii^d aloud, 
Out of the clouds of anguish, from the smoke 
Of very martynlom, " O God, she is thine ! 
Do with her at thy pleasure ! " Something grand. 
And radiant as a sunbeam, touched the head 
He bent in awful sorrow. " Mortal, see — " 
" Dare not ! As Christ was sinless, I abjure 
These vile abominations ! .Shall she bear 
Life's burden twice, and life's temptations twice. 
While God is justice?" " Who has made you 

judge 
Of what you call God's good, and what you think 
God's evil ? One to him, the source of both, 
The God of good and of permitted ill. 
Have you no dream of days that might have been. 
Had you and Laura filled another fate ? — 
Some cottage on the sloping Apennines, 
Roses and lilies, and the rest all love ? 
I tell you that this trani|uil dream may be 
Filled to repletion. Speak, and in the shade 
Of my dark ]iinions I shall bear you hence. 
And land you where the rnountain-goat him.self 
Struggles for footing." He outsjiread his wings. 
And all the chajicl darkened, as though hell 
Had swallowed up the tapers ; and the air 
Grew thick, and, like a current sensible. 
Flowed rounil the person, with a wash and dash. 
As of the waters of a nether sea. 
Slowly and calmly through the dense obscure, 
Dove-like and gentle, rose the artist's voice ; 
" I dare not bring her spirit to that shame ! 
Know my full meaning, — I who neither fear 
Your mystic person nor your dreadful power. 
Nor shall I now invoke God's potent name 
For my deliverance from your toils. I stand 
Upon the foundeil stnictiire of his law, 
Established from the first, and thence defy 
Your arts, reposing all rny tnist in that ! " 
The darkness eddied off ; and Carlo saw 
The figure gathering, as from outer space, 
Brightness on brightness ; and his former shape 
Fell from )iim, like the a.shes that fall off. 
And show a core of mellow fire within. 
Adown his wings there poured a lambent flood, 
That seemed as molten gold, which plashing fell 
Upon the floor, enringing him with flame ; 
And o'er the tres.ses of his beaming head 
Arose a stream of many-colored light. 
Like that which crowns the morning. Carlo stood 
Steadfast, for all the splendor, reaching up 
The outstretched palms of his untainted soul 
Towards heaven for strength. A moment thus ; 

then asked, 
With reverential wonder quivering through 



8'.H) 



1>0KMS vH~ ru\i!Kin 



His sinking \\\iif, " Who, spirit, muvl \vh«t, art 

thou > " 
" I am that Mtsssiu;; whioh «<on lly ft-om, — 

IVMth." 
"ThiMi t;>kt> uiy hand, if so iVxl orxloi's it : 
For Li-.u-a waits iiu<," " l>nt, U'thiiik thiv, man, 
Wlial the wvrKl Kvsv-s in tho Kvss of th«> ! 
Wliiit \wu>lrvn>s art will sulVor with ivli|>s* ! 
What unwMU ^loriivs ar«' in store for thiv ! 
AVhatfamo, ovitivaohiiij;tJnioan>UiMniHir;>lsh>K-ks, 
WouU shino Hixm tho loiters of thy nauh' 
Oravon in marhlo, or tho hraix-n hoight 
Of vvlumns wis»> with montorios of thoo ! " 
" Tako mo I If I outlivtsl tho l\itriat\-hs, 
I 0\>uUl hut jviiut tluv<»' fi\'«tuivs v»"or ami o'or : 
Ijc ' that is >louo," A smilo of pity lit 
Tho si-rsiph's ft>atut\vs, as ho Uwkrtl t\< hoawn. 
With >Uvj> inquiry in his u~nilor o\-»>s, 
Tho mandato oanvo. Ho tvniohrtl with vlowuy winy 
Tho sulloivr lijfhtly on his aching hoart ; 
Ami g<'i\tly, as tho skylark sottlos liown 
Tjwn tho olustoi\\l tn\>sui\'* of hof nivst, 
iSo iVrlo softly sli>l along tlu> jirvip 
Of his tall t<ast>l, uivstling at tho t\x>t 
As thougli ho slumU-nxl ; and tho nxorniug l>n>ko 
lu sihftr whittuoss owr IVlna, 

viKORGK HKXRV IK'iKrR, 



OINKVKA. 

If tlion shouUlst ov<>r oiimo by oltoio* or ohanc* 
To NKxlona. whon? still r«'ligiously 
Among hor anciout trv>i>hios is i>ros<>rvovl 
IVilogua's Imoki^t (in its ohain it hangs 
Within that tx-wrenJ toxvor. tho l<uirlantlina), 
Sto)> at a palai-o noar tho RojQjio gato, 
l">»olt in of oU hy ouo of tho Orsini. 
Its noWo gallons, tx>rravv aK^>-* t«>rraor\ 
Auil rioh in fountains, statuos, oyj>ty>sst>s, 
Will long vlotain thoo : tlirvtvgh thoir arohW 

w-alks, 
Pim at Hivnilay, vlisvMvpring many a glimj>so 
Of knights auvl Janios, s«oh as in ohl rv^mano*. 
And lox-vrs, siioh as in horv^io song, 
Wrhajw tho t\vv\ for grovxis «'ort> thoir dolight. 
That in tlio spring-timo, as alono thoy sat, 
Vontnring t»\j:«>thor on a lalo of l.>\v, 
KtNui only jwrt that day. — A summor sun 
Sots or* ono half is spon ; Ihii otv thou g»s 
Rjitor tho hous« — prythtv, forgot it t>ot — 
And Kxik awhil* upoti a piotur* thotv, 

Tis rf a Lady in h#r «<»rli*st youlh, 
Tho last of that illustrious ra^v ; 
IXmo by Zampiori — but I oaro not whom. 
Ho who oWrvos it, orf h«^a.<sos on. 



t'iates his fill, and oomos and o»unos agiuii. 
That ho may call it up whon far away. 

Sho sits iuolining forw:u\l as to sjvak, 
Hor liivs half oiH<n. and hor ting>>r u|>, 
.\s though .sho saivl " IVw^uv ! " hor wst of gvihl 
lh\ndoi\>l with llowoi-s, and olasiH>vl fi\ini hi>i«d t>, 

flH>t, 

An otnorsihl stono in owry goldon olasp ; 

And on hor bivw, faiivr th;»n alalvistor, 

A cvMvnot of jHsirls. lint thou hor faiv, 

Sii lovoly. yot .-s*! arvli, s»i fnll of mirth, 

Tho ovorllowings of an iuu*Hvnl ho;»rt, — 

It haunts n»o still, though many a yosvr has llo>l, 

l.iko sonio wild uiohnly ! 

Alono it hangs 
t">vor a mouUloring hoirhwui, its ov>miwniou. 
An o.'<kou ihost, half oaton by tho worm, 
lUit richly cai-visl by Antony of Tivnt 
With !><-riptu\v stories frvMU tho lifo of Christ ; 
A oh<>st that c;m>o frv<n> Voniiv, and had hold 
Tho ducal ivlvs of somo old Auivstor, 
That, by tho way — it may l* truo or falso — 
Uut don't foi-g"'! tlio pictuiv : and thou wilt not 
Whou thou ha.-it lu\anl tho taU- thoy told nio thore, 

Sh* was an only child : (W>ni iulancy 
Tho joy, tho prido, of an indulgont Siro : 
Hor Mother dying of tho gift she gavo. 
That prxvious gitt, what olsi< romaiuo\l to him I 
Tho wung llinovR* wsis his all in life, 
Still !»s sl\o gr»-w, for over in his sight ; 
And in hot- tiftivnth yoar lxvauu> a brido. 
Marrying an only son, Kraiuvsvv lV>ria, 
Hor \daymato fivm hor birth, au\i hor tirst lov*, 

[ Just as sh« looks thoro in hor brivlal dross, 
Sho was all gontlonoss, all gayoty. 
Hor pranks tho favorite then>o of every tongue. 
But now tho day was vvmo, the day, the hour ; 
Xow, fivwning. smilius. for the hundrjxith timo. 
Tho nursi>, that ancient lady, preachrtl docorrun : 
And. in tho lusttv of her wuth, sl>o ga\-e 
Hi>r h.«id, with hor lu>art in it, to FrancT>so\>. 

l'jR\'«t was tho joy : but at tho Hrivlal-foast, 
When all sate down, tho brido was wat\ting 

thotv. 
Nor was slio tv> ly> found ! Her Father oriovl, 
" T is Iwt txi make a trial of our lov\< ! " 
And filUxi his glass to all : but his hand shook. 
And svxm frvim g\uv<t to grusst the ]>anio spn^ad. 
T was but that instant she had lott Framvsav. 
Uaughing .and Kx^king liack, and tlying still. 
Her ivory t>x>th imprint»xi on his tii\gor. 
Hut now. alas, sl>o was not to Iv found ; 
Xor frvuu that hour oottld anything bo gtiossovl. 
But that she was not ! 



I'OiiMS OF TKAUKDy. 



H'Jl 



\V<:iiry "(' liin life, 
I'lMnrcKifi Ili'W to V'('iii<t<', iiud, forlliwilli, 
I'liiii^ it iiwity ill biitUii willi Ifm 'I'liik, 
iirMJiii livcil, — mill liiii^' iiiiKlilHl, Hum liiivi^ wen 
All olil iiiaii wniiili'iiiiK iiH ill >|U»sl. <ii' Miiiii'tliiii^, 
Siiiiii'tliiii;; III' I'liiilil iKil liiiil, III! kiii'H' mil wliiit, 
W'lii'ii lie »iiK ){'iiii', till) lioumi rrliiiiliii^il iiwliilu 
Silriit mill ti'iimitli'HH, — tliiMi wiMil to Htrmixi'i". 

Full fifty ycnm wiTr [mM., iumI nil fVugnl, 
Wlii-ii, on HTi iille iliiy, a iliiy nl' sniicli 
Mill till' iilil Imnlirr in tlir (Iiilli'iy, 
'I'liiit iiiriiilil('riiif{ i-liiwt was iiiitii'i'il ; iiiiil'twiiH 

s:iiJ 

r.y mil' ii.s young, as tlioii<;lilli'SK .'is (iiiicvra, 
" Why not icniovc it from its liirkiii^^placii (" 
"i' wnH (loni! Ill Hoon nH Biiid ; lint on tin: way 
It linrst, it fi^ll ; ainl lo, a Hkidotoii, 
Willi licre iinil tlierc ii iieiii'I, an i:nii:nilil hioio', 
A <;olilf'n cliiHii, claspinK a Hlircil of ;;olil ! 
All rlsi' liiiil pi'iislii'il, — Havi! a nn|)tial-nn«. 
Ami a Hiiiall wal, lii'i' motlii'r'K li'^a'T. 
Kngiaviui willi ii mum', tin' iiaiiH' of ln.lli, 

"(ilNKVIlA," 

Tlieri! tlion liml hIu^ loiiml a fjravu ! 
Witliiii that chest had hIih concciilod hci'Kidl', 
Kliittering with joy, tin; liaiijiieBt of tlm hupjiy ; 
When a »iiriiij;-lo(;k, that lay in amhiiHh then'. 
Fastened her down for ever '. 

SAMIII'.L UOueRS. 



THK MISTLKTOK liOUIill. 

TilK mistletoe hung in the eautlo linll, 
The holly braneh shone on the old oak wall ; 
And the baron's retainers were tililhe and gay, 
And keeping their f'hristmas holiday. 
The baron beliehl with a father's pride 
Mis heantifiil ehild, young Lovell's bride ; 
While she with her bright eyes seenied to be 
The star of the goodly company. 

" I 'in weary of dancing now," she cried ; 

" Here tany a moment, — I '11 hide, I 'II hide ! 

Ami, Lovell, bf; sure thou 'rt first to trace 

The clew to my w-cret Iniking-place." 

Away she ran, — and her friends b'gan 

Kiuh tower to search, and each nook to scan ; 

Anil young Ijovell cried, " O, where dost thou 

bide ? 
I 'm lonesome without thee, niy own dear bride." 

They nought her that night, and they songlit her 
I next day, 

And they sought her in vain when a week jKUiscd 

away : 
III the highest, the lowest, the loneliest spot, 
Young Lovell sought wildly, — but found hernot. 



And years llnw by, and their j^iief at last 
Was told as a sorrowful tale lung past ; 
And when l.ovell appeared, the eliildren cried, 
".See I the old man weeps for his fairy bride." 

At leiigtli nil oiik I'licst, that lind Inng lain hid. 
Was found in the ciistic, they rained the lid, 
And a skeleton IViriii lay inoiildering there 
In the bridal wreath of that lady fair I 
I), sad was her fate ! —in siiortive jest 
Hhe hid from her bird in the old oak chest, 
It closed with a spring ! — and, dreadful doom. 
The bride lay eliiKpi'd in her living tomb ! 

Thomas iiavniis riAVl.v. 



TiiK yo(;n(; i;i!AV iikad. 

Cl'.ll'.l'' hath been known to turn the young Inn I 

«™y. — 

To silver over in a single day 

The bright locks of the beautiful, their jirinie 

Hcaiei'ly o'erpast ; as in the fearful time 

Of (lallia's miulnesH, that discrowniwl lieiwl 

Herene, that on the acciir»f'.il altar bled 

Miscalled of f,ibert,y. O martyred Queen I 

What must the sufferings of that night havu 

been — 
TIml. ime. — that nprinltle/l thy fair trewieji o'er 
With time's untimely snow ! I'lit now no more, 
Lovely, august, iinha|)py one ! of thee 
1 have to tell a humbler hist/iry ; 
A village tale, whose only eliami, in sooth 
(If any), will be Sful mid simple tnitb. 

"Mother," fpiotli Ambrose to his thrifty dame, — 
So oft our jieasant's use his wife to name, 
" Father " and " Master " Ut himself applie/l, 
As life's grave duties matronize the biiile, — 
" Mother," quoth Ambrose, as he faced the north 
With hard-s<!t teeth, before he issued forth 
To his day lalKji, from the cottage door, — 
" I 'm Ihiiiking that, Ui-night, if not l«;forc, 
There '11 b« wild work. Dost hear old Chewtfin • 

roar ? 
It '» brewing up, down westward ; and look there, 
One of those sea-gulls ! ay, there goes a [lair ; 
And such a sudden thaw ! If rain wjmes on, 
As threats, the waters will be out anon. 
I That path by the ford '» a nasty bit of way, — 
I5cst let the young ones bide from school tn-day." 

I " IJo, mother, do ! " the quiek -eared urchins cried ; 
i Two little lawtes to the father's side 



• A freth-waler tprlngf ru*hing (Dto Ihe *ca. called Ctwwl'm 
Bunny. 



892 



POEMS OF TRAGEDY. 



Close clinging, as they looked from him, to spy 
The answering language of the mother's eye. 
There was denial, and she shook her head : 
"Nay, nay, — no harm will come to them," she 

said, 
" The nustvess lets them off these short ilark days 
An hour the earlier ; and our Liz, she says. 
May ijuite be trusted — ami I know 't is true — 
To take eare of herself and Jenny too. 
And so she ouglit, — she 's seven eome first of 

May, — 
Two yeai-s the oldest ; and they give away 
The Christmas bounty at the school to-day." 

The mother's will was law (alas, for her 
That hapless day, poor soul !) — she could not err. 
Thought Ambrose ; and his little fair-haired Jane 
(Her namesake) to his heart he hugged again. 
When each had had her turn ; she clinging so 
As if that day she eould not let him go. 
But Labor's sons must snatch a hasty bliss 
In nature's tenderest mood. One last fond kiss, 
" Ood bless my little maids ! " the father said. 
And cheerly went his way to win their bread. 
Then might be seen, the playmate parent gone. 
What looks demure the sister pair put on, — 
Not of the mother as afraid, or shy. 
Or questioning the love that covdd deny ; 
But simply, as their simple training taught. 
In quiet, plain straightforwardness of thought 
(Submissively resigned the hope of play) 
Towards the serious business of the day. 

To me there 's something touching, I confess. 
In the grave look of early thonglitfulness. 
Seen often in some little childish face 
Among the poor. Not that wherein we trace 
(Shame to our land, our rulers, and our race !) 
The unnatural sufferings of the factory child. 
But a staid quietness, reflective, mild. 
Betokening, in the depths of those young eyes. 
Sense of life's cares, without its miseries. 

So to the mother's charge, with thoughtful brow, 

The docile Lizzy stood attentive now. 

Proud of her years and of imputed sense. 

And prudence justifying confidence, — 

And little Jenny, more dtmurely still. 

Beside her waited the maternal will. 

So standing hand in hand, a lovelier twain 

Gainsborough ne'er painted : no — nor he of 

Spain, 
Glorious Murillo ! — and by contrast shown 
More beautiful. The younger little one. 
With large blue eyes and silken ringlets fair. 
By nut-brown Lizzy, with smooth parted hair. 
Sable and glossy as the raven's wing. 
And lustrous eyes as dark. ^ 



" Now, mind and bring 
Jenny safe home," tlie mother said, — " don't 

stay 
To pull a bough or berry by the way : 
And when you come to cross the ford, hold fast 
Your little sister's hand, till you 're quite past, ^ 
That plank 's so crazy, and so slippery 
(If not o'erfiowed) the stepping-stones will be. 
But you 're good children — steady as old folk — 
I 'd trust ye anywhere." Then Lizzy's cloak, 
A good gray dutlle, lovingly she tied. 
And amply little Jenny's lack supplied 
With her own warmest shawl. " Be sure," said 

she, 
" To wrap it round and knot it carefully 
( Like this), when you eome home, just leaving 

free 
One hand to hold by. Now, make haste away — 
Good will to school, and then good right to play." 

Was there no sinking at the mother's heart 
When, all cquipt, they turned them to depart ? 
When down the lane she watched them as they 

went 
Till out of sight, was no forefeeling sent 
Of coming ill ? In truth I cannot tell : 
Such warnings have been sent, we know full well 
And tnust believe — belieWng that they are — 
In mercy then — to rouse, restrain, prepare. 

And now I mind me, something of the kind 

Did surely haunt that day the mother's mind, 

Making it irksome to bide all alone 

By her own quiet hearth. Though never known 

For idle gossipry was Jenny Gray, 

Yet so it was, that morn she could not stay 

At home with her own thoughts, but took her 

way 
To her next neighbor's, half a loaf to borrow, — 
Yet might her store have lasted out the mor- 
row, — 
And with the loan obtained, she lingered still. 
Said she, " My master, if he 'd had his will. 
Would have kept back our little ones from school 
This dreadful morning ; and 1 'm such a fool. 
Since they 've been gone, I 've wished tiiem back. 

But then 
It won't do in such things to humor men, — 
Our Ambrose specially. If let alone 
He 'd spoil those wenches. But it 's coming on. 
That stonn he said was brewing, sure enough, — 
Well ! what of that ? To think what idle stuff 
Will come into one's head ! And here with you 
I stop, as if I 'd nothing else to do — 
And they '11 come home, drowned rats. I must 

be gone 
To get dry things, and set the kettle on." 



I 



POEMS OF TRAGEDY. 



893 



His (.lay's woik done, three mortal miles, and 

more, 
Lay between Ambrose and his cottage-door. 
A weary way, God wot, for weary wight ! 
I5iit yet far otf tlie curling smoke in siglit 
From his own cliinmey, and his heart felt light. 
How pleasantly the humlile homestead stood, 
Down the green lane, by sheltering Shirley wood! 
How sweet the wafting of the evening breeze. 
In s|iring-time, from liis two old cherry-trees. 
Sheeted with blossom ! And in hot July, 
From the brown moor-track, sliadowless and dry. 
How grateful the cool covert to regain 
Of Ills own avenue, — that shady lane, 
With the white cottage, in a slanting glow 
Of sunset glory, gleaming bright lielow, 
And jasmine porch, his rustic portico ! 

With what a thankful gladness in his face, 
(Silent heart-homage, — plant of special grace !) 
At the lane's entrance, slackening oft his pace, 
Would Ambro.se send a loving look before, 
Conceiting the caged blackbird at the door ; 
The very blackbird strained its little throat, 
In welcome, with a more rejoicing note ; 
And honest Tirjker, dog of doubtful breed. 
All bristle, back, and tail, but "good at need," 
Pleasant his greeting to the accustomed ear ; 
But of all welcomes pleasantest, most dear. 
The ringing voices, like sweet silver bells. 
Of his two little ones. How fondly swells 
The father's heart, as, dancing up the lane. 
Each clasps a liand in her small hand again. 
And each must tell her tale and " say her say," 
Iiupeiliug as she leads with sweet delay 
(Childhood's blest thoughtlessness !) his onward 
way. 

And when the winter <lay closed in so fast ; 
Scarce for his task would dreary daylight last ; 
And in all weathers — driving sleet and snow — 
Home by that liare, bleak moor-track must he go, 
Darkling and lonely. O, the blessed sight 
(His polestar) of that little twinkling light 
From one small window, through the leafless 

trees, — 
Glimmering so fitfully ; no eye but his 
Had spied it so far oH'. And sure was he. 
Entering the lane, a steadier beam to see. 
Ruddy and broad as peat-fed heartli could pour. 
Streaming to meet hiiu from the open door. 
Then, though the blackbird's welcome was un- 
heard, — • 
Silenced by winter, — note of sunmier bird 
Still hailed him from no mortal fowl alive. 
But from the cuckoo clock just striking five. 
And Tinker's ear and Tinker's nose were keen, — 
Oil' started he, and then a fonu was seen 



Darkening the doorway ; ami a smaller sprite, 
Anil then another, peered into the night, 
Ready to follow free on Tinker's track, 
But for the mother's hand that held her back : 
And yet a moment — a few steps — and there, 
Pulled o'er the threshold by that eager pair, 
He sits by his own hearth, in his own chair ; 
Tinker takes post beside with eyes that say, 
" Master, we've done our business for the day." 
The kettle sings, the cat in choms purrs. 
The busy housewife with her tea-things stirs ; 
The door 's made fast, the old stufl' curtain 

drawn ; 
How the hail clatters ! Let it clatter on ! 
How the wind raves and rattles ! What cares he ? 
Safe housed and warm beneath his own roof-tree. 
With a wee lassie prattling on each knee. 

Such was the hour — hour sacred and apart — 
Warmed in expectancy the poor man's heart. 
Summer and winter, as his toil he plied. 
To him and his the literal doom applied, 
Pronouiiceil on Adam. But the bread was sweet 
So earned, for such dear mouths. The weary feet, 
Hope-shod, stept lightly on the homeward way ; 
So specially it fared with Ambrose (-ray 
That time I tell of. He had worked all day 
At a great clearing ; vigorous stroke on stroke 
Striking, till, when he stopt, his back seemed 

broke, 
And the strong arms dropt nerveless. What of 

that ? 
There was a treasure hidden in his hat, — 
A plaything for the young ones. He had found 
A dormouse nest ; the living ball coiled rouncl 
For its long winter sleep ; and all his thought, 
As he tnidged .stoutly homeward, was of naught 
But the glad wonderment in .Jenny's eyes. 
And graver Lizzy's quieter surprise. 
When he should yield, by guess and kiss and 

prayer 
Hard won, the frozen captive to their care. 

'T was a wild evening, — wild and rough. "I 

knew," 
Thought Ambrose, "those unlucky gulls spoke 

true, — 
And Gatt'er Chewton never growls for naught, — 
I should be mortal 'mazed now if I thought 
My little maids were not safe housed before 
That blinding hail-storm, — ay, this hour and 

more, — 
Unless by tliat old crazy liit of boanl, 
They 've not passed dry-foot over Shallow ford. 
That I '11 be bound for, — swollen as it must 

be — 
Well ! if my mistress had been ruled by me — " 
But, checking tlie half-thought as lieresy. 



Si>4 



J'OKMS OK TKAlIKPV. 



Ho lvH>k«Hi out for til* Home Star. There it 

slumo, * 

Ami with a glaiWenwl h*i»i't hi> htistpuwl on. 

Ho 's ill tho Uno a^iu, — miil tlior»> Ivlow, 
Sti'»')iiiis l^•^>^n tho ojo-ii vUmnvay thai ixil j;U«v, 
Whioh waniis him hut to Uvk at. Kor his jiriw 
IVutious ho IW'ls, — all sal'o suul siui^i; it litw. — 
" IV'wii. 'I'iiikor ! down, old K>y ! — not n«ito so 

^^w<. — 

The thiiis thou saiitVost is no jpuiio for thwv — 
Uiit what 's tho moaning • no liH>ko«t to-night ! 
No living soul astir ! lYiy IuhI, all's right ! 
Who 's Ihttoring ixniiut tho jHsit-staok in such 

woathor • 
Alotiior I " you might haw loUwi him with a 

lV>;ithor, 
Whoii tho short tinswor to his loud '" Hillo 1" 
And huniiNl nuostion, " Ai\> thovoomo!" was 

•• No." 

To throw his tivls down, liastily unluHik 
Tho old oraokoil lantorii fivm its vlusty n>H>k, 
And, whiU' ho lit it, s(H'ak a oluvring woi\l. 
That almost ohok>\l him. and was svaiwly hoai\l, 
Was hut a moiuont's aot, and ho was gono 
To wliorx' a iVarlul foi\>-sight h\l him on. 
IVssing a iioighKn's ivttag\> in his way. — 
Mark Konton's, — him ho took witli sliort dolay 
To K\ir him ivnuvuiy, — for who ivuld say 
What uwhI might Ix- ' Thoy struck into tho traok 
Tho oliiUiivn should havo takoii i-oming Iwok 
Krv^iii s»-hool that day ; and many a oall and stumt 
Intxi tho |>itohy darkuoss thoy s»>nt out. 
And, by tho huitorn light. |hht<h1 all alwut. 
In owry i\>adsido ihiokot, holo, and iuH>k, 
'nil suddenly — .-is noaring now tho bi\x>k — 
S«.Mnothing hnishtnl \v\st them. That was Tink- 
er's l>aik, — 
l'iiho»\U\l, he had foUowe^l in tho dark, 
iMvvso at his master's hot'ls : but, swift .->s light, 
Oartovl Ivfoiv them nv>w, " He suiv he "s right, — 
Ho "s on the track." crie^l Aiubi\>sx>. " Hold the 

light 
Ia«v down, — he 's making for the watvr. Hark ! 
1 know that whine, — the old dv>g "s found them, 

Maik." 
So sjwiking. hivathl<>ssly ho hurriwl on 
Tow;ii\l tlio old cra*y ftvit-briilgx'. It was gone ! 
.\nd all his dull i\nitract»l light ivuld sliow 
Was the black void and dai-k swollen sti"<\»m U'low. 
'• Yet thetv 's life somewher*, — nuvw than Tink- 
er's whine, — 
That s sutv," said Mark. " S<>, let the Wileru 

sliiue 
I'Vjwn yonder. There 's the dog, — and. hark '. " 

" t> dear I " 
And a low sob came faintly on the tsir, 



Mo«ke«l by the sidtWng gust- IXwn, qtuvk «8 

thought. 
Into tho stiwini Iwiiit Ambi\>so, whoiv ho caught 
Kast hold of soinolhing, — a dark tmddlod heap, — 
Half in the water, whore 't was scaive kiuv-doep 
Kora tall man. and half aKivo it. piv|>ivd 
Uy some old nis^ginl sido-pilos that had stopt 
V^ndways tho bivkon plank, when it gave way 
With the two little ones that luckless .lay I 
" My Ixklios ! — my lambkins I " wsis the father's 

ery. 
()»r^ lUII* ivi<v made answvr. " lloiv am I !" 
"T was l.itiy's. There .she civiiclnsl with faw as 

white. 
More ghastly by tho tliokering lantorn-light 
Than shoelwl cvu-p.se. The jvilo blue lijvs dniwn 

tight. 
Wide jvirtrtl. sliowing all tho jn-arly tooth. 
And eyes on some dark objivt niuloriuMth, 
Waslunl by tho tnrbid water, lixinl as stone, — 
One srm and hand stretchovl out, and rigid 

givwii, 
t^nispiiig, as in the dtvitli-gripe. .'oniiy's fiwk. 
There slie lay divwneil. Cvnild ho sustain that 

shwk. 
The doting father * Wlioiv 's the unrivon iwk 
Oui bide such blasting in its lliiitit>sl jvut 
As that soft seutioiit thing, — the human heart f 

They liftoil her fivm out her watery bod, — 
Its iMvoiing gvuie, tho lovely little head 
Hung like a bivken snowvlivp all aside ; 
And one small hand. — the mothoi's shawl was 

ti«\l, 
l*eaving Ihut fi\H>, alwnt the child's small form, 
As was her last injunctiv>n — "/Iijcf and warm " - 
T>H> well olwyerl. — tiH> fast ! A tatal hold 
AlVoi\ling to the sci-.ig by a thick fold 
That caught and piniuHl her in tho river's KM, 
While tluvugh tho iwkloss water overhead 
Her lifc-bivalh bubbUnl up. 

"She might have li\-e<l. 
Struggling like l.itsy." wsis tho thought that 

rived 
The wr»>teheil mother's heart, when slie knew all. 
" Kut for my tVxdislinoss aKnit that sliawl ! 
And Master wvuUl have kept them Iwck the day ; 
But 1 was wilful, —driving them awsiy 
In such wild woiither ! " 

Thus tho tortuixnl heart 
ITunaturally against itself takes jwrt, 
Driving the sharp <'»lg<> do«'fX'r of a w\h> 
To»> dtH>p .aln-ady. They had raisevl her now. 
And jvarting tho w^'t ringlets fKmi her bn>w. 
To that, and tho cold cheek, and liivs as >vld. 
The fiithor gluevl his warm ones, or«' thoy nJlevl 
Itnce more tho fatal shawl — her windina-shoet — 
.Vbvnit tho previous clay. One heart still K-at, 



rOKMH OK TItAliKiJV, 



H'J5 



Wiinnotl liy his ficiirt'n \)\cim\. To Ills only Mid 
lilt liirni'd Ijiiii, Inil. Ihm' pili'iniH rii(iiujiii){ luilil 
I'ictri'il lijin iilrcKli, 1111(1 iiiiHHlri^ kru'W lilni iiol.. 
" Miitlicr I " hIii! niiit'tiiiu'i'd, " wlirj NiiyH I I'diKol, */ 
MrillliTl ill(lM:ll, ill(llM-c|, I l(ll|i( I'llHl liolil, 
Ami ti('il tin; hIkiwI i|iiili! cliiHc kIii! ciin'L Ixi rold 
Hut hIk' WDii'l iiuivii W(i ».li[il - I ilriij'l, kiiiiw 

llllW 

Hut I liulil on - anil I 'ni wi wi'iny now - 
Anil il'H HO iliirk iiml cold I I) diiir I (» dciir I 
And iilii- won't umvi: ; ililiiddy wiiH Imt lii:M; ! " 

I'oor liinili I hIii' wundi'ji'd in Iht niiml, 'I mm 

idi'iir ; 
Itnt Kiion till! |iitroiin inurniiir dii^d iiwiiy, 
And i|nic't In Inrr liilliiti-'H lUiiiH itlii! Iiiy, 
'I'liry llii'ir di:iiil l)iiidi:n Intil rrnij^ni'd, to tiikij 
'I'lii! liviuj^, MO nrair lout. Kor lii:r di'iu' Miikir, 
And oni! iil lionx!, In: urininl liinmi'll to luiii 
Hin inl»i)iy lik<! ii inun, ~- with ti'iidi-r inn: 
DoHIng liix coat InT Hliivi'rin« Corni to lijld 
(Ills niMKlilior lii'iiHij;^ that wljiidi fidt no iiold), 
Jli; liluHppil lii:r idowi, and ho, with lillln naid, 
Honiiiward they hoio Uiu living; and thu di^ad. 

l''foni Ainhriwo (Jniy'H poor i;olta;;i: all that night 
Hhoni; liHiilly a littlu Mhiftin({ li({ld, 
Alxive, hidow, for all wi:rn watiihiTH tljnri;, 
8av(! oni! Kouiid HhifijiiT. J/cr, paii'nlal I'ure, 
I'liri'iital watidifnlniiitit, uvaili:ii not now. 
lint in thi! youn({ siirvivor'H tliiohhin^ brow, 
And wanduring i-ycH, iJidlriouH I'ltvi-r lii>riii;il ; 
And all night lon({ from xldi! to hidi: nhi; turni»l, 
i'iti'oiiHly (ilaining like a woundi-d dove, | 

With now and then the iniiriniii, "Hhi; won't' 

rnovn." ! 

And lo ! wlien niorniuff, iih in mockery, hrlght | 
Hhone on that jiillow, j/aioiing Htrange tin- night, 
'I'liat young head'H raven hair was ntreaked with 

while ! 
N'o idle fietloii thin. Such things liavc Wii, 
We know. And now /tell wluit f liMve Ken, 

Life Hi niggled long with dc-ith in that iimnll frame, 
jliil it wax htrong, and wni)iiered. All Ijecmne 
A* it had been with the jjoor family, — 
All, saving that which nevermore might. Ix; ; 
1 here wa» an empty place, — they were but three. 

CAKOI.IHR liOWLKS BOUMIKV. 



Tliiiro were Honm that lan, hihI 
l,ike troutlets in a |>oi>l. 



Dome thai Wn\ii 



TJIE DIlhA.M OK Kb'OENK AliAM. 

'T WAH in the prime of summer time, 

An ev'.iiing calm and 'yxjl. 
And four-arnitwenty h".;i|iy Ixjys 

('.AUK Ijoiiniling out of m:\uyA ; 



Awny they sped witli gamesonie niindii 

And hoiiIh untouched by nin ; 
To a level meivl they came, iinil l.hcrii 

They driive the wlckelH in ; 
i'leasantly shone the netting luin 

Over the town of l.ynn. 

Like sjioilive deer lliey coursed about, 

And shoiiteil an they ran, 
'I'urning to mirth all things of enrlJi 

As only lioyliood iMin ; 
liut the usher sal leinote from all, 

A nielanchuly man I 

ills hat was oil', his vest apart, 
'I'd eati.di heaven's lilesscd breeze ; 

i''or ,t buiiiing thought was in his brow. 
And his boHoni ill at case ; 

Ho he leaned his head on his handx, and reii/J 
The book between his knees, 

Leaf alter leaf he turned it o'er. 

Nor ever glanced aside, - 
Vor till! peace of his soul he read that booii 

in the golden eventide ; 
Mucli study had moile iiim very lean, 

Ami pale, and leo'len-eycU. 

At last he shut the ponderous t'lmc ; 

With tt fast and fervent grasp 
lie strained the dusky covers cl<;»«, 

And lixed the bra»;n hasp : 
"O (Jod ! could i wj close my mind, 

And clasp it with a chisp I " 

'I'hen leaping on liis UihI upright, 

.Some moody turns he look, — 
Now uj) the meiul, tlien down tlie mead. 

And [Kint a shiuly nook, ■ — 
And, lo I he saw a little Ix^y 

'i'hut jwreiJ iijion a l)Ook. 

" My gentle liul, what is 't you read, — 

Ifomaii'M! or fairy fable ( 
Or Is it some hintoric f«ige. 

Of kings and crowns unstable 1" 
The young boy gave an ujiward nhilU'J!, — 

"It Is •riui iJeathof AU;1.;" 

The luhcr took six hasty »trid<»i, 

As smit with sudden pain, — 
Six hasty strides beyond the itUtce, 

Then slowly Uii;k again ; 
And down he sat Ix/side the la<l. 

And tiilke'l with him of Cain ; 



bi>6 



rOKMS OF TRAGEDY. 



And, long since then, of bloixly men, 

Wliose deeiis tmdition saves ; 
And lonely folk cut oil' unseen, 

And hid in sudden graves ; 
And horrid stabs, in giiives forlorn ; 

And niurdei-s done in caves ; 

And how tlic sprites of injured men 

Shriek upward from the sod ; 
Ay, how the ghostly hand will point 

To show the burial clod ; 
And unknown facts of guilty acts 

Are seen in divanis from God. 

He told how mui'derei-s walk the earth 

Beneath the curse of Cain, — 
With crimson clouds befoi-e their eyes, 

And flames about their brain ; 
For blood has left upon their souls 

Its everhisting stJiin ! 

"And well," quoth he, "I know for truth 
Their pangs must be extreme — 

Woe, woe, imutteralile woe ! — 
'\\'ho spill life's sacred stream. 

For why ? Methouglit, last night I wi-ought 
A muuler, in a dream ! 

"One that had never done me wrong, — 

A feeble man and old ; 
I led him to a lonely field, — 

The moon shone clear and cold : 
Now here, said 1, this man shall die. 

And I will have his gold ! 

' ' Two sudden blows with a ragged stick. 

And one with a heavy stone. 
One hurried gsish with a hasty knife, — 

And then the deeil was done : 
There was nothing lying at n\y feet 

But lifeless tlesh and bone 1 

"Nothing but lifeless flesh and Iwne, 

That could not do me ill ; 
And yet 1 feared him all the more 

For lying there so still : 
There was a manhood in his look 

That murder could not kill ! 

" And, lo ! the universal air 
Seenu'd lit with ghastly flame, — 

Ten thousand thousand dreadful eyes 
Were looking down in blame ; 

I took the dead man by liis hand, 
And called upon his name. 

" God ! it made me qnake to see 
Such sense within the slain ; 



But, when I touched the lifeless clay, 

Tile blood gushed out amain ! 
For every clot a burning spot 

Was scorching in my brain ! 

" My head was like an anient coal, 

lly heart as solid ice ; 
My wretched, wretched soul, 1 knew. 

Was at the IH'vil's price. 
A dozen times 1 groaned, — the dead 

Had never groaned but twice. 

"And now, from forth tlie frowning sky, 
From the heaven's topmost height, 

I heard a voice, — the awful voice 
Ot the blood-avenging sprite : 

'Thou guilty man ! take up thy dead. 
And hide it from my sight ! ' 

"And 1 took the dreary body up, 

And cast it in a stream, — 
The sluggish water black <vs ink. 

The di'pth was so extreme ; — 
My gentle boy, remember, this 

Is nothing but a dream ! 

" Hown went the corse with a hollow plunge. 

And vanished in the pool ; 
Anon I cleanseil my bloody hands. 

And washi'd my forehead cool. 
And sat among the urchins young, 

That evening, in the school. 

" Heaven ! to think of their white souls, 

And mine so black and grim ! 
I could not share in childish prayer. 

Nor join in evening hymn ; 
Like a devil of the pit 1 si'cmed, 

Mid holy cherubim ! 

"And Teace went with them, one and all, 

And each calm pillow spread ; 
But lUiilt wius my grim chamberlain. 

That lighted me to bed, 
And drew my midnight curtains round 

With lingers bloody red ! 

" All night 1 lay in agony, 

In anguish dark ami deep ; 
My fevered eyes 1 dared not dost. 

Hut st)\red agha.st at Sleep ; 
For Sin had renilered unto her 

The keys of liell to keep ! 

"All night I lay in agony, 

From weary chime to chime ; 
With one besetting horrid hint 

That racked me all the time, — 



POEMS OF TKAGEDy. 



897 



A mighty yeariiiii^', like tlie first 
Fierce impulse unto crime, — 

" One gtem tyrannic thouglit, that made 

All other thoughts its slave I 
Stronger and stronger every pulse 

Did that temptation crave, — 
Still urging me to go and see 

The dead man in bis grave ! 

" Heavily I rose up, as soon 

As light was in the sky. 
And sought the black accurswl pool 

With a wilil, misgiving eye ; 
And I saw the dead in the river-bed, 

For the faithless stream was dry. 

" MeiTily rose the lark, and shook 

The dew-drop from its wing ; 
But I never marked its morning flight, 

I never heard it sing. 
For 1 was stooping once again 

Under the horrid thing. 

" With breathless speed, likt a soul in chase, 

I took him up and ran j 
There was no time to dig a grave 

B<'fore the day >jegan, — 
In a lonesome wood, with heaps of leaves, 

1 hid the murdered man ! 

" And all that day I read in school. 
But my thought was otherwhere ; 

As soon as the midiiay task was done, 
In secret I was there, — 

And a mighty wind had swept the leaves. 
And still the corse was bare ! 

" Then down I cast me on my face. 

And first began to weep, 
For I knew my secret then was one 

Tliat earth refused to keep, — 
Or land or sea, though he should be 

Ten thousand fathoms deep. 

" So wills the fierce avenging sprite. 

Till blood for blood atones ! 
Ay, though he 's buried in a cave. 

And troflden down with stones. 
And years have rotted off his flesh, — 

The world shall see his boiles ! 

" God ! that horrid, horrid dream 

Besets me now awake ! 
Again — again, with dizxy brain, 

The human life I take ; 
And my red right hand grows raging hot. 

Like Cranmer's at the stake. 



" And still no peace for the restless clay 

Will wave or mould allow ; 
The horrid thing jiursues my soul, — 

It. stands before me now ! " 
Tlie fearful Ixjy looked up, and saw 

Huge drops upon his brow. 

That very night, while gentle sleep 

The urchin's eyeliils kissed. 
Two 8t«rn-face<l men set out from Lynn 

Through the cold and heavy mist ; 
And Kugene Aram walked between. 

With gyves upon his wrist. 



TKOUAS Hood. 



RAMON. 

REFUGIO HI.NE, NOKTKEKM MEXICO. 

Dbukk and senseless in his place. 
Prone and sprawling on his face, 
More like brute than any man 
Alive or dead, — 
By his great pump out of gear, 
Lay the pi»n engineer, 
Waking only just to hear. 

Overhead, 
Angry tones that called bis name, 
Oaths and cries of bitter blame, — 
Woke to hear all this, and waking, turned and 
fled! 

" To the man who '11 bring to me," 

Cried Intendant Harry L<«, — 
Hairy Lee, the English foreman of the mine, — 

" Bring the sot alive or dca<i, 

1 will give to him," he said, 

" Fifteen hundred pe/ioii down. 

Just to set the rascal's crown 
Undenicath this heel of mine : 
Since but death 

Deserves the man whose dee<l. 

Be it vice or want of heel. 

Stops the pumps that give us breath, — 

Stof»s the pumf>s that suck the death 
From the poisoned lower levels of the mine I " 

Xo one answered, for a cry 
From the shaft rose up on high ; 
And slmffling, scrambling, tumbling from below. 
Came the miners each, the bolder 
Mounting on the weaker's shoulder. 
Grappling, clinging to their hold or 

Letting go. 
As the weaker gasped and fell 
From the ladder to the well, — 
To the poisoned pit of hell 
Down below ! 



898 



POEMS OF TRAGEDY. 



"To tht> man who sets them I'l'ee," 
OviaI tlie foreman. Hairy l.eo, — 

llarry l.et>, the English foivmau of the mine, — 
'• Ivrin^s^s them out tuul sets them fiw. 
1 will j;ive that man," s;»ivl he, 
" Twieo that sum. who with a twi>e 
Fait! to fai-e with Jejith sliall an>e : 
Let hint i-ome who daivs to hojH' I " 
" HoM Your iH>aot> ! " some one rej>Ue<.l, 
StsuidinjT by the foivman's side : 

" Therv has oue !Ur»>ady gone, whoe'er he be ! " 

Then they held their bn-ath with a»v, 

l^tUing on the rv^po, and saw 

Faiutiuj; ligutvs reapjHiur, 

On the blaofc r\>i>e swinsiuj: elear, 
Fastemnl by svnue skilful hand I'rvnn Ivlow ; 

Till a sivre the level punetl, 

Aud but oue alone rennuueil, — 

He the her\> and the last. 

He whose skilful hand made fast 
The lonj; line that l>rought them l<aek to hvijx< 
and ohwr ! 

Haj5pvr\l, gasping, down drv^pjxnl he 

At the feet of Harry l.rt>, — 

Harry L»>e, the English foreman of the mine ; 

" 1 have eouie," he gaspeil, " to elaim 

Both rewanls, SoAor, — my niu>u< 

Is Kamon ; 

I "m the drunken engineer. — 

1 "m the ivwarvi, Seftor — " Here 

He fell o\-er. by that sigu 

Dead as stone I 

BKST Hakte. 



REVELKY OK THE DYIXG. 









ih ItKtii*. while ttte i>tit:\te ««$ ti^;ic^. 

■" ■ ** ^ •■■-■ ■ ••- ' • ' ■-— ;^sMtw.H»ev( 

^tj lo Bar- 

U first 

— ., ..- *.\.,.>lut«ty u«- 



Wk meet 'u^ath the svniudiug rafter. 

And the walls arvund are Ixuv ; 
As they shout to our {vtUs of laughter, 

U seems that the dt^ad suw therv. 
But stand to your gl.^sses. stesivly ; 

We drink to our vvmrades" eyes : 
tjuaff a oup to the dead already — 

And hurrah for the next that dies ! 

Not here are the goblets glv>\ring, 
Sot here is the vintage s\n'et ; 

T is eold, as our hearts are growing. 
And dark as the 4llom we meet. 



But stand to your glasses, steady ! 

And siHUi sl>;UI our pulses rise ; 
A cup to the desid aln>ady — 

Hurrali for the next that dies ! 

Not a sigh for the lot that darkles. 

Not a tt\ar for the friends that sink ; 
We '11 fall, midst the wine-oup's sparkles. 

As mute as the wine we drink. 
So stand to your glasses, steady ! 

"T is this that the respite buys ; 
Oue eup to the dt>ad already — 

Hurrah for the ne.xt that dies ! 

Time was when we frvwutnl at others ; 

We thought we were wiser then : 
Ha ! ha ! let thiv>e think of their iuother% 

Who ho{>e to see them again. 
No : stand to your glasses, steiidy ! 

The thoughtlt'.-!s aiv here the wise ; 
A eup to the dead already — 

Hurrah for the next that dies ! 

Ther\" 's msiny a hand that "s shaking, 

Ther* 's many a oluf k that 's sunk : 
But s^x>n. though our hearts aiv bivaking. 

They '11 burn with the wine we 've druuk. 
So staiul to jxnir glasses, steady ! 

T is here the ivvival lies : 
A eup to the vlead alivady — 

Hurtali for the uext that dies ! 

Theiv "s a mist on the glass eougealiug, 

T is the hurrie.-uie's fiery breath ; 
And thus does the warmth of feeling 

Turn iee in the grasp of IVath. 
Ho I stand to yvur glasses, steady : 

For a moment the vajxir tlies ; 
A cup to the dead alre!>dy — 

Hurrah for the uext that dies ! 

Who dreads to the dust rvtnniing ! 

Who shrinks from the sable shore, 
Wtere the high and haughty yeaminy 

Of the soul shall stiug uo more ! 
Ho : stand to vvnir glsisses, steady I 

The »^>rld is a world of lies ; 
A cup to the dead already — 

Hurrah for the uext that dies ! 

Cut off from the land that K>re us, 

Betrayevl by the land we find. 
Where the brightest have gone Ivfor* us. 

And the dullest remain behind — 
Stand, stand to yvur glasses, steady ! 

'T is all »v hax-e left to priie : 
A cup to the dead already — 

And hurrah for the next that dies ! 



FRAGMENTS. 



899 



niyVCMENTS. 

Till! FlllST TuAdKDY. 

So saying, her riisli liiiiiil in (!vil liunr 
Fortli iviicliirig to tliu IViiit, ,slio |iliickcil, bIio eat : 
Eai-lli I'elt the wound ; anil Natiiic IViiin her scat, 
Sighing thi'uiigh all licr workn, gave bigns of woe, 
That all was hist. 

PariiJitt Loit, Book U. Mll.l'ON. 

lie scruiileil not to cat 
Against his butter knowleilge, not ile('eivc'il, 
Hut fondly overcome with fennile charm. 
Karth treinhled from her entrails, as again 
In Jiangs, and Nature gave a second groan. 

raraJut Lost, Hook \x. MILTON. 

Death 
(irinnud horrililo a ghastly smile, to hear 
Ills famine should lie Idled, and blessed hi.s maw 
Destined to that good hour. 

Paradise Lost, Book ti. Mn.liiN, 



EFFECT.S (IK C'HIMK AND Ol'.IKK. 

The stings of Falsehood those shall try. 
And hard IJnklndness' altered eye. 

That mocks the tear it foncd to llow ; 
And keen Ucmorse with blood deliled, 
And moody Madness laughing wild 

Amid severest woe. 

On a Distant Prosfitl o/Jitott ColUgt. T. GRAY. 

My lieart is as an anvil unto sorrow, 
\V'hi(di beats upon it like a Cyeloji's hammer. 
And with the noise turns up my giddy brain 
And makes nie frantic I 

l.dwardll. C. MARLOWE, 

Every sense 
Had been o'erstrung by ]iangs intense ; 
And eacli frail fibre of her brain 
(As bowstrings, when relaxed by rain, 
The erring arrow launch aside) 
Sent forth her thoughts all wild and wide. 

Pariiina, HVHON. 

I am not mad ; — I would to lieaven I were ! 
For then, 't is like I should forget myself; 
0, if I could, what giief I should forget ! 

Kitie John, An ili, iV. 4. SHAKHSPEARR. 



PoilTKNTB AM) FKARR. 

CnsAK. Speak ! Csesar is turned to hear. 

SooTiiRAVF.K. Beware the Ides of March ! 

yttttus Catar. Art L St. a. SHAKESPl'.ARH. 



Kier(M! liery waniors fought upon the clouds. 
In ranks and sipiadrons, and right hirm of war, 
Which dri^tzleil blood upon the (Japltol. 

(;a;sar I these things aie lii^yoiid all UHO, 
And I do fear Ihini. 

WhiMi lieggars dii' Iheri: are no comets seen ; 
The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of 

princes. 
JuliMs Cxiar, Act II. Se. a. sllAKl:si'llAnii. 

Danger knows full well ' 

That Cajsar is more dangerous than he. 
We are two lions littered in one day, ; 

And I the (ddc'r and more terrible. 

Julius Cauir, An II St. a. SlIAKESPRARn 

What is danger 
More than the weakness of our apprehensions ? 
A poor cold part o' th' Vilood ; who takes it hold of? 
(_kiwards and wicked livers : valiant minds 
Weri! made the nnisters of it. 

C/tames. BEAUMONT" and FLpncnriK, 

(.'.KHAi;. Tlio Ides of March are come. 
HcioTilHAVi'.ii. Ay, Caisar; but not gone. 

yuliin Ctesiir, Act ill. iV. i. SJIAKIISPRARE. 

Kyes, look your last : 
Arms, take your last embrace ; and lijis, 

O ! you. 
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss 
A <hiteless bargain to engrossing death. 

Momco and Jutiel, Act v. Sc. 3, SHAKESPRAH E, 

Tub Kinc'k Enemy. 

Thou art a traitor. — 
Oir with his head ! — now by Saint I'aul I swear 

1 will not <line until I see the same. 

Kins Richard 111., Act ill. Sc. 4. SllAKHSI-EAKE. 

CMf with his head I so much for Uuckingham I 

Shakespeare's Richard 111. [Altered], Act Iv. Se, 3. 



liKVKNOB. 

And if wo do )iut watch the hour, 
There never yet was human power 
Which could evade, if unforgiven. 
The patient search and vigil long 
Of him who treasures up a wrong. 

Maxrffa. BVRON. 

I will feed fat the ancient grudge I Ix-ar him. 

Merchant 0/ yenlce. Actl Sc. a SHAKESPEARE. 

If it will feed nothing else, it will feed my re- 
venge. 

A/erehatlt 0/ Venice, Act III. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE. 

Vengeance to Ood alone belongs ; 
But when 1 think on all rny wrongs, 
My blood is liquid flame. 

.Marmion, Cant. vi. SCOTT. 



900 



POEMS OF TRAGEDY. 



Forethought of Murder. 

There shall be done 
A deed of dreadful note. 



Macbeth, Act iii. Sc, 2, 



SHAKESPEARE. 



Between the acting of a dreadful thing, 
And the first motion, all the interim is 
Like a phantasnia, or a hideous dream : 
The Genius, and the mortal instruments, 
Ai'e then in council ; and the state of man. 
Like to a little kingdom, suffers then 
The nature of an insurrection. 

Julius Casar, Act i. Sc. I. SHAKESPEARE. 

If it were done, when 't is done, then 't were well 
It were done quickly : if the assassination 
Could trammel up the consequence, and catch 
With his surcease, success ; that but this blow 
Might be tlie be-all and the end-all here, 
But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, — 
We 'd jump the life to come. 

Besides, this Duncan 
Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been 
So clear in his great otBce, that his virtues 
Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against 
The deep damnation of his taking-oti". 

Macbeth. Act i. Sc- 7. SHAKESPEARE. 

Put out the light, and then — put out the light. 

ii I quench thee, thou tlaming minister, 

I can again thy former light restore, 

Should 1 repent me ; but once put out thy light. 

Thou cunning' st pattern of excelling nature, 

I know not where is that Promethean heat, 

That can thy light relume. When 1 have plucked 

thy rose 
I cannot give it vital growth again. 
It needs must wither. 

Ollulto,Actv.Sc.2, SHAKESPEARE. 

Stop up th' access and passage to remorse. 
That no compunctious visitings of nature 
Sh.ike my fell purpose, nor keep peace between 
Th' effect and it. 



Macbeth, Act i. Sc. 5. 



Shakespeare. 



Let 's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully ; 
Let 's carve him as a dish fit for the gods, 
Not hew him as a carcn,se fit for hounds. 

yutttts Casar, Act ii. Sc, t, SHAKESPEARE. 

Afterward-s. 

0, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven ; 
Jt hath the primal el lest curse upon 't, 
A brother's murder. 

Hamiet, AcliiL Sc, y SHAKESPEARE, 



horror ! horror ! horror ! Tongue nor heart 
Cannot conceive nor name thee. 

('onfusion now hath made his master-piece. 
Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope 
The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence 
The life o' the building. 

Macbeth, Act ii. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE. 

Blood, though it sleep a time, yet never dies : 
The gods on murderers fix revengeful eyes. 

It'iJc-m's Tears, CHAP.MAN. 

Foul deeds will rise, 
Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's 



eyes. 

Act i. Sc, 2. 



SHAKESPEARE. 



lilisful God, that art so just and trewe ! 
Ln, howe that thou biwreyest mordre alway ! 
Jlordre wol out, that se we day by day. 

The A'onttcs Precstes Tale. CHAUCER. 

For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak 
With most miraculous organ. 

Hanttel. Act ii. Sc, i. SHAKESPEARE. 

The Hardened Ceimikal. 

1 have almost forgot the taste of fear. 

The time has been, my senses would have quailed 
To hear a night-shriek ; and my fell of hair 
Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir. 
As life were in 't. I have supped full witli hor- 
rors : 
Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts. 
Cannot once start me. 

Macbeth. Act v. Sc 4. SHAKESPEARE. 

Suicide. 
All mankind 

Is one of these two cowards ; 
Either to wish to die 
When he should live, or live when he should die. 

The Blind Lady, SIR R. HOWARD. 

Our enemies have beat us to the hip : 
It is more worthy to leap in ourselves 
Than tarry till they push us. 

yulius Casar, Adv. Sc. 5. SHAKESPEARE. 

He 
That kills himself t' avoid misery, fears it. 
And at the best shows but a bastard valor : 
This life 's a fort committed to my trust. 
Which I must not yield up, tijl it be forced ; 
Nor will I ; he 's not valiant that dares die, 
But he that boldly bears calamity. 



Tlte Maid 0/ Hoitar. 



P. MaSSINGER. 



\&%%^^m 



^^^^^^^r V^^^^ 



PERSONAL POEMS. 




^f^ *^ttjCtt.»%,uif*^Ly »»%.<«^X V A.-»>w z^*" '^^' "v^t., 
-^"^ ^ir*»»» , .^1/ ^ '^».,^txJL4 /r<rfn^ {A-^t-r ^><c«y cx*v>^<_ , 






■■ • I <«.^.«'^ »;.... ^ 



/ 



^, ' ^ 



2^«#^- 7^-<- v>^ — fVC^' -*^-^^^ 



^™. ^-^ 



^XX^^J^bs:?! 



^^/cUO otOTl^' /tct^^ VCCV ^tfific^ /-^<j<^ 



ex. 



PERSONAL IH)|-:MS. 



PRAXITFJ-KS. 

I'M'iM ( 1(1' (.IM'/'K 

\B}IV»{l(irjuilur), I'min, Aiii:liiwn, .iii'l A'l'niin 
— t)ir«<', 
'I'liri'i! only, iliil rm- •■vnr iiiiIcimI kw; ; 
r.iil tiiiH I luxiUrli'H — wlii'ii, wliijcit, ili'l lie? 



1)IK(;k or ai.aiiic tiik vimiuotii. 

[AUHc fet'irmvl anrl ftti/jjlfffl tlinilly of U/mw, and w«& afUrnfMrdt 
Wrl<:<1 In the (.tiJiririel tjf i(i« rlyer lluMriillua, Itie walxr </f wlikli 
lt«il iKen dlverl«<1 ffwri II* utuite lliot tlia li^Mly HilHttl l« Inurwl.J 

Wiii'.N I urn doail, no pii((«tt"t, train 
Ktiiill wiwli- tliPir HoiiowH ut my blor, 

N'or wortlili'Hit poiiiii of lioiriu«i! vain 
Huin It with liy|ioi.ritii; li;iir ; 

For I will ilic a* I ilid livi-, 

Nor taki; tin; Ixton I cannot give. 

Y(! nhull not raiwi a nwrbli; biut 

I'IKjIi till! »[iot wlirTi; I ri![K(»« ; 

\'<; hliiill not fawn Iwfori! my iluiit, 

III liollow (■ircMlllnUlliri; of WOftH ; 

Nor n'iil|itiii«il 'lay, with lying hrcath, 
IriHiilt th>: <:lay that inoiihlH Ix-ncath. 

Y« tthall not pil<: with Nnrvili- t<>il 
Voiir nioiiiiin<'nti ii|ion my Imraiit, 

Nor y<:t within th'- i:onimon it<;il 

I/ay ilown th"; wr'^'k of [Xiwi-r U) ri-Mi ; 

Wh<:r<: man i:aii IxKiHt that hi; hax tro<l 

On )iim that wan "tli« n/^jiirge of G«<L" 

liut yc tho motintain-Mtrftani tihall turn, 

Aixl lay it* i««:r<ft channi;! trarc 
And hollow, for your (ovf-rei^fn'n urn 

A rcntinfj-pla/w fori'Vur lh«re : 
Thiin hi'l it« fV(;rliiiitin;{ dl/ringx 
Flow fm/.k iiixjn thi; king of king* ; 
An<l n'lvcr hi: the wj<;rct iiaiij. 
Until the deep give lijt liU d>:a<l. 



My gold and ailver ye alial) lllng 

liark to till'' I'lodn tljat gave them liirtli ;■ 
The captured erownn of loany a king, 

The niiinoiii of a i^xiipiered earth ; 
I'oi e'en though deivl will I control 
The tro[ihlen of the eapit^/l. 

Milt when, Iwneuth the moiintaintide, 
Ve 've laiil your moiiareh ilown to rot, 

Ve kIiuII not rear iijh/ii ltd nide 

t'illar or mound to mark tlie apot ; 

l''or long enough the world ha« bhook 

ISeneatli the Uirrorn of my look ; 

And now, tliat I liave run my riuw. 

The axt'iniahiKl realma iihalj rent a ti\»u'jt. 

My wiiirne wiut like a river deep. 

And I'lom the northern hilln 1 humt, 

Aeronx the wr>rld in wrath t<> nweep, 
And where I went the >i\Kii waa euril'!<l. 

Nor hiade of grans again waa w^m 

Where Alarie and hi>s hoHtu ha/I U'MU, 

H«« how their haughty barriera fail 
IV;n>»ith the U:n>ir of tlie Goth, 

Their iron-breaat'^d legioiiM 'piail 
IV.fore my nithleHx aaha/jlh. 

And low the <pieen of empirea kne<:lit, 

And grovela at my rdiariot-wheida. 

Not for mywdf did I awajnd 

In judgment my triumphal ear ; 

"I'waH <jo<l alone, on high, did w:nd 
The avenging Heythian V> the war, 

To Hhake ahroa/l, with iron hand, 

The apiMjinti^d m'Miri^': of hin 'command. 

With Iron band tlust dcourgw 1 rear<al 
O'er guilty king and guilty realm ; 
iJextnietion W!i» the «hip I oleirred, 

And Venge^ne/! aat nifiii the helm, 
When, kunehed in fury on th* floo<l, 
I plough<»i my way through iK;a« of bl<v;d, 
And, in the dtreani their h'«rta ha/J »pflt, 
Waahwl out the long arrears of guilt. 



904 



PERSONAL POEMS. 



Across tlie eveilnstiiig Alp 

I pourt'd the tonriit of my powors, 

And feeble Cii'siii-s shriekoil lor lu'lp. 

In vain, within theii' seven-hilled towers ! 

I qnenehed in hlood the brightest Lje.n 

Thiit glittered in their diadem. 

And strnek a darker, deeper dye 

In the purple of their majesty, 

And bade my Northern twnners shine 

Upon the eomiviered I'alatiiw. 

My course is run, my errand done ; 

I go to Hint from whom 1 came ; 
But never yet shall set the sun 

Of glory that adorns my name ; 
And Roman hearts shall long be sick, 
When men shall think of Alarie. 

My course is run, my errand done ; 

But darker ministers of fate, 
Impatient, round the eternal tlirone, 

xVnd in the eaves of vengeance, wait ; 
And soon mankind shall blench away 
Before the name of Attila. 

Edward Everett. 



THE COMPLEYNTE OF CHAUCER TO 
HIS rUKSE.' 

To you, my purse, and to noon other wight 
I'ompleyn I, for ye be my lady dere ! 

I am so sorry now that ye liecn lyght. 

For certes, but-yf ye make me hevy chere. 
Me were as leaf Iw layde upon my bere. 

For whiche unto your meivy thus 1 crye, — 

Beeth hevy ageyne, or ell^s mote I dye ! 

Kow voueheth sauf this day, or it be nyghte, 
That I of you the blissful soune may here. 

Or see your colour lyke the sonn^ bryghte. 
That of yelownesse hadde never pere. 
Ye l>e my lyfe ! ye be niyn hertys stere ! + 

Quene of comfort and goo*l eompanye ! 

Beth hevy ageyne, or ell^s mote I dye. 

Now, purse, that ben to me my lyves lyght 
And saveour, as doun in this worlde heit>, 
Oute of this tonne helpe me thurgh your myght, 

• " From this unique petition," says Mr. Giliuan in his " River- 
side " CA^Ncf. " there seems tv* have resulted an additional pension 
of forty marlts a year, on the strenj^th o( which Chaucer took a lease 
of a house in the garden of St. Mary's Chapel. Westminster, for 
fifty-three years, at an annual rent of two pounds thirteen shillings 
ud fourpence. the lease to be void on the jK>et's death." So th.^t 
the tvacticai results of this poetical plaint siiow that Chaucer well 
described one of his own characteristics in his description of the 
MaRCHANT. among his Cantrrdttry Piignms, — 

" Ttiit worthy matt ftU wel his wit blsette [used]. " 
t Kuidc- 



Syn tliat ye wole not ben my ti-esorere ; 

For I am shave as nye as is a fivre. 
But I praye unto your curtesye 
Beth Iievy ageyn, or ellis nioote I dye ! 

I.'kNVOYK DK CHAUCER. 

coiuiuerour of Brutes Albyoun,* 
Whiche that by lygne and free eleecionn 

Been vcriiiy Kynge,+ this song to you I sende, 
Ami ye that mowen J alle myn harine amende. 
Have niynde upon my supplicacioun ! 

Geoffrev chaucfr. 



SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. 

from "an elegv on a friend's passion for his 
astrophill." 

WiriiiN these wootis of Arcadie 
He chiefe delight and pleasure tooke, 
And on the monntaine Parthenie, 
Upon the chrystall liipiid biooke, 
The Muses met him cv'ry day. 
That taught him sing, to write, and say. 

When he descended dowue to the mount. 
His personage seemed most divine, 
A thousand graces one might count 
Upon his lovely, cheerfuU eine ; 

To heare him speake and sweetly smile. 

You were in Parailise the wliile. 

A sweet attractive kinde of grace, 

A full assurance given by lookes, 

Contiiiuall comfort in a face. 

The lineaments of Gospell bookes ; 
I tix>we that countenance cannot lie. 
Whose thoughts are legible in the eie. 

Was never eie did see that face. 
Was never eare did heai-e that tong. 
Was never minde did minde his giuce, 
That ever thought the travell long ; 
But eies, and eares, and ev'ry thought. 
Were with his sweete perfections caught 

Matthew Rovden. 



ANNE HATHAWAY. 

TO THE IDOL OF WV EVE AND DELIGHT OF MV HEART. 
ANNE HATHAWAY 

Wouu) ye be taught, ye feathered throng. 
With loves sweet notes to grace your songi 
To pierce the heart with thrilling lay, 
Listen to mine Anne Hathaway ! 

* The Albion of Bnilus. a descendant of Eivas. 

t King Heiuy tV. seems to be meant I may 



PERSONA 1, l'(Ji;.\18. 



905 



She liatli a way to sing so cleni', 
Phoebus uiiglit woiuieriiig stop to heai\ 
To melt the sad, make blithe the gay, 
And iiatuie charm, Anne hath a way ; 

She hath a way, 

Anne Hatliaway ; 
To breathe delight Anne hath a way. 

When Envy's breath and ranenrous tooth 

Do soil and bite fair worth and truth, 

And merit to distress betray. 

To soothe the heart Anne hath a way ; 

She hath a way to chase despair, 

To heal all grief, to cure all care. 

Turn foulest night to fairest <lay. 

Thou know'st, fond heart, Anne hath a way ; 

She hath a way, 

Anne Hatliaway ; 
To make grief bliss, Anne liath a way. 

Talk not of gems, the orient list, 
The diamond, topaz, amethyst, 
The emerald mild, the ruby gay ; 
Talk of my gem, Anne Hathaway ! 
She hatli a way, with her bright eye, 
Their various lustres to defy, — 
The jewels she, and the foil they. 
So sweet to look Anne hath a way ; 

She hath a way, 

Anne Hathaway ; 
To shame bright gems, Aniu^ liath a way. 

But were it to my fancy given 
To rate her charms, I 'd call them heaven ; 
For, though a mortal made of clay. 
Angels must love Anne Hathaway ; 
She hath a way so to control. 
To rapture, the imprisoned soul, 
And sweetest heaven on earth display, 
That to be heaven Anne hath a way ; 

She hath a way, 

Anne Hathaway ; 
To be heaven's self, Anne liatli a way. 

ANONVMOUS • 



ON THE PORTRAIT t OF SHAKESPEARE. 

Thls figure, that thou here seeat put. 
It was for gentle Shakespeare cut ; 
Wherein the Graver had a strife 
With Nature to oublo the life : 
0, could he but have drawn his wit 
As well in brass, as he hath hit 

* This poem has sometimes, but without much reason, been 
altrit>uted to Sliakespeare. 

t The engraving by Martin Drocshout. 



His face ; the Print woulil then surpass 
All that was ever writ in brass. 
lint since he cannot, Reader, look 
Not at his picture, but his book. 

UEN JONSON. 

— « — 
SHAKESPKARE. 

FROM "PROLOr,UE"SPOKF.N BY MR. GARRICK AT THE OPEN- 
ING OF THE THEATRE IN DRURV LANE, IN 1747. 

WnKN Learning's triumph o'er her barbarous 
foes 
First reared the stage, immortal Shakespeare rose; 
Each change of many-colored life he drew. 
Exhausted worlils, and then imagined new : 
I'lxistence saw him spurn her bounded reign. 
Anil jianting Time toiled after him in vain : 
His powerful strokes presiding Truth impressed. 
And unresisted l^assion stormed the breast. 

DR Samuel Johnson. 



TO THE MEMORY OF MY BELOVED 

MA.STER, WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, 
AND WHAT HE HATH LEFT US. 

To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name, 
Am I thus ample to thy book and fame ; 
While I confess tliy writings to be such 
As neither man nor Muse can praise too much. 
'T is true, and all men's sutt'rage. But these ways 
Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise ; 
For silliest ignorance on these would light, 
Which, when it sounds at best, but echoes right ; 
Or blind atfection, which doth ne'er advance 
The truth, but gropes, and urges all by chance ; 
Or crafty malice might pretend this praise. 
And think to ruin, where it seemed to raise. 

But thou art proof against them, and, indeed, 
Above the ill fortune of them, or the need. 
I therefore will begin : Soul of tlie age ! 
The ajiplause, delight, the wonder of our stage ! 
My Shakespeare, rise ! I will not lodge thee by 
C'haui:er, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie 
A little further oH', to make thee room : 
Thou art a monument without a tomb, 
And art alive still, while thy book doth live, 
And we have wits to read, and praise to give. 
That I not mix thee so, my brain excuses, 
I mean with great but disproportioned Muses : 
For if I thought my judgment were of years, 
I should commit thee surely with thy peers. 
And tell how far thou didst our Lyly outshine. 
Or sporting Kyd or Marlowe's mighty line. 
And though thou had small Latin and less Greek, 
From theuce to honour thee I will not seek 
For names ; but call forth thundering Escliylus, 
Euripiiles, and Sophocles to us. 



itOO 



PKRSONAL POKMS. 



IV'uvins, Amus, him of Ooi\lov» Uoail, 

To Uvt> a^H, to h<«r thy buskin tivavl. 

Ami sj>ak<» a stago : or when thv swks wviv oh, 

l.t'avi? thet> aloiit> for the a>m[>arison 

Of all, that iusoh'ut t;rt>«\\> or ha»ij;hty Kojue 

$Viit forth, or *iui\' >lkl fiviu their i»»l>fs i.\niu\ 

'Ih'iiunph, my Britain, thou hast one to show. 

To whom all sitjuos of Kiuvih) homago owe. 

He was uot of ai> ajce, hut for all tiiue ! 

Ami all the Muses still wer<' iu their prime, 

Wheu, like AivlKv he eame forth to warm 

t^ur ears, or like a Meivury. to charm '. 

Natuiv herself was juvuvl of his ilesigns, 

Auvl joyevl to weai- the dressing of his lines '. 

Which weiY so richly spun, and woxvii so fit. 

As, sinif, sl»e will vouchsafe no other wit. 

The merry Oret-k, tart .Vristophanes, 

Keat Teivncts witty Tlautus. now not please : 

Kttt autinuate^l and dwerte^l lie. 

As they were not of nature's family. 

Yet must 1 not give n.-ttxire all ; thy art. 

My gentle Jihakes|>eaif, must eiyoy a i>art. 

Fw though the iHvt's matter nature Iv, 

His art doth give tlie fashion ; and, that h* 

Who casts to write a living line, must sweat 

(Such as thine atv'* and strike the s«\\>t\vi heat 

I'jx^n the Muses' anvil : turn the san>e. 

Ami himself with it, that he thinks to frame ; 

Or fv>r the lautvl, he may gain a swrn ; 

Kor a gvxxl poet 's mavle as well as Ivrn. 

Ami such wert thou ! tivk how the father's face 

Li>"es in his issue, even so the raiv 

Of Shakespeare's miml ami uiauuers brightly 

shines 
In his well tumetl and true Rle»l lines : 
In each v>f which he seems to shake a lam-e. 
As br»udishe\l at the eyes of ignorance. 
Sweet Swan of Avvu» I what a sight it wete 
To see thee iu our water yet apiiear. 
And make those flights np^Mi the t>anks of Thames 
That so did take Kliaa and our James ! 
But stay, I see thee iu the hemisphere 
Advan^vil, and uwde a constellation theiv ! 
Shine fwth, thou Star i<f l\>ets, and with tage. 
Or inthience, chivle, or chwr the drvvpiug stage 
Which since thy tlight fv\>m heu« hath mouruevi 

like night. 
Ami despairs day, b>\t for thy volume's light ! 

SS.N K\NSO.N. 

• 

SHAKKSPEAKK. 

Thb soul of man is larger than the sky, 
IVeper thai\ ocean, or the abysiu.^l dark 
Of the unfathoiue\l i-entn,-. l.ike that ark. 
Which iu its saci-evl hiJd upliftevl high. 
O'er the drowned hill^he humtui family. 



And stoi'k reservwl of every living kind, 

S«>, in the comjwss of the single minvl. 

The setnls and pregnant forms iu essence lie^ 

That make all worlds. Uteat juiet, 't was thy 

art 
To know thyself, and in thyself to lie 
Whate'er love, hate, anil<ition, destiny. 
Or the firm fatal |>nriv>se of the heart 
Can make of man. Yet thou wert still the 

same, 
Setene of thought, unhurt by thy own llanie. 

IIVRTLBV COltKIUtiS. 



AN" KriTAPH ON THK APMIKAIU.K 
OKAMAl'lO 1\HX W. SHAKt:si'tUKK. 

Wii.vr neevls my Shakespeare for his houoretl 

Knies, 
The laKn- of an age in pilW stones ' 
Or that his hallow<\l ivlics should K' hid 
I'nder a star-y-jviutiug pyramid ' 
IVaj- si.>n of memory, givat heir of fame. 
What ntwl'st thou Aich weak witness of thy 

name ' 
Thou iu our wonder and astonishment 
Hast built thyself a liveUmg monument. 
Ki>r whilst to the sliame of slow-endeavoring art 
Thy easy numbers tlow, ami that t\->ch heart 
Hath fivm the leaves of thy unvalnevl Kwk 
Thi>s<;' IVlphic lines 'with deep impression tvwk. 
Then thou our fancy of itself N'reaving, 
IXxst luake us Ukarble with tvx> much conceiv- 

iug ; 
Ami si> seputchrevl iu such {lonip d^vst lie. 
That kings for such a tomb would wish to die. 

MiiroK. 



W TUK MK.MOKV OK KES JONSOX. 

TtiK Muse's laitest light in no dark time. 

The wonder of a learnW age ; the line 

Which mme i-au j«ss I the most pix>ixvtioueiJ 

wit, — 
To nature, the best jmlge of what was fit ; 
The deej>est, plainest, highest, clearest J>en : 
The voice mi>st evhwd by ivnsenting men : 
The s^nil which answered best to all well said 
By others, and which nuist revjuital made ; 
Tuuevl to the highest key of ancient Rome, 
Returning all her music with his own ; 
In whom, with nature, stuviy claiinevl a part. 
And yet who to himself owevl all his art ; 
Heiv lies IVn Jonsou : ewry age will Ux>k 
With sorrow here, with wvuider on his Ivok. 



PERSONAL POKMS. 



907 



ODK rn liKN .loNSON. 

All I'li'ii ! 
Hiiy how or wlicii 
SImll w(!, tliy (<ii(!StH, 
MiiDt ut tliosi! lyrii' I'liiMU, 

Mmlu at tlio Sun, 
Till! Dog, th« 'l'ri]ili! 'I'liii ; 
WhiM'i) wi! KUcIl i:lllsliMs lj;i<l 
Ah iiiikIu UK nobly wild, not iiiikI ; 
Ami yet ciuili v<Tw: ol lliind 
Outdid lliii meat, outdid tin: truliu wine. 

My lien I 
Or come a«aiii, 

Or Heiid to us 
Thy wit's gic'itt overplus ; 

liut leai-li us yet 
Wisely to liusljand it, 
l^est w<3 that talent spend : 
And having oni:e liroughl to an end 

That preeious stoek, the htore 
Of sueli a wit, the world should have no more, 
KuiieK'r liiitiuuiK.. 



JiKN JONSON'S COMMONI'I.ACK liOOK. 

His learning sueh, no author, old or ni^w, 
Kheaped his reading that diesifrved his view ; 
And sueh his jmlgment, so exact his taste, 
Of what was best in hooks, or what hooks hest. 
That had he joined those notes his laliors took 
Ironi eaeh most praised and iiraise-deserving 

Ijook, 
And eould tlie world of that choice treasure boast, 
Jt need not eare though all the rest wore lost. 
IJjeius CAuy (LOKD Talkland). 



Kl'ITAI'll O.N TIIK COUNTESS OF 
I'KiMIJKOKE. 

Unjjkbnbatii this sable hearse 
Lies the subject of all verse, 
Sydnc-y's sister, — I'cmbroke's mother. 
Deatli, ere thou liast slain another 
Fair and wise and good as she. 
Time sliall throw a dart at thee 1 

Marble piles let no man raiiic 
To her name in after days ; 
Kwme kin<l woman, Vxirn as she, 
leading this, like Niobc 
Shall turn marble, and become 
Both her mourner and her U>mh. 

ttUN JOWSON. 



Kl'ITAI'll ON Kl.iy.AliKTIl I,. II. 

Wij[ij,l)N'r tlum heari' whm luaii ean say 

In II little ? — render, stay I 

IJnilr'rneath this stone doth lye 

As mul'li lieauly as eoiild dye, — 

Whieh ill life did harbor give 

To inoru vurtiie than dol.li live. 

If at all she hail a fault, 

Leave it buried in this vault. 

One name was Klixabeth, 

The other, let it sleeji with death ; 

Fitter where it dyed to tell. 

Than that it lived at all. Farewell I 

liriN JONSON. 



UNDEH THE I'OKTHAIT OF JOHN 
MILTON. 

I'Kerixei) lo "I'AUAOlsii I-OST." 

TllliEK I'oets, in three distant ages born, 
Oreeee, Italy, iind Lngland did adorn. 
The first in loftiness of thought surpassed ; 
The next in majesty ; in both the last. 
The force of nature i.'ould no further go ; 
To make a third, she joined the former two. 

John ImvuuN. 



TO MILTON. 

•< LONDON. I803 " 

Mii.TON ! thou shouldst be living at this hour : 
England hath need of thee : she is a fen 
Of stagnant waters ; altar, sword, and pen. 
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, 
Have forfeited their ancient English dower 
Of inward hajipiness. We are selfish men ; 
Oh ! raise us uj), return to us again ; 
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power. 
Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt ajiart : 
Thou Inulst a voice whose sound was like the sea : 
I'ure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, 
So didst thou travel on life's common way, 
In cheerful godliness ; and yet thy heart 
The lowliest duties on hersidf did lay. 

WriJJAM WOKIMWOKIII. 



THE SONNET. 

KcouN not the sonnet ; critic, you have frowned, 
.Mindless of its just honors ; with this key 
Khakesjware unlinked his heart ; the melody 
<>( this small lute gave ease to Petrarch's wound ; 
A thousand times this pipe did Tasso sound ; 
With it Carnoens soothed an exile's grief ; 
The sonnet glittered a gay myrtle leaf 



908 



PERSONAL POEMS. 



Amid the cypress with which Dante crowned 
His visiouiiry brow; a glow-worm hinij>, 
ll cheered mild Spenser, called I'roin fairy-land 
'I'o strngi;le tliroogh dark ways ; and when a damp 
I'VU round the path of Milton, in his hand 
The thinj; bec^aine a trumpet ; whence he blew 
Soul-animatinf; strains, — alas ! too lew. 

W1LHA.\1 WOKDSWORTK. 



ON A BUST OF DANTE. 

See, from this counterfeit of him 
Whom Arno shall remember long. 
How stern of lineament, how grim. 
The father was of Tuscan song ! 
There but the burning sense of wrong, 
Perpetual care, and scorn, abide — 
Small friendship for the lordly throng. 
Distrust of all the world beside. 

Faithful if this wan image be, 

No dream his life was — but a fight ; 

Could any Heatrice see 

A lover m that anchorite ? 

To that eoKl ChiUeline's gloomy sight 

Who could have guessed the visions came 

Of beauty, veiled with heavenly light. 

In circles of eternal tlame ? 

The lips as Cumte's cavern close, 
The cheeks with fast and sorrow thin, 
The rigid front, almost morose. 
But foi' the patient hope within. 
Declare a life whose course hath been 
Unsullied still, though still severe, 
Which, through the wavering days of sin, 
Kept itself icy-chaste and clear. 

Not wholly such his haggard look 
When wandering once, forlorn, he strayed. 
With no companion save his book. 
To Corvo's hnsheil momistic shade ; 
Where, as the Benedictine laid 
His palm upon the pilgrim guest. 
The single boon for which he prayed 
The convent's charity was rest. 

Peace dwells not here — this rugged face 
Betrays no sjnrit of repose ; 
The sullen warrior sole we trace, 
The nnxrble man of many woes. 
Such was his mien when lirst arose 
The thought of that strange tale divine — 
When hell he peopled witli his foes. 
The scourge of many a guilty line. 



War to the last he waged with all 
The tyrant canker-worms of cartli ; 
Baron and duke, in hold and liall, 
Cursed the dark hour that gave him birth ; 
He used Itome's harlot for his nurtli ; 
Plucked bare hypocrisy and crime ; 
But valiant souls of knightly worth 
Transmitted to the rolls of time. 

O time ! whose verilicts mock our own. 
The only righteous judge art thou ; 
That poor, old exile, sad and lone, 
Is Latium's other Virgil now. 
Before his name the mitions bow ; 
His words are parcel of nninkind. 
Deep in whose hearts, as on his brow, 
The marks have sunk of Dante's mind. 

THOMAS William Parsons. 



WALTON'S BOOK OF LIVES. 

FROM •' ECCLESIASTICAL SONNETS." I'AKT III. 

TilEitE are no colors in the fairest sky 

So fair as these. The feather, whence the pen 

Was shaped that traced the lives of these good 

men. 
Dropped from an angel's wing. With moistened 

eye 
We read of faith and purest charity 
In statesman, priest, and humble citizen : 
O, could we copy their mild virtues, then 
What joy to live, what blessedness to die ! 
Methinks their very names shine still and bright ; 
Apart, — like glow-worms on a summer night ; 
Or lonely tapers when from far they tling 
A guiding ray ; or seen, like stai's on high, 
Satellites burning in a lucid ring 
Around meek AValton's heavenly memory. 

\\ILLIA.M WOKUSWORTH. 



CHARACTEK OF THE EAKL 
SHAFTESBUUV. 



OF 



FROM "ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL." PART I. 

For close designs and crooked councils fit ; 
Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit ; 
Restless, nnfixed in principles and place ; 
In power inipleased, impatient of disgrace : 
A tiery soul, which, working out its way, 
Fivtted the pygmy-body to decay, 
And o'er informed the tenement of clay. 
A daring pilot in extremity ; 
Pleased with the danger, when the waves went 
liigh 



PERSONAL POEMS. 



909 



He sought the stoniis ; but for a eahu unfit, 
Would stfer too nigh tlie sands to boast his wit. 
Great wits are sure to madness near allied, 
And thin partitions do their bounds divide. 

Juhn Dkvden. 



ZIMKl. 



[GEORGE VILLIKRK, DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, 1682.] 

FROM "ABSALOM AND ACniTOPIilil.." PART J. 

Some of their ehiefs were princes of the land ; 
In the first rank of these did Zimri stand ; 
A man so various, that he seemed to be 
Not one, but all mankind's epitome ; 
Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong ; 
Was everything by starts, and luitliing long ; 
But, in the course of one revolving moon. 
Was chymist, tiddler, statesman, and bulfoon ; 
Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking. 
Besides ten thousand freaks that died in tliiid;ing. 
Blest madman, who could every hour employ. 
With something new to wish or to enjoy ! 
Railing and praising were his usual themes ; 
And boih, to show his judgment, in extremes : 
So over-violent or over-civil. 
That eveiy man with him was god or devil. 
In squandering wealth was his peculiar art ; 
Nothing went unrewarded but desert. 
Beggared by fools, whom still he I'ound too late : 
He had his jest, and they had his estate. 
He laugheil himself from court, then sought relief 
By forming parties, but could ne'er be chief; 
For, spite of him, the weight of business fell 
On Absalom, and wise Achitophel. 
Thus, wicked but in will, of means bereft, 
He left no faction, but of that was left. 

JOHN dryden. 



CHARLES XIL 

FROM "VANITY OF HUMAN WISHKS." 

On what foundations stands the warrior's pride, 
How just his hopes, let Swedish Charles decide: 
A frame of adamant, a soul of fire. 
No dangers fright him, and no labors tire ; 
O'er love, o'er fear, extends his wide domain, 
(Jnconcjuered lord of pleasure ami of pain. 
No joys to him jjacific sceptres yield, 
War sounds the trump, he rushes to the field ; 
Behold surrounding kings their ])o\ver combine, 
And one capitulate, and one resign ; 
Peace courts his hand, but spreads her charms in 

vain ; 
"Think nothing gained," he cries, "till naught 
remain. 



On Moscow's walls till Gothic standards tly, 
And all be mine beneath the polar sky. " 
The march begins in military state, 
And nations on his eye suspended wait ; 
Stern famine guards the solitary coast, 
And winter barricades the realms of frost. 
He comes, nor want nor cold his course delay ; 
Hide, blushing glory, hide Pultowa's day ! 
The vanquished hero leaves his broken bands, 
And shows his miseries in distiint lands ; 
Condemned a needy supplicant to wait. 
While ladies interpose and slaves debate. 
But did not chance at length her error mend '! 
Did no subverted empire mark his end ? 
Did rival monarchs give the fatal wound. 
Or liostile nnlllons press him to the gi'ound 1 
His fall was destined to a barren strand, 
A petty fortress, and a dubious hand ; 
He left the name, at which the world grew pale, 
To point a moral or adorn a tale. 

DR. SAMUEI. JOHNSON 



TO THE LORD-GENERAL CROMWELL. 

Cromwell, our chief of men, who through a 

cloud, 
Not of war only, but detractions rude, 
Guided by faith an<l matchless fortitude. 
To peace and truth thy glorious way hast 

ploughed. 
And on the neck of crownjjd fortune proud 
Hast reared God's trophies, and his work [uir- 

sued. 
While Darwen stream, with blood of Scots im- 
bued. 
And Dunbar field resounds thy praises loud, 
And Worcester's laureate wreath. Yet nmch re- 
mains 
To conquer still ; Peace hath her victories 
No less renowned than War : new foes arise. 
Threatening to bind our souls with secular cliains : 
Help us to save free conscience from the paw 
Of hireling wolves, whose gospel is their maw. 

MILTO.N. 



SPORUS. 
[lord hervey.] 

FROM THE "PROLOGUE TO THE SATIRES." 

Let Sporus tremble. — A.* What? that thing 
of silk, 
Sporus, that rnei'e wliite curd of asses' milk " 
Satire or sense, alas ! ca'n Sporus feel ? 
Who breaks a butterlly upon a wheel ? 



910 



I'KUSONAL rOEMS, 



v.* Yet let luo llai) this bug with gilde^l 
wiiigs. 
This jmiiitiHl ohild of dirt that stinks and stiiigs ; 
AVliv>so b»i2 tJio witty «ud tho lair lUiuoys, 
Yot wit uo'fv tastes, and beauty ne'er eiyoj'S : 
So weU-bnnl sivuiiels civilly delight 
In inuu\bling of the jpune they daiv not bite. 
Ktenial smiles his enipiiuess Ivti-ay, 
As shallow streams inu diniiiliuj; all the way. 
Whether iu lloiid iun>otenoe he sjH'aks, 
And, .■»* the juvnijiter biviithes, the jnijuH't 

sviueaks. 
Or at the ear of Eve. familiar tivid. 
Half fivth, half venom, spits himself abitwd, 
In puns, or jwlities, or tsUes, or lies, 
th- spite, or smut, or rhymes, or blasphemies ; 
His wit all sees;\w, l>etween that and tliis. 
Now hijjh, now low. now master njs now miss. 
And he himself one vile antithesis. 
.\niphibious thing ! that, aetinj; either l>iU't, 
The trilling head, or the corrupttnl luvirt. 
Fop at the toilet, llattervr at the Ixwixl, 
Now trij>s a lady, and now struts a loi\i. I 

Kre's tempter thus the n\bbius have exprvst, 
A oherub's fait>, a ivptile all the rest ; 
IVauty that shivks you. {vtrts that none will trust, I 
Wit that can oreeii. and pride that lieks the dust. 

.\LK.\AM>KR P01»b. 



ADDISON'. 

FROM THE '■ l-ROLOCl'R TV> THR SATIRES." 

l^KACK to all sueh! but were there one whose fitws 
True genius kindles, and fiur fame inspiivs ; 
Ulest with eaeh talent and each art to please. 
And born to write, i\>uvei-se, .lud live with ease : 
Should sueh a man. tiw fond to rule alone. 
lH\'«r, like the Turk, no brv>ther uwir the throne. 
View him with s^vrnful, yet with jealous eyes. 
And hate for arts that eauseil himself to rise : 
Damn with faint praise, .isseut with civil let-r. 
And, without sut-ering, teach the rest to sneer; 
Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike, 
.lust hint a fault, and hesitsite dislike ; 
Alike reservevl to blame, or to is^nmend, 
.V timorous f>>e, and a suspicious friend ; 
Diviidiug e\-eii fov>ls, by ttatterers liesieged, 
And so obliging that he ne'er oblige*! : 
Like Oslo, gi\-e his little senate laws. 
And sit attentive to his own applause ; 
Whilst wits .ind templai-s every sentence ruse. 
And wonder with a fcsdish fait> of praise : — 
Who but must laugh, if sucli a one there be » 
Who would not weeji, if Atticus were he • 

ALe\A.vusK rops. 



TO THE EAlJh OF WaUWICK, OX I'llK 
DlLVfH OF ADIUSON. 

Ik, dumb too long, the ditxipiug Muse hath 

I stavisl, 

j And left her debt to Addison nn|vud. 
Blame not her silence, Warwick, but iKuuojin, 
And jndgi', O, judgi> my Kisom by your own. 
What mourner ever felt jKH'tic tiivs ! 
Slow Cannes the verse that ival woe inspires : 
Orief uuiUlecttM suits but ill with art. 
Or lluwiiig numbers with n bleeding heart. 

Can 1 forgi't the dismal night that gave 
My soul's iH'St jwrt forever to the ginive t 
How silent did his old comjxinions tread. 
By midnight lami>s. the mansions of the dead, 
Thivugh breathing statues, then Hnhetnlrtl things, 
Thivngh i\>ws of warriors and thivugh walks of 

kings ! 
What awe did the slow, solemn knell inspire ;. 
The (lealiug orgjin, and the jwusing choir ; 
The duties by the lawn-ivln-d prelate iwid ; 
And the last worvis, that dust to dust conveyeil ! 
While sjieechless o'er thy chvsing grave we Wnd, 
Accept these tears, thou dear deiwrttnl friend. 
0, gvuie forever ! take this long adieu ; 
And sKvp iu [H-ace next thy loved Montague. 
To strew fresh lauivls let the tiisk K' mine, 
A frenuent pilgrim at thy ssicrwl shrine ; 
Mine with true sighs th^ absence to IviuiKui, 
And grsive with faithful epitaphs thy stone. 
If e'er from me thy lovtnl memoriid jvirt. 
May sluuue aHlict this alienateil hcivrt ; 
Of thee forgetful if 1 form a song, 
My lyre Ih> br\>ken, and uutuntvl my tongue. 
My grief be doubleil, frenn thy image five. 
And mirth a torment, uuchastised by thee '. 

Oft let nw range the gUxnuy aisles alone, 
Siid luxury I to vulg;>r minds unknown, 
.Mong the walls where- siieaking marbles sliow 
What worthies form the hallowcvl mould Ivlow ; 
Prv^ud names, who oiuv the reins of empire" held ; 
In arms who triumpheil, or in arts exi-elltnl ; 
Chiefs, gnictxl with si-ars, and prexlignl of blotxl. 
Stern jvitriots, who for sacrexl freedom stoo<l ; 
Just men, by whom imjvirtial laws were gi^-eu ; 
And Siiiuts, who taught and led the wsiy te 

he«\-en ; 
Ne'er to these chamlx>rs, where the mighty rest, 
Siuct> their foundation came a nobler guest ; 
Nor e'er was to the Ixiwers of Wiss cmweyed 
A fairer spirit or more welcome shade. 

In what new rt-gion. to the just assigneil. 
What new emjdoymeuts ple,ise the nnbodieO 
mind ! 



I'KliSONAI, I'OKAIS. 



911 



A wiiifjiVl Virtue, tlirmif,'li tlir cUicrual nky, 
I'' roll! worlil to woilil nnwiiiu'ii)il doos lui lly '! 
Or oiirious truce tin; long luburiou.>( iiiiizf 
Of Heavi'ii's decrees, wlioro wciiiduriiig aiigeU 

gllZl' ? 

Dues lid ili'lij^lil til lii'iir liuld rn'riiplis toll 
llinv Mic-lmi',1 liiiltlril mill tlu' ilnigoii I'l'll ; 
llr, inixciil with niililor c'lii'niliiin, tu glow 
111 liyiiiiix lit' luvt', lint ill-iissiiyciil liiiliiw I 
Or ddst tliiiu warn iMiiir iiiiirlals left heliilid, 
A task well suited to tliy gciitlu mind ( 
0, if .smni'tiiiics tliy sputliw.s Ibriii diwi'i'iid, 
'Pel UK) tliy aid, tliiiii gnai'diali gunius, lend ! 
Wlicii nign nii.sgiiiikis nie, iir wliuii tear alarniH, 
\\'lioii jitiin distresses, or when pleasure t;liuniis, 
In silent wlii»iieriiigs purer thiitiglits imparl. 
And turn I'nini ill a frail and feelilu heart ; 
Lead tliriiugli the paths thy virtue tnid liefnre. 
Till liliss shall join, nor death can part us more. 

Tliiit awful form wliieli, so tin; heiivens ileeree. 
Must still lie loved and still deplored liy iiie, 
III iii^litly visions seldom fails to rise, 
Or, roused liy fancy, meets my waking eyes. 
If business eiills, or crowdiul courts invite, 
The imlilemislied stiitesnian seems to strike my 

sight ; 
If in the stage I seek to soothe niy care, 
1 meet his soul which lirealhcs in C'ato there ; 
If pensive to the rural shades I rove, 
His shape o'ertakes me in the lonely grove ; 
'T was thereof just and good he reasoni'd strong, 
(,'leared some great truth, or raised some serious 

song ; 
There patient showed us the wise course to steer, 
A eiindid censor and a friend severe ; 
There taught us how to livi', and (O, too high 
The priie fur knowli-ilge !) taught us how to die. 

Thou Hill, whose lirow the antiipie strnetiires 
grace, 
Ueared Iiy hold chiefs of Warwick's noble race. 
Why, once so loved, whene'er thy bower ap- 
pears. 
O'er my dim eyeballs glance the sudden tears ? 
How sweet were once thy prospects fresli and fair. 
Thy sloping walks, and unjiolliited air ! 
How sweet the glooms beneath thy aged trees, 
Thy noontide shadow, and thy evening breeze ! 
His image thy forsaken bowers restore ; 
Thy walks and airy prospects charm no more ; 
No more the summer in thy glooms allay. 
Thy evening breezes, and thy noonday shade. 

Kroni other hills, liowevcr fortune frowned, 
Some ri'fuge in the Muse's art I found ; 
Reluctunt now I touch the trembling string. 
Bereft of Iiim who taught nie how to sing ; 



And those siul nccents, murmured o'er his urn, 

Betray that absemui they attempt to inonrii. 
U, must I then (now fresh my liosiun bleeds, 
And Craggs in death to Addison succeeds) 
The ver.se, begun to one lost friend, prolong, 
.\nd weep a seconil in llin iinllnisheil song I 

These works divine, which on his death- bed laid 
To thee, (J Craggs I the I'Xpiring sage conveyed, 
Oreat, but ill-omened, moiiumeiit of fame. 
Nor he survived to give, nor Ihou to claiin, 
Swift after him thy social spirit Hies, 
And close to his, how soon ! thy colHii lies, 
lilcst pair I whose union fiilnre bards shall tell 
111 future tongues: each other's boiist! farewell 1 

Farewell I whom, Jul I in I'aine, in fiieinldiip 

tried, 
No chance could Me-ver, nor the grave divide. 

■riloMAS TlCKI'J.l.. 



TIIK I'OKT'S KIMKNI). 

[l^URU IIOLINdllKOKK.j 
FKOM "AN IISSAV ON MAN," UPlSTI.a IV. 

CiiMK then, my friend ! my genius ! come along; 
O master of tlie poet, and the song ! 
And while the muse now stoops, or now ascends. 
To man's low passions, or their glorious ends, 
Teacli me, like llice, in various nature wise, 
To fall with dignity, with temper rise; 
formed by ttiy converse happily to steer 
From grave to gay, fi'om lividy to severe ; 
Correct with sjiirit, eloi|uent with ease. 
Intent to reason, or jiolite to please. 
O, while along the stream of time thy name 
K.fpanded Hies, and gathers all its fame ; 
Say, shall my little bark attendant sail, 
i'ursne the triiimjili, and partake the gale? 
When statesmen, heroes, kings, in dust repose, 
Wlio.se sons shall blush their fathers were thy foes, 
Shall then this verse to future age jiretend 
Thou wert my guide, philosopher, and friend ! 
That, urged by tliec, I turned the tuneful art 
From sounds to things, from fancy to the heart : 
For wit's false mirror held up Nature's light ; 
Showed erring pride, wiiAi'iiVKU is, is iilGiir. 

Al.l'.XANUI'.R I'OI'K. 



NAI'OLKON. 

I'KOM "cnii-oa HAKOi.n," canto m 

Thkke sunk the greatest, nor the worst of meo, 
Whose spirit antithetically mixed 
One inonient of the mightiest, and again 
On little iibjiTls witli like llriniicss fixed. 



VI -2 



PERSONAL POEMS. 



Extreme in all tilings ! hadst thou been betwixt, 
Thy throne liad still been thine, or never been ; 
For daring made thy rise as fall : thou seek'st 
Even now to reassunie the imperial mien, 
And shake again the world, the Thunderer of the 
scene ! 

Conqueror and oaptive of the earth art thou ! 
She trembles at thee still, and thy wild name 
Was ne'er more bruited in men's minds than 

now 
That thou art nothing, save the jest of Fame, 
^^'ho wooed thee once, thy vassal, and became 
The llatterer of thy fierceness, till thou wert 
A god unto thyself : nor less the same 
To the astounded kingdoms all inert. 
Who deemed thee for a time whate'er thou didst 

assert. 

more or less than man — in high or low, 
Battling with nations, Hying from the field ; 
Now making monarohs' necks thy footstool, 

now 
More than thy meanest soldier taught to yield : 
An empire thou couldst crush, command, re- 
build. 
But govern not thy pettiest passion, nor 
However deeply in men's spirits skilled. 
Look tlnough thine own, nor curb the lust of 
war. 
Nor learn that tempted Fate will leave the lofti- 
est star. 

Yet well thy soul hath brooked the turning 

tide 
With that untaught innate philosophy, 
Which, be it wisdom, coldness, or deep pride. 
Is gall and wormwood to an enemy. 
When the whole host of hatred stooil hard by. 
To watch and mock thee shrinking, tliou hast 

smiled 
With a sedate and all-enduring eye, — 
When Fortune fled her spoiled and favorite 

child. 
He stood unbowed beneath the ills upon him 

piled. 

Sager than in thy fortunes ; for in them 
Ambition steeled thee on too far to show 
That just habitual scorn which could contemn 
Men and their thoughts ; 't was wise to feel, 

not so 
To wear it ever on thy lip and brow. 
And spurn the instruments thou wert to use 
Till they were turned unto thine overthrow ; 
'T is but a worthless world to win or lose ; 
So hath it proved to thee, and all such lot who 
choose. 



If, like a tower upon a headlong rock. 
Thou hadst been made to stand or fall alone. 
Such scorn of man had helped to brave ths 

shock ; 
But men's thoughts were the steps which paved 

thy throne. 
Their admiration thy best weapon shone ; 
The part of Philip's son was thine, not then 
(Unless aside thy purple had been thrown > 
Like stern Diogenes to mock at men ; 
For sceptred cynics earth were far too >vide s 

den. 

But quiet to quick bosoms is a hell, 
And there hath been thy vane ; there is a tire 
And motion of the soul which will not dwell 
In its own narrow being, but aspire 
Beyond the fitting medium of desire ; 
And, but once kindled, (luenchless evermore, 
Preys upon high adventure, nor can tire 
Of aught but rest ; a fever at the core. 
Fatal to him who bears, to all who ever bore. 

This makes the madmen who have made men 

mad 
By their contagion ! Conquerors and Kin^s, 
Founders of sects and systems, to whom add 
Sophists, Bards, Statesmen, all unquiet things 
Which stir too strongly the soul's secret springs, 
And are themselves the fools to those they 

fool ; 
Envied, yet how unenviable ! what stings 
Are theirs '. One breast laid open were a school 
Which would unteach mankind the lust to shine 

or rule. 

Their breath is agitation, and their life 
A storm whereon they ride, to sink at last. 
And yet so nursed and bigoted to strife, 
Tliat should their days, surviving perils past. 
Melt to calm twilight, they feel overcast 
With sorrow and supineness, and so die ; 
Even as a flame, unfed, which runs to waste 
With its own flickering, or a sword laid by, 
Which eats into itself, and rusts ingloriously. 

He who ascends to niountain-to]is .■.hall llnd 
The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds und 

snow ; 
He who surpasses or subdues mankind 
Must look down on the hate of tluise below. 
Though high above the sun of glory glow. 
And far beneath the earth and ocean spread, 
Round him are icy rocks, and loudly blow 
Contending tempests on his naked head. 
And thus reward the toils which to those sum- 
mits led. 

LOKU B'i RON. 



PERSONAL POEiMS. 



913 



POPULAR RECOLLECTIONS OF 
BONAPARTE. 

A RENDERING OP BERANGER'S "SOUVENIRS DU PEUPLE." 

I They 'U talk of him for years to come, 
' In cottage chronicle and tale ; 
AVlien, for aught else, renown is dumb, 

His legend shall prevail ! 
When in the hamlet's honored chair 

Shall sit some aged dame, 
Teaching to lowly clown and villager 

That narrative of fame. 
" 'T is true," they '11 say, "his gorgeous throne 

France bled to raise ; 
But he was all our own ! " 

" Motlier, say something in his praise, — 

0, speak of him always ! " 

" 1 saw him pass, — his was a host 

Countless beyond your young imaginings, — 
My children, he could boast 

A train of conquered kings ! 
And when he came this road, 

'T was on my bridal day. 
He wore, for near to him I stood. 

Cocked hat and surcoat gray. 
I blushed ; he said, ' Be of good cheer ! 
Courage, my dear ! ' 

That was his very word." 

" Mother ! 0, then, this really occurred. 
And you his voice could hear." 

" A year rolled on, when next at Paris I, 

Lone woman that I am. 
Saw him pass by. 

Girt with his peers to kneel at Notre Dame, 
1 knew, by merry chime and signal gun, 
God granted Iiim a son. 

And 0, I wept for joy ! 
For why not weep when warrior men did, 
Who gazed upon that sight so splendid. 

And blessed the imperial boy ? 
Never did noonday sun shine out so bright ! 
0, what a .sight ! " 

" Mother, for you that must have been 

A glorious scene." 

" But when all Europe's gathered strength 
Buret o'er the French frontier at length, 

'T will scarcely be believed 

What wonders, single-lianded, he achieved ; 

Such general ne'er lived ! 
One evening on my threshold stood 

A guest, — 't was he ! Of w'arriors few 

He had a toil-worn retinue. 
He Hung himself into this chair of wood, 



Muttering, meantime, with fearful air, 
' Quelle guerre ! 0, quelle guerre ! ' " 
" Mother ! and did our emperor sit there, 
Upon that very chair ? " 

" He said, ' Give me some food.' 

Brown loaf I gave, and homely wine. 
And made the kindling fire-blocks shine 

To dry his cloak with wet bedewed. 
Soon by the bonny blaze he slept, 
Then waking chid me, — for I wept ; 

' Courage ! ' he cried, ' I '11 strike for all 

Under the sacred wall 

Of France's noble capital ! ' 

Those were his words : I 've treasured up 

With pride that same wine-cup ; 

Ajid for its weight in gold 

It never shall be sold ! " 

" Mother, on that proud relic let us gaze. 
0, keep that cup always ! " 

" But through some fatal witchery 

He, whom a pope had crowned and blest. 
Perished, my sons, by foulest treachery, 

Cast on an isle far in the lonely West ! 
Long time sad rumors were afloat, — 

The fatal tidings we would spurn, 
Still hoping from that isle remote 

Once more our hero would return. 
But when tlie dark announcement drew 

Tears from the virtuous and the brave, 
When the sad whisper proved too true, 

A flood of grief I to his memory gave. 
Peace to the glorious dead ! " 

" Mother, may God his fullest blessing shed 

Upon your aged head ! " 

Francis MAHONV I^Father Praut), 



MURAT. 

from ■'ode from the FRENCH." 

There, where death's brief pang was quickest. 
And the battle's wreck lay thickest, 
Strewed beneath the advancing banner 

Of the eagle's burning crest — 
(There with thunder-clouds to fan her. 
Who could then her wing arrest — 

Victory beaming from her breast ?) 
While the broken line enlarging 

Fell, or fled along the plain : — 
There be sure Murat was charging ! 

There he ne'er shall charge again ! 

LORD BYROI4 



>.»u 



I'KRSO.NAl, rOKMS. 



TO MADAMK DK SEVlONii, 

\\>r ohanu wlien you talk, walk, or luovo, 
Still moiv on th\» liay tliiui aiioihor : 

Wlioii Wi^nl^^l — you iv l;>k>'\> for Ia^vo ; 
Whoii tlu> l«iuii>^' is otV r\ir his uiotlu<r ! 

nil MiVVTKKl'IU 



ON A IVlMKAir OK WOKOSWOKTU. 

\VoKi»s\voKVii Mjvi> UclvoUyu ! Lot tho oKnul 
Kl>b !»uiil>ly along tho mountain -wiiul. 
Thou Inwik ii^piinst tho i\x-k. ami show li^hiui) 
Tho lowland valloys tKvtting up to oivwaI 
Tho sous»> with Kviuty. //c.wiih foivlusiil K>w\sl 
Ami hun>l>lo-livUl<Hl oyos, as ono iuoliuisl 
IWfoiv tho svivi-an thought of his v>wn mind. 
Auil vory u\<vk with insi>irations i>i\>u>i. -- 
Tak<>« hoiv his right l\il ptaoo sis jnyt-\>riost 
Uy tho highsdtar. singing jMtiyor and ((rayw 
To tho highor lUv-tvons. A nohlo vision few. 
Our llaydon's hauvlhath Hung out l\\>i« tho tuist 1 
No jHirtr^it this, with Aoavlonvio tiir, — 
This is tho iKH<t aiul his j^x'try. 

HlU.VKKIH lUKKKVr SKOWNIN-C 



lUKNS. 



A Mar's »cirArH. 



Srot>, mortal .' Hoiv thy brother lios, — 

Tho iwt of tho ixH>r. 
His Ujoks woiv rivvrs, w\xh1s, and skitvs. 

Tho mi>adow and tho nuvr ; 
His tMohors woro tho torn Insirt's wail, 

Tho tyrant, and tho slavo. 
Tho stiwt, tlio factory, tho jail. 

Tho |wlaiv, — and tho gravo ! 
Sin mot thy hivthor ovorywhoro ! 

And is thy hrothor Wanuxl t 
From jwssion, ilang»-r, douht, and oar* 

Ho no oxoinj>tion olaiu\«l, 
Tho mtv>nt>st thing, «\>rth"s fivUlost worm. 

Ho foarv^l to sv\M-n or h»t»' ; 
Hnt, honoring in a \y>asaut"s form 

Tho t>\iual of tho grwtt. 
Ho Mossrtl tho stowa^l. wlnxso wi\<lth ntakos 

Tho i>vx>r nran's littlo nioro; 
Yot loath<\i tho haughty wivtoh that taktw 

From }»lnndoi\d laKu's storo. 
A hand t\> d>\ a hoad to plan. 

A ht>art to fwl atid dar«>, ^ 
Toli man's wvrst t\vs, hoiv li<>s tho man 

Who dr*w thorn ,•»« thoy aiv. 

^ h'HKNKlKK KLLIOTT. 



HUKNS. 

>V« RItCKIVINVl A STRIO. Of HKATHKK IN «a.lVSSOU. 

No inoiv tlios^' siniplo llowpi-s Iwloui; 

To Sivttish niaiil and lovor; 
Sown in tho \vn\nion -<v<il of sving, 

Thoy Uhnnu tho wido world ovor. 

In smil<>s and teal's, in sun and showoi-s, 

Tho niinstivl an>l tho hoathor. 
Tho d«ithh<»s sing»>r and tho llowoi^ 

Ho sang t»l" Uvo togothor. 

WiUl ht>athor-lvllsand KoWrt Hums! 

Tho nuHM'land llowor and ]H\l^ant ! 
How. at thoir nu'iition, inoniory turns 

llor (wgos old and idoa^int ! 

Tho giiiy .sky wistrs again its gold 

And j>ur|>lo of adorning. 
And ni.-uiluKHl's mxinday shadows hold 

Tho dows of WluHxi's morning : 

Tho dows that washovl tho dust and sviil 

From olV tho wings of jvl«isiuv, 
Tho sky. that lU^'kisl tho ground of tv>il 

With goldon th«-ads of loisuro. 

I oall to mind tho snmnior day, 

Tho isarly harvost mowing. 
Tho sky with sun and olouds at jday, 

And llowors with l>rw»i>s blowing. 

I hiMr tho Waokbinl in th«> rom, 

Tho Uvnst in tho haying ; 
Auvl. liko tho fabUnl huntor's horn, 

Ohl tHnt>s my heart is playing. 

How oft that day. with fond dolar, 

I svmght tho inaplo's shavlow. 
Ami sang with l>urns tho hoM-s away, 

Forgotful of tho moadow I 

Boos hummod, Wixls twitt»>t*«l, owrhoad 

t hi\irvl tho snuirivls hviping ; 
Tho gxHxl dog listoncHl while I iisid, 

And waggixl his tail in kotpiug. 

1 watohisl him whilo in sjxutivo mixxl 
I i\\>d '■ Tho Twa l\>gs" " story. 

And half Ivliovixl ho undotstixxl 
Tho (xx't's allogv>ry, 

Swvot day, swrx>t son^ ! — Tho goldon hours 

Grow brighter for that singing. 
FwMU bi>x>k and binl and nu'^dow tlowot^ 

A diviivr woKvmo bringing. 



I'KUmUAU VOVMH. 



lur, 



Now ll|{lit oil lioiMit'Hi'i'ii Nuliirii IhmiiiiimI, 

Nuw xl"'y "viT Wiimuii 1 
Ami iliiily lil'i' mill iliily iu'I'IiumI 

Nil Iwiixi T piHir mill I'liiiiiiniii. 

1 wuki' 111 liinl IIk^ hIiii{>I<' hiiUi 

or liii't iijnl li'i'liiiK Iji'I.Ii'1 
'I'iiiiii all llii' iliiMiiiin lliiil iii'M Miy yi<iiUi 

A Hlill ri!|iiiiiiix ilitliLiir : 

TIkiI Nutiiir ;{ivim lii'i' liitinliiiajil, Art, 
'I'lic tii<^iiii^H 111' nwi'id <liii<:iiiiiitili){ ; 

Till! U'liilrr iilylH III' Uiii liiiiiit 
III i,-vuiy tuiigiii! i'i'lii'iu'i<lii){. 

Wliy ilii'iiiii III' I.'iihIk or^iiM iinij |iiiii), 

or liivi|j){ kiilglit .'iml hilly, 
Wlii'ii lartiicr Imy aii'l iiariil'uiil girl 

Willi: wuiiiliM'iii|{ tlii;ii! uliiuuly '( 

I Huw tlii'oii((h ull fiitiiiliur lUiunH 

Till: iiiiiiiiiici! iiiii|i:ilyiiiK ; 
Tin: joyH mill Ki'ii:i'fi Uiul |ililliii: Un: vviiign 

Ol' Kiiiicy hkywiinl flying. 

I wuv till: Hiiiiii: lilitlio iliiy i'i:tuni. 

Till: Huiiii! »wi:i:t I'nII iil'i:vi:ii, 
Tliiit iiiHi: on womli'l ''riii;<l<!-liurii, 

Ami Hiiiik oil crynljil )Ji;voii, 

I iimt<:lii'il with Hi;otlaiiii'ii lii:;itlii:ry liilU 
TIk! HWi:i!t-liili;r ami tin; /ilovur ; 

Witli Ayr ami Uooii, my inttiv! rilln, 
Tlivir wuoil-liyiiiiiN cliuiiliiif; ovi;r. 

0'i:r rank aiii| iioiii|i, aH tin )iu<l iMMtn, 

I Haw tin: Man iijirii<in;{ ; 
No loii;^i:r coniiiion or iiiii:li-an, 

Till: i:liili| of OoiI'h )tiiiilmiin. 

With duansr i!y<:ii I Kttw thi; worth 

Of lifi: amon« thu lowly ; 
Tin; liilih: at lijii Cottcr'ii hearth 

I tail iiiiiili; my own more holy. 

Ami if at timcD an <;vil ittrain, 

To lawli;i>» love a|)l«:alin«, 
liroki; in Ujion tin: nv/wl r<:fniin 

or |iiir<: anil healthful f<«lin({, 

It ilii^I ti{ion the eye ami car, 

No inwaril aoNwer gajnln(( ; 
No heart hail I to W'e or hear 

The- iliji';<jril and the iitaininp;. 

I><;t thowr who never crre'l forget 
IliH worth, in vain liewailiii;(H ; 

Hwi-et Soul of Kong ! — I own my deht 
l'ncan';<-lleil by hi* failing* '. 



liiiiiH'iit who will till' illiahl linn 
U'lili'll telln liiii lii|ini; riolii illlty, 

How kJHHi'il Ihi: iiiinlileiiiiiK lijin ol wine, 
Or wan loll mien of liemily ; 

l!ill Ulilllc, wlijli: iallil l.lial. Itliinle lietweril 

'Mm; I'iriiip; one iiii'l lleuvi-ii, 
'iliid. Ill) wini loveil like Ma|{i|/tleii, 

1/iki) her may lie loigiveii, 

N'lit IiIk the Miii|{ wlnme tliuinleroiin ehiinu 

ICteriial eelioen leniler, 
'IIm' iiioiiinriil Tiiit<:aii'ii haiiiiteil iliymn. 

Ami Milt'iri'ii Htany ii|ilenilor , 

liiil. who liU human Inarl Inm lai'l 

To Natiire'n lumoiii nearer I 
Who nweeteneil UiH like him, or [laiil 

To love a tiiliiiti! ilearcr '( 

Through all hii) tuneful art, how utrorig 

The liiinian l'eJ:liiig giinheii ! 
Tin: very mouiillKlit of lii» wing 

U warm with NmileN anil lilmtheii I 

(live lettered [lomii to t<!eth of Time, 

Ho " Honiiy liooii " l/ut tarry ; 
lilot out the K|iii;'ii ntaU'jy iliyme, 

liut Hjiare hiit " llighlami Mary" I 

joii» c;i(iii;»i,iiAi< winrriKit. 



DliItNH. 



'loA U'lftll nIclOMIT I'liilM HIIAK Al.iy/WAV KIkK, IN AVIC< 

mime, in iuk aiihiuh om ihn. 

W/i,ii row: of Alloway ! my thunkis ; 

Tlioii 'niinil'iil me of that autumn noon 
When liint we nn-l ujion " the liank* 

Anil liiiu'd o' lionny \)ix)ii," 

Like thine, ln-neath the tliom-tr«:'» twtigh, 
My Hiinny hour wao ghi/l and lirief ; 

W« 'vc '.rimiu-A the winter (tea, ami thou 
Art witherwl — flower ami h:af. 

Ami will not thy ileath-dooni In: mine — 
The il'Kim of all thingx wrought of elay I 

Ami witherivl my life'n h-jif liki: thine, 
Wild rom; of Alloway f 

Not Hti hlH merm>ry for whone Hake 
My iKiitorn Iwre tlie^; far and long — 

Hix, who a humbler flower r:ou|il make 
Immortal ax hiii iKjng, 

The rn<OT)ory of Uumx — a name 

Tliat ealln, when lirimme/l her (Mtal cup, 

A nation'n glory and her aliarne. 
In )iiU;nt oadneiM up. 



inc. 



rKRSOXAl. roKMS, 



A nstitvn's jtlory — I* tl\t> rest 
Kvi'ji^il — sh<> 's tttiioiiiixHl his uiiml. 

.Vnvi il is ji>y U> s)><^k tho l^^^st 
\V<> )»*>■ vvf Uuiuitukiiitl. 

I 'vo stvsxl Ivsiili' tho iVtt.\<x>-K\l 

\Vho(v \lw l«^\^-^H'«s»nt I'w-st vlix'W brwith ; 
A stw\v-tli*tv'lv<>t i\x>f wK^vo t\is ln'<ul. 

A stww^wivujslit WHioli IvinNXh. 

Ah»1 I h»w shHxl l>«^<i>l(> thi< v>l<^ 
llisiuvMiuimnX that tolls tv> He«vvu 

I'iio luM>\,«j!»' »>t'«v>rtl>"s i»vH\l<v-l islo 
IV «!>»« IttUxi-lHVtSMlt s>wii. 

IU>1 th,v thvnishts howr oVr tUst sjvt. 

lH\v-u>iiist»vl, in tUy vhvtuuiuj; hour ; 
\«vl know, hvnvovfr lv>\v his U>t, 

A jKH't's luido suvvi jvww ; 

rh<< |»r«vl* th»t lilVl Bun\s fVxnn «>«urth. 

Tho jvwvr (h»l jp>vv a »'hiW »>f so>»s 
As^viulouoy o'or rank aiwl Wrth. 

Thf rich, tlw l\wvi\ the strvxvjt '. 

Auvl if vi<xs\v«vl<>«oy \wij;h vlowu 
■l\v sfuriJ's rtultrrinj; j>i«iv»ns then. 

IVsjvtir ■ thy »*m>' is writtwi i«> 
Tho j\vH v\f vvtuuum mwt, 

Th<ijv haw Kvn loftier thouxvs than his^ 
Aiul loiv.o'r sv'rv>lls, anvl Umdoi' lyrw-i. 

Auvl Uys lit m< with IXwv's 
IMrvr and hvJior firws ; 

Yot rvavl tho uaiti<« that know not vWth ; 

VVw uoWor vnios than l?\>ri>s aix< thorw ; 
And iVw hav<j \vv»u a j:r<vm>r wtvath 

Thau that whioh Itinds hi$ hair. 

His is that lai>^^t»j^> of tho h<wt 

In whioh tho ausworiiij; h«>rt wxMiW si>e«k, 
rho«j;ht, worvl> that l\i>ls the wartn t*ar start. 

t.^r tlu> su\iU> lij;:l>t thf ohwk ; 

Anvl his that nuisio tv> w-hvyw to«ii« 
Th* ivmmon \mlst' of man kivfw titn*". 

In vvt or>\-«stWs luirth or «h>««, 
l« v\vlvi or sxtutty di»n<>. 

And who hath hiNWxl his »»«};. nor knoU 
IViotv its sjvll with willinj; kvi<v. 

And U>tx>n<Nl and Ivlievuri, and tVlt 
Tho jv,>:'s «»stf r\- 

0>f tlw tnJnd's s«^■^ in o*lnt and stvwiu. 

OVr th«> heart's suush\nt> and its slvowvts, 
OVr INkssivMi's nuvwuts, Ixrij^it *\id warai, 

0'«r K<Mtsou°$ vlark. c\>ld iMIirs : 



On l\«>ld» \vh«ir<> hraw mrn "dip or dtv," 
In halls wUoiv rin^ipi tlip Kuninrl's inirt)t( 

Whotv tnournors \v<t'j>, whoiv lovers wvhs 
Kvoin thnmo to »vtt)>j!o lu'tu-th 1 

What swwt tMrs dim tho ryo unshixl. 
What wild vows I'altor on tho lon^jjne, 

Whou "S,vts wli.v hao wi" Wallavo IJwi," 
^>r •• .\nlvl l^Hij; Syiio," is suiv^ : 

l\u'o hoiuvs, that lift tho soul a^H>\^^ 
i\«no with his tVttor's hymn of |>raist>, 

Anvl dn^anis of youth. a<\d truth, and lox'w 
With " l.<\gai\'s" hanks a»\d hra»\s. 

And whon ho hrowthos his niastor-lay 
i^f Alloway's witoh hauutovl wall. 

All |>as!.ions in our f>-«nu\< of olay 
CvMuo thivnjjinj; at his oall, 

lun^ntMtion's w\>rM of air. 

And our own world, its gUvm suul j;W, 
Wit. jv>tluvt, (Hvtry, aiv thoiv. 

And doatli's suhliniity. 

And 1$\(ri\s — tho«j;h hriof tho v«vv ho ran, 
'rhouj;h ivuj;h and dark tho (vtth ho t(\>vi — 

livrvl, vlini, in fornt and svnil a man, 
Tho iina4S> of his 0«si, 

Tht\>v»jjh »>arv, and (>ain, ajid want, aiul »m«. 
With wounds that only dwath wuld ho«l, 

Torture'* tho )vx>r ah>uo oan know, 
Tho juvud aU»no >\an iVyl ; 

Ho kopt his hotu>sty *i\d truth. 
His indoiH-udont tvuij^io and jyu, 

,\nd nwvovl, in inauhtxxl as in yvuth. 
l*r«do of his (vilow-moi), 

StrvMtjf sonso, dor>}> fwlinj;, }wssivvus stKUVS. 

A hato >>f tyrant and of knavo, 
.\ lovo of rij;ht, a s>vm v>f wrvMij:, 

Of i\>W5U\l atid of slavo ; 

A kind, truo hoart, a si>ii-it hijjh. 

That o\nild not l\\«r, and wvuld not Iww, 
Worv written in his ntanly oyo 

And ou his intutly h»\Av. 

l"*raiso t\> tho Iwrvl ! his wwnis atv driwn, 
l.iko th>wvr-stxsls hy tho far winds sv»wu, 

Whot>!>'or, Ivni^ath tho sky of hoawit, 
Tho hitvls of tamo havo llown, 

IViis* tv» tho «»,«» ! a nation stood 

IVsido his ivthu with wvt oyvs, 
Hor txtave, hor U\autifi>l, hor good. 

As whon a U^vxnl o>»o viios. 



I'tMHONXU i'OICMK, 



UVl 



Ami nlill, iiM nil lijii riiiii'i'iil'iliiy, 

Mull atiiiiil liin iiiilil i»iilli'i»iiii:li iiiiiilliil, 

Willi till! Iiiiil^i Ikiiiiii^k UiiiI, uh |>iiy 
'I'o (:i)iiiwri:mlJ!il groiiiiil. 

AimI ciiiini-criitiiil Kiniiinl U Ih, 
'I'Ik- lunt, lli« IiiiINiwikI Imiiiih of una 

Wli» livn ii|iiiii iill iiH'iiiiirii'ii, 
'l'li'iii|{li wjlii tin: IiIIiIimI |{iiii<i, 

Kuril ninVf.H iM liU nil! |illi{i'iin->iliritiiM, 
HIiriiiiiM Ui iio i:i)il"! or i:iri'i| iiuiihiiiul — 

Till- l)<'l|iliiuii viili'K, tlm I'lilirnllii':", 
Tin: .M> iiH, 'il till: iiiilnl, 

Hiiffi-a, willi VVnwloin'ii gurlninl wri;utlii!<l, 

• 'iowikmI klii«ii, iiii'l iiiiln<l |/ri>'»t() of |iownr, 

AikI wuitIoi* witli llii:ii' lii'i|^lit nwonU »Iii:uI|iimI, 
'I'Ik: liii«lilii:»l of lliii liocii , 

AimI I'lwlji:!' liuiii>'H, wlioHi; liiiMil/li: lioiini 

In lit liy Koi'tiiiii:'!! <lliiiiii<'i ntiir, 
An: lli':r': - o'<:r wiivi; Hint iiioiiiituiii i.iiluK, 

I'roiii i;oii;itrii:ii iK-iir iiii'l fur ; 

l'll«rlici», wIkw! wiuiili)i'iiig fmi Iiiivb jiriiiiiMjil 
Till: Kwitwii'it Know, tin; Aml/» nuinl, 

Or troil tin: |.i|i'4 |i;iiv<-ii of tin: Wi:«t,, 
My own ({ri:<;n foii;»t-l«(iil. 

All a»k till! i:ott»f{'! of liin liiitli, 

(<az<: oil tin- ii<'i:in:H In: lovi:!! iiiiil milig, 

Ami ((iitli':r fM:liii^i) not of ciiitli 
I Iio fi';l<lit ith'l iitl<:iini<i nnioiig. 

'I'll!!/ Ilngi:r by tJi« Dikiii'h low tri:««, 
An>l jiant/jral N'itli, aii'l woo<l<-^l Ayr, 

Ami roiiml tliy «'|(iil';liii«, liiinifrii't ' 
The l'o<!t'» t'inil; U tlii;r<!. 

iJiit what U> th<-in th<! n'riilptoi-'H art, 

liin funeral lyiliininii, wrKithn, ami nmit'' 

Wi-ar tli<:y not «ravi:n on th<! Iiiiart 
The nanw! of liol«-rt linrmi 'I 

yn/^^VI-t-MI: liALLKKIi^ 



A liAKirH KI'ITAI'II, 

I* tlii:re a whiniln>:|/ir':'l fwl, 

Own: fa*t for thoiiglit, own: hot for rulo, 

Owr« blate • Ui wxik, own: );roii/l V) unwl j + 

iM him 'Iraw m-ar, 
Ami owre thU granny ln;!ii) »iin(( (l/<ol, 

Ami <lra|i a l>:ar. 

f uuuxIxMliaki 



In thi!!!' II Imi'il ol nintii' noiig, 

Who, iiiiU-U'iiii, al/i:iilit tin: ciowil iiiiioii/{, 

'I'liul wivMy IhU ni'<:a tliionp; ; 

O, |Hiim not liy ; 
Hut, Willi a liati'i li'i'llii){ iitroi% 

111 11! Iii:uv<! a nlgli I 

In thnrn a iinm wliowi jinlgniiint i!|imr 
(Jan otlmin li'inli llio i:oui»« tii Ntiiiil', 
Vut luiiK hlnixiilf III'!'"! niiul niiiwr, 

Willi lui till! wavii i 
lli:i<' |iauit<:, ami, tliiou^li lli<: Nlurting tiiui', 

Hiirv':y iIiIn hiuvk. 

Th« |)oor Inlnihltaiit lu'low 

Wan i)iii<:li to Iwiin ami wlw to know. 

Ami ki:i!iily f'ill tin: fiii!inlly xlow, 

Anil nolii-r llanio ; 
Hut tliou|{litli:!i3 follli'N laid lilni low, 

Ami ntainiKl IiIh nanii: I 

lU-.iuln, atti:nil, - wln:tln:i thy a/iiil 
HoitrN fam:y'a flighla hi!yoinl tint |kiIi:, 
Or ilitrkly Kiulm this i:aithly liolii. 

In low jmiault ; 
Know, priuhtnt, i:aiitlon« wtlf-wmtrol 

la wiailoni'a root. 

UHHUH-I tlOKHa, 



KXK/jy ON f'AlTAIN MATTIIKW 
IIKMJKIIKON. 

IIk 'n Kune, li« 'n khiik '. hi '» Um; iin torn, 
Thi! iM! I«!«t ffillow <''<!r wax Ixirn ' 
TIk'C, Matthuw, Natiin-'a wl' uliall iiujiiin 

fiy woo<l anil wihl, 
Where, Iwfdy, |/ily utiays forlorn, 

friui man i;x\\iA, 

y<: hilU, mar hv!\)'ii» o' tlw; Nt«niN, 
That iirou'lly i-XfU your ':r<:«fln« ':«lniN ! 
Ve '.■ll(f», tin; hauniD of i!«ilin« yearn*,* 

Where e'lio xlunilwrn ) 
Owne join, ye Nalure'u (itunlieDl IxiirnN, 

My wailing nuinlwrN ' 

Mouni, ilka grove tin; eiiuhat Ukiih ' 
Ve lia//;lly uliawn an'l hriery 'lenN '. 
y« tMmi««, wiwfiUn' <lown your gl<?iw, 

Wi' UMiin' •Vut. 
Or foHffling Ntrang, wi' liaisty lAmni, 

Krai; lln U, iin ! 

lOmm, little harebell* o'er th« km, 
Ve nUtUAy foxgloves fair t/i vj: ; 
Ve W'^xlbine* luinging U/nnilie 



iUS 



rERSO.NAL rOEMS. 



In sotnitod lxi\voi-s ; 
Ye rosos on your thorny tivo, 

Tlu' lii-st o' llowtM-s. 

At liswii. wlu'u owry grsssy Mtuii) 
Di\>o[>s with a dinmoiul at his hoail. 
At evou, wUoii Kaus thi>ir lraj;r!iiu'o slied, 

r Iho'nistliuj; jpiU', 
Ve uukukius whidUiii thnuigh tlu< j;lad(>, 
Ooiiio join my wail. 

Mouni, yo woo songsters o' tin- wihhI ; 
Yo givuso that oiiip tho heathor bud ; 
Yo ourlows oallinjt thiwujjh a ohid ; 

Yo whistlinj; plover ; 
And mourn, yo whirriuj; (vtitriok hi\H>d ; 

Ho s gano I'oivvor ! 

Mourn, sooty coots, and sinvkUnl toals, 
Yo tislior hotxnis, watohin!; ot>ls : 
Yo duok and dmko, wi' airy wliools 

Oiivliuj; tho lako: 
Ye bitterns, till tho <iuaj;niiiv I'wls, 

Kair for his sjiko. 

Mourn, ohunoring oniiks at oloso o" day, 
'Manj; tiolds o' lloworiiij* ilovor s!nv ; 
And whon yo winj; your annual way 

Frao our oauld slioiv, 
Tell thao far warUIs wha lies in olay, 

Wliaiu wo do^Jore. 

Yo houlots, fmo your ivy K>wor, 
In somo auld tr<v, or oMritoh towor, 
^Vh«t time tho nuHm, wi' silent glowor, 

Sots up her horn, 
Wail thro" tho droary niidnight hour 
'KU waukrife morn. 

rivers, foivsts, hills and plains ! 
Oft ha>Tf yo heai\l my oauty stmins : 
But now, what else for me ivnniins 

Hut tales of wo ' 
And frao my eon tho drapping r^iins 
Maun OTOf How. 

Jfoum. Sprin;;, thou darlins; of tho yoar ! 
Ilk cowslip eup shall k«vp a trar : 
Thou, Siinmox, while ««oh corny sjnvir 

Shiwts np its head. 
Thy gay, groon tlowery tivssos sluvir. 
For him that "s dwul ! 

Thou, Autumn, wi" thy yellow hair, 
In grief thy sjdlow mantle twtr ! 
Thou, "Wintor, hurling thivugh tho air 

The iwiring Wast, 
Wide o'er tho naktsl world dtvlaro 

Tlie woitlfcwo 'vo lost. 



Mourn him, thou snn, groat source of light ! 
Mourn, onipivss of tho silent night I 
And you, yo twinkling starnies hright. 

My Matthew mourn I 
For thro" your orl>s he 's ta'on his lliglit. 
Ne'er to i-oturn. 

llendorsiin, the u>an I tho brother! 

And art thon gone, and gone for\<vor ! 

And hast thou ci\v<t that unknown rivor, 
I Life's divary Kmnd ! 

Like thei- when' shall I liud another, 
I The world aivund ! 

I 

I ^ 

l.o to your seulptuivd tomlxs, ye givat. 
In a' the tinsel trash o' state ! 
but by thy honest turf 1 '11 wait. 

Thou man of worth ! 
And weop the ao U>st fellow's fate 
E'or lay in earth. 

KOKKKT BCRNS. 



BYROJT. 

FROM "TUB CIH'RSB OF TIME." HOOK IV 

Takk one oxauiplo — to our puriwso unite. 
A nu\n of rank, and of cajvicious soul. 
Who riches had, and fame, Knond desiiv, 
An heir of flattery, to titles Kmii, 
And rx'putalion, and lu.xnrions life : 
Yet, not content with anivst.irial name, 
Or to Ih> known iKvauso his fathers wore. 
Ho on this height hor<\litary sIikhI, 
And. gating higher, puriHvsisl in his heart 
To take another step. AIhivo him stH-moil 
Alone, the mount of song, the lol'tv seat 
Ofcanoni.iHl Kn\ls ; and thithorwai\l, 
By naturi' taught, and inwai\l meliHly, 
In prinu> of youth, ho U-nt his Oivglo eye. 
No cost was sjvsrixl. What books ho wisheil, lie 

read : 
What sage to hear, ho hoanl : what scones to soo. 
Ho S!>w. And tirst, in rambling si'liixd-lwy days, 
Britannia'sniountain-walks, and heath-girt lakes. 
And story-tolling glcus, and fount-s and biwks. 
And maids, as vlew-divps pui\> and fair, his soul 
With gnindeur tilK\l, and melinly. and lovo. 
Then travel came, and took him w hoiv ho wi.ihed : 
Ho cities sjiw, and courts, and princely ^nnnp : 
And mnstHl alone on ancient mountaiu-bivws ; 
And n\ustHl on l>attle-tields, wheiv ^1^1or fought 
In other days ; and muse^l on ruins gray 
AVitli voiirs; and drank fixun old and fabulous 

wvlls. 
And pluckwl tho vino that first-boru prophets 
pluckeil ; 



PKRSONAL I'OKMS. 



919 



And iiiiisi'il un fiiiiuMiH tniiiKs, iiiid ntt tin* wavi; 
Of ucfiiii iiuiHod, iLiid on ill)* dcsi'i'l wuhIc ; 
'I'lic liriiviMis iinil I'lirtli ()l (fvcry wjnnlry hiiw : 
WliiTiM r lliii "Id inH|>ii'iii;{ Oi'nii dw(dl, 
Auxlit Uml I'DUld roiwo, ('X{jajiil, I'i'lliici tliit wnil, 
'I'liillii'i- lie went, nnd nii'diliilcd tlii'ic. 

Ilr Ioik-IkmI Ids liiiip, 1111(1 iiiili'iMs licmd ni- 

tniiic'i'd. 
Am sonn* viiHt rivtT nl" nid'nilin;; Honri'i-, 
Iviipld, rxliiLiistli^sK, diM']i, Ills nninlMM's lliiwi'd, 
And iipcncnl nr'W I'linntuins in llm liiiinMjj lii'iiil. 
\V'lici« Kiinry hulled, wiMiry ill liiM- llit,'ld, 
III (illier iiicii, his I'li'sh iis iiKirnin^ lusr, 
And wmrc'il iintrnddi'ii liidglits, and sci'incd at 

tininr, 
Wlicic iingids liashl'ill lookiMl. Others, tlioiigli 

great, 
Iteiieatli llieir argiiiiieiit seemed Htniggling ; 

whiles 
lie, fiiini aliovo dcsciiiiding, stoip|iei| tn tiaieli 
Till' liifliest thonglil ; and |irrMidly s|ii(i|jed, as 

thiiiigh 
It scarce ileserved his verse. With Nature'iiscir 
111) Hei'inud an <dd aei|imiiilalie(', I'nni to jest 
At will with all her glorious niajesly, 
lie laid his haiiil upon " the Ocean's inane," 
And played lainiliar with his hoary locks ; 
.Stood on the Alps, stood on tin: Api'iinines, 
And with the thunder talkecl as friend to I'rienil ; 
And wove his garland of tli(! lightning's wing, 
In sportive twist, — the lightning's lli-iy wing, 
Which, as the I'ootstejis of the ilreailliil (lod. 
Marching upon thi' storm in vengeance, seemed ; 
'I'lien turned, and with the grassliop])er, wiio 

snug 
Mis evening song beneath his feet, conveiseil. 
Suns, moons, and stars, and clouds his sisters 

were ; 
Ror'ks, moiiiitains, meteors, seas, and winds, and 

storms 
His hrothers, younger hiothers, whom lit: scarce 
As efpials deenie<l. All |ia«sions of all men, 
The wild and tame, the gi'iille and severe ; 
All thoughts, all maxims, sacred and profane ; 
All creeds ; all seaHons, time, eternity ; 
All that was iiaU^I, and all that was dear ; 
All that was hoped, all that wiui fi'ared, hy man, — 
lie tossed ahont, as tempest-withered leaves ; 
Then, Mniling, looked upon the wreck he made. 
With terror now he froze the cowering blood, 
And now dissolved the heart in tenderiiess ; 
Vi't wouM not tremble, would not weep himself; 
Hut back into his soul retired, alone, 
iMrk, sullen, proud, gazing contemptiionsly 
On hearts and piusioiis prostrate at his feet. 
.So (Jceaii, from the plains his waves had late 
To desolation swept, rctireil in ].iide, 



Kxiilting in the gl»ry of his might. 

And seemed to mock the ruin he hail wrought. 

Ah some liercii comet of treiiiendous size. 
To which the stars ilid reverence as it jiasseil, 
>So he, llii'oiigli learning and Miiongh faiii'y, took 
Ills lliglil sulilinii', anil on the InllicHt top 
Of Kaiiie's dread nintinlain sat; not soiled and 

worn. 
As if hif from the earth had labored up. 
Hut as some bird of heavenly plumage fair 
lie looki'd, which down from higher regions came, 
And perched it there, to see what lay Ijciieath. 
The nations gazed, and wondered iiiii'h and 

praised. 
(Critics before him fell in humlile jillght; 
t-'onfoiinded fell ; and made debasing signs 
To catch Ills eye ; and strelched and swelled 

tliemselveH 
To bursting nigh, to utter bulky words 
Of admiration vast; and many too. 
Many that aimeil to imitate his llighl. 
With weaker wing, unearthly llnllering made, 
And gave abundant sjiort to alter days. 

tit'cat man ! the nations gazed and wondered 

miicli, 
And ]iiai»eil ; and many called his evil good. 
Wits wrote ill favor of his wickedness ; 
And kings to do him honor took delight. 
Thus full of titles, llatteiy, honor, hinic ; 
lieyond desire, beyond umbition, full, — 
lie died, — he died of what? Of wretchedness; 
Drank every cuji of joy, heard every trump 
Of fume ; drank early, dee])ly drank ; drank 

draughts 
That common millions might liave ijuenchcd, — 

then died 
Of thirst, because there was no more to drink. 
His goddess. Nature, wooed, embraced, enjoyed, 
I'Ydl from his arms, ablirirred ; IiIh passions died , 
Died, all but dreary, solitary I'ride ; 
And all his sympathies in being died. 
As some ill-guided bark, well built and tall, 
Which angry tides cast out on desert shore, 
And then, retiring, left it there to rot 
And moulder in the winds and rains of heaven ; 
.So he, cut from the sympathies of life, 
And ciwt ashore from jdeasure's lioisteroiis siirgej 
A wandering, weary, worn, and wretched thing, 
A scorched and desolate and blasted soul, 
A gloomy wilderness of dying thought, — 
Uepined, and groaned, and withered from the 

earth. 
His groanings filled the land his numbers filled : 
And yet he seeiiied ashamed to groan. — I'oor 

man ! 
Ashamed to ask, and yet he needed help. 

ROfiRRT i'OLl-OK. 



y2u 



I'EUSONAL POEMS. 



TO CAMPliKLL. 

Tkuk bsml ami simple, — iis tlie nice 
Of lu'avonlxini potts iihvays iiit\ 

Wlieii stooping IKun their stiiirv plnop 
They 're children near, though gmis afnr. 

THOMAS MUOKB. 



CAMl'-UKLL. 

CtlAKADEf. 

CoMK from my fii'st, iiy, como ! 

The battli'-ihuvn is nigh ; 
Ami the soivamiiig trump ami the thumleriug 
drum 

Are calling thee to die I 

Fight as thy father fought ; 

Fall as thy father fell ; 
Thy task is taught ; thy shroud is wrought ; 

So forward and faivwell ! 

Toll ye my seeoml, toll ! 

Fling high the tlambean's light, 
And sing the hymn for a parted soul 

lieneath the silent niglit I 

The wivath upon his head, 

The cross upon his breast. 
Let the pmyer be said and the tear he shed, 

So, — take him to his ivst ! 

CiM ye my whole, — ay, call 

Tlie loi\l of lute and lay ; 
And let him greet the sable pall 

With a noble song to-day. 

Go, call him by his name ! 

No titter hand may crave 
To light the llame of a soldier's fame 

Oil the turf of a soldier's grave. 

WlNTllKor mackworth praed. 



TO THOMAS MOORE. 

My boat is on the shoiv, 
And my bark is on the sea ; 

But Ivfoi-e 1 go, Tom Mooiv, ' 
Hei¥ 's a double health to thee ! 

Heiv's a sigh to those who love me, 
And a smile to thivse who hate ; 

Aud, whatever sky s aKive me, 
Hwe 's a heart fopvverv fate ! 



Though the ocean roar nrouiid uio. 

Vet it still shall bear ine on : 
Though a desert should surround me, 

It hath springs that may be won. 

AVero 't the last drop in the well, 

As I gjisped upon the brink, 
Ero my fainting spirit fell. 

"r is to thee that 1 would drink. 

With that water, as this wine. 

The libation 1 would pour 
Should be, — Peace witli lliiiu' and mine. 

And a health to thee, Tom .Moore ! 

l-OKU BVKON. 



lU'KlAL OF SIU JOHN MOORE. 



fZf 



Not a drum was heanl, not a funeral note, 
As his coi-se to the rampart we hurried ; 

Not a soldier discharged his faivwell shot 
O'er the gnive where our hero we buried. 

We buried him darkly, at dead of night. 
The sods with our bayonets turning ; 

By the struggling moonbeams' misty light. 
And the lantern dimly burning. 

No useless coffin enclosed his breast. 

Not in sJieet or in shroud we wound hiui ; 

But he lay, like a warrior taking his rest, 
W'ith his martial cloak aiouud him. 

Few and short were the prayei-s we said. 
And we spoke not a woi-d of sorrow ; 

But we steadfastly gazwl on the face of the dead, 
And we bitterly thought of the morrow. 

We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed. 
And smoothed down his lonely pillow. 

That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er 
his head. 
And we far away on the billow ! 

Lightly they "11 talk of the spirit that "s gone, 
And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; 

But little he '11 ivck, if they let him sleep on 
111 the grave where a Briton has laid him ! 

But half of our heavy task was done. 

When the clock struck the hour for retiring; 

And we hearvl the tlistant and random gun 
That the foe was suddenly firing. 

Slowly and sadly we laid him down, 

Fivui the Held of his fame fivsh and gory ! 

We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone. 
But we left him alone with his glory. 

Charles Wolfe- 



PERSONAL POEMS. 



921 



EMMET'S EPITAPH. 

[Robert Einniet, the cclcbnted Irihh Rcvulutioiiist, nt hi« trial 
for lii^h treason, which resulted in liis conviction and execution, 
September ao, 1803, made an ciocjuent and pathetic derence, con> 
eluding with these words : " Let tlicre be no inscription upon my 
tomb. Let no man write my epitaph. Let my cliaractcr and my 
motives repose in security and peace till otiicr times and other men 
can do them Justice. Then shall my character be vindicated ; then 
may my epitaph be written. I have done." It was immediately 
upon reading this speech that the following lines were written.] 

" Let no man write my cpituiili ; Ii't my grave 
Be uninsi'iibcil, ami let my memory rest 
Till other times are eomi!, and otlier men, 
Who then may ihi me jiisliee." 

Emmet, no ! 
No witlieiing eurse hath dried my spirit up. 
That I should now be silent, — that my sotvl 
Should from the stirring inspiration shrink. 
Now when it shakes her, anil withhold her voice, 
Of that divinest impnlsi^ nevermore 
Worthy, if impious 1 withheld it now, 
Hardeiiinf; my htxtrt. Here, here in this free Isle, 
To whieh in thy young virtue's erring zeal 
Thou wert so perilous an enemy, 
Here in free England shall an English hand 
Hnilil thy imperishalile monument ; 
O, to thine own misfortune and to ours, 
I'.y thine own deadly error so beguiled, 
Heri! in free England shall an English voice 
llai.se u]i thy mourning-song. For thou ha.st paid 
Thi> bitter ]ienalty of that Hiisdeed ; 
Justiee hath done her unrelenting Jiart, 
If she in truth be Justiee who di-ives on. 
Bloody and blind, the chariot-wheels of lieath. 

So young, so glowing for the general good, 
0, what a lovely manhooil had been thine, 
When all the violent workings of thy youth 
H,ad passed away, hatlst thou been wisely spared. 
Left to the slow and certain inlluenees 
Of silent feeling and maturing thought ! 
How hail that heart, — that noble heart of thine, 
Which even now had snapped one spell, which 

beat 
With such brave indignation at the shame 
Anil guilt of France, and of her miscreant lord, — 
How had it clung to England ! With what love. 
What pure and perfect love, returned to her, 
Now worthy of thy love, the eham|iion now 
For freedom, — yea, the only champion now, 
And soon to be the avenger. But the blow 
Hath fallen, the undiscriminating blow. 
That for its portion to the grave eonsigneil 
Youth, Genius, generous Virtue. 0, grief, grief I 
0, son'ow and reproach ! Have ye to learn. 
Deaf to the |ia.st, and to the future blind, 
Ye who thus irremissibly e.xaet 
The forfeit life, how lightly life is staked. 
When in distempered times the feverish mind 



To strong delusion yields ? Have ye to learn 
With what a deep and spirit-stirring voice 
Pity ilotli call Revenge ? Have ye no hearts 
To feel and inidcrstaml how Mercy tames 
Tlie rebel nature, niailileiied by old wrongs. 
And binds it in the gentle bands of love, 
When steel and adamant were weak to hold 
That Samson-strength subdued ! 

Let no man write 
Thy epitaph ! Emmet, nay ; thou shalt not go 
Without thy funeral strain ! young and good. 
And wise, though ei-ring here, thou shalt not go 
Unhonored or unsung. And better thus 
Beneath that undiscriminating stroke. 
Butter to fall, than to have lived to mourn, 
As sure thou woiildst, in misery and remorse, 
Tlrine own disastrous triumph ; to have seen, 
If the Almighty at that awful hour 
Had turned away his face, wild Ignorance 
Let loose, and frantic Vengeance, and dark zeal, 
And all bad passions tyrannous, and the fires 
Of Persecution once again ablaze. 
How had it sunk into thy soul to see. 
Last curse of all, the lulllan slaves of France 
In thy dear native country lording it ! 
How happier thus, in that heroic mooil 
That takes away the sting of death, to die, 
By all the good and all the wise forgiven ! 
Yea, in all ages by the wise and good 
To be remembered, mourned, and honored still ! 

ROBERT SOUTIIEV. 



O, BREATHE NOT HIS NAME ! 

ROBERT EMMF.T. 

0, uiiEATiiK not his name ! let it sleep in the 

shade. 
Where cold and unhonored his relics are laid ; 
Sad, silent, and dark be the tears that we shed, 
As the night-dew that falls on the grave o'er his 

head. 

But the night-dew that falls, though in silence 

it weeps. 
Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he 

sleeps ; 
And the tear that we shed, though in secret it 

rolls, 
Shall long keep his memory green in our souls. 

Thomas Moore. 



TO TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURK. 

TousBAiNT ! the most unhappy man of men ! 
Whether the whistling rustic tend his plough 
Within thy hearing, or thy head be now 
Pillowed in some deep dungeon's earless den, 



\)'2'2 



I'KUSONAl. rOKMS. 



I) iniiwraUv otiicl^ntn ! wlwiv ami whoii 

Will thou find iMtifiioe f Vol >lio not ; ilo 

thou 
\Vo,u i-.<llior ill tl>y IhhhIs ,•> oliooiftil bww : 
TlioiijsU t'allou thysolf, \u>\^>l' to \iso ngniii, 
l.ivo tu\>l take oo\i\fort, Tliou Icol li'I't luOiiml 
I'owoi's tlint will work lor tluH> ; air, rtirlli, luul 

skios ; 
Thoiv 's not t) iHViithinjj of llio ooimnoii wind 
Tliat will foi-}!*'! tlnv ; thou hast jjmit alliivs ; 
T\v iVioiuls arv oxultsUioiis, ;\j;onii\s 
And lous ««d tuiin's h«oo\\<iu<m-!iI>1i' iniuvl, 

WIIHAM WOKl>-.»\>RrH, 



nKATH-UEO OK I50MUA. KlNt! OV 
NAIM.KS, 

Odvi i> 1 jwss thiwo louujtitijt sontviiis, thiwvgh 

tho !>lvv-lvii\l(>ivd otitrios, u|> tlio swwp of 

s<nialid stair, 
Oi> thi\<nj;h I'handvr altor oh.iniWv. whciv tho 

s\iiishiuo's gx^Ui mill an\lvr t«ru dooay to 

IwnUy mr\\ 
I sliowUl ivaoh a s'lafhHl (x^rtal, \vlu>r«> for strif(> 

of issuo mortal, faoo to taoo two kiiijps ar<> 

mi't ; 
iVio tho j;risly King of Torivrs ; ono a IVnirlion, 

with his orivi's, lato to i\n>soionv'o-i'K>jiviu}; 

sot, 
WoU his tV>-«>r«\l pulso may lUittvr. anil tho priosts 

their mass may mnttx'r with suoh foivor ;»s 

thi\v >nay : 
Oixws and ohrism. and giMinlhs-tion, n>oj> and 

mow, and intorjivtion, will not frighton 

IVtih away. 
By tho dyinj! dosiwt sitting, at tho harvl htvirt's 

IHirtals hitting;. shiKkiny tho dull brain txi 

work. 
IVath makos olt>ar what lifo has hiddon, ohid<>s 

what lifo has lot't nnohidilon, .luiokons truth 

lito triod to hnrko. 
Ho hut rulod within his l>vu\loi^i at^or llvily 

Chuivh's oi\loi-s, did what Austria Isulo him 

do: 
Hy thoir guidauiX' tl.\gjn'd and tortuwnl ; hijih- 

Kirn mon ai\il gi'Utly nnrlui'ol ohaimnl with 

crimo's folonious oivw. 
What if snu\mor fovors gripiwd thom, what if 

wintor tm-sings nipiHHl thorn, till thoy ivttinl 

in thoir chains ? 
Ho ha.l xvoi\l of Toiw and Kais^i-r ; nono oould 

holior Iw or w isor : thoii-s tho inmnsid, his 

tho n'ins. 



So ho (drads cxousM onjfiu', clutching, with his 

liiig»<i-s mwigiv, at tho Ivdolothos as ho 

s|H'aks ; 
Uut King IVath sits grimly grinning at tho 

UovirlH>i\"s cohwoh-spinuing, as oaoh ooh- 

woh-oahlo hivaks. 
And tho (iiHir soul, t'^iim life's oylot. ruddorloss, 

without a nilot, drilVth slowlv down tho 

.lark ; 
Whilo mid uiUing iroiMiso vajnir, ohantod dirg<\ 

and tlaring taper, lios tho Kidy. stilf and 

ststrk, 

rUNCH. 



TO TllK. MKMOKY OK THOMAS H001\ 

Takk Kick into thy Invsom, (>arth. 

This joyous. May-oyi>l mori\>w, 
Tho giMitlost child that ovor mirth 

l!a\i' to Ih> ivaix'd hy sorixnv ! 
"Tis haixl — while rays half givon. half gidd, 

ThiMvigh vernal howoi-s aix> hurniiij;. 
And stivanrs thoir diamond mirrors hold 

To Sumi\>er's I'aeo ivlurning — 
To sjiy wo'iv thankl'ul that his sleep 

8hall novormoix' he lighter. 
In whivso swivt-tougued eomivuiionship 

8tr\>am, Kiwer, and Ivam givw hrightor ! 



U\it all tho moro iuti'usely truo 

His soul giivo out wieh featuix> 
Of elemental love. - each hue 

And grsriv of gvdden natnix-. - 
Tho divper still Ivnoath it all 

l.urke>l tho keen jags of anguish ; 
Tho n\oix' tho lanix'ls clas(H-.l his hrow 

Thoir |H>ison uwdo it languish. 
S»H>mrtl it that, like tho nightingalo 

0( his own n\o\irnt"ul singing. 
Tho tondeix-r would his si«>g pix<vail 

While u)ivst the thorn \v.->s stin,i;ing. 



S»> never to tho dossert-XTOrn 

Hid fount hring fix>shno.ss doo)K>r 
Than that his placid ix'st this morn 

Has hixmght tho shixutdoxl shvi^r. 
That ix-st may lap his wi\->ry hi>;ul 

Whero oharnels chviko tho city. 
Or wheix>, miii wivvllands, by his IhhI 

Tho xvix>n shall wako its ditty : 
lint near or tar. while evening's star 

Is dear to ln\»rls rx'grotting. 
.\ixi\invl that spot adiniriivg thought 

Shall howr. vint'oi'gx'tting. 

UARVHOI.OMVVV SIUMON& 



I'KIIHONAI, I'OKMH, 



'.12 



A void,, AM) NoTIIINd KI,HK. 

" I wi/Niii',ii ir Ilioiixliiiiii llilnkH im iiiucli a* )ti' 
liiIkH," 
Hiilil It iiiiiiHtiir, |iitriiitlii)( II Irliil ; 

I " 1 vow, hilK'll IiIn lliriilllll|l WUM IIIUlll^ liHIOII 

Viiiix, 
III' '» biHiM rituj: d pi'wMnii nllM I " 

AHoMVMniiq 



MAfJAIM.AV, 

'I'mi'. 'Iiiiiiiiy rliyiiii:i''ii iiii'itiiuri'il iiiiDrn 

KiilU lii'iivy on our i'iuh no nion^ ; 

Ami liy loii;< "tiiili'H iiiii ji'l't. Iii'liiml 

'I'liK ili^iir ili^lixliln of woiiiiiiikinii, 

Who \vii«i: llii'ir Imttliw liki: lljiilr lovi!*, 

Ill Niiliii HiiiitioiiU mill kill nhiviin. 

Ami liiivii iii:liiifViMl tlii! <:rowiiliiK work 

WImmi tlii'y liiivii Iriiniu'il ainl »ki!Wi!rwl n't'iirk. 

Ariotliiir iioKH'ii willi nloiit.iir tnwl, 

Anil •ititlk<4 iinioiif( hliir Nttit4;]ii;r ili-u'l. 

Mil riiHlii!« on, iin<l liiiiln liy Inrn^ 

lli((liiriiiit."iil Hcotl, liroiwl-liri'ii")!"! IJiirrm ; 

Ami hIiowb till! I'iitl«li yoiiUi, who nii'nr 

Will lii;^ liirliiml, what. lioniiinn wurii, 

Wliiin itll till! 'I'lnn'iinit anil tlmlr IjIUh 

Hlioiit<»l, unil kIiooIc thu liiwori* nt Mara, 

WAI.'rUH IMVAOIt t.AtlUflV, 



BfJNNETH TO OKOUOK HANI). 

A IlKHIIIK. 

TllDi' lar;<i:-liraini-i| woniiiii imil lar((i)-h<!M;-t<Ml 

niiin, 
Hi'lf-l;ulll:/l (il'OI({l! Hallll I wIlOfMi wjlll aHlIll till! 

lionit 
Of tliy tnniiiltuoiln wimti;'!, inoanit ilnllanw, 
Ami «n»wi!iH roiir for roiir, an ii|iiritii i!«n, 
I woiihl Konii' iniM inliiu:iiloiii) tlinmliir run 
Aliovi: thi; Mji|il!iiii|iii| i:lr<'ii)i, in nii(ili(in''i' 
Of thiiii! own noliliT iialiiru'o iilrKn;{1,li nml ic;i- 

OrawinK two |iinionii, wliit<! a* wln((ii of Hwan, 
I'Voin thy )itron« alioiililnrii, Vi ainitzi! tint jila/:<) 
With holiicr Vinhi '. that thon Ui woman'* <:laiin, 
An<I man'*, tni|i;lit Join Iwniiln thi! hiihhV n ifriuf; 
Of a ()iir<! tt'!'!!'!" inm^tifiifl from hlami! ; 
Till rliijil an'l mai'li-n [irntxtiKl lii lUiint mii\iriux, 
'I'll kiHH ujion thy li|m a iitaliiU-iiii fani<r. 

A ttv/.ooxmon. 

T-Hur. ((vniuD, \nil tni« woman I <limt <I<!/iy 
Thy woinan'n natiir'j with a niunly worn. 
Ami lir<-ak away th'r ;(aiiilii ami arinlTtii worn 
I'.y wft«k«r wi/inen in <»t|>tivity 1 



All, vnlti iliinlal ! tlml, hvoIIinI i ly 
l^ itolitiiul 111 liy a woiiiiiii'd voIi'h lorlorn ; 
'I'hy woiniin'n hair, my ninli'r, nil iiiinhorii, 
Kloatii liiii!k iliahi'vulli'il nlnii^fth In i>K""y> 
I)lii|ii'ovin|{ thy iiian'it nanm ; ami wlilhi Ixiforn 
Tim worM l.hoii hiirmitt In a |iiiiit Dri', 
Wi! Kim thy wiiniiin hi'arl Imiil iivniinori) 
Tliroii|{h tliH hii«ii llaniii, iti^at (iiiriT, Iniail, uml 

Iil«lii'r, 
Till (toil iinwix llii'ii on lint hiiavi'iily itlMirii, 
Wliiiiii iiniiirarnatji Kjiiiltn |mr(ily aB|iir«, 

JU.l/Alll^lll UAKUKIt nHOWMlMO, 



IIKINK'H (iUAVK, 

" lli'.'iii/ IIi'.ink" 'tin hnrn I 

Tim liliii'k Uiin Inl.'inii, tlm nanin 

''arviiil tlii!i'ii no morn I ami thn nniooth, 

Hwarili'il iill'vys, thn liinim 

Toin-hiil with yi-jlow hy hot 

Hiininiir, hut iiinlir tln^ni ttlll 

In Hi'(iti!iiil;iir'ii liii;/hl iilUiinoon 

Hlimlow ami vi'iiliirii ainI iiool I 

Trim Moiiliimilri' I tlm faint 

Muriniir of I'ltrin oiitnliln ; 

'/riNji i'Vi!rlii>itin«-llowi:rit, 

Viillow nml hl>u:k on tlio Knivim, 

Half hliml, ixiUImI, in \iiiiii, 
llltlmr Ui i:onii!, from tin: ultifXn' 
rproar, mirily not loath 
Waul thon, llniim, Ui Ii« 
Qiiii't ! (/) iiKk for i!lo!«!<l 
Hhiitt*r«, anil ilarkniiMl room. 
Ami i!Ool ilrinkn, anil an i^awMl 
I'ontnri!, ami o|iiiini, no morn I 
llitli<!r Ui iiiiiii', Hint Ui ii|i;<!|» 
IJmliir till! wiiinH of If/aiown, 

Ah I not llttin, wlixn [inin 
In moot ifiU'Wiiin, ami man 
Kwiiily i(iH'lli"l, anil th«' fin* 
T<!rn|n:r of iii:uUi» aliv<! 
Qninknut l.<i ill. Id th<! praiw! 
Niii Ui havi! yiiilil<"l t'< (lain I 
No mnall lii/UHt for a wak 
Hon of mankimi, to thn narth 
I'Innir'l hy thn thiiii'Inr, to mar 
Ilia Ix/lt-iKWthixl front to thn utarii, 
Ami, iin'laiint<yl, rnt,ort. 
'Oalnat thhik-nranhinK, inaann, 
TyrannoiiK Uaii\iinU of l»al«, 
Arrowy li^fhtnin^ii of w/nl ! 

Hark ! tliroii^h thn allny rnw/iind* 
.Mwkln^i; laiiKhtJT ! A HItn 
',><«!(<« o'nr thn minthinn ; a iirntaii 
I'liffltM th>! wann iifUtrii'inu, 



924 



PERSONAL POEMS. 



Saddens my soul witli its cliill. 

Gibing of spiiits in scoin 

Shakes every leaf of tbe grove, 

Mars the benignant repose 

Of this amiable home of the dead. 

Bitter spirits ! ye claim 

Heine ? — Alas, he is yours ! 

Only a moment 1 longed 

Here in the quiet to snatch 

From such mates the outworn 

Poet, and steep him in calm. 

Only a moment ! I knew 

Whose he was who is here 

Buried ; I knew lie was yours ! 

Ah, I knew that I saw 

Here no sepulchre built 

In the laurelled rock, o'er the blue 

Naples bay, for a sweet 

Tender Virgil ! no tomb 

On Ravenna sands, in the shade 

Of Havenna pines, for a high 

Austere Dante ! no grave 

By the Avon side, in the bright 

Stratford meadows, for thee, 

Shakespeare ! loveliest of souls. 

Peerless in radiance, in joy. 

What so harsh and malign, 
Heine ! distils from thy life. 
Poisons the peace of thy grave ? 

Charm is the glory which makes 

Song of the poet ilivine ; 

Love is the fountain of charm. 

How without cliarni wilt thou draw, 

Poet, the world to thy way ? 

Not by the lightnings of wit, 

Not by the thunder of scorn ! 

These to the world, too, are given ; 

Wit it possesses, and scorn, — 

Charm is the poet's alone. 

ffollme and dull are the great. 

And artists envious, and the mob profane. 

We know all this, we know I 

Cam'st thou from heaven, cliild 

Of light ! but this to declare ? 

Alas ! to lielp us forget 

Such barren knowleilge awhile, 

God gave the poet his song. 

Therefore a secret unrest 

Tortured thee, brilliant and bold ! 

Tlii-refore triumph itself 

Tasted amiss to thy soul. 

Therefore, with blood of thy foes, 

Trickled in silence thine own. 

Therefore the victor's heart 

Broke on the field of his fame. 



Ah ! as of ohl from the pomp 
Of Italian Milan, the fair 
Flower of marble of white 
Southern palaces, — steps 
Bordered by statues, and walks 
Terraced, and orange bowers 
Heavy with fragrance, — the blond 
German Kaiser full oft 
Longed himself back to the fields. 
Rivers, and high-roofed towns 
Of his native Germany ; so, 
So, how often ! from hot 
Paris drawing-rooms, and lamps 
Blazing, and brilliant crowds, 
Starred and jewelled, of men 
Famous, of women the (jueens 
Of dazzling conv(M-se, and fumes 
Of praise, — hot, heady fumes, to the poor brain 
That mount, that madden ! — how oft 
Heine's spirit, outworn. 
Longed itself out of the din 
Back to the tranquil, the cool. 
Far German home of his youth ! 
See ! in the May afternoon. 
O'er the fresh short turf of the Harta, 
A youth, with the foot of youth, 
Heine ! thou climbest again. 
Up, through the tall dark firs 
Warming their lieatls in the sun, 
(,'heckering the grass with their shade. 
Up, by the stream with its huge 
Moss-hung bowlders and thin 
Musical water half-hid. 
Up o'er the rock-strewn slope, 
With the sinking smi, and the air 
Chill, and the shadows now- 
Long on the gray hillside, 
To the stone-roofed hut at the top. 

Or, yet later, in watch 
On the roof of the Brocken tower 
Thou standest, gazing I to see 
The broad red sun, over field, 
Forest and city and spire 
And mist-tracked stream of the wide. 
Wide German land, going down 
In a bank of vapors, — again 
Standest ! at nightfall, alone ; 
Or, next morning, with limbs 
Rested by slumber, and heart 
Freshened and light with the May, 
O'er the gracious spurs coming down 
Of the lower Hartz, among oaks. 
Ami beechen coverts, and copse 
Of hazels green in whose depth 
Use, the fairy transformed. 
In a thousand water-breaks light 



PERSONAL POEMS. 



925 



Pours her petulant youth, — 
Climbing the rock which juts 
O'er the valley, the ilizzily perched 
Koek I to its Iron Cross 
Once more thou cling'st ; to the Cross 
Clingest ! with smiles, with a sigh. 

But something prompts me : Not thus 
T.'ike leave of Heine, not thus 
Spe.'ik the last word at his grave ! 
Not in pity, anil not 
Witli half-censure, — with awo 
Hail, as it pa.sses from earth, 
Scattering lightnings, that soul ! 

The spirit of the worhl, 

Hehokiing the absurdity of men, — 

Their vaunts, their feats, — let a sardonic smile 

Kor one sliort moment wander o'er las lips. 

That smite was Heine ! for its earthly hour 

The strange guest sparkled ; now 'tis passed away. 

That was Heine ! and we. 

Myriads who live, who have lived, 

M'liat are we all, but a mood, 

A single mood, of the life 

Of tlie lieing in whom we exist, 

Who alone is all tilings in one. 

Spirit, who fillest us all ! 

Spirit, who utterest in each 

Ni^w-eoming son of mankind 

Such of thy thoughts as thou wilt ! 

thou, one of whose moods. 

Hitter and strange, was the life 

Of Heine, — his strange, alas ! 

His bitter life, — may a life 

Other and milder he nune ! 

Mayst thou a mooil more serene. 

Happier, have uttered in mine ! 

Mayst thou the rapture of peace 

Deep have embreathed at its core ! 

Made it a ray of thy thought, 

ilaJe it a beat of thv joy ! 

Matthew Arnold. 



A ■WELCOME TO "BOZ." 

ON HIS FIRST VISIT TO THE WEST 

Co.ME as artist, come as guest, 
Welcome to the expectant West, 
Hero of the charmed pen. 
Loved of children, loveil of men. 
We h.ave felt thy spell for years ; 
Oft with laughter, oft with tears. 
Thou hast touched the tenderest part 
Of our inmost, hidden heart. 
We have fixed our eager gaze 
On thy piiges nights and days, 



Wishing, as we turned them o'er, 

Like poor Oliver, for "more," 

And tlie creatures of thy brain 

In our memory remain. 

Till through them we seem to bo 

Old acciuaintances of thee. 

Mucli we hold it thee to greet, 

Gladly sit we at thy feet ; 

On thy features we would look, 

As upon a living book. 

And thy voice would grateful hear. 

Glad to feel that Box were near, 

That his veritable soul 

Held us by direct control : 

Therefore, author loved the best. 

Welcome, welcome to the West. 

\n immortal Welter's name, 
By the rare Micawber's fame, 
By the Hogging wreaked on Squeers, 
By Job Trotter's Huent tears, ' 
By the beadle Bumble's fate 
At the hands of shrewish mate, 
By the fatnous Pickwick Club, 
By the dream of Gabriel Grubb, 
In the name of Snodgrass' muse, 
Tupman's amorous interviews. 
Winkle's ludicrous mishaps, 
And the fat boy's countless naps ; 
By Ben Allien and Bob Sawyer, 
By Miss Sally Br-ass, the lawyer. 
In the name of Newman Noggs, 
River Thames, and London fogs, 
Richard Swiveller's excess. 
Feasting with the Marchioness, 
By .lack Bunsby's oracles, 
By the chime of Christmas bells. 
By the cricket on the liearth. 
By the sound of childish mirth. 
By spread tables and good cheer. 
Wayside inns and ]iots of beer. 
Hostess plump and jolly host, 
Coaches for the turnpike post, 
Chaniberm.'iid in love with Boots, 
Toodles, Traddles, Tapley, Toots, 
Betsey Trotwood, Mister Dick, 
Susan Ni]iper, Mistress Chick, 
Snevelli<!ci, Lilyvick, 
Mantalini's predilections 
To transfer his warm affections, 
By poor Barnaby and (irip. 
Flora, Dora, Di, and Gi]i, 
Peerybingle, Pinch, and Pip, — 
Welcome, long-expected guest, 
Welcome to the grateful West. 

In the name of gentle Nell, 
Child of light, belovM well, — 



92li 



PERSONAL POEMS. 



Wwpiiig, ilid wt. not Miold 

Kivit's on luT Kwoni oolU ! 

Hpttpr wo tor ovitv ti-ar 

Slunt Ih'suU< hor snowy bior, — 

By tlu> niourul°itl givuii tlmt pluvial 

Konnii tlu> snivo w lu'iv Sniiko was laid. 

Hy tlio lil'o of Tiny Tim, 

And tlio lesson la«j;lit by him, 

Askinj; in his |>laintivi- tono 

Oo»l to ■■ bh'ss ns ovt'ry ono," 

By tho sinmdins; wavi's that borp 

l.ittlo Paul to lU'avcn's slioiv, 

By thy yoaininj; t'of the liuniau 

OihhI in every man and woman. 

By each noble deol and \voi\l 

That thy story-lHKiks ivwixl, 

And wioh noble sentiment 

Diekens to the world hath lent. 

By the etlort thou hast made 

IVuth and true R-form to aid, 

By thy hoin- of man's ivlief 

Finally from want and grief. 

By thy never-failiuj; trust 

That the IuhI of love is just, — 

AVe would nuH't and wvUvme th«\ 

IVvioher of humanity ; 

AVehvtno tills tlie thwbluug b^^^!^st 

Of the sym)wtJi«tio \\'ost. 

W. II. VKNAKLE. 



OK'KKNS IN iWMP. 

Abovk tJu' niut\s tlu' n\>H>n was slowly drifting, 

Tlie river s;ina Ivlow ; 
The di\n Sierra.s far Ivyond, n)itiftjng 

Their minarvts of snow. 

The nwrinj; e!unp-Hni>, with rude hnmor, jwiuteil 

The rnddy tints of health 
t">n htiggsml laoe and form that drvx»i>wl»nd faiutetl 

In the Iier\H> nut< for wejilth ; 

Till one arvv5»\ and frv^nv his j>aek"s sv>aiit treasure 

A hoaixliHl volume divw. 
And c-Mxls werx- droinxsl fivm hands of listless 
leisnr»>. 

To hoar the tale unew ; 

And then, while ivnnd them slnidows gathered 

faster. 
And .•vs the firelight fell. 
He ftsid alond the KK>k wheivin the iliist^r 
Had writ of '• lattle Nell." 

IVhajis "t was Ivyisli faney, — for the reader 

Was youngest of them all, — 
But, as he read, frvmi elustering jxine and eedar | 

A sileiuv swnkvl ta4hll : j 



The fir-tit>es. gathering eloser in tlie sliadows, 

l.isteueil in every spray, 
While the whole eamis with '"Nell, "on English 
nu'adows 

AVandennl and lost their way. 

And so in mountain solitudes — o'ertakeu 

As by some sjh'U divine — 
Their eiuvs dropjHil fivn\ them like the neeiUes 
shaken 

Fixini out the gusty pine. 

Lost is that ciniis and waste*! all its fiiv ; 

And he who wivught that si>ell ' — 
All, towering pine and stately Kentisli si>ire. 

Ye have one tsUe to tell ! 

Lost is that oainp ! but let its fragrant story 
Blend with the bivath that thrills 

With hop-vines' iuit-nse all the pensive glory 
That tills the Keutisli hills. 

And on that grave when? English oak and holly 

And lamvl wivaths intwine, 
D««ni it not all a tw pivsumptuons fdly, — 

This spray of Western pine. 

BRET hakts. 



TO VUTOR Hl'OO. 

VlCT\>K in iKX'sy I Viotor in itunaiu-e ! 

(.'loud-wt-jiver of phantasmal liojws and fears ! 
FrxMieh of the Fivneh and loi\i of hnmau 
tt>ats ! 
Child-lover, l«u\l, whose fame-lit laurels glance. 
Darkening the wrx'aths of all that would ad- 
vanoe 
IVyoiul our strait their claim to Iv thy i>e«>rs ! 
Weinl Titan, by thy wintry weight of years 
As yet nnbivken ! Stormy voioe of Fraiuf, 
Who diH>s not love our Vaiglaiul, so they say ; 
1 know not ! England, Kranw, all nteu to Ih\ 
Will make one jHvple, eiv man's rai-e h» 
run : 
And 1, desiring that diviner day. 

Yield thet> full thanks for thy full courtt-sy 
To youiigxT England in the K\v, my son. 

.VLFREP TE.\X%'S>.VS. 



DANIEL BOOXE. 



FKCiM " DO-N Jl'AN," 



Of all tnen, saving Sylla the man-sla\"er, 
Who jvxsses for in life and death most luoky. 

Of the gr«it names whieh in onr faivs staw. 
The tnnieral Ivxnie, haokwwxlsman of Ken- 
tuekv. 



I'KUSilNAL I'OK.MS. 



1)27 



Wiis hii)>pii'st aiiuiiifjst morluls niiywiii'ic ; 

l<"or, killing iiotliiiig but « lu'iir or Inu'k, lio 
Kiijoyixl tlm loiii'ly, vigorous, liarmU'ss days 
0( liis old ago in wilils of di'i'iu'st mazo. 

C'riino vtimo not near him, slio is not tlio cliiUl 
or solitiiilo ; llealtli shrank not IVoin him, for 

Hrr homo is in tho rarely trochUn wild, 

Whoro it' men soek her not, and tleath be more 

Their ehoiee than life, I'orgive them, as beguiled 
Hy habit to what their own hearts abhor, 

In eities eaged. The present ease in point I 

t'ite is, that lioone lived hunting up to ninety ; 

And, what 's still stranger, left behind a name 
For whieh men vainly deeiuiate the throng. 

Not only famous, but of that (jood tame. 

Without whieh glory 's but a tavern song, — 

Simple, siTene, the antipodes of shame, 

Whicli hate nor envy e'er eould tinge with 
wrong ; 

An netive hermit, even in age the child 

Of nature, or the Man of l!oss run wild. 

'T is true he slirank from men, even of his nation ; 

When they built up unto his darling trees. 
He moved some hundred miles oil', for a station 

Where there were fewer houses and more ease ; 
The ineonvenienee of eivilization 

Is that you neither ean be pleased nor please ; 
Rut where he met the individual man. 
He showed himself as kind as mortal ean. 

Ho was not all alone ; around him grew 
A sylvan tribe of ehildren of the ehase. 

Whose young, unwakeneil world was ever new ; 
Nor sword nor sorrow yet had left a traee 

On her \inwrinkleil luow, nor eoulil you view 
A frown on nature's or on human faee : 

The freeborn foiest found and kept them free, 

Anil fresh as is a torrent lU' a tree. 

And tall, ami strong, and swift of foot, were they, 
Heyond the dwarling I'ity's pale abortions, 

Heeause their thoughts had never been tin' prey 
Of eare or gain : the green woods were tlieii' 
portions ; 

No sinking spirits told them tliey grew gray ; 
No fashion made tliem apes of her distortions ; 

Simple tliey were, not savage ; and their rilles. 

Though very true, were not yet used for trilles. 

Motion was in their days, rest in their slumbers, 
And eheerfulness the handmaid of their toil ; 

Nor yet too many nor too few their numbers ; 
Corruption eould not make their hearts her 
soil. 



The lust whieh stings, the splendor which en- 
eumbers. 
With the free foresters divide no spoil : 
Serene, i\ot sullen, were the solitudes 
Of this uiisigliing jieople of the woods. 

I. "KM IIVUON. 



WASUlNtiTON. 

PROM " UNDER THE ELM," ROAD AT CAHIlRlDOn. JULV 1, 
1875, ON run nUNDRl'.OTII ANNIVI'-KSARV OI' WASHING. 
TON'S TAKING COMMAND OF THll AMERICAN AKMV. 

HuNKAril our consecrated elm 

A century ago he stood, 

Kanied vaguely for that old light in the wood, 

Which redly foamed round him but cMiuld not 

overwhelm 
The life foredoomed to wield our rough hewn 

helm. 
l''roni colleges, where now the gown 
To arms had yielded, from the town, 
Our rude self-sunnnoned levies Hocked to see 
The new-come chiefs and wonder whieh was he. 
No need to ([ueslion long ; dose-lipped and tall, 
liong trained in murder-brooding forests lone 
To briillo others' clanuirs anil his own, 
Firndy erect, ho towered above them all, 
The incarnate disci|iline that was to free 
With iron curb that armed ilemocracy. 

Iliiuglity tliey saiil lie was, at first, severe. 
Hut owned, as all men owned, the steady liaiid 
I'piui the bridle, patient to command. 
Prized, as all prize, the Justice pure from fear. 
And learned to honor lirst, then love him, then 

revere. 
Such power there is in clcar-cYcd solf-restrnint, 
■\nd ]uiri)Ose clean as liglit from every selfish 

taint. 

Musing beneath the legendary tree, 

The years between furl oil' : 1 seem to see 

The sun-llecks,shiiken the stirred foliage through, 

Uapplewith gold his sober bulVand blue, 

.\nd weave prophetic aureoles round tlie head 

That .shines our beacon now, nor darkens with 

the dead. 
O man of silent mood, 
A stranger nnu)ng strangers then. 
How art thou since renowned the Orent, the 

Goo<l, 
Familiar as the day in all the liomes of men ! 
The winged years, that winnow praise and blame, 
lilow many muncs out : they but fan to flanio 
The self-renewing splendors of thy fame. 

O, for a drop of that ter.se liiunan's ink 
Who gave Agricola dateless length of days, 



928 



PKRSOXAl POEMS. 



To celebrate him fitly, neither svofrve 

To ]Uirase unkempt, nor jiass discretion's brink. 

With him so statuelike in sad reserve. 

So diffident to claim, so fonvsu\i w deserv* : 

Xor neevi I shun due influence of his fame 

Who, mortal among nwrtsls. s<^elued as now 

The etin«>triau shajv with unimf«ssionevl brow. 

That i«c«s silent on through vistas of avlaim. 

What figure more imiiwv:ibly aug<ijt 

Than that gtave strength so patient anc sw pure. 

Calm in good fortune, when it wuvereJ, sure. 

That soul sei^ue, im|>enetrably just, 

Moilelled on classic lines, so simple thev endtiie ! 

That soul so softly radiant and so white 

The track it left s>eems less of fire than light. 

Cold but to such as love distemf<erature ' 

And if pure light, as some deem, W the force 

That drives rejoicing planets on their course. 

Why for his jK>wer benign seek an impurer 

soutw ? 
His was the tme enthusiasm that bums long, 
Pomeslically bright. 
Fed from itself and shy of human sight. 
The hidden forve that makes a lifetime strvmg, 
.\nd m'lt the short-live\i fuel of a song. 
Passionless, say you ' What is passivm for 
B<Jt to suUime iwr natures and control 
To front heioic toils with late return. 
Or nv^ne, or such as shames the conqueror • 
That fire was fed with substance of the soul. 
And not with holiday sttibble. that could b«m 
Through seven slow \-ears of unadvancing war, 
Kqual when fields were lost or fields were wvxn. 
With breath of popular apjJause or Name, 
Xorfiuined nor damped, unquenchaMy the same. 
Too inward to W reached by flaws of idle £uue. 

Soldier and statesman, rarest unison: 
High-poise^l example of great duties done 
Simpiy as breaihing. a world's honors worn 
.\.s life's inditfereut gifts to all men twm ; 
Pumb fivr himse'f. unltsss it were to God, 
But for his h»refoot soldiers eloquent. 
Tramping the snow to coral where they tiod. 
Held by his awe in hvxllow^eyed content ; 
Modest, yet finn as Xature's self ; unblamed 
Save by the men his nobler temjvr shauted ; 
Not honored then or now N>cstuse he wwed 
The popular voice, but that he still withstood ; 
Broad>minde^l, higher-soulevl, there is but one 
WTio was all this, and ours, anvl all men's, — 
Washington, 

Minds strong by fits, inegnlarly great. 
That flash and darken like revvQving lights. 
0«tch more the vulgar eye unschoolevl to wait 
On the l<Hig curve of piMicnt days and nights. 



Rounding a whole life to the cirxde fair 

Of orl«fd completeness ; and this balanced soul. 

So simple in its grandeur, coldly bare 

I Of draperies theatric, standing there 
In perfect symmetry of s^lf-oontrol, 
Seems not so grxat at first. Vnit greater grows 
Still as we look, and by esivrience learn 
How grand this quiet is. how nobly stem 

1 The discipline that wrought through life-long 
throes 

j This energetic passion of rejwse. 

i A nature too de^vrous i»ud severe. 
Too self-resj>ev'tful in its griefs and joys 
For ardent girls and boys. 
Who find no genius in a mind so dear 
That its grave depths seem obvious and near, 
Not a soul great that made so little noise. 
They feel no force in that cahn. cadencevi phrase. 
The h.Abitual fulUlress of his well-btevl mind. 
That seenvs to pace the minuet's courtly maie 
And tell of ampler leisures, loomier length of 

days. 
His broad-built brain, to sdf so little kind 
That no tumultuary blood could blind, 
Fc»med to control men, not aiuaie. 
Looms not like those that borrow height of hue : 
It was a wv^rld of statelier movement then 
Than this we fret in. he a deniien 
Of that ideal Kome that made a man for men. 

I Placid contpleteness, life without a £iU 
From faith or highest aims, truth's bnachless 

wall. 
Surely if any fimie can bear the touch. 
His will say " Here ! " at the last trumpet's call. 
The unexivesdve man whose life expressed so 

much. 

JJUIES KVSSEU. LOWSU. 



GEORGE WASHIXGTOS, 

Bt broad Potoniac's silent shore 
Better than Trsgan lowly lies, 
Gilditrg her green declivities 

With glory now and evemwre : 
Art to his fame no aid hatli lent ; 
HU country is his monument. 



DANIEL WEBSTER 

When, stricken by the fireenng blast, 
A nation's living pillars MI, 

How rich the storied page, how vast, 
A void, a whisper, can recall '. 



PERSONAL POEMS. 



929 



No meiliil lifts its I'rettoil fucc, 

Noi' s[)fakiiin inarbln clients your eyo ; 

Yet, while these |iictiiied lines 1 trace, 
A living iiiittge piisses by : 

A roof beneath the niountiiiri ]>inos ; 

The eloisleis i)l' i> hill-gilt pliiiti ; 
The I'lcmt III' life's enibiittleil lines ; 

A niounil beside the lieiiving iniiin. 

These are thi- scenes : a boy appears ; 

Set life's rimnil ilial in the sun, 
Count tlie swift are of seventy years, 

1 1 is frame is dust ; his task is done. 

Yet pause iijioti the noontide hour, 

Ere the deelining sun has hiid 
His blearhing rays on manhood's power. 

And look upon the mighty shade. 

Ko gloom that stately shape can hide. 
No ehango uncrown his lirovv ; behold ! 

Dark, calm, hirge-fronted, liglitning-eyed. 
Earth has no double from its mould ! 

Ere from the fields by valor won 
The ballle-smoke had rolleil away. 

And Imred the blood-red setting sun. 
His eyes were opened on the day. 

His land wan but a shelving strip, 

I Hack witli tlie strife that nnido it free ; 

He lived to see its banners dip 
Their fringes in the western sea. 

The liiiiuidless prairies learned his name, 
His wiirds the mountain echoes knew ; 

The nortliern breezes swept his fame 
From icy lake to warm bayou. 

In toil ho lived ; in peace he died ; 

When life's full cycle was eom]ilete. 
Put olf his robes of power and pride. 

And laid them at his Master's feet. 

His rest is by the storm-swept waves, 
Whom life's wild tempests roughly tried. 

Whose heart was like the streaming caves 
Of ocean, throhliing at his side. 

Death's cold white hand is like the snow 
Laid softly on the furrowed hill ; 

It hides the broken seams below, 
And leaves the summit brighter still. 

In vain the envious tongue upbraids ; 

His name a nation's heart shall keep, 
Till morning's latest sunlight fades 

On the lilue tablet of the deep ! 

OLIVRK Wl'.NDKLL HOLMES. 



ICHAUOU. 

IJANIIU. wniisTHu, ra^o 

So fallen ! sii lost I the light withdrawn. 

Which (ince he wore I 
The glory from his gray liairs gone 

Forevermore ! 

Kcvilo him not, — llie Tempter liath 

A snare for all I 
And ]iitying tears, not scorn and wrath, 

Helit his fall ! 

0, diuiib be pa-ssion's stormy rage. 

When he who might 
Have lighted up and led his age 

Falls back in night I 

Scorn ! would the angels laugh to mark 

A bright soul driven, 
Fiend-goaded, down the endless daik, 

From liope and heaven '! 

Lot not the land, once proud of him, 

Insidt him now ; 
Nor brand with ihieper shame his dim, 

Dishonored brow. 

But let its humbled sons instead. 

From sea to lake, 
A long lament, as for the dead. 

In sadness make. 

Of all we loved and honored, naught 

Save power remains, -- 
A fallen angel's pride of thought. 

Still strong in eliuins. 

All else is gone ; from tliose gi'oat eyes 

The soul luis Red : 
When faith is lost, when honor dies, 

The man is dead I 

Then pay the reverence of old day.i 

To his dead fame ; 
Walk backward, with averted gaze. 

And hide the shame I 

John GRenNLEAP whittihr. 



THE DEAD CZAR NICHOLAS. 

Lay him beneath his snow.s. 

The great Norse giant who in these last days 

Troubled the nations. Gather decently 

The imperial robes about him. 'T is but man, - 



930 



PERSONAL POEMS. 



This doiiii-god. Or rather it wns iiinn. 
Ami is — a, littlo dust, thnt will corrupt 
Aa I'list as any nameless dust whicli sleeps 
'Neath Almii's gms3 or Haliiklavii s vines. 

No vineyani jjrave for liini. No quiet tomb 
Uy river niiirj;in, where aeross the seas 
Children's fond thoughts and women's nieniories 

eome, 
Like ans^'ls, to sit by the sepnlehif, 
Saying ; "All these were men who knew toi'ount, 
Frontl'aeed, the eost of honor, nor did shrink 
From its full payment : eoniing heiv to die. 
They died — like men." 

Hut this nnin ? All I lot; him 
Funeival state, and ceivmonial grand. 
The stone-engraved stuvophagus, and then 
Oblivion. 

Nay, oblivion wert> as bliss 
To that lieree howl whieh rolls fivni land to land 
Exulting, — "Art thou fallen, l.neifer, 
Son of the nuuning /" oreondemning, — "Thus 
Perish the wiekod ! " or blaspheming, — " Heiv 
Lies our Belsha/z»r, our Seunaeherib, 
Our riiaraoh, — he whose heart Ood lianlenM, 
So tJiat he would no' let the people go." 

Self-glorifyiug sinners ! Why, this man 

Was but like other men, — you, Levite snuill, 

AVho shut your s;untly eai-s. and prate of hell 

And heivfies, U'eause outside ehurch-doors, 

}'i)i(reluuvh-doors, eongregations poor and small 

Praise Heaven in their own way ; yon, autoerat 

or all the hamlets, who add lield to lield 

And house to house, whose slavish ehildi'on cower 

Hefore your tyn\nt footstep ; yon, fonl-tongued 

Fauatie or ambitions egotist, 

Who think Uod stoojKs fixun his high imyesty 

To lay his linger on your puny head. 

And eivwn it, that you heiueforth n«»y {wrade 

Your nniggotship thivughout the wondering 

world, — 
" 1 am the Loixl's anointed ! " 

Fools and Wind ' 
This erar, this einiviwr, this disthrouM corpse. 
Lying so straightly in an iey ealm 
Grander than sovereignty, was but as ye,— 
No Ix'tter and no woi-se : Heaven mend us all ! 

Carry him forth and bury him. Heath's peace 
Rest on his memory ! Men-y by his bier 
Sits silent, or says only these few wonls, — 
" Let him who is without sin 'mongst ye all 
C«»t the first stone." 

PIHAH MAKIA MOLOCK CKAIK. 



A13UAHAM LINCOLN. 

FROM TUB "COMMEMORATION ODtt." 

LiFK may be given in many ways, 
And loyalty to Truth bo sealed 
As bravely in the closet as the lield, 
So Knintil'ul is Fate ; 
Uut then to stand beside her, 
When craven churls deride her. 
To front a lie in arms and not to yield. 
This shows, mcthinks, ImhI's plan 
.■\nd nu'asurc of a stalwart man, 
Limlied like the old heroic biveds, 
Who stand self-poised on nuuihood's solid 
earth. 
Not foiTod to frame excuses for his birth. 
Fed from within with all the strength he nwds. 

Such was he, our ALutyr-Chicf, 
Whom late the Nation he had led, 
With a.shes on her head. 
Wept with the passion of an angry grief : 
Forgive me, if from pivscnt things I turn 
To speak what in my heart will beat and burn. 
And hang my wreath on his world-honoivd urn. 
Nature, they say, doth dote. 
And cannot nnike a man 
Siive on some worn-out plan, 
Kepeating us by rote : 
For him her l>ld-World moulds aside he threw. 
And, choosing sweet day from the breast 
Of the unexhausted West, 
With stnlf nntaiuted shaped a hero iu'vt. 
Wise, steadfast in the strength of l!od, and true. 

How beautiful to see 
Once more a shephcnl of nnmkind indeed. 
Who loved his charge, but never loved to lead : 
One whose meek Hock the people joyed to be, 
Not luivd by any cheat of birth, 
15nt by his clcargniiued human worth, 
And brave old wisdom of sincerity ! 
They knew that outward grace is dust ; 
They could not choose but trust 
In that sui-e-footcd mind's unfalteriug skill, 

And supple-tempered will 
That bent like perfect steel to spring again and 
thrust. 
His was no lonely mountaiu-peak of mind. 
Thrusting to thin air o'er our dondy Iwrs, 
A sea-mark now, now lost in vapors blind ; 
Kroad prairie rather, genial, level-lined, 
Fruitful and friendly for all human kind. 
Yet also nigh to heaven and loveil of loftiest stars. 

Nothing of Knrope heiv. 
Or, then, of EuiMpe fronting mornwani still, 
Ere lUiy names of Serf ami Peer , 

Could Natuiv's cipnil scheme deface ; 




ON 'IHl 



,IFK-MASK Ol' AI'.RAIIAM l,IN(()l,N. 



This bron/.c doth keep tlie very form ami mould 
Of our grenl martyr's face. Yes, this is he: 
'I'hat lirow all wisdom, all benignity; 
That luiman, humorous mouth ; those cheeks that holi 

Like some harsh landsrajje all the summer's gold; 
That spirit fil lor sorrow, as the sea 
l'"or storms to beat on; the lone agony 
Those silent, ])atient lips too well foretold. 

Yes, this is he who ruled a world of men 
As might some jtrophet of the elder day, — 
Brooding above the tempest and the fray 

With deep-eyed thought and niorc than mortal ken. 
A power was his beyond the touch of art 
Of armed .strength: his jjure and mighty heart. 



KicHAki) Watson Oii.deu. 




A/ier an EngraviH^^ f^ tym. J. Linton. 



OUT FROM BEHIND THIS MASK. 



TV confront /lis Portrait fi^r " The Wound Dresser'" in '^Leaves of Grass." 



Out from behiiul this bendinj;, rough-cut 

mask, 
These lights and shades, this drama of 

the whole, 
This common curtain of the face, con- 

tain'd in me for me, in you for you, 

in each for each. 
(Tragedies, sorrows, laughter, tears — O 

heaven ! 
The passionate teeniins; plavs this curtain 

hid !) 
This glaze of God's serenest, purest sky, 
This film of Satan's seething pit. 
This heart's geography's map, this limit- 
less small continent, this soundless 

sea; 
Out from the convolutions of this globe. 
This subtler astronomic orb than sun or 

moon, than Jupiter, Venus. Mars, 
This condensation of the universe (nay, 

here the only universe. 
Here the idea, all in this mystic handful 

wrapt) ; 



These burin'd eyes, flashing to you, to 

pass to future time. 
To launch and spin through space, 

revolving, sideling, from these to 

emanate 
To you — whoe'er you are — a look. 

A traveler of thoughts and years, of peace 

and war. 
Of youth long sped and middling age de- 
clining 
(As the tirst volume of a tale perused 

and laid away, and this the second, 
Songs, ventures, speculations, presently 

to close), 
Lingering a moment here and now, to 

you I opposite turn. 
As on the road, or at some crevice door 

by chance, or open'd window. 
Pausing, inclining, baring my head, you 

specially 1 greet. 
To draw and clinch your soul for once 

inseparably with mine. 
Then travel, travel on. 



W.^LT Whitman. 



l'Kl{,S().\'AL I'OK.MS. 



931 



Htre was u type of the true elder race, 
And one of Plutarch's meu talked with us face 
to face. 
I praise him not ; it were too late ; 
And some iunative weakness there must be 
111 him who condesoeuds to victory 
Siu-li as the Present gives, and cannot wait. 
Safe in liimself as in a fate. 
So always firmly he : 
He knew to bide his time. 
And can his fame abide, 
Still patient in his simple faith sublime. 
Till the wise years decide. 
Great captains, with their guns and drums, 
Disturb our judgment for tlie hour, 
liut at last silence comes ; 
These all are gone, and, standing like a tower. 
Our children shall behold his fame. 

The kindly-earnest, brave, foreseeing man. 
Sagacious, patient, dreading praise, not blame. 
New birth of our new soil, the first American. 
James Russell Lowell. 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN.* 

rOULLY ASSASSINATED APRIL 14. 1865. 

You lay a wreath on murdered Lincohi's bier, 
Villi, who with mocking pencil wont to trace, 

Bioad for the self-coinplaeent British sneer. 
His length of shambling limb, his furrowed face, 

His gaunt, gnarled hands, his unkempt, brist- 
ling hair. 

His garb uncouth, his bearing ill at ease. 
His lack of all we prize as debonair. 

Of power or will to shine, of art to please ; 

Vou, whose smart pen backed up the pencil's 
laugh. 
Judging each step as though tlie way were 
plain. 
Reckless, so it could point its paragraph 
Of chief's perplexity, or people's pain : 

lieside this corpse, that bears for winding-sheet 
The Stars and Stripes he lived to rear anew. 

Between the mourners at his head and feet, 
Say, scurrile jester, is there room for you ? 

Yes : he had lived to shame me from my sneer, 
To lame my pencil, and confute my pen ; 

To make me own this hind of i)rinces peer, 
This rail-splitter a true-born king of men. 

* This tribute appeared in the London Punch, which, up to 
the time of the assassination of Mr. Lincoln, ii;td ridiculed and 
malJened him with all its wcll.known powers of pen and pencil. 



My shallow judgment I had learned to rue. 
Noting how to occasion's height ho ro.se ; 

How his cjuaint wit made honie-trulh seuiu more 
true ; 
How, iron-like, his temper grew by blows. 

How humble, yet how hopeful, he couhl be ; 

How, in good fortune and in ill, the same ; 
Nor bitter in success, nor boastful he. 

Thirsty for gold, nor feverish for fame. 

He went about his work, — such work as few 
Ever had laid on head and heart and hanil, — 

As one who knows, where there's a tiusk to ilo, 
Man's honest will must Heaven's good grace 
command ; 

Who trusts the strength will with the burden 
gi-ow. 

That God makes instruments to work his will. 
If but that will we can arrive to know. 

Nor tani[ier with the weights of good and ill. 

So he went forth to battle, on tlie side 

That he felt clear was Liberty's and Right's, 

As in his peasant boyhood he had plied 

His warfare with rude Nature's thwarting 
mights ; 

The uncleared forest, the unbroken soil. 

The iron-bark, that turns the lumberer's axe, 

The rapid, that o'erbears the boatman's toil. 
The prairie, hiding the mazed wanderer's tracks. 

The ambushed Indian, and the prowling bear, — 

Such were the deeds that helped his youth to 

train : 

Rough culture, but such trees large fruit may 

bear. 

If but their stocks be of right girth and grain. 

So he grew up, a destined work to do. 

And lived to do it : foul- long-suffering years' 

Ill-fate, ill-feeling, ill-report, lived through. 
And then he heard the hisses change to cheers, 

The taunts to tribute, the abuse to praise. 

And took both with the same unwaveringmood ; 

Till, as he came on light, from darkling days. 
And seemed to touch the goal from where he 
stood, 

A felon hand, between the goal and him. 

Reached from liehind his back, a trigger prest, 

And those perplexed and patient eyes were dim. 
Those gaunt, long-laboring limbs were laid to 
rest ! 



932 



PEKSONAL IHtEMS. 



Tlio woixls of mony «iiv upon his lips, 
Kiugivi'iu'ss ill liis liwiit luul on his jn'ii, 

Wlitju this vilo iiiimioror bivught swilt eclipse 
To thoughts ot'poiu-e ou i-arth, good-will to men. 

The Old World and tlu> New, I'lvui sea to sea, 
I'tter one voiee of sympathy and shmue : 

Soiv hemt, so stoj>ped when it at last beat high ; 
S<ul lite, out sliort just as its triumph eame ! 

A deed aceuret ! StroKOS have boon struck before 

Hy the assiissin's hand, whereof men doubt 
. If moiv of honxir or vlisgmee they bore ; 

But thy foal crime, like Cain's, stands diukly 
out. 

Vile hand, that brandest muixler on a strife, 
Whate'er its grounds, stoutly and nobly striven; 

And with the martyr's crinvn civwiiest a life 
Witli much to praise, little to Iw forgiven, 

Tom Tavlok. 



AVILLIAM LXOVl) OAKKISON. 

1 " Some time afWrwanl, it was reporter! to me by the city ofticets 
that they hdd lerreteii out the pdpcr ami its editor ; that his office 
was ait olnscure hole, his iMtly visible auxiliary a ne^r\> boy. and his 
!l«l>lHmers a tew very ittsifjnitiv'aiit pcrsotts of all colors." — ZWiVr *j/' 
H G. OTI^ 

In a small chamber, friendless and itnseeii, 
ToiK\i o'er his types one jwor, unU'ariuHl young 
man ; 

The place was tiark, unfurnituivd, and mean : 
Yet there the fr««dom of a race liegan. 

Help came but slowly : surely no man yet 
Ptit lever to the heavy worhl with less : 

AV hat need of help ■ He knew how types were set. 
He had a dauntless spirit, and a press. 

Such earnest natures are the fiery pith. 
The coniptict nucleus, round which systems 
grow : 

JIass after mass bet'omes inspired therew ith, 
Aiul whirls impregnate with the central glow, 

Truth ! Freedom I how are ye still born 
In the rude stable, in the manger nui-scil ! 

What humble hands unlxir tluvse gates of morn 
Through which the splendors of the New Day 
burst ! 

"What ! shall one mouk, scare* known beyond Ms 
cell. 
Front Rome's far-reaching bolts, and scorn her 
frown ? 
Brave lAither answered "Ves ; that thunder's swell 
Rockeil Eurojv, and discharmt\l the triple 
CTvnvu, 



Whatever can l>e known of earth we know, 
Sneered Kurope's wise men, in their snail- 
shells curled ; 

No ! said one man in Genoa, and tJtat No 
Out of the tlark created this New World, 

Who is it will not dare himself to trust > 
Who is it hath not strength to stand alone .' 

Who is it thwarts and bilks the inwaitl M'ust > 
He anil his works, like sand, from earth aiv 
blown. 

Men of a thousand shifts and w iles, look here I 
See one st might forwaixi conscience put in pawn 

To w in a world ; see the obedient sphere 
By bravery's simple gravitation drawn ! 

Shall we not hetnl the lesson taught of oUt, 
And by the ri-esent's lips repeated still, 

In our own single manhood to be bold, 
Fortre.ssevl in conscience and impregnable will i 

"We stride the river tlaily at its spring. 

Nor, in our chiUlish thoughtlessness, foresee 

What myriad vassal stivams .shall tribute bring. 
How like an equal it slniU greet the sea. 

small l>eginnings, ye are great and strong, 
Biiseil on a faithful heart and weariless biiiin ! 

Ye build the future fair, ye conquer wrong, 
Ye earn the crown, and wear it not in vain. 
James Rcssell loweli.. 



THE OU) ADMIRAL. 

ADMIRAL STEWART. V. S. NAV\', 

Gone at last. 

That bi-ave old liero of the jwst ! 
His spirit has a secoiul birth. 

An unknown, grander life ; 
All of him that wjis earth 

Ijes mute and cold. 

Like a wrinkhnl sheath and old, 
Thrown otV forever from the shimmering blade 
That has gixxl entnince made 

Ujion some distant, glorious strife. 

From another generation, 

A simpler age, to ours Old Ironsides came ; 
The morn and luHmtide of the nation 

Alike he knew, nor yet outliveil his fame, - 
O, not outlived his fame ! 
The ilauntless men whose service gututlsoursho.re 

Lengthen still their glory-roll 

With his name to leail the scroll. 
As a Hagsliip at her fore 

Carries the I'niou, with its azure and the stars, 
Synubol of times that are no more 

And the old heroic wars. 



PERSONAL POEMS. 



933 



lie was the ono 

Whom Dentil liail spared ahiiie 

Of all the captains of that lusty age, 
Who sought the foeinan where he lay, 
On sea or sheltering bay, 

Nor till the prize was theirs repressed their 
rage. 
They are gon<', — all gone ; 

They rest with glory and the undying Powers ; 

Only their nanio and fame, and wliat they 
saved, are ours ! 

It was fifty years ago, 
Upon the (Jallie Sea, 
He bore the banner of the free, 
And fought the light whereof our ehildren 
know, — 
The deathful, desperate light ! 
Under the fair moon's light 
The frigate squared, and yawed to left and right. 

Every broadside swept to death a score ! 
Roundly played her guns and well, till their 
fiery ensigns fell, 
Neither foe replying more. 
All iu silence, when the night-breeze cleared the 
air. 
Old Ironsides rested there, 
Locked in between the twain, and clrenched with 
blood. 
Then homeward, like an eagle with her pn'v ! 
0, it was a gallant fray, — 
That fight in Uiscay I5ay ! 
Fearless the captain stood, in his youthful hardi- 
hood : 
He was the boldest of them all. 
Our brave old Admiral ! 

And still our heroes bleed. 
Taught by that olden deed. 

Whether of iron or of oak 
The ships we marshal at our country's need. 

Still speak their cannon now as then they 
spoke ; 
Still floats our unstruck banner from the mast 

As in the stormy past. 

Lay him in the ground : 

Let him rest where the ancfent river rolls ; 
Let him sleep beneath the shadow and the sound 

Of the bell whose proclamation, as it tolls. 
Is of Freedom and the gift our fathers gave. 

Lay hirn gently down : 

The clamor of the town 
Will not break the slumbers deep, the beautiful, 
ripe sleep. 

Of this lion of tlie wave. 

Will not trouble the old Admiral in hus grave. 



Earth to earth his dust is laid. 
Mothinks his stately shade 

On the shadow of a great ship leaves the shore ; 
Over cloudless western seas 
Seeks the far Hesperides, 

The Lslands of the blest, 
Where no turbulent billows roar, — 

Where is rest. 
His ghost upon the .shadowy ipiarter stands 
Nearing the deathless lands. 

There all his martial mates, rsnewed and 
strong. 

Await his coming long. 

I see the happy Heroes rise 

With gratulation in their eyes : 
"Welcome, old comrade," Lawrenoo cries; 
" Ah, Stowart, tell us of tlio wars ! 
Who win the glory and the scars ? 

How floats the skyey Hag, — how many 
stars ? 

Still speak they of Decatur's name ? 

Of Bainbridge's and Perry's fame ? 

Of me, who earliest came ? 
Make ready, all ; 
Room for the Admiral ! 

Come, Stewart, tell us of the wars ! " 

EDMUNO CLARENCIi STEDMAN, 



KANE. 



DIED FEKKUAKV 16. 1857. 

Aloft upon an old basaltic ciiig. 

Which, scal])ed Ijy keen winds that defend 

the Pole, 
Gazes with dead face on the seas that roll 
Around the secret of the mystic zone, 
A mighty nation's star-bespangled flag 

Flutters alone. 
And underneath, upon the lifeless front 

Of that drear clilf, a simple name is traced ; 
Fit type of him who, famishing and gaunt. 
But with a rocky purpose in his soul. 
Breasted the gathering snows, 
Clung to the drifting floes, 
By want beleaguered, and by winter chased. 
Seeking the brother lost amid that frozen waste. 

Not many months ago we greeted him. 
Crowned with the icy honors of the North, 
Across the land his hard-won fame went forth. 

And Maine's deep woods were sliakcn limb by 
limb. 

His own mild Keystone State, sedate and prim. 
Burst from decorous quiet, as he came. 
Hot Southern lips, with eloquence aflame, 

Soumied his triumph. Texas, wild and giim. 



934 



PERSONAL POEMS. 



Proffered its horny hand. Tlie large-luiiged West, 

From out his giaut breast. 
Veiled its frank welcome. And from main to uiuin 

Jubilant to the sky, 

Thundered the mighty cry, 
HuNOU TO K.\KE ! 

In vain, — in vain beneath liis feet we flung 
The reililening roses ! All in vain w'e poured 
The golden wine, and round the shining board 
Sent the toast circling, till the rafters rung 
With the thrice-tripled honors of the feast ! 
Scarce the buds wilted and the voices ceased 
Ere the pure light that sparkled in his eyes, 
Bright as auroral fires in Southern skies, 

Faded and faded ! And the brave young heart 
That the relentless Arctic winds had robbed 
Of all its vital heat, in that long ijuest 
For the lost captain, now withiu his breast 

More and more faintly throbbed. 
His was the victory ; but as his grasp 
Closed on the laurel crown with eager clasp. 
Death launched a whistling ilart ; 
And ere the thunders of applause were done 
His bright eyes closed forever on the sun ! 
Too late, — too late the splendid prize he won 
In the Olympic race of Science and of Art ! 
Like to some shattered berg that, pale and lone. 
Drifts from the white North to a Tropic zone. 
And in the burning day 
Wastes peak b)' peak away. 
Till on some rosy even 
It dies with sunlight blessing it ; so he 
Tranquilly floated to a Southern sea, 
And melted into heaven ! 

He needs no tears who lived a noble life ! 
We will not weep for him who died so well ; 
But we will gather rouml the hearth, and tell 
The story of his strife ; 
Such homage suits him well, 
Better than funeral pomp or passing bell ! 

What tale of peril and self-sacrifice ! 
Prisoned amid the fastnesses of ice. 

With hunger howling o'er the wastes of snow ! 

Night lengthening into months ; the ravenous 
floe 
Crunching the massive ships, as the white bear 
Cruuohes his prey. The insufficient share 

Of loathsome food ; 
The lethargy of famine ; the despair 

Urging to labor, nervelessly pursued ; 

Toil done with skinny arms, and faces hued 
Like pallid masks, while dolefully behind 
filimmered the fading embers of a mind ! 
Tliat awful hour, when through the prostrate band 
Delirium stalked, laving his burning hand 



Upon the ghastly foreheads of the crew ; 

The whispers of rebellion, faint and few 

At first, but deepening ever till they gi'ew 
Into black thoughts of murder, — such the throng 
Of horrors bound the hi'ro. High the song 
Should be that hymns the noble part he played ! 
Sinking himself, yet ministering aid 

To all around him. By amiglity will 

Living defiant of the wants that kill, 
Because his death would seal his connades' fate ; 

Cheering with ceaseless and inventive skill 
Those polar waters, dark and desolate. 
Equal to every trial, every fate. 

He stands, until spring, tardy with relief. 
Unlocks the icy gate. 
And the pale prisoners thread the world once 

more, 
To the steep clift's of Greenland's pastoral shore 
Bearing their dying chief ! 

Time was when he should gain his spurs of gold! 
From royal hands, who wooed the knightly 
state ; 
The knell of old formalities is tolled. 

And the world's knights are now self-conse- 
crate. 
No grander episode dotli chivalry hold 
In all its annals, back to Charlemagne, 
Than that lone vigil of unceasing pain, 
Faithfully keptthrough hunger and through cold. 
By the good Christian knight, Elisha Kane ! 
FiTZ-jAMES O'Brien. 



MAZZINI. 

A LIGHT is out in Italy, 

A golden tongue of purest flame. 
We watched it burning, long and lone. 

And every watcher knew its name. 
And knew from whence its fervor came : 

That one rare light of Italy, 
Which put self-seeking souls to shame ! 

This light which burnt for Italy 

Through all the blackness of her night. 

She doubted, once upon a time, 
Because it took" away her sight. 

She looked and said, ' There is no light! ' 
It was thine eyes, poor Italy ! 

That knew not dark apart from bright. 

This flame which burnt for Italy, 
It would not let her hatei's sleep. 

They blew at it with angry breath. 
And only fed its upward leap, 

And only made it hot and deep. 



PERSONAL POEMS. 



935 



Its burning showed us Italy, 
And all the liopes she had to keep. 

This light is out in Italy, 

Her eyes shall seek lor it in vain ! 
Foi' her sweet sake it spent itself. 

Too early tlickering to its wane, — 
Too long blown over by lier pain. 

Bow down and weep, Italy, 
Thou canst not kindle it again ! 

Laura C. Redden {Htrutard Glyndon). 



JOHN CHARLES FREMONT. 

Thy eiTor, Fremont, sim])ly was to act 

A brave man's part, without the statesman's tact. 

And, taking counsel but of common sense, 

To strike at cause as well as conseijuence. 

O, never yet since Roland wound his horn 

At Roncesvalles lias a lilast been blown 

Far-heard, wide-echoed, startling as thine own. 

Heard from the van of freedom's hope forlorn ! 

It had been safer, doubtless, for the time. 

To flatter treason, anil avoid offence 

To that Dark Power whose underlying crime 

Heaves upward its perpetual turbulence. 

Hut, if thine be the fate of all who break 

The ground for truth's seed, or forerun their 

years 
Till lost in distance, or with stout hearts make' 
A lane for freedom through the level spears. 
Still take thou courage ! God has spoken through 

thee, 
Iirevocable, the ndghty words. Be free ! 
The land shakes with them, and the slave's dull 

ear 
Turns from the rice-swamp stealthily to hear. 
Who would recall them now must first arrest 
The winds that blow down from the free North- 
west, 
Ruffling the Gulf ; or like a scroll roll back 
The Mississippi to its upper springs. 
Such words fulfil their prophecy, and lack 
But the full time to harden into things. 

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. 



TO THE MEMORY OF 
HARPER. 



FLETCHER 



No soldier, statesman, hierophant, or king ; 
None of the heroes that you poets sing ; 
A toiler ever since his days began. 
Simple, though shrewd, just-judging, man to 
man ; 



God-fearing, leaniW in life's hard-taught school ; 
By long obedience lessoned how to rule ; 
Tliro\igh many an early struggle led to find 
That crown of prosperous fortune, — to be kind. 
Lay on his breast these English daisies sweet ! 
Good rest to the gi'ay head and the tired feet 
That walked this world for seventy steadfast 

years ! 
Bury him with fond blessings and few tears, 
Or only of remembrance, not regret. 
On his full life the eternal seal is set, 
Unbroken till the resurrection day. 
So let his children's chihlren go tlieir way. 
Go and do likewise, leaving 'ueath this sod 
An honest man, " the noblest work of God." 

DINAH MAKIA MULOCK CKAIK. 



THE FIFTIETH BIRTHDAY OF AGASSIZ. 

MAY 23. 1857. 

It was fifty years ago. 

In the pleasant month of May, 

In the beautiful Pays de Vaud, 
A child in its cradle lay. 

And Nature, the old nurse, took 

The child upon her knee. 
Saying, " Here is a story-book 

Thy Father has written for thee." 

"Come, wander with me," she said, 

" Into regions yet untrod, 
And read what is still unread 

In the manuscripts of God." 

And he wandered away and away 
With Nature, the dear old nurse. 

Who sang to him night and day 
The rhymes of the universe. 

And whenever the way seemed long. 

Or his heart began to fail, 
She would sing a more wonderful song. 

Or tell a more marvellous tale. 

So she keeps him still a child, 

And will not let him go, 
Though at times his heart beats wild 

For the beautiful Pays de Vaud ; 

Though at times he heai-s in his dreams 

The Ranz des Vaches of old. 
And the ru-sh of mountain streams 

From glaciers clear and cold ; 



93G 



PERSONAL POEMS. 



And the motluT at home siiys, " Hark ! 

For his voice I listen anil yearn : 
It is growing hito and dark, 

And my boy does not return ! " 

HENRY W'ADSWOkTH LONGFELLOW. 



THE PKAYEli OF AGASSIZ. 

On the isle of I'enikese, 
Kinged abont by .saiipliire seas. 
Fanned by breezes salt and eool, 
Stood the Master with his school. 
Over sails that not in vain 
Wooed the west-wind's steady strain, 
Line of coast that low and far 
Stretched its nndulatini; bar, 
Wings aslant along the rim 
Of the waves they stooped to skim, 
Kock and isle and glistening bay. 
Fell the beantiful white day. 

Said the ilnster to the youth : 

" We have come in search of truth, 

Trying with uncertain key 

Door by door of mystery ; 

We are reaching, through His laws. 

To the garment -hem of (.'ause, 

Him, the endless, unbegun. 

The Unnameable, the One, 

Light of all our light tlic Source, 

Life of life, and Force of force. 

As with tingei-s of the blind. 

We are groping here to find 

What the hieroglyphics mean 

Of the Unseen in the seen, 

AVhat the Thought which underlies 

Nature's masking ami disguise. 

What it is that hides beneath 

Blight and bloom aiui birth and death. 

Uy p!ist efforts unavailing. 

Doubt and emir, loss and failing. 

Of our weakness nuide aware. 

On the threshold of our task 

Let us light and guidance ask. 

Let us pause in silent prayer ! " 

Then the Master in his place 
Bowed his head a little space. 
And the leaves by soft airs stirnui. 
Lapse of wave and cry of hi id. 
Left the solemn hush unbroken 
Of that woixUess prayer \mspoken, 
While its wish, on earth unsaid. 
Rose to heaven interpreted. 
As in life's best hours wo hear 
By tlie spirit's liner ear 
His low voice within us, thus 



The All-Father heareth us ; 
And his holy ear we pain 
With our noisy words and vain. 
Not for him our violence. 
Storming at the gates of sense. 
His the primal langu.age, his 
The eternal .silences ! 
Kvcn the careless lieart was moved. 
And the doubting gave assent, 
With a gesture reverent. 
To the Master well-lieloved. 
As thin mists are gloritied 
By the liglit they cannot hide. 
All who gazed upon him saw, 
Throngli its veil of tender awe, 
How his face was still nplit 
By the old sweet look of it, 
Hopcr\il, trustful, full of cheer, 
.\nd the love that casts out fear. 
Who the secret may declare 
Of that brief, nnuttered prayer ? 
Did tlu' shade before him come 
Of the inevitable doom. 
Of the end of earth so near, 
And Eternity's new year ? 

In the lap of sheltering seas 
Kests the isle of renikese ; 
But the lonl of the domain 
Comes not to his own agjiin : 
Wheiv the eyes that follow fail. 
On a vaster sea his sail 
Drifts beyond our beck and luiil .' 
lather lips within its bound 
Shall the laws of life expound ; 
Other eyes from rock and shell 
Head the world's old riddles well ; 
But when breezes light and bland 
Blow from Summer's blossomed land. 
When the air is glad with wings. 
And the blithe song-sparrow sings, 
Many an eye w ith his still face 
Shall the living ones displace, 
Jlany an ear the word shall seek 
He alone could fitly speak. 
And one name foreverniore 
Shall be uttered o'er and o'er 
By the waves that kiss the shore. 
By the curlew's whistle, scut 
Down the cool, sea-scented air ; 
hi all voices known to her 
Nature own her woi-shipper, 
Half in triumph, half lament. 
Thither love shall tearful turn. 
Friendship jrause uncovered there. 
And the wisest reverence learn 
From the Master's silent prayer. 

John Grkenleaf Whittier 



PERSONAL POEiMS. 



937 



TO HENKY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW, 

ON HIS UlRTHDAY, 37rH FUBKUAKY. 1867. 

I NEED not praise the sweetness of his song, 
Where limpid verse to limpid verse, succeeds 

Smootli as our Charles, when, fearing lest he 
wrong 

The new moon's mirrored skifT, ho slides along, 
Full without noise, and wliispors in his reeds. 

With lovin;; brrath of all the winds his name 

Is Mown about tlie world, but to liis friends 
A sweeter secret hides bchiiul lii.s fanic, 
And Love steals shyly tliroujjh the loud acclaim 
To nuirinur a God bless you ! and there ends. 

As 1 muse backward up the checkered years, 

Wherein so much was given, so nuidi was lost, 
Blessings in both kinds, such as cheapen tears — 
But husli ! tliis is not for profanor ears ; 
Let them drink molten pearls nor dream the 
cost. 

Some suck up poison from a sorrow's core, 
As naught but nightshade grew upon earth's 
ground ; 
Love turru'd all his to licart's-easp, and the more 
I'ato tried his bastions, she but forced a door. 
Leading to sweeter manhood and more sound. 

Kven as a wind-waved fountain's swaying shade 
Seemsof mi.\eil race, agray wraith shotwithsun, 
So through his trial faith translucent rayed. 
Till darkness, half disnatured so, bi'trayed 
A heart of sunshine that would fain o'errun. 

Surely if skill in song the shears may stay, 

And of its purpose clieat the charmed abyss, 
If our ]ioor life be lengthened by a lay. 
He sliall not go, althougli his jiresence may, 
And tin) next age in praise shall double this. 

Long days be his, and each as lusty-sweet 
As gracious natures find his song to be ; 
Hay Age steal on with softly cadenced feet 
Falling in music, as for him were meet 

Whose choicest verse is harsher-toned than he ! 
James Russlll Lowell. 



JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE. 

DIED IN NHVV YORK, SLI'TEMBER, iSm 

Green be the turf above thee, 
Friend of my better days ! 

None knew thee but to love thee, 
Nor named thee hut to praise. 



Tears fell, when thou wert dying, 

From eyes unused to weep, 
And long, where thou art lying. 

Will tears the cold turf steep. 

When liearts, whose truth was proven, 

Like thine, are laid in earth, 
There should a wreath be woven 

To tell tlie world their wortli ; 

And I, wdio woke each morrow 

To clasp thy liand in mine, 
Who shared thy joy and sorrow. 

Whose weal and woe were thine, 

It should be mine to braid it 

Around thy faded brow, 
lint 1 've in vain essayed it, 

And feel I cannot now. 

While memory bids me weep thee, 
Nor thoughts nor words are free. 

The grief is fi.xed too deeply 
That mourns a man like thee. 

l-IIZ-GREENO IIALLECIC. 



FITZ-GREENE HALLECK. 

READ AT THE UNVEU.INO OF HIS STATUE IN CENTRAL 
PARK, MAY. 1877. 

Amono their graven shapes to whom 

Thy civic wreaths bidong, 
city of his love ! make room 

For one whoso gift was song. 

Not his the soldier's sword to wield, 

Nor his the helm of state, 
Nor glory of the stricken lield. 

Nor triumph of deliato. 

In common ways, with common men. 

Ho served his race and time 
As well as if his iderkly pen 

Had never danced to rhyme. 

If, in the thronged and noisy mart, 
The Muses found their son, j 

Could any say his tunel'ul art 
A duty left undone ? 

He toiled and sang ; and year by year 
Men found their homes more sweet, 

And through a teinlerer atmosphere 
Looked down the brick-walled street. 

The Greek's wild onset Wall Street knew, 
The Red King walked Broadway ; 

And Alnwick Castle's roses blew 
From Palisades to Bay. 



s);>s 



rKKSON.U. rOKMS. 



Fi<ir t^ty by thp St>s ! \n>n«ist< 
Mis voil with ivvt'ivnl liaiivts ; 

Ami u)ii)gK> with thy own th<' piiust' 
Ami pmio nf otlicr laiuis. 

Lot OixHvo his liery \yrio breatho 

AIh^vo hor hi>rM-iu'ns : 
Ami S»*tliunl, with lu'V holly, wivatho 

The llowor he oiiIKhI for lUiriis. 

O, st!«ti\ly stjuid tliy jwlnro walls. 

Thy tall shiiv: rido tho soas ; 
To-iliiy thy jnvt's iiaiiio Itvalls 
A (uvmlor thought tliaii tlu'so. 

Not loss thy piilso of tnulo shall Ivat, 

Nor less thy tall tUvts swim. 
That shadiil s>iuaiv ami ilnsty stiwt 

Aiv olassio gixiumi thiMiigh him. 

Alive, he 1o\"\h1, like all who siiijr. 

The echiHxs of his soiig ; 
Toi> !at»> the tsirvly imwl we bring. 

The praise ilelayeil so long. 

Too late, !»las ! — Of all who knew 

The living man, to-ilay 
lVfon> his unveilrtl faie, how few 

Make bar* their looits of gray : 

iHir lifv! of firaise must sivn Iv iluiuK 

l^ur grateful eyes Iv dim ; 
i^, brothei-s of tlie days to come, 

Take tender oharg»> of him ! 

Xow hands the witvs of soug may sw(h>i\ 

Xew voii-es ehalleng»> fame ; 
But let no nuvss of yesirs o'eivrwp 

The Hues of Halleek's name. 

John laKEK.NLEAi-' Wmrrint. 



FRAOMEXTS. 

ClI.WCKR, 

As that riMiowmed |>oet them eoni)>yh\l 
With warlike numln-rs and hervnoke sound, 
Oan Chauvvr, well of F.nglish nndefyled. 
On Kame's eternall Iwidrvill worthie to Ih> fyl«I. 

f,»*rft ijmtm, iiMjt it. O^mr. ii. Si'K.NSBK. 



Thk K.\ki. ok \V.\KW1>K. 

P<>ao»>, \ra|>udent and shameless Warwick I 
IVnid setter-up and imlleiMlown of kings. 

jnv Mmpy 17., fluwt III. Atnk. Sr. j. SH.tKesjPEARE. 



TllK nVKE OF Ol.O,STKK, 

1, that am rudely st<ui\}H>d and want love's 

miy<'sty 
To strut K'ton- a wanton ambling nymph ; 
1, that am eurtailed of this fair projiortion, 
Oh(>atevl of featuiv by dissembling natur»>, 
IVfoniuHl, unliuisluHl, sent K'foix- my time 
Into this hivathiiig world, se:iree half niade ui>. 
And that so lamely and unfashionable 
That dogs Ivirk at me as 1 halt by them, — 
Why, 1, in this weak I'ipiug time of jHnvee, 
Have no delight to jiass away the time, 
Unless to s<>e my shadow in tJie sun, 

A"l>«jr A'l,A.ini' 111., .<,» i, i,-. 1. SHAKBSPKAKR. 



("! M Il.KO. 

The starry Oalihv, with his «\h>s. 



Su; I'luiir 8u>NKV, 

The admiivd mirivr, glory of our isle, 

ThoH far, far moiv than mortal man, whose style 

Struck moiv men dnml> to hearken to thy song 

Than (.bphens' har|>, or Tully's gvilden tougua. 

To him, as right, for wit's deep nuiutessenee. 

For honor, valor, virtue, excellence, 

Iw' all the garland.s. crwwn his tomb with hiy. 

Who s|v>ke as much as e'er our timgne can say. 



Kl>MrNI> SrKNSER. 

Oivinest ;>|H-nser, lu<i»ven-bi\>l, happy Muse ! 
Would any |Hi\ver into my brain infuse 
Thy worth, or all that ]KH'ts had K>for<>, 
I could not pi-.use till thou deserv'st no moro. 

iMlMMNiiaV AMAkf^aJCr. IiM>* iL .Sm^ t. W. BROWNS. 

I was pnnnist\l on a tinte 
To have r»\i.son for my rhyme ; 
Fnmi that time tmto this stvtson, 
I iweivrtl nor rhyme nor roason, 

titms *it Au / rffmunf IWHSt^ti, SPENSER. 



ClIRISTOrilKU M.\KU1\VK. 

For that I'nu- madiu'ss still he did r<>tain. 
Which rightly should invasess a jKH>t's brain. 



7> Ntmpy Rcjf"-^'^ .' iy '^***-*' *■•*' >W<v, 



I.OKO IX.VOON-. 



M, DK,<VTO,N. 



If jvtrts allur<> thee, think how Racon sliined, 
j The wisest, brightest, n\ejuu>st of mankind ' 



KRAOMENTS. 



939 



Ben Jonhon. 



O rare Hen Joiiboii I 

l-.fitafH. 



8m J. rouNu. 



What tilings have we deeti 
\)(iWi ut the Mcriimiil ! licurd woiiln timl hiivi: 

t«:(;ii 
So nimble, ami mi full ul' huIiIIi' lliimi', 
Ah if tliiit every one fioni whence they eume 
llml meant to put hi» whole wit in a jeHt, 
Ami liriil reHolveil to live u fool the leht 
Of hix iliill life : then when tlieje hath been 

thrown 
Wit able i-nou«h to jiiHtify the town 
I'or three iliiyo jiiutt ; wit llml mif^hl w.inant be 
I'or the whole city to talk foolixhly 
I'ill that were eaneelleiJ; and when that wa« gone, 
\Vi: h'ft an air behind iih, whieh alone 
W.m able to make the two next wjinpanieH 
(kight witty, though but downright IooIn) more 

WiH(!. 
Ijlltr la lUn yonion. I-. IlliAUHONr. 



WlI.I.IAM SHAKKHI'EAKB. 

Kar from the nun and BUinrner gale, 
Irj thy green lap waa Nature'n ikriing laiil. 
What time, where lueid Avon Ktrayed, 

To him the mighty mother diil unveil 
Her awful face : the dauntleKK ehild 
Htretidied forth hia little arm« and itmikd. 
"Thin peneil take," nhe said, " whose (xdors clear 
Kiehly paint the vernal year : 
Thine t<X) thew: golden keys, immortal Icjy I 
Thin iM\ unlw;k the gat<;B of joy ; 
Of horror tliat, and thrilling fiiaro, 
Or o|>i; the mu-.tkA sour'* of Hympalhetic tears." 

miiriii o/ l>otiy. T. f;ilAV. 

Itenownwl Sjx^nKer, lie a thouglct more nigh 
To learned f'liaueer, and rare lieamnont lie 
A little nearer Spenw;r, U) make room 
For Bhakcsjxjarc in your thr<M;fold, fourfold tomb. 
On Shakafiart. W. Baksk. 



Abkaiiam Cowi.ky. 

f^d mother-wit and nature gave 

Hhakei)|H3ire and Klet/;her all they liave ; 

In .S[)en)ter an<l in .Joriwjn art 

Of slower nature got the start ; 

Hut Iwth in him so ei|ual are, 

None knows whieh Vsirs the hapjiiest sliare ; 

To him no author was unknown. 

Vet wliat he wrote was all his own. 

BUt}onC<mUy. Sm J DcyHAM. 



Eaiii, ok MAKi,iw)itoi;oii. 

(I.(>r<M'rfftil'lcrt( of iIit Ojuii' II to Kiii|{ JHiiim 1, l'iirlljiiiM;iit win 
dlw/lveil Maif.li lu, iiii'l \i'. <ll'-"l M.ir.li m, ■'//» J 

Till the Hiul breaking of that Tarliament 

liroke him, . . . 
Killed with report that old man eloijuent. 

/■'/ tht l.nJy M^rtnirtl l^y, MM.70N. 



Joii.M Wii;ki,ikki',. 

As thou these ashes, little Brook I wilt bear 
Into the Avon, Avon to the tide 
Of Severn, Hevern Ut the narrow Ne;ui, 
Into main oi.ean they, this rleeil a/:eursed 
An emblem yields U> friends anci enemies, 
How the bold Teiieher's doetrine, winelified 
My tiiitli, shall spreiul, throughout tlie world 
dispersfrd. 

IkiUi. Sonnilt, Pari I/. «»ll. I U lyirkllffi. WOKUaWOKl II. 
[Dnrtlett r|uot«s, In diU connecti/Mi, tli« (oll/jwinf(i] 

" Some prophet of that ilay said ; 
' The Avon to the Severn ruim, 

The Severn U) the sea ; 
And Wieklille's dust shall spriaui abroad, 
Wide aa the watiirs Is;.' " 

Irom AJdreit be/iire Ihr " Soni 9/ tJrju llttmf>ihir€ " (tfivA' 

ttAMlttl. WfiaSlllll. 



.lotl.s M/l,TOS. 

Nor sffcond he, that rode sublime 
IJ[Kjn the seraph-wings of ecstasy, 
The Wicrets of the abyss U> spy. 

He |f.iss'-d the darning Ixjunds of pla^^c and tirniT. 
The living throne, the s;ipphire blaze. 
Where angelt tremble while they gaw. 
He saw ; but, bl/isti;'! with i:Xi-J:m of light, 
C'los<;d his eyes in endless night. 

Protrtii 0/ Pony. T. OKAV. 

Ol.IVKK ClWMWKU.. 

How shall I then V;gin, or where Mii\i\w\r., 

To draw a fame m truly eireular ? 
For in a round wliat order <«in U; showwl, 

Where all the jwirts so wjual jjcrfo-'t are ? 

His grandeur he derived from Heaven alone ; 

For he was grrat, ere fortune nuwle him so : 
Ami wars, like rnista tliat riw: againut the sun, 

Maile him but greater seem, not great^ir grow. 

OllwrCromwU. J. KKVKtM. 

Or, ravubed with the whistling of a name, 
8e<; Cromwell, damne>l to everkjiting Came I 

F.ilay <m Man. I'/lilU /K foylu 



lUO 



VJiUSONAl. rOEMS. 



Kino Ohaui.ks II, 

lloiv lios our stivcivijju lonl tln' kiiijt. 

\Vli>vst< \voi\l 110 limn ivlire on ; 
\\c iiovpr says a I'oolisli lluiig, 

Nor pvpr iUh>s a wiso oiu>, 

IvVKI. OK RiVtlliSlllR 



,Iami-U! Thomson. 

A K«i\l luMv (Iwi'lt, inoiv Tilt tliaii l»ii\l tH>soi>iiis 
Who, voiil ofoiivy, jjuilo, niul lust olj^iiii. 
1^11 virliu' still, an>l ii:»tiiiv"s jiloasiujj tlioiuos, 
IVuiX'il forlli tiis UMHivniiHlilatrtl stniiii : 
Tlio worlil l'oi>;ikinj; with a oalm disdain, 
lloiv l;>nj;lu'vl ho cau'loss in hisotisy si-at ; 
lli-iv nualUnl, oiuiivlod with tin- joyons train, 
t>l"t iiior.ili.-iii}; sj1};<' : his ilitty swtvt 
Ho Uv>th6d nuu-h to writo, iu> oaK>il to iviHMt. 

1 ,»KP I \ 1 VM IVN, 

In yondor gravo a Pniiil li<>«, 

WlnMv slowly winds tin- stoaliiii; wave ; 
Till' yoar's lH>st swwts shall diitoous riso 

To d«>k its jwofs i»ylvan gnivo. 

Ami sit>. tho fairy v.illoys fudo ; 

Ouii nijtht has voiltnl tho soloinn viow ! 
Yot ono<> ai^un, d«ir )virt«l sh;id<\ 

MtH'k Natur<>"s child, ajpiin a<iiou ! 

«MrM«jWikHM^r*««uw<. \V. COLLINS. 

Wn.t.lAM HOOARTII. 

Tho haiul of him hi>r<> torpid lios 

That divw tho ossontial form of graoo ; 

lloiv oUwod ill dwitli tho attoiitivo oyos 
That saw tlio mannors in tho faoo. 

/^>V^. OK. S. JOHNSON. 

W ll.l.l .VM WOKIV^WOKT 11 . 

Tliiuo is a strain to iivid among tho liilK 
Tlio old and full of voi<\>s ; - by tho sonr>"o 

Of somo fiw stiwini, wluvso gladdoning i>i\vii»>not> 
liUs 
Tho solitndo with sonnd : lor in its oonrso 

Kvon suoli is tliy dwp song, that swins a |vu't 

Of tlioso high siiMii-s, a fountain t~ivni tlioir htyirt. 

l'>iH^~<iVY'^ 1'. IV llKMAN-S, 



liUllVlUi r»l!lNS».KY ShKUIPW. 

AVluvso humor, as gsiy as tho liivlly's lijjlit, 
riayinl round ovory sulyivt, and sliono as it 
l^layoii ; — 

\Vl\aso wit, in tho oonilwt, ss gt<ntlo as bright. 
Ne'er oarriwl a hoart-sfcn awavon its btado ; — 



Whoso oloiiuonoo — lirighUMiiiig wliatovi'r it 
triinl, 

\V hothor ivason or fanoy, tho gay or tho gravo 
Was as rapid, as doop, and as brilliant a tido. 

As owr l>oi\< Itvodoni aloft on its wavo I 

/.j^i^ ,M« /4tf /WM </.Wrt>;iv. r. MvMKi;. 

Yo moil of wit and sooial olo<iuoniH< ! 
Ilo was Your luvthor, Invir his «slii\< lioiioo I 
Whilo |Hiwors of mind almost of Ivuiiuiloss rangv, 
t'omploto in kind, as various in thoir ohaiigii, — 
Whilo oloipioiu'o, wit, poo.sy, and mirth, 
That humlilor hanuonist of oaiv on oarth, 
Surviv<> within our svuils, — whilo livos our soiisn 
tlf prido ill inorit's pivud piv-oiniuoiuv. 
Long shall wo sook his likono.s.s, — long in vain, 
.\iid turn to all of him whioh may ivmaiii. 
Sighing that Natuiv forniod but oiio snoli man. 
And bivko tlio dio — in moulding Shoridan ! 

.lA*«*Atv Mt IM /WM ^^SMnA i H. r.\ KO\. 

Amos Oottlr, 

Oh ! .\nuv! t'ottio I '^ rho>biis ! what a uaiiio 
To till tho siH>akiug trump of fntuiv famo ! — 
Oh ! Amos I'ottlo ! for a inomont think 
What moagiv pivl'ils spring fivin pou and ink ! 

TlIK DVKK OF WKU.tNl'.TKN. 
O gvHid gray hoad whioh all moii know, 
voioo t'lMiii whioh thoir onions all moil divw, 
O iivii iiorvo to tnio oooasion trno, 
O fiUlon at longth that towor of stiviigtli 
Which stiHxl four-sniiar\> to all tho winds that 

Wow ! 
Suoh xvas ho whom wo doplor«\ 
Tho long solf-siu-rilioo of lifo is o'or. 
Tho giisit World-\iotor"s victor will Iv soon no 

inoiv. 

N A ril AN 1 Kl. 11 AW ritoux K. 

Thoiv in stvlnsiou and ivinoto ft»ni men 

Tho wijaixl hand lios rt>ld. 
Which at its topiiuvit sihivI lot fall tlu> pen, 

And lot^ tho talo InUf told. 

Xl\ ! who shall lilt that wand of magic iH«vor, 

.\iid tho Uvst clow rogiiin t 
Tho nuliuishrtl window in .Maddin's towor 

I'nlinisluHl must ivinain ! 

//.«(r?A.»rw. M^v c>. t^. LONOFELLOW. 

• •• Mr, C«tk'. Anww « Ja-wiA. t *Wt know whu'h, b4H .mw vv 
N>*h, ottc« ««Uen \^ ho,^s they »1hI mM writ*', b«l tww wrilrr* \>^ 
Ik^>1;« tiMt «to not selLtutx-r |HiMUttc\l « tvktr ot r\^K%.'~-TUK 
.Kl'THOR. 



i'5T|*.'S'|' 




^ 





iH/lUHfl^lIBSPl 




'A .lllrA.. 


^', 




■wm 


^ ■'fS^, 



L 





3 ^ 



I 



n\ 



J 






■I 

it 



0i 



1^ 






HAW rHORNK 

. HvKr of New llnj^lanil Song, 
'l^at oven in shimlxT tivmbUtl with the toiu-h 

(.>f jH>ots who like the fonr wiiul< (ixim theo w.iken 
All hannonies that to thy strinjiis lH.>loi»g, — 
Si»y. wilt thou hhune the mingtr hands ttxi much 

Which fnim thy laurt'leil nesting i>latx have taken 
Theo ca^wneil one in their hold ? I'herv is a name 

Should quicken thee I No carol Hawthorne sang. 
Yet his articulate spirit, like thitu" own. 

Made answer, quick as llame. 
To each brvwth of the shon> trou» which he sprang. 
And prose like his w;\s jHX'sy's high tone, 

Rut he whose quickeneil ej-e 
^>w through Now Kngiand's life her innuist spirit, — 

Hor heart, and all the sta\-s on which it leant, — 
Returns lun, since ho laid the jx^neil by 
Whi^so m\"stic touch none other shall inherit 1 

What though its wvrk untinishotl lies ? Malf-l>ent 
"I'lie rainlxiw's arch fades out in upj>er .lir; 

The shining c.'ttaract half-w-ay down the height 
Hrx\»ks into mist : the haunting strain, that fell 

On listeners unaware, 
Knds in<.x>mpleto, but thrv'iugh the starry- night 
The e;u still w;iits for what it did not toll. 

KllMlNP Cl.VRKNCK SrKllXIAN 



i^rfMs4<n.- /tV»jr».-v^. .Viftin &• t>. Rvt^m 




HUMOROUS I'OHMS. 



II* 



1^ 

1 ': i- ' 



I 



1 .^ .. ,^ 



V 



¥ 



^ 
^ 



"i 






AM 

-4 3 







^ ^ -^ 



II II MO KOIIS IM) KMS 



KINO .lOlIN AND 'I'lIK AIIIIdT oK 
(•ANTKKUDKV. 

An nni;li-iil nl'iiy I 'II l"ll ym "ii"" 
or 11 liiitiiUi' jiiliii'i^ lliiil, Willi "■iilliiil KiiiK .IdIiii ; 
Aji>I Iii^ i'ijImI Kiigliiiiii Willi iiiiiiii iiii'l Willi iiii(/lil, 
I'lii' liii iliil ({I'liut wriiiix, mill iiiiiiiitiiiiKMl Uitli' 
ilKlit. 

Ami I 'II I'-ll yoii 11 nUity, u iiUiry wi iiii^ny, 
' '<iiir:i!iiiiii;{ lliii Aliliiil. Ill' 'Iiiiili-rliiiiy ; 
Mow lor liix liiiii»ivki!i'|iliip; iiinl lilxli irmtwii, 
'I'lipy I'D'li- [I'lMf I'm liliii til I'liii I.kimIoii Ij/wih'. 

All liiiiiilri'il riM'ii III'- kiii|4 <li<l lii'itnt nay, 
Tin; iililxil l«|>t. ill liin liuiiiir iivi-iy 'lay ; 
Aiiil lilly K'llili! iliiiyiiM» wiUiKiit miy ilmil)!,, 
Ill vi'lvi't riillU'll Wllil<:il llli; lllilllll, llllillll.. 

" llow now, Cullii^r iililxd, I Imuici! il. i;C lliw, 
'riioii l<m|i<'iit II fiiri'! In^lU'r Iihiihi' tliiiii iiii»! ; 
AipI lor lliy liiiiiiK"ki'ir|iliif{ uimI lii((li rimi/wiin, 
I I'l'iiiii llioii work'ttl tii'iiiKiii ii«ulii6l my i^row/i," 

" My UfH<;" ijiix lli« iil/lmt, " I woiiM It w<;r"; 

kll'lWIII! 

I ii<!Vi;r H|ii:iiil ri'itliiiiK, Ixit' wliut in my owim! ; 
Ami I liiint, your niwn will ilo<! m<^ no ilifiTK, 
Kor i)|H!)i<liii;< of my owiii! tiiii!-({olt/<!ii (jiyfi!." 

" Yen, yi-M, tathi'.r ablx/t, tliy fiiiilt il in lii^^li't, 
Aiii| now for III"! mini", tlioii iiim'<Ii-»1 mmtt ilyi; ; 
I' or <'X>'<r|il tlioii <:iimil niniwi;!' mi; r|ii<fittlo(iii till')''-, 
'I'liy IkwI Mtiiill \m miiitUtii from tliy lio<li<;. 

" Ami firtit," ijiiu' till! kin|{, " wlnfii I 'm in tliln 

Kti^ll'l, 

Willi niv crowni! of ({ol'li; mi falrn on my luii'l, 
Aiiioiiij nil my lii!|{>!-nu!n m> nolili; of Ifiitin;, 
'I'lioii niiiiit ti'll m<; txi onii jxinny wimt I am 
wortlw!. 

" HnfjiiMy, toll nm, without any <l/»ijljt, 
llow Kooni! I may iii|<! tin- wliolu worl<l alxiiit ; 
An'l at til'; tliinl '|in;>it.ion tlioii miiat not nlirink, 
lint l/rll nir Imro truly wliat I <lo tliink," 



" II l.lii;:tit mil liiii'il i|iii!iil.ion» lor my alnillow will, 
Nor I I'liiiiiol iiimwi:!' your ;{rii'^ii iia yit i 
lliil If yon will ({ivii mi: lint tiiriiii wiiiiks' «(«K»i, 
III: ilo my iimlwivor to nnswi^r your ({rwiM," 

" Now lliii:"! wii'lin' o|«ii<i to llimi will I kIvs, 
AikI Unit In lli« loiii^itat linn: llioii liiiat lo llvu ; 
I'oi If llion ilonl not iin»wi'r my i|in'!itio/ii) tlilxH, 
Tiiy liinilsiiml lliy livinKo "i''> I'orl'nil tii m«<!," 

Away rorli' ll Iiliol nil niul iil Uiul woril, 

Aiii| In: roilii \ji I anilirlilK'!, iiml Ojunford ; 

liiil iniviir a i|o/:tor llii:rii wiix so wlw:, 

Tliiil < oiil'l wiili liin |iiarnin;{ »n an»wi-r ilnviwi, 

Tlii'n lionii: lo'li: till! iiiiliol of 'omfort an I'olil, 
Ami Ini mi'l liia >ilii-|ilii'iiril a |{oin;( Ui fold : 
"llow now, my lord aiiliol, yon ari' wid'^onio 

lionin ; 
VVIiiit m:wiiit do yon lirin;{ iia from i{ood Kin|{ 

.lolin ( " 

"Hiid n'lWK, <!(ul riiiwx, iil(«|)lii!ard , I ninxt ({Ivo, 
'I'liat I liavi: lint tlirw day» mon; Ui liVB ; 
I'or if I do not iinewi-r liiin ijni;iilion8 tlir"!«, 
My lii'iid will III! i-.milL'-n from niy l/odi<!, 

"Till) llr«t i» t/> U\\ liim, tiniri! in tliat aU-M, 
Willi liin lii'iviif of gol'li! lio fair on liin ln-ii/1, 
Anion^ all Ills lii'j^i- nii!n no noMi: of lilrtli. 
To witliin oni! ;x!nny of what li<! is worth. 

" Tli« miumiUi, Ui U-M him wlthmit any ilanH, 
llow (soom; III! may rid<! lliin wliol'! world alx/nt ; 
And at tliK third i)iii!iilion I ninut not iihrinko, 
lint t<!ll him thiire truly what he d/x;» think«," 

" N(/W cheari! up, alris ahlwt, did you never lie«r 

yet. 
That a fo<d he may leariie a wise man wftt ? 
|y;nd me liorw:, and w:rvin«-/nen, ami your «|». 

|/arel, 
And Ih) rhk to \^in<\iiu to anawere yourquarrel, 

" Nay^ frownu n«t, if It liath Wn UM unt/» hui, 
I am llki! ytmr lordnhiji, a» ever may \f. ; 



tH4 



m'MOKOlS I'OKMS. 



Aud if you will Imt ImuI mw yv>ur s>«\ ««>, I 

Th#wis uoiw shall kuow us at fiur UunU>ii to\vu»«." i 

"Now l\v>r$(>s Ainl s«>rvin^-uu'i> ihoii slialt hsw, 
With siim(<tnoii$ array iiuwt gallrtui and tevw, I 
Wiih vAwior. aini mitiv, aiul iwhol. aiul wipe, 
Kit «v> ai'iHsar "txiiv our taiU'r the ih>)h>." 

" Now vwhiMuo, silw ahK>t." th* kiiVi; ho .lid say, ; 
" T is »-<>ll thou "rt iV«>o l>a>-k to kiviH' thy day : i 
>\>r aiul if thou oaiist aiiswvr uiy i)u<\st)ous tlmv. 
Thy lilV aud thy living hi>th savinl sl\*ll l>«. 



"Aud first, whou thou s<n'st Uh> horv in this st<>ad. 
With my orvwut> ot■i^>ld(> si> lair o« my ht>ad, 
AmoHg all my lii'j;«>-uu'u s\» noWo of hirtho. 
Toll mo to OHO jH>»uy what I am wvvth." 

"FVir thirty pono* our Saviour was sold 
Amouj; tho falso Jow<>s, as I ha\-o hiu told, 
Aud iw<n»ty-nino is tho wv<rth of thw, 
IW 1 thiuk« thou art luio j>o«uy wwrsor than ho." 

Tho king ho lauj;ht\l, and sw\\r«< by St- Uittol, 
" 1 did not think I had Nvn \w>rth so littol ! 
— Xow s<wndly toll mo. without any douht. 
How AK>no I may ri<lo this whalo world aKiut," 

" You roxist ris* with tho sun, and rido with th» 

samo 
Tntil tho noxt mominj! ho risoth a^iuo : 
And thou your grsiT' n>H\l not mako any doiibt 
Uut in twouty-four hours you '11 rido it alwut," 

Tho kinjf ho lauj^ovl. and sworo hy St, Jono, 
" 1 did not think it ivnld Iw gvino so soi>uo ! 
- Now ftvxm tho thitvl ijuostiou thou must not 

shrinko, 
l>ut toll mo horo truly what I do thinko," 

"Yoa. that shall 1 do, aud mako your gtac« 
merry : I 

Yon thinko I "m tho AbKit of Oanterlwiry : ' 

Hut 1 "m his poor sliopheaivl. as jJain yon n»y ' 
sot\ 

That am cotno to bo§ parvlon for him and for mo," ! 

fl\o kinjt ho l»<ijrhrvl, and s»\>i>» hy tho Masso. 
" Uo mako thoo lot\l aMvt this day in his ulaoo !" . 
•• Now uayo, my lios^\ N- not in snoh si<o«de, 
Kor alaoko I oan tioithor writo no rrsido," i 



" Four nohlos a wx>ok thon I will jtivt> th(<»\ 
For this morry jost thou hast sliowno vmto me ; 
And toll tho old aWvt when thou ivnitvst home. 
Thou hast Iwoujht him a pauvloD fivm goo*l King 
John," 



JOHN lURLKYCOR^^• 

Thkkk was thr«H< kings into tho Fjtst, 
Tlirxv kings Ivtli givat and high. 

.\nd tlioy hae sworn a svlomu vwth 
JiUui l5arlo\^^)ru slionUl dio, 

Thoy t>H>k a ivU»igh and ploughrtl him dowiv 

Tut oKxls ujK>n his luvid, 
,\nd thoy hae sworn a solouin iwth, 

John IWley^vrn was dead, 

Mut the ohwrfVil spring oame kindly on, 

.\nd showers ly>g;in to fall ; 
John lUrloyivru got up again, 
And sorr surpris^nl thom all. 

Tho sultry suns of suuwner eamo. 

-And ho givw thiok and strong. 
His In-ad w<<ll arnt<>l wi' {vintod s(i<>aTSr 

That no one should him wr\ing. 

Tho s!oh(>r autumn ontoixM mild. 

When he gn-w wan auvl |v»le ; 
His K-nding joints and di\xipiivg hoad 

Sliowwl ho began to fail. 

His wlor siikoussl nnm> aud mor«^ 

He ladtsl into ag»' ; 
Ami thou his ononiies N'gan 

To sliow thoir deadly tag*. 

Thoy "vo ta'en a woajxm long aud sharp. 

.\nd out him by tl>o kuw : 
And tie>i him fast ujvu the cart. 

Like a r\^io for fotgi'rio. 

Thoy laid him down nivn his baek, 

Ai>d eudg<>llerl hin\ full stiro ; 
They hung him up K-foiv tho storm. 

And tiirnt\l him o'or and oVr. 

Thoy fillM up a darksvune }ut 

With water to the brin>. 
Thoy hoavtul in John IWleyvorn, 
I Thow lot him sink or swim. 

' Thoy laid him out u|>on tho floor. 
To wvrk him fnither Wiv, 
And still, .as signs of lilV ap{y\art\l, 
i Thoy t>ws>\l him to iuul fr\\ 

I They wast«l, o'or a soor«>hing flamo. 
I The niarrvw of his Ivnos : 

B<it a miller us»h1 him w\»rst of all, 
1 For ho crosliwl him Wtwwn twti stones. 



IlUMOUOUh i'OKMS, 



945 



Anil tlify hiut lii'irii liU v<rry h«(>rt'« UofKl, 
Ami ilniiik il loiirnl iiti'l loiiiiil ; 

Ami Hlill th<: IIKIK: i'lml IrioK: tliiry drank, 
'I'linir joy ili'l imini.iilxiiiiiil. 

J'lliii liarleytyim witit a lu:r» Ixjld, 

Of iioMi- «M)U,'r|irii«: ; 
For ifyijii >l<i Iml UtitU: liiii blood, 

"r will niiik"! yoiif courage r'uut, 

Tli';ii li;t il« l<;.'i»t Joliii liiii)";ywjrii, 

li;u:li iiKiri a glittsn in liuiid ; 
And may IiIh gr<;al |>oiiU^iity 

Ne'er (ail in old 8<;olland ! 

ICrjU£KT SUBXfl. 



OK A CKHTAINK MAN'. 



wlien) 



certaine 



TllKKK WON (not (»rtain 

jirfja/dier, 
'I'liat never learnwi, and yet tx^anie a teatihiir, 
Wlio having read in l^^tine tliiix a t«xt 
')f trul quvl/i/tn lunrw, niii'.li [x;rj/lext, 
He vKuuA tlie name witli iitiidii: great to x/an. 
In Knglijili tliint, Tlun: vian a v,rUii'ni>, itfiAi. 
liijt now (r|uot)i lie), good jK-ojile, not*-, you thw, 
lie Haitli tliere wan, lie dotli not nay there U ; 
For iti tlieiM! (laien of our* it i* ni'/xt plaine 
Of |iroiniw:, oath, word, de*!*!, no nian '« 'xTtaine; 
Yet hy my t<;xt you ic« it fJiim-.H U> (<a»»e 
That Kurely once a <M;rtaine man there wan : 
liut yet, I think, in all your ISihle no irmn 
Can flnde thin text. There vmh a eerUi/hu 
wmnam. 

Kit! Jollli WhUMUKIttim. 



UXilC OK HUlJllJIiAS. 

PROM " tUWtlfUA%,' t'AttJ I. CA«TO u 

He wa« in logie a gr<sit critk, 
r'rofonndly okillifl in analytie ; 
He (»uld diJitinguiAh and diviile 
A liair, 'twixt wuth and Muthweiit Ki<l« ; 
On either which he would dij(|<ute, 
'>/nfuU;, eliange han'lx, and ntiil (X/nfute ; 
He 'd undertake Uj j<rove, hy for';« 
1)1 argument, a man '» no bone ; 
He 'd jirove a huxzunl in no fowl. 
And that a lord nuay be an owl, 
A ealf an ahlernmn, a gww; a jiwtifte, 
And rookx 'yjmmitt««-nien and truistwa). 
Jle 'd run in debt by diximtotv/u. 
And [lay with ntimtitiHtiim : 
All thi>> by nyll/^giiiin true, 
In imx^l au/1 figure ke would do. 

DC Hahuzi, Butuek. 



Till', VICAR OK UltAV. 

("TiMr \ft'mt '^ Mfrty in ftcrbftlilri:, Vliy^nii, »«♦ iH»t/m Alleyrt, 
or Atlftii, dti') licM lilt pl«/>c fr'fiii f^. bj ,^, lf« w«4 w I'mf^H 
uivUzr lh« r«lK»j '/f ficriry id* I'li^itli, «it'l « I'lMt-'ufti .jn^l^-f i'/t- 
WMfl ItM hlilll. M-r was • l'ii(/ltl «if..ll. -J»l'^f M ■ , . ,f« 

I*WJ|II« « IV'/l«6li«lll III IIm: »«l(/(i '/( Ml/jl.'tli, ul 

fi Itu ^owli wnk r'-'t/f'M/ lic'l t'lr l«la V'/irflllll/ '.[ :», 

lUI/l Uxx>t f'/f l»«;lllK K lUfll "/Hi itil'l all ll,'..;,:t^/,i - -..i,^' I r,/, <»* 

J'MjliCr c*(/ri;b*«& It, (i« iK\t]iK'i I ' ri'.i V, ,»' jfli' I ; ('/, il f • imt-^tii 
my relf^l'/ii, / mii wire f b«j/t liii'; i'/ iiiy )//)i.',.(,k, wliKli k ('. (ly« 
aiiil 'lt< Dm: VIj^*/ r/f J}riiy."' — />l^.l'Al;l.l.J 

In goixl King Charleii's golde/i dayii, 

When loyalty no harm meant, 
A wialoiiK high-ehiirehman wan I, 

And If) I got preferment. 
To U:iu:\i my floek I never niitw^l ; 

Kings were hy <;o<l apjiolnle/l. 

And I'rtl are lliowr that dare reniet 

Or Uiw.Si the \/iri\'ii anoinU:d. 

/Irujl IhiJt in law tluU I'll iiMinti/tin 

U'lUil my dyhuj 'i/iy, iriff 
TluU whil.Hiim.r Idiuj hImU reiiiii, 
Hlill I 'U he. llu: Vvji/r of limy, air. 

Wlu;n royal .!niiii!» {Kxtwiiweil the crown. 

And lio|M!ry raiHie in (miii'um, 
The |K:nal lawn 1 h<>ot<^l down, 

And r'-jui the iJe'.laration ; 
The '.hureh of Itonie I found would fit 

Full well my >y<nistitutiou ; 
And 1 ha/I l«:J-n a .Jesuit 

liut for the li/jvolution. 
And IhU U law, etc. 

When William wa* our king d«eUr«<l, 

To «auK! the nation'* grievan'* ; 
With thijt new wind a>(out I Ht/^red, 

And xwore tr; him allegianM ; 
Old prineijihffl I did revoke, 

H<;t (jmvMUfM at a liuAMUit ; 
Vamivi; <Ai"Aii;iii'M was a Joke, 

A ji:«t wa« iiun-rHnixtnu)*.. 
Awl. thin it UiAt), ete. 

When royal Anne Wsiwe oor quwrn. 

The Chureh of Kngjand'n glory, 
KwAXikt Xwm of thingn wa* vmu. 

And I yifjjiuii: a Tory ; 
Oe«a<iional 'y/nfonni»t<( l/a«e, 

I hhiiu-A their m'xleration ; 
And thouglit the Cliurch in dimmer wok, 

liy (fueh f(revari«ati'/n. 
/<-«// <Ai» i« Axw, ete. 

When George in pu'Mlng-tiroe came o'er, 
And twflf.nXi: uiKu I'Xjke/l big, »ir. 

My j/rineijile* I eliang'*! on';« nj/zre, 
Ami HO \0-jxiUu: a W>ii^ nir ; 



946 



HUMOKOrs roEMS. 



And tluis preferment I proeuivd 
From our new laitli's-deleuilor, 

And almost every day abjiiivd 
The Tope and tile Pi-etender. 
.^)ii/ this is hiiv, ete. 

The illustrious house of Hanover, 

And I'rotestant sneoession, 
To these 1 do allegiance swear — 

While they ean keep possession : 
For in my faith and loyalty 

1 uevermoiv will falter, 
And George my lawful king shall be — 

Until the times do alter. 

Auil litis is Inii; ete. 

Anonvmous. 



GOOD ALE. 

I CANNOT eat Init little meat, — 

My stomaeh is not good ; 
But, sure, 1 think that 1 ean drink 

With him that wears a hood. 
Though 1 go bare, take ye no eai'e ; 

1 nothing am a-eold, — 
I stutl' my skin so full within 
Of jolly good ale and old. 
Unci; ami side go bare, go bare ; 

Hothfoot and hand go cold : 
But, bellg, God send t/iee good ale enough, 
Whether it be new or old! 

I love no roast but a nut-brown toast, 

And a erab laid in the tii-e : 
A little bi-ead shall do nie stead, — 

Much bivad I not desii-o. 
No frost, nor snow, nor wind, 1 trow. 

Can hurt me if I wold, — 
1 am so wrapt, and thorowly lapt 

Of jolly good ale and old. 
Jiack and side, ete. 



And Tyb, my wife, that as her life 

Loveth well good ale to seek. 
Full oft drinks she, till you may see 

The teai-s run down her cheek ; 
Then doth she trowl to me the bowl, 

Kven as a nnilt-wonn should ; 
And saith, "Sweetheart, I tiH>k my part 

Of this jolly good ale and old." 
Back and side, ete. 

Now let them drink till they nod and wiuk, 
F.ven as good fellows should do ; 

They shall not miss to have the bliss 
iJood ale doth bring iu«u to ; 



And all poor souls that have scoured bowls, 

l>r have them lustily trowled, 
tiod save the lives of them and their wives, 

Whether they be young or old ! 
Back and sidt, etc. 

JOHN SriLL. 



GLUGGITY OLUG. 

FROM "THE MYRTLK AND THE VINB." 

A JOLLY fat friar loved licpror good store. 

And he had drunk stoutly at supper ; 
He mounted his hoi'se in the night at the door. 

And sat with his face to the crupper : 
"Some rogue," ijuoth the friar, " ipiite dead to 
i-einoi-se. 

Some thief, whom a halter will throttle. 
Some scoundivl has cut off the head of my horse. 

While 1 was engaged at the bottle. 

Which went gluggity, gUiggity — glug 

— glug — glug." 

The tail of the steed pointed south on the dale, 

'T was the friar's road home, straight and level; 
Hut, when spurred, a horee follows his nose, not 
his tail. 

So he seampeivd due north, like a devil : 
"This new mode of docking," the friar then said, 

" I peiveive does n't nuike a horse trot ill ; 
And "t is cheap, — for he never can eat otf his head 

While I am engaged at the bottle, 

Which goes gluggity, gluggity — glug 

— glug — glug-" 

The steeil made a stoj), — in a i>ond he had got. 

He was rather for drinking than grazing ; 
Quoth the friar, "'Tis strange headless horses 
should trot. 
But to drink with their tails is amazing !" 
Turning ronnd to see whence this phenomeuou 
rose. 
In the pond fell this son of a pottle ; 
Qvioth he, "The head's found, for I'm under 
his niwe, — 
I wish I were over a bottle. 

Which goe:^ gluggity, gluggity — glug 
—glug — glug!" 

Geokoe colman. the younger. 



THE VIKTUOSO.' 

"Vulemus 
Nugari solilos." — PERSU'S. 

Whilom by silver Thames's gentle stivam. 
In London town theiv dwelt a subtle wight, - 

A wight of mickle wealth, and mickle fame, 
Book-learneil and quaint : a Virtuoso hight. 

* In iiuitatioa of Speiv>«r's styt^ And stunsa. 



iir.MouDrs I'uKM.s. 



'J47 



Uncoiiimoii things, luiil line, were his lU'light ; 
From musings deep his limiii ne'er gotten 
ease, 
Nor ceiisecl lie frciin stnily, ilay or niglil, 
Until (advancing onwiird l>y degrees) 
lie knew wluitever breeds on i^irlh (jr aii- or 
seas- 

Ho many a crentnre did anatomize, 

Almost uniK'npling water, air, and hind ; 

lieosts, lishes, hirds, snails, eaterjiilhii's, tlies, 
Were laid full low by his relentless hami. 

That ot't with gory eriinson was distained ; 
He many a dog destroyed, and many a (tat ; 

Of lleas his bed, of frogs the marshes drained, 
('oiild tellen if a mite wei'e lean or fat. 
And read a leeture o'l^r the entrails of a 
gnut. 

He knew the various modes of ancient times. 

Their arts and fashions of each dilfi'icnt guise, 
Tlieir weddings, funeials, punishments for 
crimes, 
Their strength, their learning eke, and rarities ; 
Of old liabiliinents, each sort and size, 

Male, female, high and low, to him weie known; 
Eaeh gladiator chess, ami stage disguise ; 
With learned, clerkly phrase he could have 
shown 
How tlie Greek tuniu dill'ered from the Roman 
gown. 

A curious medallist, I wot, he was. 

And boasted many a course of ancient coin ; 

Well as his wife's he kneweu every facte, 
From Julius (!i«sar down to C'onstautine : 

For some rare sculjiture he would oft yjiine, 
(As green-sick damosels for husbands do ;) 

And when obtained, with enraptured eyne. 
He 'd run it o'er and o'er with greedy view, 
And look, and look again, as he would look il 
through. 

His rich museum, of dimensions fair, 

With gooils that sjioke the owner's mind was 
fraught ; 

Things ancient, curious, value-worth, and rare, 
From sea and land, fnjni Greece and liome, 
were brought. 

Which he with mighty sumsof gold had houglit : 
On thesi; all tides with joyous eyes he pored ; 

And, sootli to say, himself ho greater thought. 
When he bi-held liis cabinets thus stored, 
Than if he'd been of Albion's wc'althy cities lord. 

MARK AKENSIDE. 



THE SPLENDID .SHILLING.* 

" .sing. Iiciivcrily Muiic. 
Tliliij,n, uiiattciiiptcii yet in prone or rliyiiic ; " 
A hliiiliiiK'. brccchcM, and cliliiicratt dire, 

Hai'I'V the man, who, void of cares and strife, 
In silken or in h'athern purse retains 
A Splendid Shilling : he nor hears with pain 
New oysters cried, nor, sighs for cheerful ale ; 
lint with his friend.s, wlii'ii nightly mists arise, 
To .hiniper's Magpie, lU' Town Mall iitpairs ; 
When', mindful of the nymph, whose wanton eye 
'i'ransti.\rfd his sonl, and kindleil amorous flames, 
Cldoe or I'hyllis, he each circling glass 
Wisheth her health and joy and eijnal love. 
Meanwhile hi! smokes, and laughs at merry tale, 
Or pun ainbiguoiis or conundrum ipiaint. 
liut I, whom grilling iienury surrounds. 
And hunger, sure attendant niion want, 
With scanty oll'als, and small acid tilf 
(Wretched repast !) my meagre corjise sustain : 
'i'hen solitary walk, or doze at home 
In garret vile, and with a warming ])iilf 
Hegale chilled lingeis ; or from tube as black 
As winter-chimney or well-polished jet, 
I'jxhale muudungu.s, ill-perfnming scelit. 
Nut blacker tube, nor of a shorter size. 
Smokes (!am bio- Briton (versed in pedigree. 
Sprung from Cadwallador and Arthur, kings 
Full famous in romantic tale) when he 
O'er many a craggy hill and barren elilf. 
Upon a cargo of famed Ccstiian clieese. 
High overshadowing rides, with a design 
To wend his wares at the Arvonian mart. 
Or Maridunum, or the ancient town 
Yclejied Hrcchinia, or where Vaga's stream 
Kucircles Ariconium, fruitful soil ! 
Whence (low nectareons wines, that widl may vie 
With Massic, Setin, or renowned Falern. 

Thus, while my joyless minutes tedious (low. 
With looks demure, and silent pace, a Dun, 
Horrible monster ! hated by gods ami men. 
To my aerial citadel ascends.t 
With vocal heel thrice thundering at my gate. 
With hideous accent thrice lie calls ; I know 
Tlie voice ill-boding, and the Koleiiin sound. 
What sliould I <lo ? or whither turn ? Amazed, 
''onl'ouniled, to the dark recess I fly 
Of wood-hole ; straight my bristling liairs erect 
Tlirough sudden fear ; a chilly sweat bedews 
My shuddering limb.s, and (wonderful to tell !) 
My tongue forgets her faculty of speech ; 
So honible he seems ! His faded brow 
Intrenched with many a frown, and conic beard, 
And spreading band, admired by modern saints, 
iJisastrous acts forebode ; in his right hand 

* A burlcv|iic iinit.1t ion of Milton'k style. 
1 To wit, his i;Arrct. 



it-is 



III MOKOrS I'OEMS. 



Long scrolls of pupcr soU'innly lu< wavi-s. 
With oli;ir,ii'loi-s and liguivs liiw iiisii'il'cil, 
I'liiovous to iiioi'tiil ovis, (yo ){vh1s, ilVOl't 
Suoh pli>j;iu's from rigliti-oHs inoii 1) IWhiiid him 

stalks 
Aiiothi 1 monster, not uuliko itscll", 
SuUon ol'iisinvt, by tho vnlpiv oiilU'il 
A ('atilijiolo, whivso poUuttd hands tho j^uls 
W'itli I'oivo iniivdiblo, luul niaj;ii' oharnis, 
I'ii-st Imvo onilnod : if he liis ampli' \K\\m 
Should Imply on ill-t'ati'd shonldi'i' lay 
I'I'dobtor, stmislit his Iwdy to tho touoli 
Olwoiiuious (as whilom knights woiv wont) 
To sonio onohantod oastlo is ooiivovtHl, 
Wlu'ix' g!it<'s iinjiivj;ual>l<', and ooeivivo olmins, 
In dnnuioo stiiit dotain him, till, in lorm 
Of monoy, Pallas sots tho laptivo I'lvo. 

Uowaiv, yo dobtoi-s ! when ye walk, bowaiv, 
l!o oiiviuns|H"ot ; olt with insidions ken 
'Tho oaitilt'oyes your stojvs aloof, and oft 
l.ii's iH>rvtuo in a nook vU' j;Uhiiny ravo, 
ri\>nn>t to onchant soino inadvortont wivtoh 
With his unliallowiHl touch. So (pools sing) 
Grimalkin to domostio vermin sworn 
An ovorlastins' loo, with watohful oyo 
l.ioA nightly bivoding o'or a oliinky gJip, 
I'ortondiug hor toll olnws, to tlionghtloss niioo 
Suiv ruin. So her iiisenilHnvell«l web 
Ai-!>ohue, in a hall or kitehen, spivads 
Obvious to vagrant Hies : she seoivt stands 
Within her woven eell : the humming pivv, 
liegimlless of their late, rush on the toils 
luextrioable, nor will aught aviiil 
Their arts, or arms, or sliajH-s of lovely hue. 
The wasp insidious, and the hui/ing divue, 
And bntterlly pi\>ud of exivmdi'd wings 
IMstinot with gvdd, entangled in her snares, 
I'seless ivsistanee make ; with oagt-r strides. 
She towering Hies to her exjH-ettHl sjKiils : 
Then with envenonnnl jaws the vital blood 
Drinks of ivluetant foes, and to her eave 
Their bulky eaivtvsses triumphant drags. 

So jw.ss my days. Hut when noetiuiial sliades 
This world envelop, and the iiu'lemeut air 
Tersuades men to iviwl Ivnnnibing fi\ists 
With pleasiiut wines and eraokling bhue of wixid, 
Me, lonely sitting, imr the glimmering light 
Of make-weight eandle, nor the joyous talk 
Of loving friend, delights ; distivssed, forlorn, 
Amivlst the horrvirs of the tedious night. 
Darkling 1 sigh, and feed with dismal thoughts 
My anxious mind ; or sometimes mournful verso 
Indite, and sing of giMves and myrtle shade.s 
Or desperate lady near a pnrling stivani, 
t^r lover poudent on a willow-trtf. 
Meanwhile 1 laWr with eternal drought. 
And ivstless wish, and rave ; my ixarvlu^d thiwit 



I Kinds no rt>lief, nor henvy eyes i^iHise : 

I lint if a slumtn'r haply does in\ade 
.My weary limbs, my faney, still awake, 

I Thoughtful of driuk, and eager, in a divain. 
Tipples imaginary pots of ale ; 
In vaiu ; — awake I lind the settled thirst 
Still gnawing, ami the pleasant phantom eurse. 
Thus do 1 live, fivni pleasnii' ipiite deluinvd. 
Nor taste the fruits that the snn's gj'uial rays 
Matuiv, johu-apple, nor the downy peaeh. 
Nor walnut in wugh-furivweil eoat seeniv. 
Nor mtnllar fruit itelieiotis in deeay ; 
Altlietions givat ! yet givati'r still ivmain. 
My galligaskins, that have long wilhstoiHl 
The winter's fury and eneiiMu'liing frosts. 
By time snlnlned, (what will not time suhdu ■ !l 
.\n horrid ehasm disclose with oritiee 
Wide, discontinuous ; at which the winds 
Kurns and .Vuster and the dreadful foive 
Of Hoivas, that congi'als the t'lvnian waves, 
Tuitiultuous enter with diiv chilling bUsts, 
rortending agues. Thus a well-fraught ship, 
l,oug sails secuiv, or thivngh the .I'^gi-an deejv, 
th' the Ionian, till cruising near 

I The I.ilylvau slioiv, with hiilcous crush 

j On Scylla or Chary bdis (dangi'rous iMcks) 
She strikes ivbouuding ; whence the shatteii'd 

ottk, 
So ften'o n shook unable to withstand. 
Admits the sea. In at the gsiping side 
The civwdiug waves gush with imjH'tuous rage, 
l!esistles.s overwhehning ; honvi-s seije 
The mariners ; Death in their eyes appears, 
They stare, they lave, they pnuip, they swear, 

they pray : 
(Vain elVoits!) .still the luittering waves riisli in, 
Implacable, tall, deluginl by the foam, 
Tho ship sinks foundering in the vast abyss, 

,IOMN mil IPS. 



EI.F.OY OX TllK DKATU 01' A MAD DOG, 

Oooi< people all, of every sort, 

llive ear unto uty song ; 
And if yo\i tind it wondivus short. 

It cannot hold you long. 

In Islington ther<< was a man 
Of whom the world might .say. 

That still a godly race he nin — 
Whene'er he went to pray. 

A kind and gt'ntle h«>rt he had. 

To comfort friends and foes : 
The naked every day he clad — 

When he put on his clotJies. 



llLAl(JROL.S I'OIOMS. 



'Ji'.) 



Ami ill Uiut tiiwii a ilu|{ wuh I'ouikI, 

Ah iii.uiy JogK th(MO be, 
liotli iiiiiiij^iel, puppy, wliulp, ami liouml, 

Ami cuiH of low (ligicc. 

Tliw dog anil man at first were riiciidH ; 

But whuM u piipie licgan. 
The dog, to gain liin privat/; ends, 

Went niad, and bit tiic inau. 

Around from all tlu' nei^lilmiiiig xtrcctii 

The wondering neighbors ran, 
And Hwoie the dog hail hjst his wits. 

To bite so good a man ! 

The wound it seemed both sore and sad 

To every Christian eye : 
And wliile tliey swore the dog was mad. 

They swore the rnan would die. 

But soon a wonder came to light, 

Tliat showed tlie rogues they lied : — 

The man recovered of tlie bite, 
The dog it was tliat dicil ! 

OLIVER Goldsmith. 



ELEGY ON MADAM ULAIZE. 

Good people all, witli one a^jcord. 

Lament for Madam lilaize ; 
Who never wanted a good word — 

From those who spoke lier praise. ' 

The needy seldom passed lier door, 
And always found hi-r kind ; 

Siie freely lent U> all the poor — • 
Who left a pledge behind. 

.She strove the neighborhood ti) please. 
With manner wondrous winning ; 

She never followed wicked ways — 
Unless when she was sinning. 

At church, in silk and satins new, 
With hooji of nionstroiu size. 

She never slumbered in her pew — 
But when she shut her eyes. 

Her love was sought, I do aver. 

By twenty beaux, or more ; 
The king himself has followed her — 

When she lias walked before. 

But now, ber wealth and finery lied. 
Her hangers-on cut short all. 

Her doctors found, when she was dead- 
lier last disorder mortal. 



Let us lament, in sorrow sore ; 

Kor Kent Street well may say. 
That, had she lived a twelvemonth more- 

(Slie had not died today. 



OLivi'.K Goldsmith. 



TllK UKVII.'.S WALK. 

From his brimstone ted at break of day 

A walking the Uevil has gone. 
To look at his little, snug farm of the world. 

And see how his ntoak went on. 

Over the hill and over the ilale, 

And he went over the plain. 
And backward and forward he swished hLs tail, 

As a gentleman swishes a cane. 

How then was the Devil dressed? 

0, he was in his .Sunday's Ix'St ; 
His coat was red, and his breeches were blue. 
And there was a hole where his tail came through. 

A lady drove by in her pride. 

In whose face an expression he spied, 

For which he could have kiKsed her ; 
Such a flourishing, fine, clever creature was she, 
With an eye as wicked as wickwl can b<; : 
" I should take her for my aunt," thought he ; 

" If my dam hiul liad a sister." 

He met a lord of high degree, — 
No matter what was his name, — 
Whose fa<;e with his own when he came to com- 
(lare 
The expression, the look, and the air. 
And the chara<.t<!r too, as it seemed to a hair, — 
Such a twin-likeness there was in the pair, 
That it ma<le the Devil start and stare ; 
For he thought there wajt surely a looking-glass 
there 
But he could not see the frame. 

He saw a lawyer killing a vijic-r 

On a dunghill t>eside his stable ; 
" Ho ! " quoth he, " thou put'st me in mind 

Of the story of Cain and Abel." 

An a^mthecary on a white liorse 

R^jdc by on his vocation ; 
And the Devil thought of his old friend 

Death in the Revelation. 

He passetl a cottage with a double coacb-house, 

A cottage of gentility ; 
And he owned with a grin 
That his favorite sin 

Is pride that a[>es humility. 



950 



IIIMOKOL'S I'OKMS. 



He saw a pig rajiidly 

Down a liver Moat ; 
Tlic pii; swam well, but every stroke 

Was eiittiiig his own throat ; 

Ami Satan gave thereat his tail 

A twirl of admiration ; 
For he thought of his daughter War 

And her suckling babe Taxation. 

Well enough, in sooth, ho liked that truth, 
And nothing the worse I'or the jest ; 

IJut this was only a first thought ; 
And in this he did not rest : 

Another eanie presently into his head ; 

And here it proved, as has often been said, 
That seeoiul thoughts are best. 

For as piggy plied, with wind and tide, 

His way witli sueh eelerity, 
And at every stroke tint water dyed 
With his own red blood, the IH'vil cried, 
" Behold a swinish nation's pride 

In eottou-spun prosperity ! " 

Ho walked into Loudon leisurely ; 

The streets were dirty ami dim ; 
liut there he saw Brothers the proiihet. 

And Brothels the prophet saw him.* 

lie entered a thriving bookseller's shop ; 

Quoth he, " Wo are both of one college. 
For I myself sate like a eonnorant (Uiee 

Upon the tree of knowledge." 

As ho pasised through Cold- Bath Fields, he looked 

At a solitary cell ; 
And he was well pleased, for it gave him a hint 

For improving tlie prisons of hell. 

He saw a turnkey tie a thiefsliands 

With a cordial tug and jerk ; 
" Nimbly," ijuotli he, "a man's tingers move 

When his heart is in his work." 

He .saw the .same turnkey unfettering a man 

With little expedition ; 
And he chuckled to think of his dear slave-trade. 
And the long debates and delays that were made 

Concerning its abolition. 

At this good news, so great 
Tlie Devil's pleasure grew, 
That with a .joyful swish ho rent 

The hole where his tail came through. 

• "After this I W.1S in a vision, havinft the angel of Cod near me. 
anil saw Satan walking leisurely into London." — BKOIHILKS" 
Pritfihtcxcs, Part T. p. 41. 



His eountcnanco fell for a moment 

When he felt the stitches go ; 
"All ! " thought he, " there 's a job now 

That I 've made for my tailor below." 

"Great news ! bloody news ! " cried a newsman ; 

The Devil said, "Stop, let me see ! 
Great news? blooily news?" thought the Devil, 

"The bloodier the better for me." 

So ho bought the newsjiaper, and no news 

At all for his uiouey he had. 
"Lying varlet," thought he, "thus to take in 
Old Nick ! 

But it 's some satisfaction, my lail, 
To know thou art paiil beforehand for the trick. 

For the sixpence I gave thee is bad." 

And thou it came into his head. 

By oracular inspiration. 
That what ho had seen ami what ho had said. 

In the course of this visitation. 
Would be publisheil in the Morning Post 

For all this nmling nation. 

Therewith in secoiul-siglit he saw 
The place and the manner and time. 

In which this mortal story 

Would be put in immortal rhyme. 

That it would happen when two poets 

Should on a time bo met 
In the town of Nether Stowey, 

In the shire of Somerset. 

There, while tlu^ one was shaving, 

Would ho the song begin ; 
And tho other, when he heard it at breakfast^ 

In ready acccnil join in. 

So each would help the other. 
Two heads being better than one ; 

And the phrase and conceit 

Would in unison moot. 
And so witli glee the verse How free 

In ding-dong chime of sing-song rhyme. 

Till the whole weie merrily done. 

And beeau.so it was sot to tho razor, 

Not to the lute or harp, 
Therefore it was that the fancy 
Should be bright, and the wit be sharp. 

" But then," said Satan to himself, 

"As fin- tliat .said beginner, 
Agiiinst my infernal Majesty 

There is no gretiter sinner. 



HUMOROUS I'OKMS. 



951 



" Hp liatli ]iiit iiic in uf,'ly liiilliiils 
Witli libcllims [lictni'i'S lor siile ; 

He hath sfroiled at niy htxtl's an<l my horns, 
And has niaiU' very I'ruo witli my tail. 



" Rut this Mister Poet sliall find 
I am not a safe sulijcet for wliim ; 

For 1 '11 sot up a school of my own, 
And my poets shall set upon him." 

As he went along the Strand 

Between three in the morning and four, 
He observed a (lueer-lookini; ]ierson * 

Who staggered from I'erry's door. 

And he thought that all the world over 
In vain for a man you might seek. 

Who could drink more like a Trojan, 
Or talk more like a Greek. 

The Devil tlien he prophesieil 
It would one day be matter of talk. 
That with wine when smitten, 
And with wit moreover being haiipily bitten, 
This erudite bibber was he who liad written 
The story of this walk. 

"A pretty mistake," quoth the Devil ; 

"A pretty mistake, I opine ! 
I have put many ill thoughts in his mouth ; 
He will never put good ones in mine." 

Now the morning air was cold for him. 

Who was us«m1 to a wai'm al)ode ; 
And yet he did not innnediately wish 

To set out on his homeward road. 

For he had some morning calls to make 

Before he went back to hell ; 
"So," thought he, "I'll .step into a gaming- 
house. 

And that will do as well ; " 
But just before he could get to the door 

A wonderful chance befell. 

For all on a sudden, in a dark place, 
He came upon fJeneral 's burning face ; 

And it struck him with such consternation, 
That home in a hurry his way did he take. 
Because he thought by a slight mistake 

'Twas the general conflagration. 

Robert Southkv. 

• Person, the Creek schoKlr. 



TIIK DKVH, .VT lloMK. 

FROM •'Tin; DtiVIL'S eROGRIiSS." 

The Devil sits in his easy-chair, 

Siiniing his sul]ihur tea. 

And gazing out, with a pensive air, 

O'er the broad bitumen sea ; 

Lulled into sentimental mood 

l!y the spirits' far-olf wail. 

That sweetly, o'er the burning Hood, 

Floats on the brimstone gale! — 

The Devil, who can be sad at times. 

In spite of all his munnnery. 

And grave, — though not so pnisy (piito 

As drawn by his fiiend Montgomery, — 

The Devil to-day has a dreaming air, 

And his eye is raisc'd, and his thioat is bare. 

His musings are of many things. 

That — good or ill — befell, 

Since Ailam's sons macadamized 

The highways into hell : — 

And the Devil -whose mirth is never \oui.l — 

Laughs witli a (piii't mirth. 

As he thinks how well his serpent-tricks 

Have been mimicked upon earth ; 

Of Kilen and of Kngland, soileil 

And darkened by the foot 

Of those who preach with adder-tongues, 

And those who eat the fruit ; 

Of creeping things, that ilrag their slime 

Into Ood's chosen places. 

And knowledge hwling into crime. 

Before the angels' faces ; 

Of lands — from Nineveh to S|)ain — 

That have bowed lieneath his sway, 

And men who did his work, — from Cain 

To Viscount Castlereagh ! 

THOMAS KlUHLIi IIURVEV, 



THE NOSE AND THE EYES. 

Between Nose and Eyes a strange contest aro.se ; 

The spectacles .set them, unhapjiily, wrong ; 
The jioint in dispute was, as all the world knows, 

To whom the said spectacles ought to belong. 

So Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause. 
With a great deal of skill, and a wig full of 
learning. 

While cdiief baron Ear sat to balance the laws, — 
So famed for his talent in nicely discerning. 

"In behalf of the Nose, it will quickly appear 
(And your lord.ship," he said, "will undoubt- 
edly find) 






UlMOKOrS rOKMS. 



That |K<> Xoso has tho sjwtaoU-s always to \v«»r, 
Whiv-h aiuouuts to jw-ist'ssion, tii\u> out of 
miuvl,*" 

Then. hoMin^ th* s|Hvtai-li>s up to tho ivurt. 

" Your lotvlship observes, they aiv uiatlo with 
a straiWlf, 
As wul«> as the ruljie of the Sivse is : in sliort. 

IVsigued to sit olvvse to it, just like a saddle. 

" A^n, vfould yvMir h>i\ishij< a uioiueut sttpiHxso 
(T is a case that has haj>i>eMe*i. ajul may hai>- 
pen a§ain) 
That the visaj^' ixr v\iUHten.->uiv had mi< a N»\se, 
lYiiy, who tiVM.if, or who iVM/<f, wear sjwtaoles 
theu ! 

"Ou the whole, it aj'jHMi's, auii uiy arguuieut 
sliows. 
With a tviisouiugthe ivurt will never vxwdemu. 
That the sjHvtades, (tlaiuly, were uiade for the 
Nose, 
And the Nosio w»s, .^s jvlaiuly, iuteudevi for 
theiu." 

Then shitting his side ^as a lawyer knows hoV.-\ 
He nlt\ide\l .^^in in Whalf of the Kyes ; 

Hut wliat weiv his arguments, few {xvple know. 
?i>r the i-ourt did not thiuk them «inallY wise, 

So his loiviship deciwd, with a srrav»\ solemn 
totte, 

IV'isive and clear, without oue i/or bxl. 
That whene\-er the Xv^se jnit his sl>e^.■tao^^s im. 

By daylight or oandleli^t, — Eyws should W 

WllUAM cowrsR. 



ADDRKSS TO THK TOOTHACHK, 

My eutse ujxnx th,v wncuueil stang. 
That shoots my torturvvl gums alang : 
An' through my lugs gies mouy a twang, 

Wi" gnawing vengx-amv ! 
Tearing my ner\-es wi" hitter {vuig. 

Like lacking engines. 

When fevers hum, or agtte ftwiws. 
Kheumatics guaw, or cholic s^jueeKS ; 
Our neighKVs sympathy may ease us, 

Wi" pitying moan ; 
Rtit thee, — thou hell o" a' diseases, 

Ay<> mvvks our gtv>an. 

Adown mr beaivl the slan^rs trickle ; 
1 thi\>w the WW stvxjs o'er the mickle. 
As r\n\nd the tiiv the giglets kev-kle 

To s»v me lo»ip ; 
While, raving n>ad, 1 wish a heckle 

Wen> in theii^wp. 



O' a" the uumervxis human dixds. 

Ill har'sts, dsUt Iwi-gaius, cutty-stiKils, 

Or wwthy friends ntkeil i" tJie mools, 

!><>d sight to s<v ! 
The tricks o" knaves or l!>sh o" foids. 

Thou l>e«r'st the gtve. 

Where'er that place he priests ca' hell. 
Whence a' the tMies o" mis'ry yell. 
And rsinkM plagues their numliers tell, 

lu vlivadfu" raw. 
Thou, Tov>thache, surely bear'st the hell. 

Among them a' ; 

thv>u grim mischief-making chiel. 
That gars the notes of disi\mt squeal. 
Till dall mankind aft daniv a rwJ 

hi g>.>r«' a shoe-thick ! — 
Gie a' the fat>s o' SiMtland's weal 

A fowmoud's Tvxnhache ! 

KOSSRT Bl'RNS. 



THE FRIEXn OF lUMANlTY ASD THK 
KSIFE-O.KINDEK.* 

FRIKStl OF Hf-MASITY. 

Nkkpy knife-grinder ! whither are you going > 
Kowgh is the rvvid : your wheel is out of orvler. 
Bleak Wows the Wast ; — \\nir hat has got a hol« 
in "t ; 
So have your hreeclws ! 

W<\Hry knife-grinder! little think the proud ones. 
Who in their coaches r\<ll along the turnpike- 
Koad. what h)«i\l work 'tis crying all day, 
' Knivt's ami 
Scissors to grind O ! ' 

Tell me. knife-grinder, how came you to grind 

knives • 
Did some rich man tyrannically use you • 
Was it the stjviiiv .' or (tarsou of the parish ? 
Or the attorney * 

Was it the s\iuire for killing of his gan>e ? or 
Covetous {«rs»>n for his tithes distraining t 
Or rogtiish lawyer made ywu lose your little 
All in a lawsuit t 

(H»T» yvMi not r««d the Rights of Man, hy Tom 

Paine '-^ 
Dtojw of c«jnjv>ssivxn tivmWe on my eyelids. 
Ready to fall as soon as you have told your 
Pitiful story. 

Ills yow^v* d»3{9, as ««M w «f Hm SHy *w< aai*ai& « «lMclk kw 
iiiMi ilhiiiiii aMihfiiK«i*'htfMi 



IIUMOliOHS I'OKMS. 



953 



KNlrK-aUINDKU. 

Story ! God bless you I I Imvo iioiii! tu till, sir ; 
Only, lust iiixlit, u-ili'inkiiiK iit lUv. ('1i<>i|iicts, 
'I'liis pool' oM 1ml mill l)iv(!C,lii;s, iia you sui', were! 
Torn 111 II Hinilllit. 

("onstiililcs I'liiiiii up for lo tiiku hid into 
Custoily ; tliiiy took iilu iMilorn tlii^justicu ; 
.liisticu Olilniixoti put mv into llin |i;irisli 
Stocks lor 11 viifjmnt. 

I should be gliul to drink your honoi's Im'ilIUi in 
A pot of licor, if you will t;ivu nn- sixiii'iicu ; 
Hut for my piut, 1 never love to nieildle 
With politics, sir. 

FlilKNI) (II'- HUMANITY. 

1 give thee sixpence I 1 will .see tlice iljinincd 

111 St, — 
\V retell I wliom no seiiso of wroiii,'3 ciiii rouse to 

ven^cuin;e, — 
Sordid, unfiielinj;, reproba^o, degi-aded, 

Spiritless outcast I 
(Kicks the kniff-jirinder, iwrrlurnn his wheel, and 
exit in a trimHjmrt nf npuliliam cnthusiaxni 
and universal jikilanlhrnpy. ) 

OnOKGIi CANNINt;. 



EPITAPH 

KOR THE TOMIISTONK Kltl'.CTEI) OVKIl TlIK MAR- 
yui.s OK ANiil.liSEA'H LKO, LOST AT THE UATTLK 
OF WATKRI.OO. 

Hkkk rests, nnd let no siiuey knave 

Presume to sneer and liiiigli, 
To leiirn tlmt nioulileriiif,' in tlitt grave 

Is laid a liritisli (Jalf. 

For he who writes these lines is sure, 

That those who read the whole 
Will find sui'li l.iiigh was ])reiiiature, 

Kor here, too, lies u sole. 

And here live little ones repose, 

Twin born with other live. 
Unheeded by their brother toes, 

Who all are now alive. 

A leg and foot, to sjieak more plain, 

Rests here of one commanding ; 
Who, though his wits he might ret;iin, 

Liwt half his understanding. 

And when the guns, with Ihiiniler fraught. 

Poured bullets thick nn hail, 
Could only in this way !« taught 

To givo the foe leg-bail. 



And now in Knglnnd, just as gay 

As ill the Imtlln lirave, 
(iocs to a rout, review, or play. 

With one foot in tlii^ grave. 

Fortuiin ill viiiii here showed her spite, 

Kor he will still he found. 
Should Kiigland's sons engage in light, 

Hesolvcd to stand his ground. 

Hut Kortiine's piiiiloii I must beg ; 

She meant not to disanii, 
l''or wlieii she loppeil thi' lii'ro's leg. 

She did nut seek his hariii. 

And but iiiilulgiid a harnilesH whim ; 

Since he could walk with one, 
Sh(^ .saw two legs were lost on him, 

Who never meant to run. 

OllOllClI cannivc. 



TlIK IMI.CIilMS AXl) TlIK I'KAS. 

A JUiArK (ilNiiiiierH, for no good, 

Were ordered to the Virgin Mary's slirine. 
Who at Koretto dwelt, in wax, stone, wood. 

And ill a fair white wig looked wondrous lino. 
Kilty long miles had those sad rogues to travel. 
With Koinothing in tlieir shoes nuieh worse tliaii 

gravel ; 
In short, their toes so gentle to amuse, 
The priest had ordered |ieas into their shoes : 
A nostrum famous in old popish times 
Kor purifying siails that stunk of crimes ; 
A sort of apostolic salt. 
Which |io]iisli parsons for its powers exalt, 
Kor keeping souls of siniiors sweet. 
Just as our kitchen salt keejis meat. 

TIio knaves set off on the same day, 
Peas in their shoes, to go and pray ; . 

Hut very dilferent was their speed, I wot : 
One of the sinners galloped on, 
Swift as a bullet from a gun ; 

The otlic^r limped, as if he had been shot. 
One saw the Virgin soon, Pcceavi cried. 

Hail his soul whitewashed all so clever; 
Then homo again he nimbly liieil, 

Made lit with saints above to livi^ forever. 

In coming back, however, let me say. 

He met his brother rogue about half-way, — 

Hobbling, with outstretched arms and bended 

knees. 
Cursing the souls and bodies of the peas ; 
His eym in tears, his cheeks ami brow in sweat. 
Deep .sympathizing with his groaning feet. 



954 



HUMOROUS POEMS. 



" How now," the light-toed, wUitewasheJ pil- 
glim l>rokt>. 
" You lazy IuWht ! " 
" Oils curse it ! " oiied the other, *• "t is no joke : 
My feet, once hai\i us any roek, 
Aiv now as soft as blubber. 

" Exeuse me, Virgin Mary, that 1 swear. 
As for Loivtto, 1 shall not gel there ; 
No, to the devil my sinful soul must go, 
For danune if 1 lia'u't lost every toe. 
Hut, bivther sinner, pray explain 
How 't is that you aiv not in jiiiin. 

What power hath worked a wonder for your 
t«es, 
AVhilst 1 just like a snail am ersiwling, 
Now swearing, now on saints devoutly liawling, 

Whilst not a raseal comes to ease my woes » 

■" How is't that you can like a givyhound gvi, 
Merrv as if that uaught had happened, burn 
" ye!" 
"Why," cried the other, grinning, "you nuist 
know. 
That just befoi-e I ventui-eil on my jonrney, 
To walk a little nioK- at ease, 
I took the lilwrty to boil mi/ f)tas." 

dk. John wolcott iPttfr rinMr). 



THE KAZOK-SEIXER. 

A FELLOW in a market-town, 

MiVit musii-al, eried nuoi's up and down. 

And ort'erv^l twelve for eighteen |H>nee ; 
Which certainly seemed wondiMUs cheap, 
And, for the money, quite a hea|>. 

As every man would buy, with cash and sense. 

A country bumpkin the great otTer hearxl, — 
Poor Hodge, who suffered by a broad black beaixl, 

That seemed a shoe-brnsli stuck Iwneath his 
nose : 
With cheerfulness the eighteen [wnce he jviid, 
And proudly to himself in whisiwrs s;ud, 

" This rascal stole the razoi^, I sui>iHise. 

" Xo matter if the fellow ht a knave. 
Provided that the razors .«A/iiy ; 

It certainly will Ix^ a monstrous prize." 
So home the clown, with his good fortune, went, 
Smiling, in heart imd soul content. 

And quickly soaped himself to ears and eyes. 

Being well lathered from a dish or tub, 
Hodge now beg:\n with grinning ]\ain to grub, 
•lust like a hinlgt-r cutting fur.Te ; I 



'T was a vile razor ! — tlieu the rest ho tried, — 
All weiv impostoi-s. " Ah ! " Hodge sighed, 
"1 wish my eighteen jience within my pui-se." 

Ill vain to chase his beard, and bring the graces, 
lie cut, and dug, and winced, and stainjwd. 
and swore ; 
Brought blood, and danced, blasphemed, and 
made wry faces. 
And cureed each razor's body o'er and o'er : 

His muzzle formed o( op/xviit ion stulT, 
Finn as a Foxite, would not lose its rulf : 

So kept it, — laughing at the steel and suds. 
Hodgi', in a ]«ission, stivtclicd his angry jaws. 
Vowing the diivst vengeance with clenched claws. 

On the vile cheat tliat sold the ginxls. 
" Kazors ! a mean, confounded dog. 
Not lit to scrape a hog 1 " 

Hixlge sought the fellow, — found him, — and 

begun : 
" P'rhaps, Master lijizor-rogue, to you 't is fuii. 

That i»'ople Hay themselves out of their lives. 
You rascal ! for an hour have I been gnibliing. 
Giving my crying whiskei-s lieiv a scrubbing. 

With razoi-s just like oyster-knives. 
Sirrah ! 1 tell you you 'i-e a knave. 
To cry up razors that can't sliave ! " 

"Friend," quoth tlie i-azor-man, "I'm not a 

knave ; 

As lor the razoi-s you have Ixnight, 

Upon my soul, 1 never tlioiight 

That they would sluny." 

" Not think they "d s/tave ! " qnoth Hodge, with 

wondering eyes. 

And voice not much unlike an Indian yell ; 

" What wero they made for, then, you dog > " 

he cries. 

" Miuif," quoth the fcUow with a smile, — 

"{oscll." 

Dk. John wolcott (/V.Vf AN.i'jr). 



EPIGRAMS BY S. T. COhEKIDGE. 

COLOGNE. 

In Koln, a town of monks and Ixmes, 

.\nd (wvemeiits tanged with muixlerous stones, 

.\nd rags, and luigs, and hideous wenches, — 

1 counted two-and-seventy stenches, 

All well-delined and several stinks ! 

Ye nymiihs that ivign o'er sewei-s and sinks. 

The river Kliinc, it is well known, 

Poth wiish your city of Cologne : 

But tell me. nymphs ! what (xiwer divine 

Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine ! 



IllJMUKOUS I'DKM.S. 



'.)r,r) 



Si.Y Beelzebub took all occnsioiis 

To try Job's (■ciiistiiiii'y mid palieiico. 

He took his lioiior, took bis bcullli ; 

III' took bis childiTii, took his weiilth, 

His servants, oxen, horses, cows — 

Itut cunning Siitiin did nul take his spouse. 

But Heaven, that brings out good from evil, 

And loves to disapiioint the devil, 

Had [iredi'terniincd to restore 

'J'lViijolil all he bad before ; 

His servants, horses, oxen, cows — 

Short-sighted devil, not to take his spouse ! 

Hoarse Msevius reads his hobbling verso 

To all, and at all times. 
And linils them lioth divinely smooth. 

His voice as well as rhymes. 

Yet folks say Mn;viu9 is no ass ; 

But Majvius makes it clear 
That ho '9 a monster of an ass, — 

An ass without an car I 



■SWAN.S sing before they die, — 'twere no bad thing 
Did certain persons die before they sing. 



THE WELL OF ST. KEYNE. 

" In tlie p.iriOi of St. .N'coei, Cornw.ill, H .1 well arched over witli 
the rol>cs of four kinds of trees, — withy, 0.1k, elm, and ash. — and 
<lcdlcatcd to St. Kcync. The reported virtue of the water is this, 
tli,it, whether husttand or wife first drink thereof, they get the mas- 
tery thereby."— FULLER. 

A WBLL there is in the West country. 
And a clearer one never was seen ; 

There is not a wife in the West country 
Hut has heard of the Well of St. Keyne. 

An oak and an elm tree stand besidii, 
And behind does an ash-tree grow. 

And a willow from the bank above 
Droops to the water below. 

A traveller came to the Well of St. Keyne ; 

Pleasant it was to his eye. 
For from cook-crow he had been travi-lling. 

And there was not a cloud in the sky. 

He drank of the water so cool and clear, 

Kor thirsty and hot was he, 
And he sat down upon the bank, 

Under the willow-tree. 

There came a man from the neighboring town 

At the well to lill his |iail. 
On the well-side he restcil it, 

And bade the strangir hail. 



" Now art thou a bachelor, stranger '( " ipiolli lie, 

" For an if thou hast a wile, 
The happiest draught Ihoii hast drank this day 

That ever thou ilidst in tliy life. 

" Or has your good vvoniiin, if one you have, 

111 Cornwall ever been ? 
For an if slie have, 1 'II venture my life 

Shi,' has drunk of the Well of St. Keyne." 

"I liavi' lilt It j^'ooil woman who never was heri'," 

Till! sliaiiger he iimde ii'ply ; 
"But that niy draught should In; liiti.er for lliiil, 

" I pray you answer me why." 

"St. Keyne," ipiotli the countryman, " many u 
time 

Drank of this crystal well, 
And before the angel siinimoned her 

She laid on tlio water a sjiell. 

" If the husliand of this gifted well 

Shall drink before his wife, 
A Iiajipy man thenceforth is he. 

For he shall be master for life. 

" But if the wife should drink of it first, 

Heaven help the husliand then ! " 
The stranger stooped to the Well of St. Keyne, 

And drank of the waters again. 

" You drank of the well, I warrant, betitnes ?" 

He to the countryman said. 
But the countryman smiled as the stranger spake, 

And sheepishly shook his head. 

" I hastened, as sofjn as the wedding was done, 

Anil left my wife in the porch. 
But i' faith, she had been wiser than ine. 

For she took a bottle to church." 

KODRRT SOUrilHV. 



THK F.OfIS AND TIIK HOUSE.S. 

A MATKIMONIAI. lO'lC. 

.loiiN DoimiNH was so captivated 
By .Mary Tniernan's fortune, face, and cap, 
(With near two thousand pounds the hook was 

baitfjd,) 
That in he popjied to matrimony's trap. 

One small ingredient towards hayipiness. 
It seems, ne'er occupied a single thought ; 

For his a<:eompliBhed bride 

Ajipearing well supplied 
With the three charms of riches, beauty, dress, 

lie did not, as lie ought. 

Think of aught else ; so no inijiiiry made he 
As to the temper of the lady. 



iJoli 



111 MOUOrS I'OKMS. 



Ami li<>it> was ooittunly « j;r»'at omission ; 
Nouo f^houUI luit'iit of llyim'u's gt'utlc I'ottor, 

■■ Km- woi-so or ln'ttcr," 
Wliiiti'vov Ih> thoir |ii\K<|H'Ot or ooiulitioii. 
Without ;nnu!iiiit)uu'i> with t'jK'h otlu'i's uittui'o ; 
For iii:uiy a iniUl anil iniiot lavatuiv 
or iharniinj; ilis|«>silion, 
Alas ! by tliongluloss niarriaj»»> has destivyod it. 
So taki> adviri' ; lot girls ilivsso'or so tiistily, 
Don't oilier into wwllork luustily 
Unless you oan't avoiil it, 

\Vot>k followed woi'k, and, it must Iv ooiil'ost, 
Tho bridogivom iukI this Iniilo had both btvn 

blost : 
Month aftor n\onth had lauuuidly tr;>us)Ui\Hl, 
Uoth jmrtios Invanu' tiivd: 
Yoar aftor yoar ili-a55s'>l on ; 
Thoir hainiinoss was gone. 

Ah ! foolish iwir ! 

" IWr and forlx'ar " 

Should Iv tho rulo for marriwl folks to tako. 

I5nt blind mankind (\Mior discontontod oJves !) 

Too oft on mako 

Tho misery of thwuselves. 

At lonsrth tho hnsband sjiid. " This will not do ! 
Mary, 1 never will Ih' ruled by you ; 

So, wife, vl' ye see 1 
To livt> tovp'thor as wo oan't «gnH>, 
Suji|HK-!e we jvart ! " 
With woman's prido, 
Mary replied, 

■■With all my heart !" 

J ohn Pobbins then to J[ary 's father goes. 
And nives tho list of his imaginiH) woes. 

•' Hear son-iu-law ! " the father sjiid, " 1 see 
All is quite true that you 've K>en toUiuj; mo ; 
Yet theiv in marriaj:>< is snoh strangi' fatality. 

That when as muoh of life 

You shall have soon 

As it has Wen 
My lot to stH<. I think you "11 own your wife 
As gooil or Vn^ter than tho generality. 

" An inti>r<.>st in your ease 1 ivally take. 
And theivfow ffladly this agivement make : 
An hnndiinl oi^pi within this Iviskot lie. 
With whioh your Inok, to-morr\w, yon shall try ; 
.Vlso n\y tive Ivst lu>rses, with my oart ; 
.\ud fivni the farm at dawn you shall doiwrt. 
All ivnnd the country go. 
And Ih- jwrtienlar, I Iwg : 

Whore hnslvu\ds rule, a horse bestow, 

But where the wivivs, an egjf. 



And if tJie horses go l^eforo the eggs, 

1 '11 Ofise you of your wife, — 1 will, — 1' fogs ! " 

Away the manied man dojwrtod, 
Ihisk and light-hearted : 
Not doubting that, of ootii-so. 
The first live houses oaoh would tako a horse. 
.\t the lirst house he knocked, 
lie fell a little shooked 
To hear a female voice, with angry ivar, 
Soivam out, — '■ Hullo ! 
Who 's thoiv below i 
Why, liuslvuid, aiv yon deaf? gvi to tho door. 
See who it is, 1 Ivg. " 
Our piHir friend .lolin 
Trudgi'd nuickly on, 
But first laid at the door an egg. 

I will not all his jonrney tluvugh 
Tho discontontod travoUor jiursuo ; 
SulUco it hoiv to say 
That when his lii-st day's task wsis nearly done. 
He'd soon an liundivd husKuids, minus one. 
And eggs just ninety-nine had given away. 
" Ha 1 theiv 's a house whoiv he I seek must 

dwell," 
At U>ngth cried ,1ohn : "I'll gv) and ring the 
KU." 

The servant oiune, — John asked him, 

•■ Tray, 
Friend, is yo>ir master in the nay ? " 

■■ No," sjiid the man, with smiling phi/, 
'■ My master is not, but my mistress is ; 
Walk in that [vulor, sir, n\y lady 's in it : 
Master will K' himself thoiv — in a minute." 
The lady siiid her husKuid then was ilivssing. 
And, if his business was not very pivssing, 
She wouUl pivfer that lie should wait until 
His toilet was oonipleted : 
Adding, " Pray, sir, 1h> seated." 
■• Madam, I will," 
Said .lohn, with givat jKilitoness ; •■ but 1 own 
That yon alone 
Can tell me all I wish to know ; 
Will you do so ! 
rai\ion my rudeness. 
And just have the gvxidness 
(A wagi-r to decidel to tell me — do — 
Who governs in this hou,";e, — your sjwuse or 
you • " 

" Sir," Slid tlie lady, with a doubting nod, 

■' Your nuostion "s very odd : 
Bnt as I think none ought to be 
Ashanuvl to do their duty (do you see ») 
On that account I scruple not to say 
It always is my pleasure to obey. 



iiumoi{()i;h i'okms. 



'J.07 



But here 'h my liiiHliiunl (nlwiiyn Hrul without 

me); 
Take not my Wdjil, huUtik liijii, ilyoii ilmiht 



"Sir," Biiiil tlie liii«l)iinil, " 't Ih imohI Iiih' ; 

I jiromiHi; yon, 
A more obeilii'til, kirnl, and gentle woimtii 
iJoeH not (txiHt/' 
" (iivo u» your (int," 
Suiil John, " uniJ, a« tlie euKe Ih Komelliing niore 
than common, 
Allow me to pieHcnt you with u l>ciwt 
Worth fifty guineaH at the very leant. 

"Tliere'H Hmihir, Bir, a heanty, yon miiHt own, 

Tlicre 'h Pi'ince, tliat haniisome bla(;t<, 
liiill the' pjniy marc, ami Halailin tlie roan, 
lieMiiles olil I^uiin ; 
Come, Bir, ehooHO one ; 
But take advice froi/i nie, 
Let I'rinee lie lie ; 
Why, Bir, you 'II look the hero on IiIb Ijiiek." 

I '11 take the black, and thank you too." 
" Nay, huBband, that will never do ; 
You know, you've ol'ten lieard ine Bay 
How much I long to liave a gray ; 
And this one will ex.u:tly do for me." 
" No, no," Baid he, 
" Friend, take the four others baek, 
And only leave tlie bla<;k." 
"Nay, huBljand, I declare 
I muMt have the gray mare ;" 
Adding (with gentle force), 
" The gray mare in, I 'm Bure, the better horae." 

" Well, if it must be m, — good Bir, 

'I'lie gray mare we prefer ; 
So we accept your gift." .John maxle a leg : 
"Allow me t« prcBcnt you with an egg ; 

'T i« my laBt egg remaining. 

The cJiUHe of my regaining, 
I truBt, the fond affection of my wife, 
Whom I will love the l*tt<:r all my life. 

" Home to content has her kind father brought 

me ; 
I thank him for the leoBon he hail taught me." 

AKOWVMOIJH. 



THK MILKMAID. 

A Mii.KMArD, who poised a full jiail on her head, 
ThuB niUHcl on her pro»[)ectB in life, it in Baid : 
"l>;t me Bee, — I Bhould think tliat thix milk 

will procure 
One hundred good eggs, or founcore, to be 8ur«. 



" Well then, Hlop a bit, — it must not be for- 
gotten, 

Home of theMc may be broken, and noiiie may be 
rotten ; 

Jiut if twenty for a':cideiit Bhoilld In: riirtaehed. 

It will leave me juBt sixty Bound egga to be 
hatcheil, 

" Well, sixty sound eggH, - no, Koiiiid chiekeiiH, 

1 mean : 
Of thcBesome may die, —we'll Hiippose seventeen, 
.Seventeen I not bo many, say ten at the moht, 
Which will leave fifty chickenH to lioil or l^j roast. 

" ISul then there 'h their barley : how mncli will 

they neeil I 
Why, they take but one grain at a lime when 

they feeil, — 
Ho that 'b a mere trifle ; now then, let iib hi'c, 
At a fair market price liow mudi money ibi^re 'II 

be. 

"Six shillings a pair — five - four- -tlnee-and- 

six. 
To prevent all miHtakcB, that low price I will fix ; 
Now whatwill'lliat make? fifty ehickitnH, I »aid, — 
Kilty tiincB lhi'ee-and-«ix|ience — I'll an/c Jlrother 

Ned. 

"<>, but stop, — three-and-sixpence a/zaiV ! must 

sell 'em ; 
Well, a pair i» a couple, — now then hrt us tell 

'em ; 
A couple in fifty will go (my poor brain I ) 
Why, just a score times, and five \mr will remain. 

"Twenty-five jiair of fowls — now how tiresome 

it is 
That I can't reckon up bo miicli money as this ! 
Well, there 'b no use in trying, ho let 's give a 

guesB, — 
I '11 say twenty [tounds, and it am'l be no lem. 

"Twenty jxiunds, I am w;rtain, will buy me a cow, 
Thirty geese, and two turkeys, — ciglit [ligs and 

a sow ; 
Now if these turn out well, at the end of the year, 
I sljall fill both my pockets with guineas, 'tis 

clear. " 

Forgetting her burden, when this Bhe liad Baid, 
The maid KUiHjreiliouBly t/jHwid nj> her heiwl ; 
When, alas for her prospects I her milk-|iail dc- 

«:ended. 
And so all her s'lhemes for the future were ended. 

This moral, I think, may be safely attache'l, — 
' ' Beckon not on your chickens Ijcfore they are 
hatche(L " 



958 



HUMOKOUS POEMS. 



WHERE AUE \0V CSOlNti, JIV rUETTY 
SI A ID? 

" WiiEKE mil you guinj;, my |iietty iiinul ?" 
" 1 am i;oing a-milkiiig, sir," sho said. 
" May 1 go wit)i yoii, my pvotty miiia / " 
"You 'iv kimlly wek-oinis sir," she said. 
" What is youi- lathiT, my luetty maid .'" 
" My I'atlier's a tiiiiuei', sir," slie said. 
" Wliat is your t'oitunc, my protty maid !" 
" My face is my t'ortuiio, sir," slu' said, 
"Then 1 won't marry you, my pivtty maid?" 
"Nobody asked you, sir," she stiid. 

ANO.NVMOl'S. 



TOHY TOSSPOT. 

Al..\s ! what pity 't is that ivguhirity, 

lake Isiuvo Sliove's, is sueli a rarity ! 
But tlu'if are swilling wights in lioudon town, 

Termetl jolly dogs, ehoiee spirits, alias swine, 
AVho pour, in midnight revel, bnmpei-s down. 

Making their throats a tiiorought'are tor wine. 

Thesesiieudtluifts.wholife'spleasui'esthusrtinon, 
Dozing with hoadaehes till tlio afternoon. 

Lose hall' men's regular estate of sun. 
By bori-owiug too lai-gely of the moon. 

One of this kidney — Toby Tosspot liiglit - 
■Was eoiuing from the Heilford late at night ; 
And K'ing liiicchi filmiis, full of wine. 
Although he had a tolerable notion 
Of aiming at progressive motion, 
'T was n't direct, — 't was serpentine. 
He worked with sinuosities, along. 
Like Monsieur Corkserew, worming tlirough a 

cork, 
Not straight, like Corkscrew's proxy, stiff Don 
Pvong, — a fork. 

At length, with near four bottles in his pate. 
He saw the moon sliining on Shove's bitiss plate, 
■When ivading, '• Tlease to ring the liell," 

.\nd being civil beyond measuix>, 
" King it ! " says Toby, — "very well ; 

1 '11 ring it with a deal of pleasure. " 
Toby, the kindest soul in all the town, 
Gave it a jerk that almost jerked it down. 

He waited full two minutes, — no one came ; 

He waited full two minutes more ; — and then 
Says Toby, " If he "s deaf, I 'm not to blame ; 

1 '11 pull it for the gentlennvn again." 

Hut the first peal \voko Isaac in a fright, 
AVho, quick as lightning, popping up his head, 
Sat on his head's antipodes, in bed. 

Tale as a parsnip, — Iwlt upright. 



At length he wisely to himself doth say, calming 

his teal's, — 
" Tush ! "t is siome fool has rung and run away ; " 
When peal the second rattled in his eai-s. 

Shove jumped into the middle of the lloor ; 
And, trenihling at each breath of air that 
stirred, 
He gropetl down stall's, and opened the street 
door, 
While Toby was performing peal the thiiil. 

Isaac eyed Toby, fearfully askant. 

And saw he was a strapper, stout and tall : 

Then put this ipiestion, " Tiiiy, sir, what d' yt 
want .' " 
Says Toby, " I want nothing, sir, at all. 

"Want nothing ! Sir, you 'vc p\illed my bell, I 
vow. 

As if you 'd jerk it olf the wire." 
Quoth Toby, gravely making hinj a bow, 

" I pulled it, sir, at your desire. " 

"At mine?" " Yes, yours ; I hope I've done- 
it well. 

High time for K'd, sir ; I was hastening to it ; 
But if you write up, ' I'lease to ring the Ih'U,' 

Common jioliteness nnikes me stop and do it, " 

GEOKOE COLMAN THE Vol'.NGEK. 



SU; MAKMAIHKE. 

Sill M.\r,M.vi>UKK was a hearty knight, — 

Good nuin ! old man ! 
He 's painted standing bolt upright, 

\Vitli his hose rolled over his knee ; 
His periwig's as white as chalk. 
And on his list he holds a liawk ; 

And he looks like the head 
Of an ancient family. 

His dining-room was long and wide, — 

t5ood man '. old man ! 
His spaniels lay by the fireside ; 

And in other parts, d" ye see, 
l^ross-bows, tolxicco-pipes, old hats, 
A saddle, his wife, and a litter of cats ; 

And he lookcil like the head 
Of tui ancient family. 

He never turneil the poor from the gate, — 

GihhI nnin ! old man ! 
But was always ready to break the pate 

Of his country's enemy. 



||l;Mi)lt()l),S IMiKMH, 



'.)r,<j 



Wliiit knl|{lil I'liiild ill) It lii'lli^r Uiliig 
Tlmii HiTvi' til"' |M)iir Mini IIkIiI. Ihi' lii» lili'K ' 
Ali'l »i> limy cvniy lii'inl 
Of lUi iiitiii'iil liiiiiily. 



Hi UAH i Hlr Y'lUr 



TIIK. I''1NK OI,l) KNdl.lHII <;KNTLKMAN.» 

[1 'iJ. hiiin yoii It umiii olil H»ii|{, 

Miuli'. by II Hmul iiM \mU', 
Of a liiii! iilil I'liixlinli Ki^iiUi'iiiiiii 

Willi liinl lUi oM I'HtiiU', 
AikI wlni k<'|it, ii|i IiIh iiIiI iiiiiiiHlnn 

At II iKiiiiitirul iilil mUt ; 

Willi II K'""l "I'l IH'lllT Ul IlililiVI! 

Till; old |iiiiir 111 liJH K'iU% 
l.iki' It liiH^ »M Kii^liitli ({iiiitli'iimii 
All <if lln^ i<lil.-ii tillll^ 

llin li;ill no <il<l wirt liilli;.; .'iikiiii'I 

Willi jiikih itinl K"i'» "ii'l l'"*«( 
Ami hh'ohIh, iiimI ({ikhI >iM liiii'kl<!l'«, 

'I'lllll lllnl KllJOll HHIIH' Uiugli iilil IiIdwh j 
"r wun llii:ri^ "llin wiirnliip " ln'M liix hIuId 

In ilmilili'l itml Iniiik Inw, 
Aii'l i|iiiiir<'>l llin >.'ii|i of ({oml olil Huiilc, 

'I'll wiiriii llin unmi oM now, 
l.iki^ Ft lini% •■Xi'. 

Wliin wintii's loM hroiiglil friml itiid mi'iw, 

III! i>|iirni'<l luiiiHii U) itll ; 
Ami lliiiu^ii liiri!<!iii'<iri! iiml l^-n liiit y»itri>, 

III! fi-iilly IimI llii! I»tll ; 
Nor wim llio lioiiwl'^nn w;ini|i;ii!r 

K'':f ilriviin I'loiii llin liiill ; 
For wliili! In: fi:ii«(/:<l nil lliis grunt, 

He iie'i:r fort<ol tliii Hrnitll ; 
l.iki-. It lin<% aU:, 

But time, llioii^li oM, in ntroiif; in tt'inid, 

Ami yiiiiH iiilli:>l nwiltly Ijy ; 
Aii'l AiitiiinirH fulling li'nv<« prwliiini"!'! 

'I'IiIm H'liui ol<l niiin ioiihI iIIi: ! 
(Ill lui'l liini ilown ri|{lil tiun<|iiilly, 

Oiivi; up lifi^'i) liiU^Ht Hlgli ; 
An'l niournfiil hIIIIik^kii r<rign<!<l uroumi, 

Ami t<air» Ix«1i:wimI wfrli (jyo, 
Kor tliiii Kooil, etc. 

Now Hiirely tliU U Jxjtter far 

'I'lian all tlii' ii'fW |mni<l<; 
Of tiK'iitiifii ami faiii;y lialU, 

"At huiiie" ami iiuiujueraiji: : 

• Modelled upon ail 'M ^Ajv.kUxut vm^, «JUiJ "Tlw Old ut4 
Y<Aiiiv Counter ' 



Ami iniii'li moi'ii i>i'onoiiilr(il, 
Km nil llin liilln wi'ii' |iiiiil. 

'I'lii'ii Iriivii youi' iirw viiKurli'D ijiiiln, 
Ami liikn ii|i lliii oM liiiili' 

or 11 llmi olil Kii|{li»li p;iMitl<:imiii, 

All of til" oIlllMl lillll!. 

Awmvun 



TIIK DIVKIITINfi IILSroKV OK 
OIIJ'IN, 



JOHN 



lalloWlHi^ now 1(1! WliH'l I'AKTIIHI* I llAn llli III lt;I(l>l(l^ 
UNO LAMII HACK IIOUU AliAIN. 

.lolIN OlM'IN WIIH It i:iti/.<!II 

Oil ii!illl ami ii:m/wii, 
A Iniinliaiiil i:»|ilitin i^ki; wim tin 
Of faniomi l.omloii town. 

.lolin Oiliiiii'Hiiiioiiitii Willi to liKr iliai 

"'I'linii^li wi'ililral wi- liavii IjBiin 
'I'liiiM! Iwii"! 1,1^1 ti'ilioim yciirK, yid wo 

No lioliility liitvi' w'i'n. 

" To iiiori'ow i;i our wi'i|ilin«iliiy, 

Ami wi: will llii'ii i'i-|iitir 
I'lilo llii! ItiOI 111 Kilnionlon 

All in a rliuiw umi jiiilr. 

" My Hlxl/i-r Itml my kIhUt'k nlilM, 

Myw'lf anil iliililnin tlirw, 
Will lill Umi ifliaiiin ; »<> you niiiut rldit 

On lioiixtljack afti:r w<;." 

Ill- noon ri-|)lii!il, " I ilo luliniri! 

Of woinanklnil but Oliu, 
Ami yon aii- «ln', my iliiarmit ilwir ; 

Tll<;ri:forii il Hliall 1)1! iloni!, 

" 1 iini a lin<rnilra|ii!r IjoM, 

As all tin: woilil iloUi know, 
Ami my gooil fri'-ii'l tli« calnnil'jr 

Will li;ml llin liorw; to go." 

Quoth M™. Ollpln, "Tliat'ii w«ll naiil ; 

Ami for tliitt win>! in 'Inar, 
Wi! will bi; furiiii«li>-<l witli our own, 

Wliicti iit Ixjtli Itrigiit u»<l i;l«iir." 

Julin Oilpin kiKw-<l liU loving wife ; 

O'lirjoyifil WHS In: Ui fiinl, 
'I'liat, tlioiigli on i>li:iisur<; slit: wtifl >x;nt, 

Hln; liH/1 il iriigaj niiml. 

'J'lii! tnoniiug caini;, tti« cluiiH': wiui brouglit. 

Hut yet wits not allowwl 
To liriVB up to tin: iloor, l<;»t all 

HImuU nay tlmt hIkj wan proud. 



*Jl?0 



m.MOKOlS rOKMS. 



So tlmH> iUx»rs off tli<> clitiis<> was stay<sl. 

Whorv tliov vUvi «11 jj't ill ; 
Six mwious souls, and all ajfog 

To lixsh through Utiok aiul tliiii. 

Suwck \v»Mit tht' whijv rouiul woiit thp whot'ls, 

Woiv iu-\Tjr folks svi jjlsd ; 
The stoni>s did ntttlo iiiidi-nii»*th. 

As if OliMjvsido wviv mad, 

Jolin Giliiin .tt his horst^'s sid« 

Soi5>si fast tho llowiiij; iiiitiiP, 
Aiui u|> ho gv>t, ill h:\sto to ride. 

But soon oanie down agaiu : 

For saddlo-ttw s>~arw roaohtnl had he, 

His jounioy to Ivjtiii, 
When, turiiiiij; rvnind his ht>ad, ho s*vr 

Thrw oustoiuors i\imo in. 

So down he oaine ; for loss of time, 

Altho«sli it griewvl him simv. 
Yet Uvss v>f jxMioe, full »i>ll he knew. 

Would trouble him tnuoh more. 

T was Kmy Wfore tlie oustximers 

Wer«> suite»l to their mind. 
When IV'lty setvamiivij oame dowu stitirs, 

" The wine is left behind ! " 

■•' Oovvi lack ! " quoth he, " yet bring it me. 

My leiithern belt likewis<>, 
lu which 1 Kw my trusty swvmi 

When 1 vlo exerv-is*'." 

Nv«v Mistress Oil)un (earefkil soul !) 

Had t»\^ stone Kittles found. 
To hold the liijuor that slie loTed. 

Ami keep it safe aiui sound. 

Kaeh Ivttle had a eurlinj; ear, 
rhr\>uj;h whioli the Uvlt he dtvw, 

And liuug a Kittle on eaoh side. 
To make his K>Uauee true. 

Thetj over all, that he might Iw 

Kquipfievl from top to t<x\ 
His long tini chvik, well Imishe^i and nc«^ 

He manfully did throw. 

Now see him n»ountt>l onot" again 

I'jxw his uimMe steoii, 
F»ill slowly pacing vi'er the stomas. 

With caulivui and gvxxi het\l. 

But finding soon a smoother ivvkd 

Bemvath his well-sluid fi-et. 
The snorting KNHst l>^?ui to tJV>t, 

Which galled him iu^s seat. 



" S<\ fair and softly," .lolin he orie«l. 

But .lohii he crit\l in vain ; 
That trot Ixvanie a gallop sikui, 

In spite of curb and reiii. 

So stxHipiug down, as ikhhIs he must 

Who caiinoi sit upright. 
He grasiHvl the mane with Kith his hands. 

And eke with jUl his might. 

His lioi'se, who never in that sort 

Had handled Kvn lvfor\>. 
What thing ninm his Kick had got 

Did WMnder mote and more. 

Aw;<y went t^ilpin, n<vk or naught; 

.\W!«y went hat .•uid wig : 
He little drxvunt, when he st-t out. 

Of rnnning such a rig. 

The wind did blow, the cloak did tly. 

Like stn>anier long and gay, 
Till. IvHip and button failing Kith, 

At Last it Hew awjiy. 

Then might all jxHiple well discern 

The Ivttles he had slung ; 
A Ivttle swinging at each side. 

As hath Khui said or sung. 

The dogs did Kark, the children son>amed, 

I'p llew the windows .all ; 
And e\-ery s>>ul criisl out. " Well done ! " 

As loud .-ts he could Kiwi. 

Away went l^ilpin, — who but he • 

His fame svxm sprwul around, 
" He carries w»<ight ; he ridivs a race ! 

"T is for a thousand )xiund ! *' 

And still as fast as he dr<>w nt\ir, 

"T W!«s WMiiderful to view. 
How in a triiv the turnpike men 

Their gat<is wide ojx-n threw. 

And now. as he went Kiwing down 

His rvx>king head full low. 
The Kittles twain K-hind his hack 

Were shatterexl at a blow. 

IX>wn ran the wine into the road, 

M>ist pitovius to W seen. 
Which made his horse's tliuiks to smok* 

As they had Kasttxl Kx'n. 

But still he stvmed to carry weight. 

With leathern girxlle bra»~<ixl ; 
For all might s»x' the Kittle necks 

Still dangling at his waist. 



IIDMUKOU.S rOKMS. 



961 



TliiiH nil Ihrough nii^rry Iiiliiifftoii 

Tiii'm: ({iiinliiiU ill'l ]\r jiliiy, 
UliUI liu caiiii; iiiilci Uic; Wiutli 

0( Kdmuiitdii Hu guy ; 

Ami Ihci'i) hii Uiiiiw Dif wimli ulwut 

On liotli HJili^H III Uii^ wuy, 
JiiHl likn until 11 lriin<llin){ niii]i, 
Or u wiM ^KOhi' III play. 

Al Kilniiintiin IiIh loving wifu 

l''i(ini till', liiili'iiny npiiiil 
lli'i tcniliT liiinliiinil, wiinilciiing niiirli 

'I'd «(■<) Ihiw Iii^ iliil licli'. 

"Slop, Hliip, .lulin (Jiliiin ! — Hi-ah'h llin Iioiim!," 

'riii:y all III oni'i: iliil r.ry ; 
"TIk! (linni:r wiiilH, imd m; iiii! lin'il." 

Siiid (;ilpin, "Sii uni 1 ! " 

liut yet IiiH IiorHo wiw not a wlilt 

Iiiclinod to tarry tln-ir ; 
For why ? — liis ownir Ijini a Iiouho 

Full ten niilcrt oil', al Warn. 

So like an arrow Hwift lie How, 

8bot hy ati aruliur Htrong ; 
So did he fly — which brings mo to 

The middle of my Hoiig. 

Away went (Jilpin out of breath, 

And Kori! agaiiiHt hiH will, 
Till at hiH f'riond the I'alendcr'ii 

11 in horw: at hiHt Htood xtill. 

The cali-iidijr, ama/,i;d to nan 

IIIh ni;ij;hlj<)r in Huch trim. 
Laid liown bin pipe, Hew to the gate, 

And thuH uccoHtcd him : 

" What ni'WH 7 what newH ? your tidingH tell ; 

Tell nil! yon niiiHt and hIiuII, — 
Say why buri'beaiii;d you arc come, 

(Jr why you come ut all ?" 

Now Oilpin bad a pleaxant wit, 

Anil loved ii timely joke ; 
And thuH unto the calender 

I n merry guikc he Hixike : 

" I came liecauxe your liorw would come ; 

And, if I well forebode, 
My hat and wig will Hoon be here, 

They are upon the road." 

Tlie calender, right glad to find 

HiH friend in merry pin, 
Itetunied him not a ningle word. 

Hut to the houjte went in ; 



Whuneii Htraight he cuniii with hat and wig ; 

A wig tbat llowed Iji'liind, 
A hat not much the wonie lor wear, 
Kuuh comely in il.H kind. 

III! held tlicni lip, iind in lii:< turn 

TIniH hIiowciI bill ready wit, 
"My bead irt twice an big iiH yiiiirn, 

Tlicy therefore lieeilH liiuitt lit. 

" liiil let ine Hcrapi! Ibc dirt away 

Tbiit liaiign iipmi your lace ; 
And hlop and eiit, fur well you may 

lie in a liiiiigry citHC." 

Haid .lobn, " It in my wedding-dfty. 

And all the world would ntare, 
li wife hIiouIiI dine at I'idnionton, 

And I nbould dine al Ware." 

Ho turning to IiIh borne, he Huid, 

" I am in biiHte to dine ; 
'T wa» for your pleiuiiire you came here. 

You hIiuII go buck for mine." 

Ah, luekleHH npeecb, and IiooIIckh boaat.' 

Kor wbicli be ])aiil full dear ; 
l''or, while be Kpake, a braying uhh 

I>id Hing moHt loud and clear ; 

Whereat bia borne did Hiiort, an be 

Mad beani a lion roar, 
And galloped oil' with all bin might, 

Ah be bad done before. 

Away went (lilpin, and away 

Went (iilpin'a hat and wig : 
lie loHt Iheni Booner than at (irHt, 

Kor why 'I-- they were loo big. 

Now MiHlrcHH fJil)iin, when ahe Haw 

Mer buHband pouting down 
Into Ibe country far away, 

Klie jiulled out half a crown ; 

And UiuH unto the youth Hhe mill, 

'i'bat drove them to the liell, 
"ThiH »ball be yoiira when you bring bock 

My hujifand iiafe and well." 

'I'lie youth did ride, and wion did m'jct 

.lobn coining Iwjk amain ; 
Whom in a trice lie tried to Htop 

liy catching at IiIh rein ; 

lint not fxirforming what he meant. 

And gliully would have done. 
Tin; frighted Bteed he frigbt<;d more. 

And niaile him fanU'r run. 



iHiJ 



HVMOUOVS I'OE.MS. 



Awsy went Gilniii, ami uwny 

Went iK>stboy nt his lu-i'ls, 
Tho iKwlKn's horsu right ghul to miss 

The luiuboriug of tho wiiools. 

Six jtoiitlomcu ujHni tho ruii.l, 

Thus sooiiij; tlilpiu lly, 
With iH>stl>oy sotuniH-riiis; in the rear, 

Thoy Riisod tho huo and ory : — 

"Stop thief ! stop tliief ! — a highwayman ! " 

Not ono of thorn was nuito ; 
And iUl and oaoh that (vissod that way 

Did join in tho pursnit. 

And now tlio tnrnpiko-gsxtos agsiin 

Flow opon in short sivioo ; 
Tho toU-inon thinking, as bofore, 

That (.Jilpiu roilo a race. 

And so ho did, and won it too, 

For ho got lii-st to towit ; 
Kor stoppod till whoiv ho had got up 

Ho did ag:»in got down. 

Now lot us sing, " I>ong livo tho king. 

And Oilpiii, long livo ho ; 
And when ho noxt doth riklo abixwd, 

Atay I K' thon> to soo ! " 

William cowi'Isr. 



THE GOITY MEKCHAXT AND THE 
STRANG EIJ. 

In Br<.>;id Stivot building (on a winter night), 

Snug by his jvirlor-lm-, a gouty w ight 

Sat all alone, with ono hand rubbing 

His foot, rolled up in tloooy hoso : 

With t" other ho d beneath his nose 

Tho Tublio LedgiM'. in whoso oolunius grubbing, 

Ho noted all tiio sales of hoj>s, 

Shijw, shojvs, and slops ; 
tluui, g;>lls, and gt )oorios ; gingi'r, gin. 
Tar, tallow, turniorio, turpentine, and tin ; 
M'hon lo I a decent jwrsonagi' in black 
Entoivd and most politely s;iid, — 

" Your footman, sir, has gvmo his nightly 
tr;>ek 

To tlie King's Head, 
And left your door !\jar ; which I 
Olvscrved in {vissing by. 

Ami thought it noighliorly to give you notice," 

" Ton thoHs;ind thanks ; how very few get. 
In time of d.^ng»'r. 

Such kind attentions from a str;uiger ! 
Assuredly, that fellow's throjit is 
Doomed to a final divp at Newgate : 



Ho knows, too, (tho uncousciouahle elf !) 
That there's no soul at honu' except myself." 

" Indeed," ivplied the stiiingi>r (looking gr:>vo)» 

" Thou ho s a double kuavo ; 
He knows that ivguos and thieves by scores 
Nightly besot nngnatiled doore : 
And sec. how easily might ono 

Of these domestic foes. 

Even lH>neatli your very nose, 
rorform his knavish tricks : 
Enter your room, as 1 have done, 
lUow out your candles — thus - - and thus — 
Pocket your silver oandloslicks. 

And — walk olV — thus " — 
So Siiid, so done ; ho made no nioiv rvnuuk 

Nor waited for ivplies, 

Uut marehoil oil with his prize, 
Leaviug the gunty meivhant in tho dark. 

Horace smith. 



OKATOK rUFF. 

Mr. OiiATOK PrFF had two tones in his voice. 

The ono squeaking thii.% and the other down .w;- 
In each sentence ho uttoivd he g.ivo you your 
choice. 
For one half was H alt, and the ivst l^ below, 
! ! Onitor I'utV, 
One voice for an orator 's surv>ly enough. 

But he still tnlked away, spite of coughs and of 
fiMWns, 
So distnu'ting all oars with his uiw and his 
downs. 
That a wag ouoo, on hearing the onitor say, 
" My voice is for war ! " asked, " Which of 
them, pray ? " 
! ! Orator l^lll■, eto. 

Reeling homewivrds ono evening, top-heavy with 
sin. 
And rt>heai-sing his speech on the weight of 
the oivwn. 
He tripled near a saw-pit. and tuinhled right in, 
"Sinking fund " tho last woi\ls as his noddle 
oamo down. 
! ! Orator rutV, etc. 

"Good I.orvl '" ho exclaimed, in his hc-and-.she 
tones, 
" Help me oit ! Help nu out ! I have bixikon 
my bones ! " 
" Help you out ? " said a Paddy who iwssed, 
" what a iKither ! 
Why, thetv's two of you there — can't you heli>. 
ono aiuithor J " 
! ! Oi-ator PuB", 
One voice for an orator 's surely enough. 

TMOUAS MOv^Kl;. 



HUMOKUUS rOEMS. 



m:i 



MORNING MEDITATIONS. 

Let Taylor preach, vipoti n inoriiiiiH breezy, 
How well to rise while niglitHuiKlhirkHiuullyiiig, — 
For my pari, getting iip seems not so easy 
Hy half us hjinij. 

What if tho lark docs eaiol in the sky. 
Soaring beyond tlie sight to lind liim out,— 
Wherefore am I to rise at sueh a lly ? 
I 'm not a trout. 

'I'lilk not to mo of bees and sui^h-like liums, 
Tho smell of sweet lierhs at the inorning prime,— 
Only lie long enough, and bed becomes 
A bed of time. 

To me Dan I'litcbus and his ear are naught. 
His steeds tliat paw impatiently about, — 
l,et them enjoy, say I, as horses ought, 
The first turn-out ! 

Uight beautiful the dewy meads appear 
liesprinkled by the rosy-fingenid girl ; 
Wliat then, — if I prefi^r my pillow-beer 
To early pearl f 

My stomach is not ruled by other men's. 
And, grumbling for a reason, quaintly begs 
Wherefore sliould master rise before the hens 
Have laid their eggs 1 

Why from a comfortable pillow start 
To see faint flushes in the <'ast awaken ? 
A fig, say 1, for any streaky part. 
Excepting bacon. 

An early riser Mr. Gray has drawn, 
Who used to haste the dewy grass among, 
"To meet the sun u[ion the \ipland lawn," — 
Well, — he died young. 

With charwomen sueh early hours agree. 
And sweeps that earn betimes their bit and sup ; 
liut 1 'm no climbing boy, and need not be 
All up, — all up 1 

So here 1 lie, my morning calls deferring. 

Till something nearer to tlie stroke of noon ; — 

A man that '» fond precociously of stirrinij 

Must be a spoon. 

Thomas hood. 



FAITHLE.9S SALLY BIIOWN. 

YouNO Ben he was a nice young man, 

A carj)eriter by trade ; 
And he fell in love with Sally Brown, 

That was a lady's maid. 



But as they fctchi'd a walk one day, 

They met a press-gang crew ; 
Anil Sally she did faint awuy, 

Whilst lien he was brought to. 

Tho boatswain swore with wii:kiil words 

ICnough to sh(i(!k a saint, 
That, though she did seem in a lit, 

'T was nothing but a feint. 

"Come, girl," said he, "hold up your head, 

]|(^ 'II be as good as nn; ; 
For when your swain is in our bout 

A boatswain Ik^ will lie." 

So when tliey 'd made their game of her, 

And laki-n olf her elf. 
She roused, and fouml she only was 

A I'oming to herself. 

" And is he gone, and is he gone ?" 

Sln! cried and wept outright ; 
"Thctn I will to th(! water-side. 

And see him out of sight." 

A waterman canu) uji to her ; 

" Now, young woman," said Tie, 
" If you weep on so, you will inako 

Eye-water in the sea." 

" Alas ! they've taken my beau, Ben, 

To sail with old Benbow ;" 
And her woe began to run afresh. 

As if she 'd said. Gee woe ! 

Says he, " They 've only taken him 

To I he tender-ship, you see." 
" The tender-ship," cried Sally lirown, — 

"What a hard-ship t)i;it must be !" 

" 0, would I were a mei-maid now. 

For then I 'd follow him ! 
But 0, I 'm not a fish-woman. 

And so I cannot swim. 

" Alas ! I was not bom beneath 

The Virgin and the Scales, 
So I must mm: my cruel stars, 

And walk about in Wales." 

Now Ben had sailed to many a place 

That 's underneath the world ; 
But in two years the slii)) came home. 

And all her sails were furled. 

But when he called on Sally Browii, 

To sie how she got on, 
He found she'd got another Ben, 

Whose Chriatian-name was John. 



964 



HUMOROUS POEMS. 



" Sally Brown ! Sally Biowu ! 

How ooulil you serve me so ? 
I 've met with many a breeze before, 

But never such a blow ! " 

Then, reading on his 'bacco box, 

He heaved a heavy sigh, 
And then began to eye his pipe. 

And then to pipe his eye. 

Anil then he tried to sing, " All 's Well ! " 
But could not, tliougli he tried ; 

His head was turned, — and so he chewed 
His pigtail till he died. 

His death, which happened in Ins berth. 

At forty-odd befe.l ; 

They went and told the sexton, and 

The sexton tolled the bell. 

ThoMj\s Hood. 



FAITHLESS NELLY GRAY. 

A PATHETIC BALLAD. 

Ben Battle was a soldier bold. 

And used to war's alarms ; 
But a cannon-ball took otl" his legs, 

So he laid down his arms. 

Now as they bore him off the field, 
Said he, " Let othei-s shoot ; 

For here I leave my second leg, 
And the Forty-second Foot." 

The army-surgeons made him limbs : 
Said he, " They 're only pegs ; 

But there 's as wooden members iiuite. 
As represent my legs." 

Now Ben he loved a pretty maid, — 
Her name was Nelly Gray ; 

So he went to pay her his dcvoms, 
When he devoured his pay. 

But when he called on Nelly Gray, 
She made him quite a scoff ; 

And when she saw his wooden legs, 
Began to take thcin off. 

"0 Nelly Gray ! Nelly Gray ! 

Is this your love so warm ? 
The love that loves a scarlet coat 

Should be more uniform." 

Said she, *' I loved a soldier once. 
For he was blithe and brave ; 

But I will never have a man 
With both legs in the grave. 



" Before you had those timber toes 

Your love I did allow ; 
But then, you know, you stand upon 

Another footing now." 

" Nelly Gray ! Nelly Gray ! 

For all your jeering speeches, 
At duty's call 1 left my legs 

In Badajos's breaches." 

" Why, then," said she, " you 've lost the feet 

Of legs in war's alanns. 
And now you cannot wear your shoes 

Upon your feats of arms ! " 

" folse and fickle Nelly Gray ! 

I know wliy you refuse : 
Though I 've no feet, some other man 

Is standing in my shoes. 

" I wish I ne'er had seen your face ; 

But, now, a long farewell ! 
For you will be my death ; — alas ! 

You will not be my Nell ! " 

Now when he went from Nelly Gray 

His heart so heavy got, 
And life was such a burden grown, 

It made him take a knot. 

So round his melancholy neck 

A rope he did intwine. 
And, for his second time in life, 

Enlisted in the Line. 

One end he tied around a beam, 

And then removed his pegs ; 
And, as his legs were off, — of course 

He soon was off his legs. 

And there he hung till he w.as dead 

As any nail in town ; 
For, though distress had cut him up. 

It could not cut him down. 

A dozen men sat on his corpse. 
To find out why he died, — 
And thev buried Ben in four cross-roads. 



AVith a stake in his inside. 



Thomas Hood. 



I AM A FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY. 

FROM THE OPERA OF " ROBIN HOOD." 

I AM a friar of orders gray, 
And down in the valleys I take my way ; 
I pull not blackberry, haw, or hip, — 
Good store of venison fills my scrip ; 



HUMOROUS POEMS. 



9G[ 



My long bead-roll I merrily chant ; 

Where'er I walk no money I want ; 

And why I 'm so plump the reason I tell, — 

Who leads a good life is sure to live well. 
What baron or squire, 
Or knight of the shire, 
Lives half so well as a holy friar ? 

After supper of heaven I dream. 
But that is a pullet and clouted cream ; 
Myself, by denial, I mortify — 
With a dainty bit of a warden-pie ; 
I 'm clothed in sackcloth for my sin, — 
With old sack wine 1 'm lined within ; 
A chirping cup is my matin song. 
And the vesper's bell is my bowl, ding dong. 
What baron or squire. 
Or knight of the shire. 
Lives half so well as a lioly friar ? 

John o'KEEFii. 



THE JACKDAAV OF RHEIMS. 

The Jackdaw sat on the Cardinal's chair ! 
Bishop and abbot and prior were there ; 

Many a monk, and many a friar. 
Many a knight, and many a squire, 
With a great many more of lesser degree, — 
In sooth, a goodly company ; 
And they served the Lord Primate on bended 
knee. 
Never, I ween, 
Was a prouder seen. 
Read of in books, or dreamt of in dtuams. 
Than the Cardinal Lord Archbishop of Rheims ! 
In and out. 

Through the motley rout, 
That little Jackdaw kept hopping about : 
Here and there. 
Like a dog in a fair. 
Over comfits and cate.s, 
And dishes and plates, 
Cowl and cope, and rochet and [lall. 
Mitre and crosier, he hopped upon alL 
With a saucy air, 
He perched on the chair 
Where, in state, the great Lord Cardinal sat, 
In the great Lord Cardinal's great red hat ; 
And he peered in tlie face 
Of his Lordship's Grace, 
With a satisfied look, as if he would say, 
" Wb two are the greatest folks here to-day ! " 
And the priests, with awe. 
As such freaks they saw. 
Said, "The Devil must be in that little Jack 
daw !" 



The feast was oven', tlii" board was cleared. 
The flawns and the custards had all disappeared, 
And six little Singiiig-boy-s, — dear little souls 
In nice clean face's, and nice while stoles, — 

Came, in order due, 

Two by two. 
Marching tliat grand refectory through I 
A nice little boy held a golden ewer, 
Embossc;d and filled with water, as pure 
As any that fiows between Rheims and Namur. 
Which a nice little boy stood ready to catch 
In a line golden hand-basin made to match. 
Two nice little boys, rather more grown. 
Carried lavender-water and eau-de-Cologne ; 
And a nice little boy had a nice cake of soap, 
Worthy of washing the hands of the Pope ! 

One little boy more 

A napkin bore. 
Of the best white diaper, fringed with pink. 
And a cardinal's hat marked in "permanent 
ink." 

The great Lord Cardinal turns at the sight 
Of these nice little lioys <lres3ed all in white ; 

From his finger l-o draws 

His costly tunpioise : 
And, not thinking at all about little Jackdaws, 

Deposits it straight 

By the side of his plate. 
While the nice little boys on his Eminence wait : 
Till, when nobody 's dreaming of any such thing. 
That little Jackdaw hops off with the ring ! 

There 's a cry and a shout. 

And a deuce of a rout, 
And nobody seems to know what they 're about. 
But the monks have their pockets all turned in- 
side out ; 

The friars are kneeling, 

And hunting and feeling 
The carpet, the floor, and the walls, and the ceiling. 

The Cardinal drew 

Off each plum-colored shoe. 
And left his red .stockings exposed to the view ; 

He peeps, and he feels 

In the toes and the heels. 
They tuni up the dishes, — they turn up the 

plates, — 
They take up the poker and poke out the grates, 

— They turn up the rugs, 

They examine the mugs ; 

But, no ! — no such thing, — 

They can't find the ring ! 
And the Abbot declared that "when nobody- 
twigged it, 
Some rascal or other had popped in and prigged 
it!" 



OCG 



HUMOROUS POEMS. 



The Cai-dinal rose with a dignified look, 
He called tor his caiuUc, his boll, and his book ! 
In holy anger and jiious grief 
He solemnly cursed that rascally tliicf ! 
He cui-sed him at board, he eui-scd him in bed ; 
yrom the sole of his foot to the crown of his 

head ; 
He ciu-sed him iu sleeping, that every night 
He should dream of the Devil, and wake in a 

fright. 
He cursed him in eating, he cursed him in 

drinking. 
He cursed him iu cougliing, in sneezing, in 

winking ; 
He cursed him iu sitting, iu standing, in lying ; 
He cursed liira in walking, in riding, in tlying ; 
He cursed him living, he cursed him dying ! — 
Never was heard such a terrible euree ! 
But what gave rise 
To no little surprise, 
Nobody seemed one penny the worse ! 

The day was gone, 
The night came on. 
The monks and the friars they searched till dawn ; 
^Vhen the sacristan saw, 
On crumpled claw. 
Come limping a poor little lame Jackdaw ! 
No longer gay, 
As on yesterday ; 
His feathers all secmeil to be turned the wrong 

way : — 
His pinions drooped, —he could hardly stand, — 
His head was ;\s bald as the palm of your hand ; 
His eye so dim. 
So wasted each limb. 
That, heedless of grammar, they all cried, 

"That 's him ! — 
That 's the scamp that has done this scandalous 

thing, 
That 's the thief that has got my Lord Cardinal's 
Ring ! " 
■ The poor little Jackdaw, 
AVhen the monks he saw. 
Feebly gave vent to the ghost of a caw ; 
Anil turned his bald head as much as to say, 
" Pray be so good as to walk this way ! " 
Slower and slower 
He limped on liefore, 
Till they came to the back of tlie belfry -door, 
Wheix" the fii-st thing they saw. 
Midst the sticks and the straw, 
AVas the king, iu the nest of that little Jackilaw I 

Then the great Lord Cardinal called for his book. 
And olftliat terrible cui'se he took : 

The mute expi-ession 

Served in lieu of confession. 



And, being thus coupled with full restitution, 
The Jackdaw got plenary absolution I 

— When those words wore heard, 
Tliat poor little bird 
Was so changed in a moment, 't was really ab- 
suiil : 
He grew sleek and fat ; 
In addition to that, 
A fresh crop of feathers came tliick as a mat I 
His tail waggled more 
Even tliau before ; 
But no longer it wagged with an impudent air. 
No longer he perched on the Cardinal's chair : 
lie liopjied now about 
With a g.iit devout ; 
At Matins, at Vespers, he never was out ; 
And, so far from any more pilfering deeds. 
He always seemed telling the Confessor's beads. 
If any one lied, or if any one swore, 
Or slumbered in prayer-time and happened to 
snore. 
That good Jackdaw 
Would give a great " Caw ! " 
As much as to say, " Don't do so any more ! " 
While many remarked, as his manners they saw, 
That they "never had known such a pious Jack- 
daw ! " 
He long lived the pride 
Of that country side. 
And at last in tlie oiior of sanctity died ; 
Wlien, as words were too faint 
His merits to paint. 
The Conclave determined to make him a Ssiint. 
And on newly made Saints and Popes, as you 

know, 
It 's the custont of Rome new names to bestow, 
So they canonized him by the name of Jem Crow ! 
Richard Harris Barham 



MISADVENTURES AT MARGATE. 

Mli. SlMPKINSON (?OJI(l<Ur). 

I WAS in Margate last July, I walked upon the 
pier, 

I saw a little vulgar Boy, — I said, " W liat make 
you here .' 

The gloom upon your youthful cheek speaks any- 
thing but joy ; " 

Again I said, " Wliat make you here, you little 
vulgar Boy > " 

He frowned, that little vulgar Boy, — he deemed 

I meant to scoff, — 
And when the little heart is big, a little " sets 

it o!V." 



HUMOROUS POEMS. 



967 



lie put his finger in liis moutli, liis little hoaoiii 

rose, — 
He had no little handkerchief to wipe his little 

nose ! 

" Hark ! don't you hear, my little man ? — it 's 

striking Nine," I said, 
" An hour when all good little boys and girls 

should be in In'd. 
Kuu home and get your supper, else your Ma 

will scold, — fie ! 
It's very wrong indeed for little boys to stand 

and cry ! " 



I took liini home to Number 2, the house beside 

"The Foy," 
I bade him wipe his dirty shoes, — that little 

vulgar Hoy, — 
And then I said to Mistress Jones, the kindest of 

her sex, 
" Pray be so good as go and fetch a pint of 

double X I " 

But Mrs. Jones was rather cross, she made a little 
noise, 

She said she " did not like to wait on little vul- 
gar Boys." 

.She with her apron wiped the plates, and, as she 
rubbed the delf. 

Said I might "go to Jericho, and fetch my beer 
myself ! " 



Tlie tear-drop in his little eye again began to 

spring. 
His bosom throbbed with agony, — he cried like 

anything ! 

I stooiied, and thus amidst his sobs I heard him i , ,. , . ^ , ■ , , ,, ^. , , 

,, ,, , 1 did not go to Jericho, — I went to Mr. Cobb, — 



murmur, — " Ah ! 
1 have n't got no supper ! and I have n't got no 
Ma! 

"My father, he is on the seas, — my mother's 

dead and gone ! 
And I am here, on this here pier, to roam the 

world alone ; 
1 have not had, this livelong day, one <lroiJ to 

che(T my heart. 
Nor ' brown ' to buy a bit of bread with, — let 

alone a tart. 

" If there 's a soul will give inc food, or find me 
in employ. 

By day or night, then blow me tight ! " (he was 
a vulgar Boy ;) 

" And now 1 'm here, from this here pier it is my 
fixed intent 

To jump as Mister Levi did from off the Monu- 
ment ! " 

"Cheer up! cheer up! my little man, — cheer 

up ! " I kindly said, 
"You are a naughty boy to take such things 

into your head ; 
If you should jump from off the pier, you'd .surely 

break your legs. 
Perhaps your neck, — then Bogey 'd have you, 

sure as eggs are eggs ! 

" Come home with me, my little man, come home 

with me and sup ! 
My landlady is Mrs. Jones, — we must not keep 

her up, — 
There 's roast potatoes at the fire, — enough for 

me and you, — 
Come home, you little vulgar Boy, — I lodge at 

Number 2." 



I changed a shilling (which in town the people 

call a Bob), — 
It was not so much for myself aa for that vulgar 

child, — 
And I said, " A pint of double X, and please to 

draw it mild ! " 

When I came back I gazed about, — I gazed on 

stool and chair, — 
1 could not see my little friend, because he was 

not there ! 
I peeped beneath the table-cloth, beneath the 

sofa, too, — 
I said, "You little vulgar Boy! why, what's 

become of you ! " 

I could not see my table-spoons. — I looked, but 

could not see 
The little fiddle-patterned ones I use when 1 'm 

at tea ; 
I could not see my sugar-tongs, my silver watch, 

— 0, dear ! 
I know 't was on the mantel-piece when I went 

out for beer. 

I could not see my Macintosh, — it wa.s not to 

be seen ! 
Nor yet my best white beaver hat, broad-brimmed 

and lined with green ; 
My carpet-bag, — my cniet-stand, that holds my 

sauce and soy, — 
My roast potatoes ! — all are gone ! — and so 's 

that vulgar Boy ! 

I rang the bell for Mrs. Jones, for she was down 

below, 
" Mi-s. Jones, what rfo you think ? — ain t this 

a pretty go ? 



9«>a 



HVMOKOrS l-OKMS, 



Th*t bwHU Uttlo T«l|p«r lV«f whom I Uvug^t 

h*w touij;ht 
H« ■» »U.J#u luy things »aJ vuu »»i«^v ; " Saj-s 

she, •■ Aud saiT* y«« vijht ! " 

Stat juv<ruin^ I w»s uj> b«lim«<is — I swut tJ»* 

AU with his Ml auvl jp>lvi-l«v'xxi hat. to say 1 W 

j;iv» a jH>uui.l 
Ti> fiud that littl* vuljjur lx»y. who \l ^vw* auvl 

us<\l lue s<,> ; 
But wU^'U th* ^>ii?r cri^vi. "• Yes : " th* i*oiJ<f 

criwi. "ON*!" 

I w»ut tt> "Jarvis" lA^u^iuJ^^>^a<.v.'' th* jt^'^y ^'^ 

th<« tv»wu. 
!%«(« was a ovxuuuou sailorauau a walking up 

aud vtowu, 
1 K4d my taW, - - he seeu»<\l tv> Ihiuk I M uot 

h«-u tivatwl w<»n, 
A»l talluvl lue " IV* old I5utl'*r .' " — what that 

uieaus I oauuot t*Il. 

Tlutt i^lor-niau. h« saivi h« 'd $e«u that nioruiug 

vw the show 
A wu of - souiethiug— "t was a naiue I 'd u«v»r 

h«»r\l Nffoiv, — 
A littl» •■ jp«Hows>UK>kins ohais" — vlear lue, 

what cvuld he m««u • — 
With a "lurivt-swah" and " muekiu^tojrs," 

aud a hat tum«d up with gtwu. 

H* sjioke aKnvt his "preoivnis evtis," ami said 

he "d seeu him " she^r." — 
It 's T«ry odd that SaUor-meu should talk so vwry 

queer; 
And then he hiteheil his tro»\s*rs uj>, as is. I "m 

tv>ld. their us*', — 
It 's T«ry vxtd that ^ailoraueu should w«*r those 

thills so Uvse. 

1 did uot uavierstaud him w*ll. hut think h» 

meant to say 
H»'d se»u that little vulgar Boy. that morning, 

swim away 
la Captain Lai-ge's Koyal Oeorge. aK>ut an hour 

hetore. 
And they were now, as he suptxxse^l. "soiu»- 

ifArfr»s" aKnit the Noiw. 

A landsman said. " 1 tteig the eha^x. he s heen 

u{x»n the Mill. — 
And \i««se he vA»»e«i"t* so the.<i«t$. v» o»lls him 

Veei>ing VSU ' " 
He saivl " he "d done me wvrry h»v>wn, and niwly 

s^oKifn" the SKXiy." — 
That "s French. 1 tkncy, <or a hat. or else a car- 

l<et-b«(j. 



I went and tv>ld the ixutstahle luy (xrojierty to 

traok ; 
lie aske^l nte if "1 did uot wish that 1 might j^t 

it hack," 
1 «nswere\l, " To Iv suw I do ! — it 's what 1 "w 

ivme aK<ut." 
He smile<.l and said, " Sir. does your mother know 

that you are out ? " 

Not knowing what to do, 1 thought 1 "d hasten 

hack to towu. 
And l>eg our vwn Lorvl Mayor to eatch the K<y 

who 'd '• done me brown," 
His Lorvlship very kindly said he "d try and find 

him v>ut. 
But he " rather thought that there wens seveiul 

vulgar K>ys about." 

He sent fv>r Mr. WKithair then, and I desfribeil 

" the swiig," 
My MaciutKVsh. my sxigar«tv<ngs, my spoons, and 

oavivt-bag ; 
He |wvnuiswl that the New Foliv-e should al? 

their jvwers employ. 
But never to this hour have 1 beheld that Tulga- 

Bov! 



Kemember, then, that when a hoy I 've heaivl m.' 
Orauvlma tell. 

" Bk WAK.N»a» tS riMK »Y OTMISRS" HAKM, ASl 
\OV SttAU. IV Kfll WKLl 1 " 

IVm't link yourself wiih vulgar folks, who V' 

^>t no tixevl aKxle, 
Tell lies, use uaughty wvxrvls, and say they "wis) 

they may be bloweil ! " 

Pou't take to<» mvieh of doable X ! — and dou^ 

at night go out 
To fcteh your beer yourself. Kit make the pot 

K\v bring your stout ! 
And when you go to Margate next, just stop 

and ring the bell. 
Oive my resi<e\-ts to Mrs. Jones, and say 1 'n 

ivtetty well ! 



THK YARS OF THE 'SASCY BKUL." 

FItOM '*TH« fc\» &AVLACIS.* 

T WAS on the sh^>res that rvmnd oar ivast 
From IV«1 to Kams^te span. 

That 1 f>.>uud alone, on a {xiece of stoaew 
An elderlv uavad man. 



IlUMOKOtJS I'OKMS. 



969 



IliM huir wiw wowly, hu beard wux long, 

Ami wrAy awl long wiw liu ; 
And I huii'd tliiH wif^'lit oil tlio Htioru recite, 

In u Hiiigular minor kuy : — 

" <>, I am a cook and a captain bold, 
And tliB ni.iti! of tlm Nuni;y brig. 

Ami II Ijo'kuh tiglil, and a niidnliipmito, 
And tlic crew of tlio cajilain's gig." 

And III! «liook liin lists and he ton: his hair. 

Till I really felt afraid, 
j''i)r I iiiiild n't lielji thinking the man liml heen 
drinking, 

And BO 1 hiniply wiid ; — 

" (J i-lili;rly man, it 'h little I know 

Of the duties of men of the sea. 
And I 'II eat my hand if I understand 

Mow you can [KjssihIy be 

" At once a cook and a captain bold. 
And the mate of the Nancy brig, 

And a bosun tight, and a midshipmite. 
And the crew of the oaptain'ii gig I " 

Then he gave a hitch to hU trousers, which 

Is a tri'-k all wuinien larn. 
And having got rid of a thumping quid 

He spun this painful yarn : — 

*' 'T was in the gooil iihip Nancy IJell 
That we saileil to the Indian sea, 

And there on a reef wc come to grief, 
Which haii often occurred to me. 

" And pretty nigh all o' the crew was drowned 
(There was Bcventy-W!ven o' Boul) ; 

And only ten of the Nancy's men 
Said ' Here ' to the muster-roll. 

"There was me, and the i»ok, and the captain 
bold. 

And the mati; of the Nancy brig, 
And till' Ixj'sun tight, and a midshipmitc, 

And the crew of the captain's gig. 

" For a month we 'd neither wittlcs nor drink. 

Till ahungry we diil feel. 
So we drawcl a lot, and, a<«ordin', shot 

The captain for our meal. 

" The next lot fell to the Nancy's maU;, 

And a delicate di^h he ma<le ; 
Then our appetite with the midshipmitc 

We seven survivors stayed. 



" And then we murdered the lio'sun tight, 

And he much resembled pig ; 
Then we wittled free, did the cook and me, 

On the crew of the captain's gig. 

"Then only the cook and me was left, 
And the delicate (juestion, ' Which 

Ol' u» two goes to the kettle '( ' arose. 
And we argued it out as sieh. 

" For 1 loved that cook as a brother, I did. 
And the cook he worshipfied me ; 

lint we 'd both be blowed if we 'd either be stowed 
In the other eliap's hold, you see. 

" ' 1 '11 be eat if you dines off mc,' says Tom. 

' Yes, tliat,' says I, 'you'll Ix;. 
1 'm boiled if I die, my friend,' ijuoth I ; 

And ' Exactly so,' ijuoth he. 

"Kays he : ' IJear .James, t"; murder me 

Were a foolish thing U> do, 
l''or don't you mu: tliat you can't cook mc, 

While I can — and will — cook you 1 ' 

"So he boiU the water, and takes the salt 
And the pepper in portions true 

(Which he never forgot), and H(jme chop[)e4 sba- 
lot, 
And some sage and parsley too. 

" 'Come here,' says he, with a proijcr pride, 
Which hix smiling features Udl ; 

''Twill soothing be if I let you see 
How extremely nice yon '11 hmell.' 

"And he stirred it round, and round, and round. 
And he sniffed at the foaming froth ; 

When 1 ups with his liccls, and smothers his 
squeals 
In the scum of the boiling broth. 

" And I eat that wok in a week or less, 

And as 1 eating be 
The last of his chops, why I almost drops. 

For a wessel in sight I s<e, 

• • • » • 

" And I never larf, and I never smile, 

And 1 never lark nor play ; 
ISut I sit and croak, and a single joke 

1 have — which in U) say : 

" 0, I am a cfjok and a cajjtain bold 
And the maU; of the Nancy brig. 

And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmitc, 
And the crew of the captain's gig I " 

WILLIAU SCHWaNCK OiLBCRT. 



yro 



HlMUKOrS rOKMS. 



CArr.WN KKKCK.' 
Of all the sliiivs u\\m tht> bluo. 

Than tliiit v<t' woithy ra|>tai» Kwoo, 
(.\iiiuuaiuliiig of Thi' Maiilclpiivf. 

Hi' «!U! ailmvvl by all his iiu'ii, 
Kor wvU'thy I'aptain Kihhv, 1{, N., 
Pill all that lay williiii him tv 
IVimotc tho ooiuliut ol' his oixnv. 

If pvor thoy «viv iliill or sjul. 
Their lajitaiu ilaiu-«i to thom liko mail, 
Ih' tolil, to mako thi' tiuii' j«ss hy, 
Dr\>ll li-j^uiils of his infaiii'V. 

A fitithor-Kxl hail ovi-ry man. 
Warm sliiiivi-s ami liot-wator oaii, 
Bivwn wiiulsor fivm tho i'ai>tain'8 stwv, 
A vali't, tiHv, to ovi'ry fo\ir. 

Dill tlu\v with thiist in summer Inini, 
Lo, seltJi>j?'niv< at every t\nn, 
Ami on all very sultry days 
dxwm ii-»vs haniUsl rvmuil ou trays. 

Then eurrant wine anil gino'V |wj>s 
Stixnl hamlily on all the '• tojvs : " 
And, also, witli aiuust>nieitt rife, 
A ''ZvH>tn>ix', or Whet>l of Life." 

Xew volumes i'anu> aeiwss the si>a 
Kr\im Mister Mmlie's librarw ; 
The Tinnv* anil S{>t\ii\l,>y Iteview 
UejiuiUnl the leisun- of the on>w. 

Kinil-hearfeil Captain Reww R, N., 
Was unite ilevotinl to his men ; 
l\i ix>int of laot, gwil Oajnain Rwh-o 
Boatilieit Tho MiuUelniwe. 

One summer ov<\ at half jvist ten. 
He saiil (aiUlr<>ssinj; sll his men), 
"Oome, tell \ne, |>U\»se, what 1 oau ilo, 
To jili\»s<> anil j;i-!>tify u\y eivw. 

" By any KsvsouaWe ulan 
I '11 make you hai>(>y if I ean ; 
My own ivnvenienee ooimt as ml '; 
It is my duty, and 1 will," 

Then uji and answerp\l William l.ee 
(The kindly oaptjun's ivxswain he, 
A nerwus, shy, low-s|vken >uan); 
He oltMi^l his thi\v>t, and thus Ivjpin : 






ftn\1 tt)« Auii>. 



•v-r of .il\SHt\li(v will K- ■, r-f 

.V oivt,», - • .V, Jtf, > ,rs 



"You have a daiijrhter, Captaiiv Ueeeo, 
Ten fenutle eousius and a niive, 
A ma, if what I 'm told is true. 
Six sisters, and an aunt or two, 

" Now, somehow, sir, it seems to me, 
Moiv IVieudly-like we all should Ik>, 
If you unitrtl of "em to 
I'nnuirried members of the eivw. 

" If you "d amelioi-iite our life. 
Let <>aeh selivt fri>m theui a wife; 
And as for nervous me, ohl jwl, 
Give me your own om'liantiiij; jpd .' " 

OwhI Oai>t!uu luH>ee, that worthy man, 
l\>lv«ti\l on his coxswain's plan ; 
'• 1 unite a);i\H>," he siud, '"(.> Bill ; 
It is my duty, and 1 will. 

" My danjjhter, tliat enolituitin;; gnrl. 
Has just Ihh'U pivmisod to an «ul. 
And all my other fiuniliHi 
To {H>ers of ««rious de^itH). 

" But what aiv dnkes and vistinints to 
The happiness of all my eivw ! 
The woi\l I ipive you 1 11 fulfil ; 
It is iny duty, and I will. 

" As you desir» it sliall tvefall. 
1 Ml .settle tluiusands on you all. 
And I .shall K-, despite my luviixl. 
The only Uichelor on Ktaixl," 

The Kwtswain of The Mautelpiotv, 
He bluslieil and sjK>ke to (.\iptsun l\iw«i : 
"1 Ih'j; your honor's leave," he .<;>id, 
" If you wo\ild wish to jjo tuid weil, 

" I have a widow«l mother who 
Would U' the very thins; for you — 
She lonj; has lov«l yon from afar, 
She Wiislios fvu- you. Captain K" 

The eaptain saw the diune that day — 
AddivsstHl her in his playful way — 
" Ai\d did it want a w t^^ding•riug t 
It was a tempting iokle sing ! 

" Well, well, the chaplain I will stvk. 
We 'II all Ih> marritxl this day week 
At yonder chuivh mvn the hill ; 
It is my duty, and 1 will ! " 

The sisters, cousins, aunts, and luec*, 
Aiul widoweil nu> of ("^iphun Reet-e, 
Attendtxl there as thoy wev\> bid ; 
It was their dnty, and they did. 

WlLllAM SCMWKNCK GlLBSKl. 



hi;moroi;s pokms. 



971 



M'lTI.K lllM.KK. 

'J'lieitK weie llii'O! Hiiiloi'H of lliiitliil City 

Wlio look u liottt mill wiriit, U) wii, 
liut firxt with liM^laiiii rii\iUtiu'H liiwiiilH 

Ami ijiuklul |iiji'k tliuy loiuli-il hIk;. 

Tlierc wuH K'TgiiiK -lu'^k, uiiil giiiixlirig Jlmiriy, 
Ami tin; yrtiiiij^i^Ht Ik; wuh littli; liillrH; ; 

Now wjii'ii tl)«y M got iiK fur iiit llm Kijdator, 
Tlji;y 'i| nothing left Imt one Hplit pr^. 

Hays Korging .luck to «i'zzlin« Jiinniy, 

" I iini uxtieMiiiiy hiingurei!," 
To ({oiginx Jiti^k Mnyit gii/zling .linmiy, 

" Wi! 'vi; nothing h^l'l, u« inn«l wil we." 

SayH gorging .lit':k t'l giiz/ling Jimmy, 
" With one iiriother we nlioiilil n't iigrw! ! 

There '» little liill, In; 'n young iin^l l<;n<l(;r, 
We 'ro oM and tough, vj let '» eat he. " 

" O IJilly ! we 're going to kill and eat you, 
Ho undo the button of your ehemie." 

When liill re<;<:ived tliix information, 
He uite<l IiIn |>oekel-hundkerehie. 

" KirKt let me Hay my eat/M:hi«in 
Whieli my poor mother tituglit to nic." 

".Make haxt': ! make Ijanle !" Kay« guzzling .Jimmy, 
While Ja<;k i)iilli;<l out IiIh HniiikcrHnee, 

I'illy went up to the main-t<jp-gallant maot, 
And ilown he fell on hiii l^:n<le<l knei;. 

He minrw, luul come to the Twelfth Command- 
ment 
When up he jumpH — " There '» land I mm I 

"Jeruiialem and .Mfvl.igajf.'ar 

And North and .South Ameriki*, 
There 'h the liritixh Hag a riding at ani'lior. 

With Admiral Napier, K.C. li." 

So when they got alxjard of the Admiral'H, 
He lianged fat .lack and (logged .limmee, 

liut ax for little Hill he nisule him 
The Captain of a .Sevcnty-thrw;. 

Wn.t.lAM MAKeff'.A/,!! 'f HACKEKAV. 



Till-; liKI.I.K 01' TIIK I'.AI.I,. 

Ykakx, yearn ago, ere yet my dreatoH 

lliul lx:en of Ijeing wiw! or witty, 
Krc I ha<l done with writing thernen, 

Or yawni^l o'er thin infernal Chitty, - 
YearH, yi-antago, while all myjovB 

Were in my fowling-piew and (illy ; 
In xliort, while I wax yi-t a iKjy, 

I fell in love with I/aura Lilly. 



I Haw her at the (jounty Ixdl ; 

There, when the wiundx of (lute and fiddle 
Oavi; HJgnal iiwi;<;t in that old hall 

Of liatidH a/;roH« and down the middle, 
Hern waH the Hubtlent Hpell hy far 

Of all that w-tH young h'.arlii romaneing : 
She waH our ijuiM^n, our row;, our ilar ; 

And then nhe iLinced, — O Heaven ! her ilane- 
ing. 

Oark vim her hair ; lier hand wan white ; 

Her voice wan exijuiHJU:ly tender ; 
Her eye» were full of ll')uid light ; 

I never Haw a waixt ivi Blendi'i' ; 
Her every look, her every »mile. 

Shot right and li;ft a B<;ore of arroWH ; 
1 thought 't wan VenuH from her inle. 

And wonder<4 where »he'd left her Hjiurrowti. 

She talked of [xditicK or (irayerH, 

Of Houthey'K \mm: or WordHWorth'd nonneto, 
Of ilanglern or of dancing hcarx, 

Of iMtlleH or the lant new lj<jnnet* ; 
liy eandlelight, at twelve o'eloek, — 

To me it matlerwl not a tittle, — 
If tlioxe bright lijw IkkI ijUot<;d I>oeke, 

I might liave thought they murmun^l Little. 

Through Hunny .May, through Hultry .lune, 

I loved her with a love et<;rnal ; 
I Hjxjke her praii«;» Ui the moon, 

I wrot<! them to tin; Kunday .louriiaL 
My mother laughed ; I Hoon found out 

That ancient ladiex have no feeding : 
My father frowned ; but how »hould gout 

Hiu: any liajipineHH in knwling ? 

She wax the <lflHght«r of a ilttan, — 

Rich, fat, and rather apople/;tic ; 
She ha^l one brother jUHt tliirt';';n, 

Whf)H<; color wax extremely hectic ; 
Her grandmother for many a year 

HjuI fed the [wrixh with her Ix/unty ; 
Her Hi;i;ond ';<>u»in wax a peer, 

And lorddieuti;nant of the county. 

But tit|i« and the thrw-ficr-wntx. 

And mortgagex, and great relation*. 
And India Ijondx, and tithe» and rentx, 

0, what are they to Iovc'h x<:nxationH ? 
Iila':k eyen, fair forehea/l, cluxt';ring loekx, — 

Such wealth, hucIi honorx Cupid choonex : 
He carex ax little for the xto<:kK 

Ax liaron liotlixchild for the mtuex. 

She xket'ihed ; the vale, the w'khI, the U«ch, 
Orew loveli';r from her fx;neirB uluding ; 

She lK;taniz<'d ; I en vie/1 ea<;h 

Young bloHVjm in her Ixtudoir tading: 



972 



HUMOROUS POEMS. 



She warbled Ilaiulcl ; it was grand, — 

She uiado the Catilina jealous ; 
She touehod the organ ; 1 oouUl stand 

For hours and hours to blow the bellows. 

She kept an album too, at home, 

Well tilled with all lU! album's glories, — 
Paiutings of butterllies and Kome, 

Patterns tor trinnnings, I'ei'sian stories. 
Soft songs to Julia's cockatoo, 

Fierce odes to famine and to slaughter, 
And autographs of I'rince Leeboo, 

And recipes for cUler-water. 

And slie was flatteivd, worslupiied, bored ; 

Her steps were watched, her divss was noted ; 
Her poodle-dog was (luite adored ; 

Her sayings were extremely quoted. 
Slie laughed, — and every lieart w^ls glad, 

As if the taxes were abolished ; 
She frowned, — and every look was sad. 

As if the opera were demolished. 

She smiled on many just for fun, — 

1 knew that there was nothing in it ; 
1 was the tii-st, the only one, 

Her heiirt had thought of for a minute. 
I knew it, for she told me ,so, 

In phrase wliich was divinely moulded ; 
She wrote a charming hand, — and 0, 

How. sweetly all her notes were folded ! 

Our love was most like other loves, — 

A little glow, a little shiver, 
A rosebud and a pair of gloves, 

.\nd " Fly Not Yet," upon the river ; 
Some jealousy of some one's heir. 

Some hopes of dying broken-hearted ; 
A miniature, a lock of hair. 

The usual vows, — and then we parted. 

We parted ; months ami yeai-s rolled by ; 

We met again four summers after. 
Our parting was all sob and sigh. 

Our meeting was all mirth and laughter ! 
For in my heart's most secret cell 

There had been numy other lodgers ; 
And she was not the ball-room's belle, 

But only Mi's. — Something — Rogers ! 

WlNTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED, 



SORROWS OF WERTHER. 

Werther had a love for Charlotte 
Such as words could never utter ; 

Would you know how fii-st he met her ? 
She was cutting bread and butter. 



Charlotte was a married lady. 
And a moral man was Werther, 

And for all the wealth of Indies 
Would do nothing for to hurt her. 

So he sighed and piiunl and ogled, 
And his passion boiled and bubbled. 

Till he blew his silly brains out, 
And no more was by it troubled. 

Charlotte, having seen his body 

Borne before her on a shutter, 
Like a well-conducted person. 

Went on cutting bread and butter. 

WILLIAM MAKUPEACE THACKERAY. 



A LIFE'S LOVE. 

I LOVED him in my dawning years — 

Far years, divinely dim ; 
My blithest smiles, my saddest tears. 

Were evermore for him. 
My dreaming when the day began. 

The latest thought I had. 
Was still some little loving plan 

To make my darling glad. 

They deemed he lacked the conquering wiles. 

That other children wear ; 
To me his face, in frowns or smiles, 

Was never aught but fair. 
They said that self was all his goal. 

He knew no thought beyond ; 
To me, I know, no living soul 

Was half so true and fond. 

In love's eclipse, in friendship's dearth, 

In grief and feud and bale. 
My heart has learnt the sacred worth 

Of one that cannot fail ; 
And come what must, and come what may. 

Nor power, nor jiraLse, nor pelf. 
Shall lure my faith from thee to stray. 

My sweet, my own — i)ftisc//. 



ON AN OLD MUFF. 

Time has a magic wand 1 
What is this nu'cts my hand. 
Moth-eaten, mouldy, and 

Covered with tlutl'. 
Faded and stirt' and scant ? 
Can it be ? no, it can't, — 
Yes, — 1 declare 't is Aunt 

Prudence's MutT ! 



HUMOROUS POEMS. 



973 



Years ago — twenty-three ! 
Old Uncle Barnaby 
Gave it to Aimty 1*., 

Laugliiiig and teasing, — 
" Pni. of the brec;:y eurls, 
Whisper these solemn churls, 
H^hat hoUls a pretty yirl's 

Hamd without squeezing ? " 

Uncle was then a lad, 

Gay, but, I grieve to add. 

Gone to what's called "the bad," — 

Smoking, — and worse ! 
Sleek sable then was this 
Mufr, lined with pinkineas, — 
Bloom to which beauty is 

Seldom averse. 

I see in retrospect 

Aunt, in her best bedecked. 

Gliding, with mien erect. 

Gravely to meeting : 
Psalm-book, and kerchief new, 
Peeped from the Muff of Pru., 
Young men — and picus, too — 

Giving her gieeting. 

Pure was the life she led 

Then : from her Muff, 't is said, 

Tracts she distributed ; — 

Scapegraces many. 
Seeing the grace they lacked, 
Followed her ; one attacked 
Prudence, and got his tract 

Oftener than any ! 

Love has a potent spell ! 
Soon this bold ne'er-do-well, 
Aunt's sweet susceptible 

Heart undermining. 
Slipped, so the scandal runs. 
Notes in the pretty nun's 
Mulf, — triple-cornered ones, — 

Pink as its lining ! 

Worse, even, soon the jade 
Fled (to oblige her blade !) 
Whilst her friends thought that they 'd 

Locked her up tightly ; 
After such shocking games. 
Aunt is of wedded dames 
Gayest, — and now her name's 

Mrs. Golightly. 

In female conduct fiaw 
Sadder I never saw. 
Still I 've faith in the law 
Of comi)eusation. 



Once uncle went astray, — 
Smoked, joked, and swore away ; 
Sworn by, he 's now, by a 
Large congregation ! 

Changed is the child of sin ; 
Now he 's (he once was thin) 
Grave, with a double chin, — 

Blest be his fat form ! 
Changed is the garb he wore : 
Preacher was never more 
Prized than is uncle for 

Pulpit or platform. 

If all 's as best befits 
Mortals of slender wits. 
Then beg this Muff, and its 

Fair owner jiardon ; 
All's for lice best, — indeed, 
Such is my simpjle creed ; 
Still I must go and weed 

Hard iu my garden. 

Frederick Locker. 



JACK HORNER. 

ROM " MOTHER GOOSE FOR GROWN FOLKS.' 

" Little Jack Horner 
Sat in a corner 

Hating a Christmas Fie ; 
He put in his thumb. 
And pulled out a plum. 

And said, ' What a great boy am II'" 

Ah, the world hath many a Homer, 

Who, seated in his corner. 
Finds a Christmas Pie provided for his thumb ; 

And cries out with exultation. 

When successful e.\ploration 
Doth discover the predestinated plum ! 

Little Jack outgrows his 'tire. 

And becometh John, Esquire ; 
And he finds a monstrous pasty ready made, 

Stiilfed with stocks and bonds and bales, 

Golil, currencies, and sales, 
And all the mixed ingredients of Trade. 

And again it is his luck 

To be just in time to pluck, 
By a clever " opei-ation," from the pic 

An unexpected " plum ; " 

So he glorifies his thumb. 
And says proudly, " What a mighty man am I !" 

Or, perchance to science turning, 

And with weary labor learning 
All the formulas and phrases that oppress her, — ■ 

For the fruit of others' baking 

So a fresh diploma taking, 
Comes he forth, a full accredited Professor ! 



974 



HUMOROUS POEMS. 



Or lie 's not too nice to mix 

In the dish of jioUtics ; 
And the dignity of office he puts on ; 

And lie feels as big again 

As a dozen nobler men, 
While he \(Tites himself the Honorable John ! 

Ah me, for the poor nation ! 

In her hour of desperation, 
Her worst foe is that unsparing Horner tluirab ! 

To which War and Death and Hate, 

Right, Policy, and State, 
Are but pies wherefrom his gi'eed may grasp a 
plum ! 

0, the work was fair and true. 

But 'tis riddled througli and through, 
And plundered of its glories everywhere ; 

And before men's cheated eyes 

Doth the robber triumph rise 
And magnify itself in all the air. 

Why, if even a good man dies, 

And is welcomed to the skies 
In the glorious resuiTeetion of the just. 

They must niftle it below 

With some vain and wretched show, 
To make each his little mud-pie of the dust '. 

Sliall we hint at Lady Horners, 

^\■ho, in their exclusive corners, 
Tlunk the world is only made of upper-crust ? 

Who in the queer mince-pie 

That we call Society, 
Do their dainty lingers delicately thrust ; 

Till, if it come to pass. 

In the spiced and sugared mass, 
One should compass — don't they call it so ? — 
a catch. 

By the gi'atulation given 

It would seem the very heaven 
Had outdone it.self in making such a match ! 

Or the Woman Horner, now. 

Who is raising such a row 
To prove that Jack 's no bigger boy than Jill ; 

And that she won't sit by. 

With her little saucer pie. 
While he fiom the Great Pastry picks liis fill. . 

Jealous-wild to be a sharer 

In the fruit she thinks the fairer, 
Flings by all for the swift gaining of her wish ; 

Xot diseerniug in her blindness. 

How a tendei' Loving Kindness 
Hid the best tilings in her own rejected dish ! 



0, the world keeps L'hristmas Day 

In a queer, perpetual way ; 
Shouting always, "What a great big boy am I ! 

Yet how many of the crowd 

Thus vociferating loud, 
And their honors or pretensions lifting high. 

Have really, more than Jack; 

With their boldness or their knack. 
Hud a finger in the making of the Pie ? 

ADELINE D. T. WHITXEV. 



COMFORT. 

Wno would care to pass his life away 

Of the Lotos-land a dreamful denizen, — 
Lotos-islands in a waveless hay. 

Sung by Alfred Tennyson >. 

Who would care to be a dull new-comer 
Far across the wild sea's wide abysses. 
Where, about the earth's three thousandth sum- 
mer. 
Passed divine IHysses ? 

Rather give me cotl'ee, art, a book. 

From my windows a delicious sea-view, 
Southdown mutton, somebody to cook, — 
" Music ? " — I believe you. 

Strawberrv icebergs in the summer time, — 
But of elm-wood many a massive splinter. 
Good ghost stories, and a classic rhyme. 
For the nights of winter. 

Now and then a friend and some Sauteme, 

Now and then a haunch of Highland venison. 
And for Lotos-land I '11 never yearn, 
Malgre Alfred Tennyson. 

Mortimer Coluns. 



THE WOMEN FO'K.» 

0, s.vinLT may I rue the day 

I fancied first the womenkind ; 
For aye sins}me I ne'er can hae 

Ae quiet thought or peace o' mind ! 
They hae plagued my heart an' pleased ray e'e. 

An' teased an' flattered me at will, 
But aye for a' their witcherye. 

The pawky things I lo'e them still. 

• The air of this song is my own. It was first set to music by 
Heather, and most beautifully set too. It was afterwards set by 
Dewar. whether with the same accompaniments or not. I have for- 
ijot. It is my own favorite humorous song,' when forced to sing by 
ladies against .-ny will, which toa fjequently happens ; and. nolwilh- 
standing my wood-notes wild, it will never be sung by any iO weJJ 
again. — The AUTHOR. 



VHK V-A-S-K. 

Fk(i:\l the madding croud tlicy slaiid apart. 
The maidens four and the Work ot' Art; 

And none miyiit tell from sight alone 
In whiih had cultm'e ripest grown, — 

The (lotham Millions fair to see. 
The I'lnladelphia Pedigree, 

The iJoston Mind of a/iire hue. 

Or the soulful Soul Irom Ralama/.oo, — 

For all loved Art in a seemly way, 
With an earnest soul and a capital A. 

Long thev \vorshi|)ped ; hut no one hroke 
The sacred stillness, nntil up spoke 

The \V'estern one from the nameless ])lace. 
Who blushing said : "What a lovely vace!" 

0\er three faces a sad smile tlew, 

And thev edged awav from Kalamazoo. 

But Ciotham's haughty soul was stirred 
To crush the stranger with one small woid 

Deftly hiding reproof in jjraise. 

She cries: " 'Tis, indeeil, a lovel\- \a/.e!" 

But brief her unworthy triumph when 
The lofty one from the home of I'enn. 

With the consciousness of two grand ])a])a;-' 
Exclaims: "It is i|uite a lovely valis ! " 

-Xnd glances roimd with an an.vious thrill, 
.'\waiting the word of jieacon Hill. 

liut the Boston maid smiles courteouslee, 
.'\nd gently murmurs: "Oh i)ardon me! 

"I did not catch \our rem:irk, because 
I was so entran( ed with that charming vaws! " 

/)ics tiil pncgflUa 
Sinistra i/uiaii Jios/oiiia. 




THE BKYAST r.ls/- 

Dfsigtu-J by Jas. M. H'hiteh.mse, nj 

riffany &= Co. 



Jaimes Jkffrf.v Roche. 




PnixvM hy ir. II. Pn,W. 

NEIU niAnNl'V/AR, 

Vol', \cliiu'lKi(lno.-/.ih. \\ lio^i. sail ! 
Wliar is you lr\in' to ^o. s;ih? 
I'd hall you fur to know, sail, 
I's a-liokiiii' oh do linos. 
Vou boitor slop dat piaiuin', 
Vou's iiaw'ful fond oh ilanoiii', 
]5ut I'll hot niv yoali's advaiuin' 
Dat I'll ouio vou oh \ n" shiiios. 



1 ).U, iiili'.s di' « ,i\ to ilo it ! 
He's coniin' right dou n to it ; 
OS watoh him ploiigliin' troo it ! 
1 'is iiiggor ain't no tool. 
Sonio I'olks doy w ould 'a' hoal him; 
Now, dat would onh hoal him — 
1 know jos how to tioal him: 
\'ou mus' n-d.fi'/i w id a nuilo. 

Ilo minds mo liko a iiiggor. 
ll' ho \vu/ only higgor 
llo'd t'otoli a iiiightN t'lgger, 
llo would, I /(•// vou! Vos, sah! 
Soo how ho koops a-clickin' ! 
Ho's as gcntlo as a chiokon. 
And nobbcr thinks o' kickin' — 
Whoa dar .' Nfbiichadnezzah J 



Look hoali, niulo! r>otior min' out ; 
Fus' I'iiig yini know you'll tin' out 
How quiok I'll wear dis lino out 
(.")n your ugly, stubbo'n baok. 
Vou neodn't try to steal up : 
An' lit"' dat jirooious liool up ; 
Wni's got to plough dis tiol' up, 
Vou has, sah, tiir a fac'. 



Is this hoali mo, or not mo ? 
th- is do dobbil got mo? 
W'u/ dat a oannun shot mo ? 
Il.ib I laid hoali moro'n a week? 
1 )at mule ilo kiok ama/in' ! 
Do boast was sp'ilod in raisin'; 
lUit now 1 spool ho's grazin' 
Chi do odor sido do orook. 



Ikwix Russell. 



llU.MUlUMiS I'OJiMH. 



975 



O tlie woiiioii lo'k ! O till) woiiiMi fo'k I 
lint tlii^y Imu bciiii the wrm.k o' iiiu ; 

wuiiry 111' tin; woiiiirli I'l/k, 
l''or tlii^y wiiiiiii lot ii Iwiiy bo I 

I hae tlioilglit nil' tliiniglil, liiit iliin:iiu tell, 

I 'vu Htuilioil tliciii wi' u' my Hkill, 
I 'vB lo'il them lietter tlmn iiiyHell, 

I 'vo trieil iigiiiii to like them ill. 
Whii HiiireHt Ktrives, will saii'eHt rue, 

'I'll eoiriprehi'iiil whiit mie mini eiin ; 
AS'heii he hiis iloiie what mini lyiii ilo, 

lie 'II end lit liwt where he begun. 
the women fo'k, etc. 

'I'h^it they hue gentle fcinno im' meet, 

A man wi' liiill' a look may nee ; 
An grare-fii' airH, an* fiieeH HWeet, 

All' waving curU iibooii the bree ; 
An' Hiiiiles as soft as the young rofebinl, 

Anil een sae pawky, bright, an' rare, 
Willi lure the laverock I'rae the diiihl, — 

lint, laililie, seek to ken iiae niair ! 
the women fo'k, etc. 

Kven but thin night nae farther gane, 

The ilato is neither lost nor laiig, 
I lak ye witness ilka aiie, 

Mow fell they fought, ami fairly ilang. 
'I'lieir point they 've earrieil right or wrang, 

Without a reason, rhyme, or law. 
An' foreeil a iiiuii to sing a sang, 
That ne'er eoiilil sing a verse uva. 

the women fo'k ! O the women fo'k I 
liiit they liae been the wreck o' me ; 
weary fa' the women fo'k. 
For they winna let a lioily be ! 

jAMHs Hogg. 
« 

WOMAN. 

WiiKN Eve brought woe to all mankind 
Old Adam called her vm-m(i.ii ; 
Hut when she )«o«ed with love so kind, 
lie then pronounced hur vjun-rnan. 
lint now, with folly and with jiridc, 
Their husbands' jiockets triinniing. 
The women are so full ii( whimi 
That men pronounce them whnmr.n ! 

Anonymous. 

»— 

PAPER. 

A CONVERSATIONAL PLrASANTRV, 

Some wit of old — such wits of old there were, 
Whose bints showed meaning, whose allusions 

care — . 
By one brave stroke to mark all human kind, 
</alIcd clear, blank pajier every infant mind ; 



Wliere still, as opening sense her dictates wrote, 
Fair virtue put a seal, or vice ii blot. 

The thought wa* liappy, iiertinent, and true ; 
Methinks a genius might the plan pursue. 
1 (can you pardon iiiy jiieHiimption f) — I, 
No wit, no genius, yet for once will tiy. 

Various the paper various wants produce, — 
The wants of fashion, elegance, and ugo. 
Men are as various ; and, if right I scan, 
Each sort of paper represents some man. 

Pray note the fo]i, half powder and half lace ; 
Nice, as a bandbox were his dwelliiigiilace ; 
He's \.hi: (/ill -pojirr, which apart you store. 
And lock from vulgar hands in the 'scrutoire. 

Mechanics, servants, fanners, and so forth, 
Are rjiiiii-pupcr, of inferior worth ; 
liCss prized, more useful, for your desk decreed ; 
Free to all pens, and pronipt at every need. 

The wretch whom avarice liids to iiincli and spare. 
Starve, cheat, and pilfer, to enrich an heir, 
Is coanc hruwn paimr, such as jieillers choose 
To wrap up wares, which better men will use. 

Take next the miser's contrast, who destroys 
Health, fame, and fortune in a round of joys; 
Will any paper match him 'I Yes, throughout; 
He 's a true nnkmrj-papcr, past all doubt. 

The retail politician's anxious thought 

Deems this side always right, and that stark 

naught ; 
He foams with censure ; with applause lie raves ; 
A dupe to rumors, and a tool of knaves ; 
He 'II want no type, his weakness U> proclaim, 
While such a thing mt/oolncap has a name. 

The hasty gentleman, whose blood runs high, 
Who picks a i|iianel, if you step awry, 
Who can't a jest, a hint, or look endure, — 
What is he ? — what 'I Touch-paper, to be sure. 

What arc our poets, take them as they fall, 
Oood, bad, rich, poor, much read, not read at all f 
They and their works in the same class you '11 

find; 
They are the mere viaii/.i:-pri,per of mankind. 

Observe the maiden, innocently sweet ! 
She 's fair, v)ki/,c papr.r, an unsullied sheet ; 
On which the ha])py man whom fate ordains 
May write his name, and take her for his pains. 

One instance more, and only one I 'II bring ; 
'T is the great man who scorns a little thing ; 



y 



976 



IIUSIOROVS POEMS. 



AVliost' Ihoiights, whoso doods, wlioso iiiiixiius 

ait< his own. 
Formed on tl\o iVt'lings of liis heart alone. 
True, j^Miuine, roi/iil fHipfr is liis bivast ; 
Of all tho kinds most precious, jniri'st, best. 

UUNJAMI.N l-KANKUN. 



OLD OKIMES. 

Oli> Orin\es is dead, that good old man, ■ 
We ne'er shall see him nioiv ; 

He nsed to wear a long I'laek ooat. 
All buttoned down beloiv. 

His heart was open as the day, 

His feelings all weiv true ; 
His hair was some inelined to gr!».Vi — 

lie woiv it in a iiueue. 

Whene'er he heanl the voiee of pitin, 
His bivast with pity burned ; 

The lai'ge round head uivn his eaito 
Frum ivory was turned. 

Kind words he ever had for all ; 

He knew no Imse design ; 
His eyes weiv dark and nither small. 

His nose was aquiline. 

He livtvl at peace with all mankind. 

In frieiulslup he was true ; 
His eoiit had poeket-holes K'hind, 

His pantaloons wer<> bine. 

Unharmed, the sin whieli earth jioUutes 

He jwssed seeuivly o'er, — 
And never wori> a jNiir of boots 

For thirty yeai's or more. 

But good Old Grimes is now at rest. 
Nor fears misfortune's fivwn ; 

He won< a double-bivasteil vest, — 
Tho stripes ran up and down. 

He modest merit sought to find, 

And (viy it its desert ; 
He had no maliee in his mind. 

No rutUes on his sliirt. 

His neighbors he did not abu.se, — 

AVas soeiaWe and gay ; 
He wore lanje buckles on his shoes, 

And changi'd them every day. 

His knowledge, hid from public gaze. 

He did not bring to view. 
Nor make a noise, town-meeting days. 

As many people do. 



His woiUlly goods he never threw 
In trust to fortune's chances, 

lint lived (as all his bixithors do) 
In easy ciivunistimces. 

Thus undisturlnxl by anxious cares 
His peaceful nuuncuts ran ; 

.\ud everyb>)dy saiil he was 
A tine old gentJeman. 



AlHBKT C. GKmiND. 



THE HEinilT OF TllK KIlMCULOlTa 

1 WKOTK sonu' lines once on a time 

In wondrous merry n\ood. 
And tluuight, as usmd, nu'U would say 

They were exceeding good. 

They weiv so ijueer, so very nuecr, 

1 laughed as I would die ; 
Albeit, in the genei-al way, 

A sober nnin am I. 

1 called my servant, and he came ; 

How kind it was of him, 
To mind a slender man like me. 

He of the mighty limb ! 

"These to the printer," 1 exdaimetl. 

And, in my humorous way, 
I added (as a trilling jest\ 

"Theiv '11 be the devil to pay." 

He took the paiu-r, and I watched. 

And saw him peep within ; 
At the lirst liiu' he irad, his face 

Was all upon the grin. 

He read the next ; the grin girw biwul. 

Ami shot from ear to ear ; 
He ivad the thinl ; a chuckling noise 

I now beg!>n to hear. 

The fourth ; he bivke into a roar ; 

The lifth ; his waistlwnd split ; 
The sixth ; ho burst five buttons oil". 

And tumbled iu a fit. 

Ten days and nights, with sleepless eye, 
1 watched that wrotched man. 

And since, I never dait< to write 
.\s fuuny as I can. 

Oll\T;k WENDELL HOLUI^ 




/VC(r^^ !^^^^^cU<^ ^!W^^^?t^ 



HUMOROUS POEMS. 



'J I I 



THE ONE-HOSS SHAY ; 

(lU, THE OeACON'8 MAJSTEEWECE. 
A LOGICAL STOKV. 

Havk you heard of the won'ieiful oiie-hos« sliay, 
'J'liHt was built in such a logical way 

I I liiii a hundre<l years to a day, 

And then of a sudden, it — ah, but stay, 
I 11 tell you what liapi^ned without delay, 
Searing the iiarsrjn intu fits, 
Frightening people out of their wits, — 
Have you ever beard of tliat. I say 1 

Seventeen hundred and fifty-five. 
Gv/rgiua Hecundua was then alive, — 
Snudy old drone from the German hire. 
'I'liat was the year when LisV^n-town 
Saw the earth open and gulp her down. 
And Bnuldock's army was done so brown, 
Ix-ft without a scalp to its crown. 
Jt was on the terrible Earthquake-day 
That the Deacon finislusd the one-boss shay. 

Xow in building of chaises, I t«ll you wliat, 
There is always *Wtte«iA«r« a weakest si«t, — 

III hub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill, 
In [»anel, or crossbai', or floor, or sill. 

In screw, tjolt, thoroughbiuce, — lurking still, 
Find it somewhere you must and will, — 
Alwve or Ijelow, or within or without, — 
And tliat 's the reason, beyond a doubt, 
A chaiiie breaks dovm, but do<!S n't wear r/ul. 

But the Deacon swore (as Deacons do. 
With an " I dew vuin," or an " I tell yx/u,") 
He would build one sliay to l>!at the taown 
'n' the keounty 'u' all the kentry laoun' ; 
It should l>e so built tliat it amid n break daown ; 
— " Fur," said the J)eaf^)U, " 't 's mighty plain 
Thut the wisikes' place mus' stan' the strain ; 
'l' the way t' fix it, iiz I maintain. 

Is only jest 
T' make tliat place uz strong uz the rest." 

So the Deacon inquired of the village folk 

Where he could find the strongest oak. 

That could n't be split nor b'nt nor broke, — 

Tliat was for s|)okes and floor and sills ; 

He sent for lam^wood to make the thills ; 

The crossbars were ash, from the straightest trees ; 

The |>anehs of whitewcKxl, that cuts like cheese, 

liut last* like iron for things like the«<; ; 

The hulri of Unp from the " Settl<-r's ellum," — 

Last of its timb<-r, — they could n't sell 'cm, 

Never an axe had seen tlieir chips, 

And the wclges flev from l^etwc-n their lips, 

Their blunt ends frizzled like celery-tipe ; 



St<?p and prop-iron, bolt and screw, 
Spring, tire, axle, and linchpin too. 
Steel of the finest, bright and blue ; 
Thorough bi"<u» bis'jn-skin, thick and wide ; 
li<jot, top, dasher, from tougli old liide 
Found in the pit when the tanner died. 
That was the way he " put her through." 
" There ! " said the Deacon, " naow she '11 dew ! " 

Do ! I t«ll you, I rather guess 

She was a wonder, and nothing less ! 

Colts grew horses, b";ards turncl gray, 

VniuMU and deaconess dropjX}<l away, 

Children and grandchildren, — where were they f 

But there »UxA the stout old one-hoss sliay 

Ab fresh as on Lisbou-earthquake-day ! 

ZlGHTBKti liUNUBED ; — it Came and found 
The Deawn's masterpiece strong and sound. 
Eighteen huudre<l increased by ten ; — 
" Hahusum keriidge " they callwl it then. 
Eighteen hundrcl and twenty carne ; — 
Running as usual ; much the same. 
Thirty and lorty at last arrive, 
And then came fifty, and Firry-FIVE. 

Little of all we value here 

Wakes on the moin of its hundredth year 

Without hitii feeling and looking queer. 

In fact, there 's nothing that keeps its youth. 

So far as I know, but a tree and truth. 

(This is a moral that runs at large ; 

Take it. — You 're welcome. — No extra charge.) 

FiBur ofNovembeb, — the Earthquake-day. — 

There are traces of age in the one-hoss shay, 

A general flavor of tnild decay. 

But nothing local as one may say. 

There could n't bi;, — for the Deacon's art 

Had made it so like ii. every part 

That there was n't a chance for one to start. 

For the wheels were just a« strong as the thills. 

And the floor was just as strong a« the sills, 

And the [panels just as strong as the floor, 

And the whippletree neither less nor more. 

And the back-crossbar as s-troug as the fore. 

And spring and axle and hub eiux/re. 

And yet, a» a w/ioU, it is past a doubt 

In another hour it will be worn out ! 

First of Noveinljer, 'Fifty-five I 

This morning the jrarson takes a drive. 

Now, small Imys, get out of the way '. 

Hen comes the wonderful one-hoss shay, 

Drawn by a rat-tailed, ewe-necked bay. 

" Huddup ! " said the lamnn. — Off went they. 

The parwjn was working his Sunday's text, — 

Had got ill fifthly, and stopped jjerplexed 



978 



lUMOKOUS POEMS. 



At wlmt the — Jloses — was coming next. 
All at once the horse stood still, 
Close by the meet'u'-house on the hill. 

— First a shiver, and then a thrill, 
Then something decidedly like a spill, — 
And the parson was sitting upon a rock. 

At half past nine hy the meet'n'-liouse clock, — 
Just the hour ol' tlie Eartluinake shock ! 

— What do you think the parson found, 
When he got up and stared around ? 
The poor old chaise in a heap or mound. 
As if it had been to the mill and ground ! 
You see, of course, if you 're not a dunce, 
]low it went to pieces all at once, — 

All at once, and nothing lirst, — 
Just as bubbles do wlien they burst. 

End of the wonderful one-hoss shay. 
Logic is logic. That 's all I say. 

Oliver Wendell Holmes. 



RUDOLPH THE HEADSMAN. 

Rudolph, professor of the headsman's trade, 
Alike was famous for his arm and blade. 
One day a prisoner Justice had to kill 
Knelt at the block to test the artist's skill. 
Bare-armed, swart-visaged, gaunt, and shaggy- 
browed, 
Rudolph the headsman rose above the crowd. 
Jlis falchion lightened with a sudden gleam, 
As the pike's armor Hashes in the stream. 
He sheatlied his blade ; he turned as if to go ; 
The victim knelt, still waiting for the blow. 
" Wliy strikest not ? Perform thy murderous 

" act," 
The prisoner said. (His voice was sliglitly 

cracked. ) 
"Friend, I haiv struck," the artist straight re- 
plied ; 
"Wait but one moment, and youi'self decide." 
Ho lield his suufl'-box, — " Now then, if you 

plefise ! " 
The prisoner snill'ed, and, with a crashing sneeze, 
Off his head tumbled, bowled along the tloor, 
Bounced down the steps ; — the prisoner said no 

more ! 

OLIVER Wendell holmes. 



THE BOYS. 

Has there any old fellow got mi.\ed with the 

boys ? 
If there has, take him out, without making a 

noise. 



Hang the Almanac's cheat and the Catalogue's 

spite ! 
Old Time is a liar ! We 're twenty to-night ! 

We 're twenty ! We 're twenty ! Who says we 
are more ? 

He 'stipsy, — youngjackanapes ! — show him the 
door ! 

" Gray temples at twenty ?" — Yes ! u'/iile, if we 
please ; 

Where the snow-flakes fall thickest there 's noth- 
ing can freeze ! 

Was it snowing I spoke of ? E.xcuse the mis- 
take ! 

Look close, — you will see not a sign of a flake ! 

We want some new garlands for those we have 
shed, — 

And these are white roses in place of the red. 

We 've a trick, we young fellows, you may have 

been told. 
Of talking (in public) as if we were old : 
That boy we call "Doctor," and this we call 

" Judge ; " — 
It 's a m-at little fiction, — of course it 's all 

fudge. 

That fellow 's the " Speaker," — the one on the 
right ; ^ 

" Jlr. Jlayor," my young one, how are you to- 
night > 

That 's our " Member of Congress," we say when 
we chaff ; 

There's the " Reverend " What's his name ? — 
don't make me laugh ! 

That boy with the grave mathematical look 
Made believe he had written a wonderful book, 
And the Roy.\l Sociktv ilioi\ght it was true' 
So they chose him right in, — a good joke it was 
"too I 

There 's a boy, we pretend, with a three-decker 

brain, 
That could harness a team with a logical chain ; 
When he spoke for our manhood in syllabled 

fire. 
We called him "The Justice," but now he's 

"The Squire." 

And there 'sa nice youngster of excellent pith,^ 
Fate tried to conceal him by nannng him Smith, 
Hut he shouted a song for the brave and the 

free, — • 
Just read on his medal, "My country," "of 

thee 1 " 



HUMOROUS POEMS. 



979 



You hear tliat boy laughing? — You think lit 's 

all fun ; 
But the angels laugh, too, at tin; good Iil' has 

(lone ; 
The children laugh loud as they troop to his call, 
And the poor man that knows him laughs loudest 

of all! 

Yes, we 're boys, — always [ilayiug with tongue 

or with ]icu ; 
And 1 sometimes have asked. Shall we ever be 

men ? 
Shall we always be youthful, and laughing, and 

gay. 

Till the last dear companion drop smiling away ? 

Then here 's to our boyhood, its gold and its 

gray ! 
The stai-s of its winter, the dews of its May ! 
And when we have done with our life-lasting 

toys, 
Dear Father, take care of thy children, TiiK 

Boys. 

Oliver wendrll Holmes. 



THE OLD MAN DREAMS. 

FOR one hour of youthful joy ! 
Give back my twentieth sjiring ! 

1 'd rather laugh a bright-liaireil boy 

Than reign a gray-beard king ! 

Off with the spoils of wrinkled age ! 

Away with learning's crown ! 
Tear out life's wisdom-written page, 

And dash its trophies down ! 

One moment let my life-blood stream 
From boyhood's fount of flame ! 

Give me one giddy, reeling dream 
Of life all love and fame ! 

My listening angel heard the prayer, 
And, calndy smiling, said, 

" If I but touch thy silvered hair, 
Thy hasty wish hath sjied. 

" But is there nothing in thy track 

To bid thee fondly stay. 
While the swift seasons huny back 

To find the wishcd-fnr day ?" 

Ah ! truest soul of womankind ! 

Without thee what were life ? 
One bliss I cannot leave behind : 

I'll take — my — precious — wife ! 



The angel took a sapphire pen 

And wrote in rainbow dew, 
"The man would be a boy again, 

And be a husband, too ! " 

" And is there nothing yet unsaid 

Before the change ajijiears ? 
Remember, all their gifts have fled 

With those dissolving years ! " 

" Why, yes ; for memory would recall 

My fond paternal joys ; 
I could not bear to leave them all : 

I'll take — my — girl — and — boys !" 

The smiling angel drop]ied his pen — 

" Why, this will never do ; 
The man would be a boy again, 

And be a father, too ! " 

And so I laughed — my laughter woke 
The household with its noise — 

And wrote my dream, when morning broke. 
To please the gray-haired boys. 

Oliver Wendell holmes 



WHITTLING. 



A "NATIONAL PORTRAIT." 



TifK Yankee boy, before he's sent to school. 

Well knows the mysteries of that magic tool, 

The pocket-knife. To that his wistful eye 

Turns, while he hears his mother's lullaby ; 

His hoarded cents he gladly gives to get it. 

Then leaves no stone unturned till he can whet it ; 

And in the education of the lad 

No little part that implement hath had. 

His pocket-knife to tin; young whittler brings 

A gi'owing knowledge of material things. 

Projectiles, music, and the sculptor's art. 

His chestnut whistle and liis shingle dart. 

His elder jiopgun with its hickory rod, 

Its sharj) explosion and rebounding wad, 

His cornstalk fiddle, ami the deeper tone 

That murmurs from his pumpkin-stalk trombone, 

Cons[iir(! to teach the boy. To these succeed 

His bow, his arrow of a feathered seed. 

His windmill, raised the passing breeze to win, 

His water-wheel, that turns upon a pin ; 

Or, if his father lives upon the shore, 

You'll see his ship, "beam ends upon the floor,' 

Full rigged with raking masts, and timbers 

stanch, 
And waiting near the wash-tub for a launch. 



980 



HUMOROUS POEMS. 



Thus by his genius and his jack-knife driven, 
Erelong lie Ml solve you any problem given ; 
JIake any ginicrack musical or mnte, 
A plough, a couch, an organ or a llute ; 
Make you a locomotive or a clock, 
Cut a canal, or build a floating-dock, 
Or lead fortli Beauty from a marble block ; — 
Make anything in short, for sea or shore, 
From a child's rattle to a seventy-four ; — 
Make it, said I ? — Ay, when he undertakes it, 
He '11 make the thing and the machine that 
makes it. 

And when the thing is made, — whether it bo 
To move on earth, iu air, or on the sea ; 
Whether on water, o'er the waves to glide, 
Or iijion land to roll, ivvolve, or slide ; 
AVhcthcr to whirl or jar, to strike or ring, 
AVhether it be a piston or a spring. 
Wheel, pulley, tube sonorous, wood or brass, 
The thing designed shall surely come to I>ass ; 
For, when his hand 's upon it, you may know 
That there 's go in it, and he '11 make it go. 

jOMN ru.Rl'ONT. 



RAILROAD RHYME. 

Singing through the forests, 

liattling over ridges ; 
Shooting under arches. 

Humbling over briilges ; 
Whizzing through the mountains. 

Buzzing o'er the vale, — 
Bless me ! this is jdeasant. 

Hiding on the rail ! 

Men of dift'erent " stntious " 

In the eye of fanu". 
Here are very quickly 

Coming to the same ; 
High and lowly people. 

Birds of every feather, 
On a common level. 

Travelling together. 

Gentleman in shorts. 

Looming very tall ; 
G«ntleman at large 

Talking very small ; 
Gentleman in tights. 

With a loose-ish mien ; 
Gentleman in gray. 

Looking rather green ; 

Gentleman quite old, 
Asking for the news i 



Gentleman in black, 

In a tit of blues ; 
Gentleman iu claret. 

Sober as a vicar ; 
Gentleman iu tweed. 

Dreadfully in liquor ! 

Stranger on the right 

Looking very sunny. 
Obviously reading 

Something ratlicr funny. 
Now the smiles are thicker, — 

Wonder what they mean ! 
Faith, he 's got the Knicker- 

Bocker Magivzine ! 

Stranger on the left 

Closing up his peepers ; 
Now he snores amain. 

Like the Seven Sleepere ; 
At his feet a volume 

Gives the explanation. 
How the man grew stupid 

From " Association " I 

Ancient maiden lady 

Anxiously remarks. 
That there must be peril 

'Jlong so many sjiarks ; 
Koguish-looking fellow. 

Turning to the stranger. 
Says it 's his opinion 

Skf is out of danger ! 

Woman with her Imby, 

Sitting ris-<)-ris ; 
Baby keeps a-sq\ialling, 

AVonian looks at me ; 
Asks about the distance. 

Says it 's tiresome talking. 
Noises of the cars 

Are so very shocking ! 

Market-woman, careful 

Of the precious casket. 
Knowing eggs are eggs, 

Tightly holds her basket ; 
Feeling that a smash, 

If it came, would surely 
Send her eggs to pot. 

Rather prematurely. 

Singing through the forests, 
Rattling over ridges ; 

Shooting under arches. 
Rumbling over bridges ; 



IIUMOKOUS POEMS. 



981 



Whizzing lhrouf,'li llio liiuuiitiiiiis, 

ISnzzing u'ui' tlio viilu, — 
I3li's.s UK! ! tliis is pluasiuit, 

Killing oil Uio mil I 

jdun (lonr'KriV SAxn. 



WOMAN'S WILL, 



AN fMM(;UAM. 



Mkn, (lying, niako tlii'ir willn, but wives 

Ksi-iiin' a work ho sad ; 
Why should thoy make what all thoir lives 

The gentle dames have had ? 

JullN GOOr'KEV SAXK. 



"NOTiriNr, TO WEAK." 

Mrss Floua McKlimhicv, of Madison Square, 
Has made three sejiarate journi^ys to I'aiis, 
Ami her lather assures me, caeli time she was 

there. 
That she and her friend Mrs. Harris 
(Not the lady who.so nanui is so famous in his- 
tory, 
Hut plain Mrs. IL, witlmut romanee or mysteiy) 
Spent six eonsecutivo weeks without stopping 
In one eontiuuous round oi .sho]i|)ing, — 
Shopjiing alone, and shopping together. 
At all hours of the day, and in all sorts of 

weather, — 
For all manner of things that a woman can put 
On the crown of her head or the sole of her foot, 
Or wrap round her shoulders, or lit round her 

waist. 
Or that can lie sewed on, or pinned on, or huieil. 
Or tied on with a string, or stitched on with a 

bow. 
In front or behind, above or below ; 
For bonnets, mantillas, capes, collar.^, and sliawls; 
Dre.sses for breakfasts anil dinners and balls ; 
Dresses to sit in and staml in anil walk in ; 
Dresses to dance in and llirt in and talk in ; 
Dre.sses in which to do luithing at all ; 
Dresses for winter, .spring, snnmier, and fall ; 
All of them clilfcrent in color and ])attern. 
Silk, muslin, and lace, eraiie, velvet, and siitin, 
Uroeade, and broadcloth, and otlu'r nuitx'rial, 
Quite as expensive! and much more ethereal ; 
In .short, for all things that eouhl cvr'i bi! thought 

of, 
Or milliner, modiste, or tradesmen be bought of. 
From ten-thou.sand-fianes robes to twenty- 
sous frills : 



In all ipiartera of Paris, and to every store. 
While McFlimaoy in vain stormed, scoldeil, ai( 
swore. 
They footed the streets, and ho footed the bills. 

The last trip, their goods shipjied by the si.eaiiier 

Arago, 
Formed, McFlimsoy declares, tlio bulk of h'-- 

cargo. 
Not to mention a quantity kc|)t from the rest, 
SulMeient to till the largest-sized chest. 
Which di<l not appear on the ship's manifest, 
I'ut for which the ladies themselves manifested 
Such particular interest, that they invested 
Their own ]iroper jiersons in layers and rows 
Of nuislins, embroideries, workedunder-clothes, 
Gloves, handkerchiefs, scarfs, and such trilles as 

tho.se ; 
Then, wra]iped in great shawls, like Circassian 

beauties, 
Gavo good-by to the ship, and (/(J-fii/ to tlii! duties. 
Ilcr relations at home all marvelled, no doubt, 
Miss Flora had grown .so enormously stout 
For an actual belle and a possible bride ; 
But the mirado ceased wlicn she turned inside 

out, 
And the truth came to light, and thediy-goods 

beside. 
Which, in spite of collector anil eustom-housa 

sentry. 
Had entered the port without any entry. 
And yet, though scarce three months have passed 

since the day 
This luerchandise went, on twelve carts, up 

liroailway. 
This sanie Miss McFlimsey, of Madi.son Square, 
The la.st time we met was in utter despair, 
l'.ecau,se she had nothing wliati'Vi!r to wear ! 

NoTiiiNc. TO WEAR ! Now, as this isa trueditty, 
I do not assert — this, you know, is between 
us — 
That she 'sin a state of absolute nudity. 

Like Powers' Oreek Slave, or the Medici Venus; 
Hut I do mean to say, I have heard licr declare, 
When, at the same ino'neut, she had on a dress 
Which cost five hundred dollars, and not a cent 

less. 
And jewelry woi'th ten times more, I should 
guess. 
That she had not a thing in the wide world to 

wear I 
I should mention just here, that out of Miss 

Flora's 
Two hundred and fifty or sixty adorers, 
I had just been .selected as he who should throw all 
The rest in the shade, by the gracious bestowal 



982 



HUMOROUS POEMS. 



On myself, after twenty or thirty rejections, 

Of those fossil remains which she called her 

"affections," 
And that rather decayed, but well-known work 

of art. 
Which Miss Flora persisted in styling "her 

heart." 
So we were engaged. Our troth had been plighted. 
Not by moonbeam or starbeam, by fountain or 

grove. 
But in a front parlor, most brilliantly lighted, 
Beneath the gas-fixtures we whispered our love, 
Without any romance or raptures or sighs, 
Without any tears in Miss Flora's blue eyes. 
Or blushes, or transports, or such silly actions. 
It was one of the quietest business transactions, 
Witli a very small sprinkling of sentiment, if any, 
And a very large diamond imported by TiH'any. 
On her virginal lips while I printed a kiss. 
She exclaimed, as a sort of parenthesis, 
And by way of putting me ijuite at my ease, 
" You know, I 'm to polka as much as 1 please, 
And flirt when I like, — now, stop, don't you 

speak, — 
And you must not come here more than twice in 

the week. 
Or talk to me either at party or ball. 
But always be ready to come when I call ; 
So don't prose to me about duty and stuff, 
If we don't break this off, there will be time 

enough 
For that sort of thing ; but the bargain must be 
That, as long as I choose, I am perfectly free. 
For this is a sort of engagement, you see. 
Which is binding on you but not binding on me." 

Well, having thus wooed Miss McFlimsey and 

gained her, 
With the silks, crinolines, and hoops that con- 
tained her, 
I had, as I thought, a contingent remainder 
At least in the property, and the best right 
To appear as its escort by day and by night ; 
And it being the week of the Stuckups' grand 
ball, — 
Their cards had been ont a fortnight or so. 
And set all the Avenue on the tiptoe, — 
I considered it only my duty to call, 

And see if Miss Flora intended to go. 
I found her, — as ladies are apt to be found, 
When the time intervening between the first 

sound 
Of the bell and the visitor's entry is shorter 
Than usual, — I found — I won't say, I caught 

her, — 
Intent on the pier-glass, undoubtedly meaning 
To see if perhaps it did n't need cleaning. 



She turned as I entered, — " Why, Hairy, you 
sinner, 

I thought that you went to the Flashers' to din- 
ner ! " 

" So 1 did," I replied ; "but the dinner is swal- 
lowed 
And digested, I trust, for 't is now nine and 
more, 

So being relieved from that duty, I followed 
Inclination, which led me, you see, to your 
door ; 

And now will your ladyship so condescend 

As just to inform me if you intend 

Your beauty and graces and presence to lend 

(All of which, when I own, I hope no one will 
borrow) 

Ta the Stuckups, whose party, you know, is to- 
morrow ? " 

The fair Flora looked up with a pitiful air, 
And answered quite promptly, ' ' Why, HaiTy^ 

moil cher, 
I should like above all things to go with you 

there ; 
But really and truly — I 've nothing to wear." 
" Nothing to wear ! go just as you are ; 
Wear the dress you have on, and you '11 be by 

far, 
I engage, the most bright and particular star 

On the Stuckup horizon " — I stopped — for 
her eye. 
Notwithstanding this delicate onset of flattery, 
Opened on me at once a most terrible batteiy 

Of scorn and amazement. She made no reply, 
But gave a slight turn to the end of her nose 

(That pure Grecian feature), as much as to say, 
"How absurd that any sane man should suppose 
That a lady would go to a ball in the clothes, 

No matter how fine, that she wears every day! '" 

So I ventured again : " Wear your crimson bro- 
cade " 
(Second turn-up of nose) — " That 's too dark by 

a shade." 
" Your blue silk " — " That 's too heavy. " " Your 

pink" — "That's too light." 
"Wear tulle over satin" — "I can't endure 

white." 
"Your rose-colored, then, the best of the 

batch " — 
" I have n't a thread of point lace to match." 
" Y'our brown moire antiqiu; " — " Yes, and look 

like a Quaker." 
"The pearl-colored" — "I would, but that 

plaguy dressmaker 
Has had it a week." " Then that exquisite lilac. 
In which you would melt the heart of a Shylock," 



HUMOROUS POEMS. 



983 



(Here tlie nose took again the same elevation) — 
" I would n't wear that for the whole of creation." 
"Why not? It's my fancy, there 's nothing 
could strike it 
As more commc il faut" — "Yes, but, dear me ! 
that lean 
Sophronia Stuckup has got one just like it. 
And I won't appear dressed like a chit of sixteen." 
"Then that splendid purple, that sweet Maza- 
rine, 
That superb point d'aiguiUe, that imperial gi'een. 
That zephyr-like tarlatan, that nc\\ grenadine " — 
" Not one of all which is fit to be seen," 
Said the lady, becoming e.xcited and flushed. 
" Then wear," I exclaimed, in a tone which quite 
crushed 
Opposition, " that gorgeous tcdlelte which you 
sported 
In Paris last spring, at the gi-and presentation, 
Wlien you quite tnrned the head of the head of 
tlie nation ; 
And by all the grand court were so very much 

courted." 
The end of the nose was portentously tipped up. 
And both the bright eyes shot forth indignation. 
As she burst upon me with the fierce exclamation, 
" I have worn it three times at the least calcula- 
tion. 
And that and most of my dresses are ripped 
up ! " 
Here I ripped out something, perhaps rather rash, 
Quite innocent, though ; but, to use an ex- 
pression 
More striking than classic, it "settled my hash," 
And proved very soon the last act of our ses- 
sion. 
" Fiddlesticks, is it, sir ? I wonder the ceiling 
Does n't fall down and crush you — oh ! you men 

have no feeling ; 
Vou selfish, unnatural, illiberal creatures, 
Who set yourselves up as patterns and preachers. 
Your silly pretence, — why, what a mere guess 

it is! 
Pray, what do you know of a woman's necessities ? 
I have told you and showed you I 've nothing to 

wear, 
And it 's perfectly plain you not only don't care. 
But you do not believe me " (here the nose went 

still higher), 
" 1 suppose, if you dared, you would call me a 

liar. 
Our engagement is ended, sir — yes, on the spot ; 
You 're a brute, and a monster, and — I don't 

know what." 
1 mildly suggested the words — Hottentot, 
Pickpocket, and cannibal, Tartar, and thief, 
As gentle expletives which might give relief ; 



But this only proved as a spark to the powder. 
And the storm I had raised came faster and 

louder ; 
It blew and it rained, thundered, lightened, and 

hailed 
Interjections, verbs, pronouns, till language quite 

failed 
To express the abusive, and then its arrears 
Were brought up all at once by a torrent of tears, 
And my last faint, despau-ing attempt at an obs- 
Ervation was lost in a tempest of sobs. 

Well, I felt for the lady, and felt for my hat, 

too. 
Improvised on the crown of the latter a tattoo. 
In lieu of expressing the feelings which lay 
Quite too deep for words, as Wordsworth would 

say; 
Then, without going through the form of a bow. 
Found myself in the entry ■— I hardly knew 

how, — 
On doorstep and sidewalk, past lamp-post and 

square. 
At home and up stairs, in my own easy-chair ; 

Poked my feet into slippers, my fire into blaze. 
And said to myself, as I lit my cigar. 
Supposing a man had the wealth of the Czar 

Of the Russias to boot, for the rest of his days. 
On the whole, do you think he would have much 

to spare, 
If he married a woman with nothing to wear ? 

Since that night, taking pains that it should not 

be bruited 
Abroad in society, I 've instituted 
A course of inquiiy, extensive and thorough. 
On this vital subject, and find, to my horror, 
That the fair Flora's case is by no means sur- 
prising. 
But that there exists the greatest distress 
In our female community, solely arising 

From this unsupplied destitution of dress. 
Whose unfortunate victims are filling the air 
With the pitiful wail of "Nothing to wear." 
Researches in some of the " Upper Ten " districts 
Reveal the most painful and startling statistics, 
Of which let me mention only a few : 
In one single house, on Fifth Avenue, 
Three young ladies were found, all below twenty- 
two. 
Who have been three whole weeks without any- 
thing new 
In the way of flounced silks, and thus left in the 

lurch 
Are unable to go to ball, concert, or church. 
In another large mansion, near the same place, 
Was found a deplorable, heartrending case 



i>$4 



lUMOROn? POEMS- 



Tsal vaat, k<«g OMttaamiiL tsf (aBMl~s4mr 

0»* «)«sHTiag YVinn^ l*4y *^ - 

TVs sonww fcr lA* nwailt vV" » v.. :. -.^- .'., ^i.". ;,' ; 
Jb»Mb«r OMdowd to dtc '" - -. . ;.:^ 

Stall sMAlMr, wkoe* w t^ ...-. .^^- --.vis« 

tiHtiftc 
Ewe sw» lk« sal kes ■ -"- *- '■ - """ " 

<F«r «!»«» fiit» sitf f< . ..-■« ..^ijssi 

Or ber»* iJ, »5 J«as5. ».;.. ,-^.i... ^'ei^BMMB.V 

aadoiiuus 
Etw 9akt eat firaat Ctufe, wmA Aoasu^ «( 

AmI all as te sl^ aMsst rackraAif a»d m«, 
TW vaat of iiii(k kaves Iter vitk aodkuis to 

Aai KMtis Iter life 9» ■iraur aad 43rs(«flt>e 
Hat skr's ii«it« a lediisf, a»d aliMtst a swp- 

tif: 
For ^ ttxaciia^ sits thit Ai$ SMt «f $n«f 
Otuw« tiM ia R«l^Kw t)M ^^t»st m1m< 
A»d Pkikasiipin- kas »«t a aaxna to sfaiv 
Fori^ TMtiat of sadt oi«rAi^Mua$ <i«s{>ur. 
Bat tibesaUei^ br br of all tlw9» sal fntares 
Is tkf OMltr pnict»Ml «{«■ tlw fnor <«vaitti«$ 
Br kashuiJ^ a»l &dRi^ koI Blwt!«ai>k aad 

T1aHB&, 
"^TW Kstst ^« BMt^ twadhiaf^ a{ipeak aaaAefur 

«tnato»is 
Br dMir «n«s awl dwir dts^tiMS, aad Imt« 

tltMa fcr days 
Tiss^Fjplieii wMi intw jewdrr. IEut& nir Katqaets, 
Etva ha^ ax tb«ir aii^aies vlM«in«r tkry kaw 

ackaxo, 
Jbtid ilenle Aeir deaauMk as vsdiess «x$m»- 

'.>::■? >^e of a linj« ■•me l?Ksiait- to imj- t»w. 
V... ssd fcr bdief. ibet. ii»» : 'i »t»s «vv« tra*. 
\V>vifa> basbaad Kteeol, «$^ fav;^ as Ouuraa. 
TiperauX kw Intake ■MtetkaB tea traafcsto 

SkuoB. 
TV# <iis^»)a«Me was, tkat viwa slw $M tk«i«^ 
AT ^ke <Bd«!f tkiw ««ds $&« kad aotkiiag to 



Asd «ke* ske ixopised to £u^ tk« se«oa 
A; X««pii^ tke BMiKter i«fii»il «et anl oat;, 
Fkk- kb ia&BMB «oelact al)«:u^ bo nssoa, 
Exo^ Aat tke «a»as vwv ^v<d (tx- kis soat. 



StK-k uvactuMi as tkis was t«» skoddas, of vv«r> 
A»il ii(vv««<di»^ aiv aov soii^ oa fcr dirocw. 

Bat vky kuiov tki» ftdiass t^ Uftias lb« cur- 

taut 
Floa>ik«s«$onMsof«wo* Eaoa^ it is ontair. 
Has k«i« Nwu «li9l^l<.«<^i to s«ir np tk# pitr 

Of^TCtT l<iM«TV>l«Mt kflUt IB tkf oitT, 

Aitd sfiar «|» Haatanity iato a <&&»» 

IVx ra^ axMl iv4i*T« tke» sad oasvs in^Matxr. 

VToat soMMKtiiy, Bt«T«d by tkis towcMi^ d«> 

s<n(>t>oiB, 
CVow Kwaaivl to-Monov aad kNhl a suhsnptioa ? 
Woat soBK kiad pkikadaof^, s««ia5 tlttt 

aid is 
:^ a««<l«l at ooco br tkeso iadigtat ladies, 
Tbk« (ktus* of tke aMttw? Or waa't IVtvr 

CVwper 
Tk« oonterxseiMW bir of souw ^tltadid sapt*^ 
StntctarN like tkat vkick to-day liaks kis aaate 
la Ae Caioa aacadias of koaor aad fiuH« ; 
Aad ioaai a b»v charity jast ior tk# eai» 
Of dk«» aaka{^y «oat«a viA aoAiag to war. 
'Wkid^ ia TKv of tk« oask vkick voaM daily 
^ bt chiamwL 

[ TV Lm riaf i e mt H«G{ittal well ai^t b« aaaaod ! 
I Woat Stcaan, or smk of oar drr-jsoods iat- 

paittMS, 
Ttk» a (oatra<rt for njotkiag oar viT<» aad oar 

d»«$k««rs> 
Or. to famisk ike oa^ to sa{fiy tk«ee distiwssKs 
Aad Hie s padivay stiev vidi sbavls, ooUars, 

aBddl«S9R!« 

ElK ike aaal of tkeaa wakiis it Mack loagher aad 

tkoraier. 
'VToa'^ SMMte oae dt9coT«r a aev Oalifoiaia f 

O laiii^ doar ladies, ike aext saaay day 
riitkse liaadle yoar ko^^ j«t oat of Btoadvar, 
FK>at its vkiri aad its basde^ its 6^iaa aad 

|aide. 
Aad teat|ikis of trade wkiek tower oa «Kk sade^ 
T^ tke alleys aad iaaes, vkeiv llisf;}(taae aad 

Gailt 
Their <kildi<aK kaw ^tketad, tkeir city bare 

bailt ; 
VTkeK Haager aad Tiof, like taia beasts of piey. 
Haw kaated ikeir riciiae to ^ooai aad de- 
spair; 
Ra^ tke nek, daiaty di«s^ aad tke fiae broi- 

dendskiit. 
Pick year ddicate «ay tkioagk daanawir; aad 

dirt, 
G^ope ikroc^ the dark deas; diaab Ik* 

lively stair 
To tke «anet, vbeie wetcke^ die Toaag aad 

tbeoM. 



lILMOROi;S POEMS. 



985 



Huir Dtnrvcd and half naki-d, lie crouched from 

lfi« r:o)d. 
Sf- DiijHt; Mkftlfton limbo, thoMs front-biltcn fwt, 
All bl«(»liii(; and bruijn«J by tbc kIdw.h of tbc 

utrcct i 
Hear tbe Hharji cry of childhood, the dtjcp grotinH 
that Hwrdl 
Kroni the (Kxjr dying creature who writheo on 
the (lw(r, 
Hear the <:nrmm that itound like the echoed of 
Hell, 
All you xiekeii and ithudder and fly from the 
door ; 
Then hornc to your wardrobeo, and tiay, if you 

dare, — 
Spoiled children of FuhioD, — you 've nothing to 
wear ! 

A nd 0, if (jerchance there ahonld be a iqihere 
Where all w made right which no puzzlen u« 

here, 
Whi^rc the glare and the glitt<:r and tinwil of Time 
Fade and die in the light of that region sublime, 
Where the iioul, diiienchanted of flesh and of 

(KinHC, 

Unncreenwl >/y it« trap^nngx and dhowit and 

pretence, 

MuHt Ije elotbwl for the life and the m^vtf. aV^ve, 

With purity, truth, faith, meekneito, and b/ve ; 

O daught/;n( of f^irth ! f'xdifih virginii, lx;ware ! 

Lcfrt in that up[x;r realm you have nothing to 

wear '. I 

William Allen Butlbiu 



I'roud abroa/1, and [iroiid at borne, 
I'roud wherever ulie ihawjA t/» ivmiK — 
When ulie wa>i glwl, and when Hhe wan glam ; 

I'roud an the bea/l of a Hara/ren 
Over the d(x;r of a tip[»ling-nhop '. — 
I'roud a« a ducheitii, proud ai a lop, 
" I'roud a* a Ix^y with a brand-new top," 

I'roud beyond muiiarvi'jn ! 

It iutt;m» a wingnlar thing t/i nay, 
But her very ncnaeit led her a«tray 

KeHjKj'jting all humility ; 
In xtxith, \iKT dull <uii\i-mVat drarn 
Could find in huinJiU only a "hum," 
And heard no wjund of "gentle" come, 



TIIK PROUD MISS MACBKIDE. 

A LECEJVD OP GOTHAM. 

O, TEKr:lBLT pond wan Mifw MacBri'le, 
The very [*nioiiifi(xition of i/riile, 
Aa Hhe niin';ed along in fanhion'M tide, 
Adown liTiiiulv/ay — on the projier side — 

When the golden nun waa netting ; 
There waa pride in the hea/l »he carricl »o high, 
I'ride in her lip, and pride in her eye. 
And a world of pride in the very irigli 

That her utately bonorn wan fretting ! 

O, terribly proud wag Mi«t MacBride, 
I'roud of her Ix^uty, and proud of her pride. 
And proud of fifty mattere beiride — 

That would n't have borne diaaection ; 
Proud of her wit, and proud of her walk. 
Proud of her t«eth, and jn-oud of her talk. 
Proud of "knowing cheeae from chalk," 

On a very alight inapection ! 



In talking alxrat gentility. 

MHiat lowly meant ahe did n't know, 

For ahe alwaya avoide^l " everything low," 

With care the in'«t f/unistilioua ; 
And, queerer atill, the andible aoond 
Of "iiu[K;r-ailly" ahe never hail found 

In the adjective anperciliotu I 

The meaning of mtek ahe never knew, 
But imagined the phraac had a'jmetbing to do 
With " M'/if-a," a jjeddling Oerrnan .lew, 
Who, like all hawkcra, the country throng}i, 

Waa "a pfjnon of no jirmt'um ; " 
And it aeemeil to her excee/lingly plain. 
If the word wa« really known to jiertain 
To a vulgar Oennan, it waa n'tgen/iane 

To a lady of high condition ! 

Even her grac«« — not her grace — 
For that waa in the " vocative caae " — 
Chilled with the toneh rif her if;y face. 

Sat very atiffly ujion her '. 
She never confeaae'l a favor aloud. 
Like one of the airnple, rjimmnn crowd — 
But coldly amiled, and faintly l)Owed, 
As who ahonld aay, " Yo»! do me jiroad. 

And do yonnielf an honor ! " 

And yet the pride of Mim MacBride, 
Although it ba^l fifty bobbiea f < ride. 

Had really no foun'lation ; 
' But, like the fabrica that goiwipa deviae — 
Those aingle stories that often ariae 
And grow till they reach a four-story size — 

Waa merely a fancy creation ! 

Her birth, indeed, waa ancommonly high — 
t For Miss Ma/J'ride first oi*ned her eye 
: Through a akylight dim, on the light of the aky ; 



986 



HUMOROUS POEMS. 



But pride is a curious piission — 
And in talking about her wealtli and worth, 
ijhe always forgot to montiou hor birth 

To people of rank and fashion ! 

Of oil the notable things on earth, 
The queerest one is pride of birth 

Among our " tierce denioeraeie ! " 
A bridge across a hundred years, 
Without a prop to save it fiinn sneers, — 
Not even a couple of rotten peers, — 
A thing for laughter, fleers, and jeere, 

Is American aristocracy! 

English and Irish, French and Spanish, 
Oernian, Italian, Dutch ami r>auish, 
Crossing their veins until they vanish 

In one conglouierafiou ! 
So subtle a tangle of blood, indeed. 
No Heraldry Harvey will ever succeed 

In linding the circulation. 

Pepend upon it, my snobbish friend. 
Your family thread you can't ascend, 
AVithout good reason to apprehend 
You may find it waxed, at tlu' farther end, 

By some plebeian vocation ! 
Or, woree than that, your boasted line 
May end in a looji of stromjcr twine. 

That plagued some worthy relation ! 

But Miss Mac Bride had something beside 
Her lofty birth to nourish her pride — 
For rich was the old iwternnl MacBride, 

Accoitliug to public rumor ; 
And he lived "up town," in a splendid square, 
And kept his daughter on dainty fare. 
And gave her gems that were rich and rare. 
And the finest rings and things to wear. 

And featliers enough to plume her. 

A thriving tailor begged her hand. 

But .she giive "the fellow " to understand, 

By a violent manual action. 
She perfectly scorned the best of his clan, 
And reckoned the ninth of any man 

An exceedingly vidgiir fraction ! 

Another, whose sign was a golden boot, 
AVas mortified with a bootless suit, 

In a way that was quite appalling ; 
For, though a regular sitfor by t rade. 
He wasn't a suitor to suit the nuiid, 
'iVho cut him off with a saw — and bade 

" The col)bler keep to his calling ! " 



A rich tobacconist comes and sues. 
And, thinking the lady would scarce refuse 
A man of his wealth, ami liberal views, 
Began, at ouce, with "If you choose — 

And could you really love him — " 
But the lady spoiled his speech iu a hulT, 
With an answer rough and ready enough, 
To let him kuow she was up to snuft". 

And altogether above him ! 

.\ young attorney, of winning grace. 
Was scarce allowed to "open his face," 
Ere Miss MacBride had closed his case 

With true judicial celerity ; 
For the lawyer was poor, and "seedy " to boot. 
And to .say the lady discariled his suit. 

Is merely a double verity ! 

The last of those who came to court. 

Was a lively beau, of the dapper sort, 

" Without any visible means of support," 

A crime by no means flagrant 
In one who weal's an eh'giint coat. 
But the very jioint on which they vote 

A i"agged fellow "a vagrant ! " 

Now dapper Jim his courtship plied 

(I wish the fact could be denied) 

With an eye to the purse of the old MacBride, 

And really " nothing shorter ! " 
For he said to himself, in his greedy lust, 
" Whenever ho dies — as die he must — 
And yields to Heaven his vital trust. 
He 's very sure to ' come down with his dust,' 

In behalf of his only daughter." 

.\nd the very magnificent Miss MacBride, 
Half in love, and half in pride, 

Quite graciously relented ; 
.■Vnd, to.ssing her head, and turning he)' back. 
No token of proper pride to lack — 
To be a bride, without the "Mac," 

With much disdain, consented ! 

Old John MacBride, one fatal day, 
Became the unresisting prey 

Of fortune's undertakers ; 
And staking all on a single die. 
His foumiered lark went high and dry 

Among the bix)kers and bi-eakore ! 



But, alas, for the haughty Miss MacBride 
'T was such a shock to her precious pride 1 
She could n't recover, although she tried 
j Her jaded spirits to rally ; 



HUMOROUS POEM.S. 



987 



'T was a dreadful change in liuman alTairs, 
From a place " up town " to a nook " up stairs,' 
From an avenue down to an alley ! 

"I" was little condolence she had, God wot, 
P'rom her " troops of fiiends," who hud n't for^^ot 

The airs she used to borrow ! 
They had civil phrases enough, but yet 
"I' was plain to see that their "deepest regret " 

Was a ditl'erent thing from sorrow ! 

And one of those chaps wlio make a pun. 
As if it were ijuite legitinjate I'un 
To be blazing away at every one 
With a regular, double-loaded gun — 

Remarked that inoi-al transgression 
Always brings retributive stings 
To candle-makers as well as kings ; 
For "making light o( cere&un things" 

Was a very ivick-ud profession ! 

And vulgar people — the saucy churls — 
Inquired aVjout "the price of pearls," 

And mocked at her situation ; 
■" She wasn't ruined — they ventured to hope — 
liecause she was poor, she need n't mope ; 
Few people were better off for soap, 

And that was a consolation I " 



And to make her cup of woo run over, 
Her elegant, ardent plighted lover 

Was the very first to foi'salie her ; 
" He quite regretted the stej), 't was true - 
The lady had pride enougli 'for two,' 
I5ut that alone would never do 

To quiet the butcher and baker ! " 

And now the unhappy Miss MacBride — 
The merest gliost of her early pride — 

Bewails her lonely position ; 
Cramped in the very narrowest niche, 
Above the poor, and below the rich — 

Was ever a worse coinlition ! 



Because you flourish in worldly affairs, 
Don't be haughty, and jiut on airs. 

With insolent pride of station ! 
Don't be proud, and turn up your nose 
At poorer people in plainer clothes. 
Hut learn, for the sake of your mind's repose, 
That wealth 's a bubble that comes — and goes ! 
Aud that all proud flesh, wherever it grows. 

Is subject to irritation ! 

John Godfrey Saxe- 



\ i'UAIX LANGUAGE FROM TRUTHFUL 
JAMES. 

PurULARLV KNOWN AS THE ■■HEATHEN CHINEE." 

Which I wish to remark — 

And my language is plain — 
'i'hat for ways that are dark 

And for tricks that are vain, 
The heathen Chinee is peculiar : 

Which the same 1 would rise to explain. 

All Kin was his name ; 

Aud I shall not deny 
In regard to the same 

What that name might imply ; 
But his smile it was pensive and childlike, 

As I freiiuent remarked to Bill Nye. 

It was August the third, 

And quite soft was the skies, 
Which it might be inferred 

That Ah Sin was likewise ; 
Yet he played it that day upon William 

And me in a way I despise. 

Which we had a small game, 

And Ah Sin took a hand : 
It was euchre. The same 

He did not understand. 
But he smiled, as he sat by the table, 

With the smile that was childlike and bland. 

Yet the cards they were stocked 

In a way that I grieve. 
And my feelings were shocked 

At the .state of Nye's sleeve. 
Which was stuffed full of aces and bowers, 

And the same with intent to deceive. 

But the hands that were played 

By that heathen Chinee, 
And the jjoints that he made, 

Were quite frightful to see, — 
Till at last he put down a right bower, 

Which the same Nye had dealt unto me. 

Then I looked up at Nye, 

And he gazed upon me ; 
And he rose with a sigh, 

And said, " Can this be ? 
We are ruined by Chinese cheap labor," — 

And he went for that heathen Chinee. 

In the scene that ensued 

I did not take a hand, 
But the floor it was strewed, 

Like the leaves on the strand, 
With the cards tliat Ah Sin had been hiding 

In the game " he did not understand." 



988 



HVMOROrS rOEMS. 



lu his slwveis, whii-h weiv long, 

Ht> liiui twouty-four jiu-ks, — 
\Vhioh wiis comiuj; it stivng, 

Yot 1 stntp but tlio liU'ts. 
And we louiul ou his nails, wliioh «eiv tajwr, - 

What is frtHjuent in tajH'rs, ^ that 's wivx. 

Whiih is why 1 remark. 

Ami my huigiiagt' is plain, 
That for ways that aiv liiivk. 

And for tricks that aiv vaiu, 
Tlie heathen Chinee is iveuliar, — 

Which the same I am fi-ee to maintain. 

BKBr llAKTB. 



THE SOCIETY ITPON THE STANISUVUS. 

I RKSli^K at Table Mountain, and my name is 

'IVuthful Jiuues : 
I ain not up to small dw«it or any sinful jp>nu's ; 
And 1 '11 tell in simple language what 1 know 

aKnit the row 
That broke up our Society upon the Stanislow. 

But first 1 would i-eniark, that 't is not a piv^ier 

plan 
For any seieutifio gent to whale his fellow-man ; 
And, if a member dou't agree with his peculiar 

whim. 
To lay for that same member lor to " put a 
head " ou him. 

Now, nothing could be finer, or more beautiftil 

to see, 
Thau the first si.x n\ouths' procfwdings of that 
sjime society ; 
Till Krown of Calaveras brought a lot of fossil 

Ivues 
That he found within a tunnel near the tene- 
ment of Jones. 

Then Brown he read a paper, and he recon- 

structwl there. 
From those same Kmes, an animal that ^vas 
extremely nue ; 
And Jones then asked the Chair for a susj*n- 

sion of the rules. 
Till he i-ould prove that those same bones was 
one of his lost mules. 

Then Brown he smiled a bitter smile, and said 

he was at fault ; 
It seenuxl he had been trespassing on Jones's 
family vault ; 
He was a most Siux-astic man, this quiet Mr. 

Brown, 
And on several occasions he had cleaned out 
the town. 



Now 1 hold it is not decent for « scientific gent 
To say another is an ass, — at least, to all intent ; 
Xor sliould the individual who hapjH'Us to lie 

meant 
Reply by heaving rocks at him to any great 
e.\tent. 

J Then .\buer Pean of -Vngsl's nused a jH>int of 

onicr, when 
A chunk of old ixxl sandstone took hiiu in the 
aWomen ; 
And he smiled a kind of sickly smile, and 

curleil up on the Moor, 
And the sulisequent proceedings interesteil him 
no more. 

For in less time than 1 write it, every member 

did engage 
In a warfiuv with the remnants of a palteozoic 
age ; 
And the way they heaveil those fossils in their 

angi-r was a sin. 
Till the skull of an old mammoth caveil the 
head of Thomjvson in. 

And this is all I have to say of these improper 

gjmies. 
For 1 live at Table Mountain and my name is 
Trutlil'ul James, 
And I 've told in simple language what 1 know 

alvut the row- 
That broke up our Society upon the Stanislow. 

BRKT haktk. 



THE XANTrCKET SKllTEK. 

M.VNY a long, long year ago, 

Nantucket skippei-s had a plan 
Of finding out, though " lying low," 

How near Kew York their schoouei's ran. 

They greaseil the leiid before it fell. 

And then by sounding, through the night, 

Knowiivg the soil that stuck so well. 
They always guesseil their reckoning right. 

A skip}>er gray, whose eyes were dim. 
Could tell, by tasting, just the spot. 

And so below he 'd " douse the glim," — 
After, of course, his " something hot," 

Snug in his birth, at eight o'clock, 
This ancient skipjier might be found ; 

No matter how his craft wo\ild rock. 
He slept, — for skippers' naps are sound. 

The watch on deck would now and then 
Kun down and wake him, with the lead ; 

He d up, and tjiste, and tell the men 
How manv miles thcv went ahead. 



HUMOROUS POKMS. 



989 



Olio night 'twas Jotlmiii Manlon's wutch, 
A curious wag, — tlic i)i!(ilei''H uoii ; 

Ami so lie iiiused, (the wiiutoii wietcli !) 
"To-iiiglit I '11 have a grain of I'uu. 

" Wo 're all a set of stu|ji(l fools, 
To think tlie Kkipper kiiowH, by tasting. 

What giijuiiil lie 's on ; Xiintueket fieliooU 
Don't teach siieh stiilf, witli all their banting! ' 

And so he took the well-greaseii li.'ail. 

Anil rubbed it o'er a box of earth 
That stood on (leek, — a iiarsiiiii-bed, — 

And then he sought the skipper's bertlL 

" Where are we now, sir ? I'lease to taste." 
The skipper yawned, put out his tongue, 

Opi'iied his eyes in wondrous haste. 
And then upon the floor he sjirung I 

The skipper stonned, and tore his hair, 

Hauled on his boots, and roared to Mardeii, 

" Nantucket's sunk, and lic:re we are 

Kight over old Jlarni llackett's garden I" 

JAMKS THOMAS FIELDS. 



THE ART OF BOOK-KEEPING. 

How hard, when those who do not wish 

To lenii, thus lose, their books. 
Are snareil by anglers — folks that fish 

With liteiary hooks — 
Who call and take some favorite tome, 

But never read it through ; 
They thus complete their set at home 

By making one at you. 

I, of my "Spenser" quite bereft. 

Last winter sore was shaken ; 
Of " Lamb" I 've but a nuartcr left, 

Nor could I save my " Bacon ;" 
And then I saw my " Crabbe " at last. 

Like Hamlet, backward go. 
And, as the tide was ebbing fast. 

Of course I lost my "Kowe." 

My " llallct" served to knock me down, 

Which makes me thus a talker. 
And once, when I was out of town. 

My "Johnson " proved a " Walker." 
While studying o'er the fire one day 

My "Hobbes" amidst the smoke, 
They bore my "Colniiin" clean away. 

And carried off my " Coke." 

They picked my " Locke," to me far more 
Than Bramah's patent worth, 

And now my losses I deplore, 
Without a " Home " on eartlL 



If once a book you let them lift, 

Another they conceal, 
For though I caught them stealing "Swift," 

As swiftly went my ".Steele." 

"Hope" is not now upon my shelf, 

Where late he stood elated. 
But, what is strange, my " I'opo " himself 

Is exconiinunicated. 
My little ".Suckling" in the grave 

Is sunk to swell the ravage, 
And what was Crusoe's fate to save, 

'Twas mine to lose — a ".Savage." 

Even "Glover's" works I cannot put 

My frozen hands upon, 
Though ever since I lost my " Foote" 

My " Bunyan " has been gone. 
My " Hoyle " with " Cotton " went oppressed, 

My "Taylor," too, must fail. 
To save my " Goldsmith " from arrest, 

In vain I olfered " Bayle." 

I " Prior" sought, but could not seo 

The " Hood " so late in front, 
And when I turned to hunt for " Lee," 

0, where Wiis my " Leigh Hunt" '( 
I tried to laugh, old Care to tickle, 

Yet could not "Tickell " touch, 
And then, alack ! T missed my " Mickle," 

And surely mickle 's much. 

'T is quite enough my griefs to feed, 

My sorrows to excuse. 
To think I cannot read my " Reid," 

Nor even use my " Hughes." 
My classics would not quiet lie, — 

A thing so fondly hoped ; 
Like Dr. Primrose, I may cry, 

My " Livy " has eloped. 

My life is ebbing fast away ; 

I suffer fiom these shocks ; 
And though I fixed a lock on "Gray,'' 

There 's gray upon my locks. 
I 'm far from " Young," am growing pale, 

1 see my " Butler" fly. 
And when they ask about my ail, 

'T is " Bui-ton " I reply. 

They still have made me slight returns, 

And thus my griefs divide ; 
For 0, they cured me of my " Bums," 

And eased my " Akenside." 
But all I think I shall not say. 

Nor let my anger bum. 
For, as they never found me " Gay," 

They have not left me " Sterne." 

THOMAS HOOD. 



990 



lUMOKOrS POEMS. 



o\n) TO TonAivo. 

Tmoi' wluK whon fi\-»'s altaoV. 
lUii'st llioin .•»\'!umt, ami Ulaok 
l^arp, at thi> 1\oi-si'h\;ui's K«ok 

IVn-liiU};. >uis<'alos( ; 
Swwt when llio moni is j;niy ; 
Smvt, whoi\ Ihoy 'vo oloaivii away 
l.iiiioli ; aiui al oUvw of <lay 

IVwsihly swovtust : 

1 havo a likiii^i; oUl 

For lIuHv tl\inij{l\ manifolil 

Storios, I know, aiv toUi, 

Not U< thy onnlit ; 
How ono (or two at iHvwt) 
Urojvs make a oat a ghivst — 
UsoloSS, PXlVpt to i\wst — 

Oootvirs liavo s,ii<l it ; 

How tUoy who uso fusoos 
All jjrvnv by slow ilogixH's 
l^raiiiloss as >'hii)\|V')nxco$, 

Mi-ajiiv as li/aixls ; 
Otimail. and Ival Ihoir wi\t>s ; 
riuiijti' (aflor slxvkiui; liv(\<) 
(valors aiiil oarvingkinws 

Into thi'ir gizjanls, 

Confiwuul svto.h knavish trioks ! 
Yet know \ live or six 
SinoktM-s who IV»'oiy mix 

Still with Ihi'ir noighlvirs ; 
.Tonos — (who, 1 "ni jjhul to say, 
Asktnl loavo of Mrs. .1.) — 
IXaily al>sorKs a olay 

After his laVxirjs. 

Outs may liavo hail thoir goixso 
Oookivl t\v lolvu-oo-jnii-o ; 
Still why ilony its nso 

ThonjthtluUy takon ? 
\Vt> 'rt' not as tahhiiw an> ; 
Smith, tako a tVsh oig!>r ! 
.tones, the tolwvHM-jar ! 

Heiv 's to thee, Itaeon ! 

OHARl.tS S CAIVRRLSV, 



niSASTKR, 

T WAS ever thus Ironi ohililhix-Kl's hour 

My lotulest lioix>s woiihl not vleoay : 
I i\e\-er loved a tiw or llower 

Whieh was the lii^st to lade away ! 
The jpxrvlen. wherx- 1 usisl to delve 

Short -fiwkisl, still yields me pinks in plenty; 
The ^H>ar-tr<x» that 1 eUntlwd at twel\-e, 

1 s«>e still Mivssoming, at twenty. 



I newr nursct) « dear gnwllo. 

Hut 1 W!>s given a i>;n'<>(i«et — 
How I did nurse him if unwell I 

He 's iiulnvile, but lii\gvi-s yet. 
Ho 's given, with an euehanling tuft ; 

He melts u\e with his small blaek eye ; 
He 'd look iuiniitable slulled, 

.\nd knows it but he will not die I 

1 had a kitten — 1 was rieh 

In (Wis — liut all too soon my kitten 
Hee.iiue a t\ill-siriHl eat, by whieh 

1 'w moiv than onee ln>en semtehrtl and bitteii; 
.Vnd when lor sleep her limKs she enrled 

tine day ly>side her m\touehed plateful, 
And glided eabnly fiMni the world, 

1 friH'ly own that 1 was gi-:>teful. 

.Vnd tlien 1 bo>vght a dog a ipieen 1 

Ah, Tiny, d>wr departing pug I 
She lives, but she is pist sixteen, 

And seari'e ean ei-awl aei\^ss the rug. 
1 lovxvi her Ivauliful and kiiul ; 

Oelighted in her perl Uowwow : 
Uut now she snajis if you don't niiud ; 

"T were hinaey to love her now. 

I usihI to think, .should e'er mishap 

Uetiile my erumple-visagx>vl Ti, 
In shajv of piwwling thief, or tr;i]>, 

t">r eoirse bull-terrier — 1 should die, 
Hut nil ' dis:istei-s have their use ; 

And life might e'eii lv< too .sunshiny ; 
Nor would 1 make myself a goose. 

If some big dog should swallow Tiny. 

ClIARLKS & CALVBRLn>r 



MOTH Kl! 11 0011. 

StIK laid it wlieiv the suii1h\»iiis fiUl 
rnseanned uihmi the biMkeii wall. 
Without a tear, withoul a giwin. 
She laid it iu\ir a mighty sloiie, 
Whieh .some rude swain had haply east 
Thither in sport, long agi-s pist. 
And Time with iiuvsses had o'erlaid, 
.\iid tVnorti with many a tall gra.ss-blade 
And all aKnit bid nvses bloom 
And violets shed tliiir .sort |><>rfunu>. 
Thei-e, in its eool and iiuiel Ivtl, 
She .set her bimlen down and thvl : 
Xor Hung, all <\ig<'r to eseaiv. 
One glanee ujxm the (wrfeet shajw. 
That lay, still warm and frx^sh and fair. 
Hut motionless and soundle.ss theiv. 



ni;Moiio(;.s J'okm.s, 



Ml 



No tiiimnii <'y<: liii'l rnarkwl tn-r fntim 

Ai:ri»u thit liu(\i:ii-<i)iiu{i>viij[ ^riwo 

Rrn yrt tti<: rniiMl-cr clock cliidicd nf.vKii ; 

Only tli« iiiti'i<*iit, tflr'lx of )i<:iiv«n 

Thi: iriat(|iiR, ami tin: rook »()<«<! n««t 

Hwiii^K "» till) i)li<i-t.ri<; wiiviM liin rmt — 

And tli« Iptlii; iiriiki'l, aii'l tlic tiwir 

Anil liii>(<-linili»!<l lionn'l tli/it giiardn tlic dwnr, 

IxKikft'l on whiin, iia a Hiinirnnr wiinl 

Tliat, [Kiii<jn((, li:iivi-fi no trff:<! l«)iinil. 

All ijnnfifinri'lli'il, liftrcfiKil. ull, 

Hhi; ran l/» Dial, old niin'd wall, 

To li'avi: iii^ni tlid irliill dank 'art-h 

(For all ! hIik fii-vcr knew itt worth), 

Mid liirrnlM^k rank, and fern and lin;(. 

And diiwii of iiinUl, tliat (rrwnoiKi thing 1 

And th<:n it niif{ht have, lain forlorn 

Krorn mom Ui eve, from evi; t/i moni ; 

Ijiit that, 1/y w/m<: wild irn(iiilw Iwl, 

Th<! miitliKT, CTc, she. turned and llwl, 

'»nft moment »it/>o<l ere.f:t and hij^h ; 

Tlien jK/nre/l int^i the nilent «ky 

A (Ty no j<}Mlant, no Btran;(e, 

That Ali'* — an xhn dlrove to range 

ller relxd ringletd at her glaafi - 

H(iran« up and kii/j-A nr^iiv the gravi ; 

Sh'Kik li(w:k tlio<(/; ':iir|if w< fair t/< iwre, 

f.'lapiK-d her wift haiida in ehildinh glia: ; 

And iilirieke<l - her nwcit fa/* all a)(low, 

Mer very limlw with rajrfure ihaking — 
" My hen ha« laid an ej^g, I know ; 

And only hear the noi»; she '» making ! " 
Ch«klim », Calvckliv. 



THK MKN'. 

A FAvioin hen '» my nt/ir/fi theine, 

Whieh ne'er waa kiif/wn t/> tire 
Of laying eggi, hut the-n ahe 'd WTearn 
Ho loud o'ct every hkh, "t would wiern 

The houae rniut l«; on (ire. 
A turkey-wK;k, who rule/| the walk, 

A wiwr hird and older, 
','011 Id liear 't no more, hh off di/| irtallc 

Kight U) the hen, and t/>ld her : 
" Ma/larn, that wTeam, I apj/rehftrid, 

Addn nothing Ui the matter ; 
It Kurely helfid the egg no whit ; 
Tlien lay yonr egg, and done with it '. 
I f/ray y/u, ma/lam, an a friend, 

'-ease that «ufier<lnon» clatter ! 
Yoti know not h'/w 't gfien thrwgfi iny h«wl, 
" Humph ' very likely '," rna/Wn aaid, 
Then, proTidly fmtting ff^th a leg, — 
" f'nhiiaiMUil liamyard fi/wl ; 
V'rtj know, no more than any owl, 



The nohle privilege and jiraiw; 
(if anthorahi|i in mwlern days — 

I II fill you why I do it ! 
Finit, ywi [jere/nve, I lay the egg, 

And then — review it," 



THE COSMIC KOO, 

(J POM a rw:k yet nw^mU-., 

Amid a chfum iuchimUt, 

An unereat/rd l*;ing Kit<; ; 

IJeneath him, r'K^k, 

Atiove him, cloud. 

And the cloud wa« rw;k, 

And the titc.k viiut ch/ud. 

The r'K-k then growing wift and Wftrrn, 

The el'/tid tx:gan Vi take a fimii, 

A form chaz/tic, vaat, and vague, 

Which i«me/l in the r/AUi'u; egg. 

Tlien the lieing iincreaf^! 

On the egg did Uium^hU;, 

And thna \iiiiaiwi: the incnhat/>r j 

And of the egg did Mi-nnU:, 

Awl thus lx;';ame the alligaf//r ; 

And the incul/at/>r waj* (K/t>mtat«, 

iiut the alligat<>r wax fKtUtiiUiUir. 

IMUWIN. 

Tlir.nr. was an af»e in the day* that were earlier; 
('Ktilnrii^ fiH/tv/l, and hia hair grew imrlier ; 
Cerituriea more gave a thnmh f/. hi* wriat. 
Then he wa« a Man and a J'oaitiviat, 

Moot (MM Ctjij.imL 

TO TIIF. M.IOCKMK HKIJIJ,. 

A Olt/rf/AKAL >tr/t/Ka4<S. 



-V^Tt ft-n; Vat, ^,,,^4 Ifi '"jH^.n.'s, 'ft rti^ pflAr41l# 

'I,^^, firo 
,"1 fiimK* 
■JiXVH A f» 



I 

1 ".Spkak, Oman, lew re'j/rrit ! Fragmentary foxrfl f 
I'rimal \nimfm of pli'(C'me forrnatiwi. 
Hid in l/»weat drift^t i>eh/w the earlie<it stratum 

j (>f Volcanie tnfa ! 

" ()lder than the t>esuit«i, the oldfe<(t l'al»//t.h>rrium ; 
j Older than the treen, the oldest Cryfit/jgarnia ; 

Older than the hill-i, thr<»e infantile em\itUm» 
I Of earth'* ejiidenni* I 



ii;v^ 



iir.MORors roE>rs. 



" Eo — Mio — Plio — whiUsoi'Vr tlie ' oeue " \vas I " Which my name is Bowei^ and my crust \raa 
That tliose vacant sockets tilled with awe nud [ busteil 

wonder, — i Falling down a shaft, in Calaveras County, 

Wiether shores Devonian or Silurian beacJies, — i But 1 'd take it kindly if you "d send the pieces 



Tell us tJiy strange story I 

'•Or h;\s the Professor slightly antwlated 
By some thousand years thy advent on this planet, 
Giving thee an air that 's somewhat lietter fitted 
For oold-hlooiled creatures .' 

" Wert thou true sfieotator of that mighty forest. 
When alwve thy head the stately Sigillaria 
Ke;ireil its columueii trunks in that rvmote and 
distant 
Carboniferous epoch .' 

"Tell us of that scene, — the dim and wateiT 
woodland, 

Songlees, silent, hushed, with never biril or in- 
sect. 

Veiled with spreading fronds and screened with 
tall club-mosses, 
LycopoJiacea — 

" When beside thee walked the solemn Plesio- 

siiurus, 
And around thee crept the festive Ichthyosaurus, 
While from time to time above thee flew and 
ciivled 
Cheerful Pterodactyls. 

" Tell us of thy food, — those half-marine refec- 
tions, 

Crinoids on the sliell, and Btachipods an uatu- 
nl.— 

Cuttle-fish to which the pieurre of Victor Hugo 
Seems a periwinkle. 

" Speak, thou awful vestige of the earth's crea- 
tion, — 
Solitary fragment of remains ot^nic 1 
Tell the wondivus secrets of thy past existence, — 
Speak ! thou eldest primate ! " 

Even as I gazed, a thrill of the maxilla 
And a lateral movement of the condyloid process. 
With jKist-pliocene sounds of healtJiy mastica- 
tion, 
Ground the teeth together ; 

And from that imjierfect dental exhibition. 
Stained with expressed juices of the weed Nico- 
tian, 
Came these hollow accents, blent with softer 
murmurs 
Of expectoration : 



Home to old Missouri ! ' 



Bret Harts. 



PHYSICS. 

[THE 1'NCO.NSCIOUS POETIZING OF A PHILOSOPHBK.] 

There is no foree however great 
Can stretch a corvl however fine 
Into a horizontal line 

That sliiUl Iw accurately straight. 

William whewelu 



THE collegian* to his BKIDE : 

BEING A MATHBUATICAL UADRICAL IN THE SIUPLEST PORK 

Cli.\RMEK, on a given straight line, 
.\nd which we will call B C, 
JIiH'ting at a common point A, 
Draw tile lines .A. C, A B. 
But, my sweetest, so arrange it 
That they "re e«iual, all the three ; 
Then you '11 find that, in the sequel, 
All their angles, too, ar« equal. 

Equal angles, so to term them, 
Eiich one opposite its brother ! 
Equal joys and equal sorrows. 
Equal hojws, "t were sin to smother, 
Equal, — 0, divine ecstatics, — 
Btised on Button's mathematics ! 



THE LAWYER'S INVOCATION TO 
SPRING. 

Whekk.\s, on cert.ain Iwughs and sprays 
Now divers binls are heani to sing. 

And simdry flowers their heads upraise. 
Hail to the coming on of spring ! 

The songs of those said birds arouse 
The memory of our youthful hours, 

As green as tlio.se Si»id sprays and boughs, 
As fresh and sweet as those said flowers. 

] The birds aforesaid. — happy pairs, — 

Love, raid the afores;»id boughs, inshrines 
In freehold nests : themselves, their heirs. 
Administrators, and assigi>s. 



IILMOKOLS POEMS. 



993 



buitiint tenii of ( 'ujiid'n Court, 

Wliere ti^iiilitr pluintillH actions bring, — 

ScaHon of frolic uiid of Hjiort, 

Hail, OH afui'CHaid, corning >S|ii'ing ! 

HENRV Howard drownell. 



TOMS AD KESTO MARK. 

A Ik : " (} Mary, heave a sigh for nu." 

O M.ihK aeva si forme ; 

Forme urc tonitru ; 
lanibii'uin an ainandiirn, 

Olct Hymen promptu ; 
Milii it veta.s an ne mt, 

An liutnano erebi ; 
Olet mecum marito te, 

Or eta beta pi. 

Ala-s, piano more rneretrix, 

Mi ardor vel uno ; 
Infcriam ure artts liaoe, 

Tolerat me ureJx). 
All nie ve ara silicct, 

Vi laudu vimin thus ? 
Hiatu ii» arandum sex — 

I Hue lonicuH. 

Heu scd heu vix en imago, 

My inLssis mare sta ; 
O ( uiitu redit in mihi 

H ilicmas arida ? 
A veri vafer hen si, 

Mihi resolves indu : 
Totius olet Hymen cum — 

Accepta tonitru. 



JO.SATHAN SWIFT. 



NURSEUY KHYMES. 

".JOHN, JOH.S-, TlIK piper's SOS." 

JoHAN.N'BS, .Johannes, tibicine natus 
Fugit pi.-niiciter porcum furatus, 
Sed porcus voratus, .Johannes delatus, 
Et jilorans per via.s est fur flagellatus. 

"TWI.VKLE, TWINKLE, LITTLE .STAU." 

Mica, mica, parva stella ; 
Miror, quatnam si tarn bella ! 
Splendens eminus in illo, 
Alba velut gemma, coelo. 



'"BOYS AND GIIJLS, COMK OUT TO PLAY.' 

Oar';o.vs et filles venez toujours, 
Ia lune est brillant* comnie le jour, 
Venez au bruit d'un joyeux iclat 
Venez du boDS cceurs, ou ne venez pas. 



'TIIP.KK WIHK .MKS OF GOTHAM. 
TliEs Philosoijhi de Tusculo 
Mare navigarunt vasculo ; 
Si vas id esset tutius 
Tibi canerem diutius. 



"DISfi DOXO IJP.I.L, THE CAT 'h IN THE WELL." 
AIANON citKiVov f iV« • ippiaf) \d0fi/, otKov &$u<t- 

(T(JV, 

Tijv ya\fr}v ' riff rTjtri' atrios A/iffAoKiTjj ; 
TmOiiS 'Ititdi/i/Tjs, x^'^P^^ ydfos, atauKa (tSut* 
Tov yoKiriv ffvBitrai irtyrrioi/ StV Akokov. 



THE COURTIN'. 

God makes sech nights, all white an' still 
Fur 'z you can look or li8t<;n ; 

Moonshine an' snow on field an' hill, 
All silence an' all glisten. 

Zekle crep' up quite unbeknown 
An' peeked in thru' the winder, 

An' there sot Huldy all alone, 
'Ith no one nigh to bender. 

A fireplace filled the room's one side, 
With lialf a cord o' wood in — 

There wam't no stoves (tell comfort died) 
To bake ye to a puddin'. 

The wa'nut logs shot sparkles out 
Towards tlic pootiest, bless her ! 

An' leetle flames danced all about 
The chiny on the dresser. 

Agin the chimbley crook-necks hong, 

An' in amongst 'em rusted 
The ole queen's arm thet gran'ther Young 

Fetched back from Concord busted. 

The very room, coz she was in, 
Seemed wann from floor to ceilin'. 

An' she looked full ez rosy agin 
Ez the apples she was peelin'. 

'T was kin o' kingdom-come to look 

On sech a blessed cretur, 
A dogrosp blushin' to a brook 

Ain't inodester nor sweeter. 

He was six foot o' man, A 1, 
Clean grit an' human natur' ; 

None could n't quicker pitch a ton. 
Nor dror a furrer straighter. 



994 



IIUMOUOUS POEMS. 



He M spiirkfd it with full twenty guls, 
Heil squired 'em, danced 'em, dniv 'em. 

Fust this one, an' then thet, by spells — 
All is, ho could n't love 'em. 

But long o' her his veins 'ould run 

All crinkly liUe curled niiiple, 
The side she breshed felt full o' sun 

Ez a south slope in Ap'il. 

She thought no v'iee lied such a swing 

Ez hisn in the choir ; 
My ! when ho nmde Ole Hundred ring, 

She hnowed the Lord was nigher. 

An' she W blush searlit, right iu prayer, 
When her new meetin'-bunnet 

Felt somehow thru' its crown a pair 
0' blue eyes sot upon it. 

Thet night, I tell ye, slu< looked somt ! 

She seemed to 've gut a new soul, 
For she felt sartiu-sure he 'd come, 

Down to her very shoe-sole. 

She heered a foot, aii' knowed it tn, 

A-raspin' on the scraper, — 
All ways to once lier feelin's (lew 

Like sparks in burnt-up paper. 

He kin' o' I'itered on the unit, 

Some doubt fie o' the sekle. 
His heart kep' goin' pitty-pat. 

Hut hern went pity Zekle. 

An' yit she gin her cheer a jerk 
Ez though slie wished him furder, 

An' on her apples kep' to work, 
Parin' away like murder. 

" 'Y'ou want to see my Pa, I s'pose ? " 
" Wal ... no ... I come dasignin' " 

" To see my Ma ? She 's sprinklin' clo'es 
Agin to-morrer's i'nin'." 

To say why gals acts so or so, 
Or don't, 'ould be presumin" ; 

Mebby to mean yes an' say mo 
Comes nateral to women. 

He stood a spell on one foot fust, 
Then stood a spell on t' other, 

An' on which one he felt the wust 
He couldn't ha' told ye nuther. 

Says he, " I 'd better call agin : " 
Says she, "Think likely, Mister ;" 

Thet last word pricked him like a pin. 
An' . . . Wal, he up an' kist her. 



When Ma binieby upon 'em slips, 

lluldy sot pale ez ashes, 
All kin' o' smily roun' the lips 

An' teary roun' the lashes. 

For she was jes' the quiet kind 

Whoso naturs never vary, 
Like streams that keep a summer mind 

Snow-hid in Jenooary. 

The blood clost roun' lier heart felt glued 

Too tight for all expressiu'. 
Tell mother see how mutters stood, 

And gin 'em both her blessin'. 

Then her red come back like the tide 

Down to the Hay o' Fundy, 
An' all I know is they was cried 

In mcetiu' come iie.x' Sunday. 

James Kussbll Lowell. 



WHAT MR. KOHINSON THINKS.* 

FROM "THn BICLOW PAPERS." NO. IM. 

Gi'VKNKu 15. is a sensible man ; 

He stays to his home an' looks arter his folks j 

He draws his furrer ez straight ez he can, 

■An' into nohodv's tater-patch pokes ; — 

Hut .Tohu P. 

Robinson he 

Sez he wunt vote fer Ouveuer B. 

J[y ! ain't it terrible ? Wut shall we du ? 
We can't never choose him o' couree, — thet "s 
Hat ; 
Guess we shall hev to come round, (don't you ?) 
An' go iu fer thunder an' guns, an' all tliat ; 
Fer .lohn P. 
Kobinson he 
Sez he wunt vote fer Guvener B. 

Gineral C. is a dretlle smart man : 

He 's ben on all sides thet give places or pelf ; 
Hut consistency still wuz a part of his plan, — 
He 's ben true to one party, — an' thet is him- 
self ; — 
So .Tohu P. 
Robinson he 
Sez he shall vote fer Gineral 0. 

Gineral C. he goes in fer the war ;t 

He don't vally principle more 'n an old cud ; 

Wut did God make us raytional creetui's fer, 
But glory an' gunpowder, plunder an' blood ? 

• Preserved here because the essential humor of the s.itire h[is 
outlived its local and temporary application. 

t Written at the time of the Mexican war. which was strongly 
opposed by the Antislavery party as beint; unnecessary and wrong. 



HUMOROUS POEMS. 



995 



So Joliii p. 
Robinson he 
Sez he shall vote Icr Gineral C. 

We were gittiu' on nicely up liere to our village, 
With good old idees o' wut 's riglit an' wut 
ain't, 
AVe kind o' thought Christ went agin war an' 
pillage, 
An' thet eppyletts woru't the best mark of a 
saint ; . 
But John P. 
Robinson he 
Sez this kind o' thing 's an exploded idee. 

The side of our country must oilers be took. 
An' Presidunt Polk, you know, he is our coun- 
try ; 
An' the angel thet writes all our sins in a book 
Puts the debit to him, an' to us the per conlry ; 
An' John P. 
Robinson he 
Sez this is his view o' the thing to a T. 

Parson Wilbur he calls all these argiraunts lies ; 
Sez they 're nothin' on airth hut jest fie, faic; 
fum : 
And thet all this big talk of our destinies 
Is half ov it ign'ance, an' t' other half rum : 
But John P. 
Robinson he 
Sez it ain't no sech thing ; an', of course, so 
must we. 

i'aison Wilbur sez he never heerd in his life 
Thet th' Apostles rigged out in their swaller- 
tail coats, 
An' marched round in front of a drum an' a fife. 
To git some on 'em office, an' some on 'em 
votes ; 
But John P. 
Robinson he 
Sez they didn't know everythin' down in 
Judee. 

Wal, it 's a marcy we 've gut folks to tell us 
The rights an' the wrongs o' these matters, I 
vow, — 
God sends country lawyers, an' other wise fellers, 
To drive the world's team wen it gits in a 
slough ; 
Per John P. 
Robinson he 
Sez the world '11 go right, ef he hollers out 
Gee ! 

James Russell Lowell. 



WIDOW BEDOTT TO ELDER SNIFFLES. 

FROM "THE WIDOW BEDOTT PAPERS." 

REVEREND sir, I do declare 

It drives me most to frenzy, 
To think of you a lying there 

Down sick with inliuenzy. 

A body 'd thought it was enough 
To mourn your wive's dcparter, 

Without sich trouble as tliis ere 
To come a foUerin' arter. 

But sickness and affliction 

Are sent by a wise creation, 
And always ought to be underwent 

By patience and resignation. 

0, I could to your bedside fly, 

And wipe your weeping eyes, 
And do my best to cure you up. 

If 't would n't create surprise. 

It 's a world of trouble we taiTy in, 

But, Elder, don't despair ; 
That you may soon be movin' again 

Is constantly my prayer. 

Both sick and well, you may depend 

You '11 never be forgot 
By your faithful and affectionate friend, 

Priscilla Pool Bedott. 

Frances Miriam whitcher. 



THE NEW CHURCH ORGAN. 

They 've got a bran new organ, Sue, 

For all their fuss and search ; 
They 've done just as they said they 'd do. 

And fetched it into church. 
They 're bound the critter shall be seen, 

And on the preacher's right. 
They 've hoisted up their new machine 

In everybody's sight. 
They 've got a chorister and choir, 

Ag'in my voice and vote ; 
For it was never my desire 

To pi-aise the Lord by note ! 

I 've been a sister good an' true, 

For five an' thirty year ; 
I 've done what seemed my part to do, 

An' prayed my duty clear ; 
I 've sung the hymns both slow and quick, 

Just as the pieacher read ; 
And twice, when Deacon Tubbs was sick, 

I took the fork an' led ! 



90G 



HUMOROUS POEMS. 



, An' now, their bold, new-fangled ways 
Is coniin' all about ; 
And I, light in my latter days. 
Am fairly crowded out ! 

To-day, the preacher, good old dear, 

With tears all in his eyes, 
Kead — "I can read my title clear 

To mansions in the skies." — 
I al'ays liked that blessed hymn — 

I s'pose I al'ays will ; 
It somehow gratifies my whim, 

In good old Ortonville ; 
But when that choir got up to sing, 

I could n't catch a word ; 
■"^hey sung the most dog-gonedest thing 

A body ever heard ! 

Some worldly chaps was standin' near, 

An' when I see them grin, 
1 bid farewell to every fear. 

And boldly waded in. 
I thought 1 'd chase the tune along, 

An' tried with all my might ; 
But though my voice is good an' strong, 

1 could n't steer it right. 
When tliey was liigli, then I was low, 

An' also contra'wise ; 
And I too fast, or they too slow. 

To " mansions in the skies." 

An' after every verse, you know, 

They played a little tune ; 
I did n't understand, an' so 

I started in too soon. 
I pitched it purty middlin' high, 

And fetched a lusty tone. 
But 0, alas ! I found that I 

Was singin' there alone ! 
They laughed a little, I am told ; 

But I had done my best ; 
And not a wave of trouble rolled 

Aci'oss my peaceful breast. 

And Sister Brown, — I could but look, — 

She sits right front of me ; 
She never was no singin' book. 

An' never went to be ; 
But then she al'ays tried to do 

The best she could, she said ; 
She understood the time, right through, 

An' kep' it with her head ; 
But when she tried this mornin', 0, 

I had to laugh, or cough ! 
It kep' her head a bobbin' so. 

It e'en a'most come otf ! 



An' Deacon Tubbs, — he all broke down. 

As oue might well suppose ; 
He took one look at Sister Brown, 

And meekly scratched his nose. 
He looked his hjiim-book through and through, 

And laid it on the seat, 
And then a pensive sigli he drew. 

And looked completely beat. 
An' when they took another bout. 

He did n't even rise ; 
But dravved his red baudanner out. 

An' wiped his weeping eyes. 

I 've been a sister, good an' true, 

For five an' thirty year ; 
I 've done what seemed my part to do. 

An' prayed my duty clear ; 
But death will stop my voice, I know. 

For he is on my track ; 
And some day, I '11 to meetin' go. 

And nevermore come back. 
And wlien the folks get up to sing — 

Whene'er that time shall be — 
I do not want no patent tiling 

A squealin' over me ! 

WILL M. CARLETON. 



THE RETORT. 

Old Birch, who taught the village school. 

Wedded a maid of homespun habit ; 
He was as stubborn as a mule. 

And she as playful as a rabbit. 
Poor Kate had scarce become a wife 

Before her husband sought to make her 
The pink of country polished life, 

And prim and formal as a Quaker. 

One day the tutor went abroad. 

And simple Katie sadly missed him , 
When he returned, behind her lord 

She shyly stole, and fondly kissed him. 
The liusband's anger rose, and red 

And white his face alternate grew ; 
" Less freedom, ma'am ! " Kate sighed and said, 

" 0, dear ! I did n't know 't was you ! " 

George Perkins Morris. 



DOW'S FLAT. 

I8s6. 

Dow's Flat. That 's its name. 

And I reckon that you 
Are a stranger ? The same ? 
Well, I thought it was true. 
For thar is n't a man on the river as cnn't spot 
the place at first view. 



HUMOROUS POEMS. 



997 



It was called after Dow, — 

Which the same was an ass ; 
And as to the how 

Thet the thing keni to pass, — 
Just tie up your hoss to that buckeye, and sit ye 
down here in the grass. 

You see this yer Dow 

Hed the worst kind of luck ; 
He slipped up somehow 

On each thing thet he struck. 
Why, ef he 'd a' straddled thet fence-rail the 
derned thing 'ed get up and buck. 

He mined on the bar 

Till he could n't pay rates ; 
He was smashed by a ear 

When he tunnelled with Bates ; 
And right on the top of his troulile kcm his wife 
and five kids from the States. 

It was rough, — mighty rough ; 

But the boys they stood by, 
And they brought him the stuff 
For a house, on the sly ; 
And the old woman, — well, she did washing, and 
took ou when no one was nigh. 

But this yer luck of Dow's 

Was so powerful mean 
That the spring near his house 
Dried riglit up on the green ; 
And he sunk forty feet down for water, but nary 
a drop to be seen. 

Then the bar petered out. 

And the boys would n't stay ; 
And the chills got about. 
And his wife fell away ; 
But Dow, in liis well, kept a peggin' in his usual 
ridikilous way. 

One day, — it was June, — 

And a year ago, jest, — 
This Dow kem at noon 
To his work like the rest. 
With a shovel and pick on his shoulder, and a 
deninger hid in his breast. 

He goes to the well, 

And he stands on the brink. 
And stops for a spell 
Jest to listen and think : 
For the sun in his eyes, (jest like this, sir !) you 
see, kinder made the cuss blink. 

His two ragged gals 

In the guleh were at play. 
And a gownd that was Sal's 



Kinder flapped on a bay : 
Not much for a man to be leavin', but his all, — 
as I 've heer'd the folks say. 

And — that 's a peart hoss 

Thet you 've got — ain't it now ? 
What might be her cost ; 

Eh ? Oh ! — Well then, Dow — 

Let 's see, — well, that forty-foot grave was n't 

his, sir, that day, anyhow. 

For a blow of his pick 

Sorter caved in the side. 
And he looked and turned sick. 
Then he trembled and cried. 
For you see the dern cuss had struck — "Wa- 
ter ?" — beg your parding, young man, 
there you lied ! 

It was gold, — in the quartz, 

And it ran all alike ; 
And I reckon five oughts 

Was the worth of that strike ; 
And that house with the coopilow 's his'n, — 
which the same is n't bad for a Pike. 

Thet 's why it 's Dow's Flat ; 

And the thing of it is 
That he kinder got that 
Through sheer contrairiness : 
For 't was water the derned cuss was seekin', and 
his luck made him certain to miss. 

Thet 's so. Thar 's your way 

To the left of yon tree ; 
But — a — look h'yur, say. 
Won't you come up to tea ? 
No ? Well, then the next time you 're passin' ; 
andask after Dow, — and thet 's me. 
BRET harte. 



JIM. 



Sat there ! P'r'aps 
Some on you chaps 
Might know Jim WUd ? 

Well, — no offence : 

Thar ain't no sense 
In gittin' riled ! 

Jim was my chum 

Up on the Bar : 
That 's why I come 

Down from up thar, 
Lookin' for Jim. 
Thank ye, sir ! you 
Ain't of that crew, — 

Blest if you are ! 



HV'MOU. 



MS> 



MvMWy t — S<!4 »tt«vh : 

I *>«"< IH» s«v-J\, 

K»«n ' — I ^W« nx»»vl, 

\V*ll. this wr Jmv. 
1>W \^^«^ kn»>w hu« ! — 
J<ws 'K\>»» yxnir siw ; 
S*me ki>ul >\f <■>■<>« ? — 
WVU, iJv*t \s sn-AivJC ; 

\Vh,v, it 's t»v y*«r 

Sitxv'* h* cvnno h<>tx\ 
Sh-k. tvvr * v-h»j\s<\ 

\\>U. h<f»v "s tv> tt* ; 

Khr 

IW! — 
Th*t Mttl* vHxas ! 

\Vh*« n>*kiw v\w statf, — 
Yv^>^ owr th*r * 
0«>'t * n«m virv^p 
"s jjUss i« wr shv>p 
K«t v\»« tiujst J*r' ? 
It wvMiW u~t ts>);<> 

YvMt *«d y\H>r Kur. 
IVvr— KnW— Jiw! 

— Wlv\\ tlww W»S !««, 
Jv\n<>^ suul IV^h Ijw, 
Hjirry su)vl IW«. — 
>^<>s«^^^^^^«t nwa ; 
Tlw« tv> tak* kirn ' 

WVn, th»r — t.VxvW>y, — 
Xo ttHV*. sJr, — 1 — 

Kh? 
\Vh»« 's thst WHi sa»y ? — 
WKy. .l*roJt": — she! — 
Xo? Y*s! BvJlv>! 

S«M ; Why yvw limK 
Y<*» nvtwrv, 

RASTY TIM. 

r^Mku^s M $>q:«im Taw* >!itr «» («i* WXh Maat CVw 
f^vaot^ (vjw. VMM*.) 

\ KiVKC>s 1 jrit yv«r dritV ijiMits — 
Yo« 'K>xr th* Ivy sh*"!!*? sw^y ; 

This fe « whit* uvMi's vxmntry : 
Yvh; "w rHauvwts. yv>u saiy : 



I Ativl whcttvos. ««d «<*»»', *»Hi vvh<Hvtv»>\s 

Th<? ti>m>s Wiu" *ll v>«t v>' jint, 
Tho HiiS?"!' h»s j^^t tv> <Hv»s«>y 

K>\\m the limits v>' Si>uuky T^int ! 

\^f\ s r<\ks\\H the thi<vjj * iHiimt* ; 

I 'tu *»> v>M-tsshi>«\M Oiimvrat, hx\ 
Th<nij:l> I \«i»t u\\ jv\liti>^ o«t v<' the w'sy 

Vot t«> kt^n tiU tho w-ar »-*s thi\>v>^. 
But I ^^^«U^> Iwok ho<X' *lUwin' 

Tv< >vt« as 1 us^sl tv> »Uv 
ThiMtgh it j^wls \«e like the vievil t\» twin 

AKxttji; ^»' sioh <vwls »s \>>tt. 

N»>w >lv^ t»vv i^«ts el" 1 kill se<s 

hi M the Ivjtht of the vi«\-, 
Wh»t \v« 'vx> J^^t tv» vio with the \\tiestuw 

Kf l^iii shall j^> v»r st»y. 
Ami t\>t\ler tlwii th,<t I j^vt> tu^tiiv, 

Kf \Mie v»f \vii tetoluNs the K\v, 
He kill ohev'k his trunks tv> * \>'»nner oUnie 

Than he 'II tiiul in Ulatioy, 

Why. Waiue y\>ur hearts, jist hear nie ! 

Yv»« know that nnsvxlly vlay 
When our let> stnti-k Viokshnrjt Heij^hts, ho» 
rij>}y\l 

.\n>l tv»m ami tattorixl wv lay. 
When the rest t\<tre«tevl. I stay*^! hehitui, 

V\»r r«>a.<vMis sulfiaent to K;e. — 
With a rib v-*\tsl in. atul a l<^ on a strik*. 

I sj>mwlevl on that oupsevl jtlaove. 

lA>»vi ! how the hot sun wvnt tW ns. 

Ami hr"il<\l and WisteT«sl and hurtievl ) 
How the rebel huUets whi««\l tvMiiivl us 

When a euss in his death^j^Ttj^ turned ! 
Till al<\nj: tv>w»r>l dusk I seen a thittg 

I vs^tld n't Miew t'\\r a sjwll ; 
That nijo^T that I'iiu — was aM,T*wUn' to lue 

ThrvHijrfi that fire-i>rv>ot". silt.<\ljp\l hell I 

The reWls s#«« hitu as t)u«v4: as «», 

And the hiiUets h««x>i like he«s ; 
Bnt he junnxvl t'^xr uie. and shv>ulde«evl t«<\ 

Th\»uj:li a shot hrvHijrfit him vMU'Vtvi his kne*s . 
But he st»sS<-J»l i\\\ and i>*oked we oft 

With a d(«en stumWos and fiills. 
Till safe in o«r litws he dtaj^jvvl ns K^th, 

His Waek hMe rivMW with WUs. 

;^\ nty jjentle jajelles. thar 's niy atisurer, 

An\l her* stays R^iitv Tim : 
He trun\{'»\l l">eath's *»v fv<r me that vla,v, 

.\«d I 'm not ,<oin' Niok oti him ; 
YvM» ntay reivJvxxl till the oows ivme hom«. 

But ef vMve of yv>« tf tvhos the K>y, 
He 'II wtastle his ha.sh tv»-uij:ht i« helL 

Or mv nait>e 's tuvt Tilnivvn .'ov ; 



mmomm vom», 



'Am 



Mrri,K MiY.vyAWH, 

A riKR IJtllwn VIKW il¥ Ot-KCIAI. rilUVII/KHCK. 

I iiirvirr fiiii'l. IkwI 11" ali'iw ; 
lint I 'v<! ;('/(. u uihMWii' \.'ni\i\. i/rly, nlr, 

OtI llli: llHII'Irill II (.llifl)(« I kllliW, 

I >l'»i'l |Kiii »iit XII till! |ir"|>)i<^ 

Ami fti'i!wlll, mill ttml. wirt i/f thiiijf, — 

but f ll'lilrVII III 'J>><l llll'l till'. HUilfU, 

Kvnr wtiivi uin: ril^^lit liut ii|iiiii^, 

I w/iHB l(it/< t<rt»n witli wmin tiinii{M, 

Ami iny llttli! (JhIk! mnriR I'ioiiff, — 
No fiiiir-yi-ar-oj/l in tliii i^ninty 

Oitilil In-lit liiiii tor ]iri:U.y uml Htrimfd 
I'uart ami cliiiijnrr iin'l wwny, 

Alwiiya ri-mly to nwiittr ami IlK^it, — 
Ami I ''I Unit liiiii y-r cimw t^rrl«/;k«r, 

Jeiit to I(i;k{> tiU rriill(-t««tli wliit<;, 

Tlift »m>w iJiiim iViwii liki; a lilarikirt 

A» I [<a**''l \iy TnKunri/K nt/m ; 
I w«Ht ill for ajiig of HiolawKM 

Ami Ii:ft tli« t<«if(i at till: liimr, 
Tliuy w;ari''l at luniiidhiiiK ami utarU-A, — 

I liKanl onii littli: vinall, 
Ami ti«ll-t'<-«plit over tliK (irairii; 

Wirrit ti:aKi, l/iltlu \',riA-A)m ami oIL 

Hell't/i-Ktilit <»ir<5r tli« jrralrfe ! 

I wan alni'mt froi!<; with «k<-.«r ; 
But w« roiixUul iiji wirnn t/ir'-liim, 

Arnl iiar':li«l f'lr '<^n far aii'l ri««r. 
At liiwt we, iitnii:k Iiimwii ami v/HK'tii, 

Hm/w«l miller a v/ft wliit^i; inoiinil, 
Upw/t, 'l<«/| l««t, - Mit of little Oal* 

9o tii'l« ti'ir hair wa« foriinl. 

Ami liere all ho|K! vmri^l im mts 

Of my fellow-'.-ritt/rr'a aid, — 
I j<«t (lojfji'-^l 'I'lwri on my marr'/w-Vi'iTK;*, 

Crot<;h-'l»!«Ii In the iim/w, and firny/\. 
* * * • • 

By ttiiii, the Uirchtm waa jilaywl otit, 

Ami me and liinil I'arr 
Went off for n/irne wkkI t/; a nhtfrjtfM 

Ttiat he »fti/l waa af/rnewliar thar. 

We fonnd it at laat, And « little nhe/l 

Where thi-y shut nji tin- laiolrt at riiglit. 
We Ir,r,lce'l in, and iv^i th'rtri huddled thar, 

Ho wann ami nWjtfiy and white ; 
And Tiuii w/t f.ittle }'ri-v.hm and ehirjifl, 

A» [leart aa erer ym nee, 
" I want a ehaw 'i( terWiker, 

And that '» what 'n the matter of me," 



llirtc did he <(ll thar ? An((el», 

He witil/l ni!vw have walke/l In that »t//nn. 
They Jeat wjnifit-A down and tz/f**! him 

To wliar it w»« wife and warrti. 
Ami I think that »ivin« a little i;hil<l, 

And initiniiin hini Ui his '/wn, 
la a lUirwA aifjlit tietter laitineM 

Than limUiiK around The Throne, 

/OM« ll*r 



HASH |}I'.KIT,VIA,V,V'« I'AllTY, 

HA,>»a I'cp.nMAWw ;A)fe a harty, 

l>ey ha/I l/iano-hlayin ; 
I fellwl in lofe mit a M'Tri'-.an fr«ll, 

Her name w(« .Ma/lihla Vane, 
Hhe ha/I haar aa j/rown aiih a {/r«tz<l, 

Mer eye* vaa himmel-jiliie, 
('nd ren d<-y l'<ok<rt. indo mine, 

I>ey iih|.lit mine heart in two, 

Han* ('reitmann ((ife a liart.y, 

I vent dere y/ti 'II ;<<! jitninil, 
I valtzet mit Ma/lilda Vane 

('n/l vimt «h(»innen r'/tind iind rotmd. 
Oe |;o</tieiit Kraii/'I'rin in de Konae, 

Hhe vayeil 'f«/nt dwo hoz/ndre'l (i//nnd, 
IJnd iifery dime ahe ;(ife a >h'i//mf> 

Khe make de vin/lz/wa mmw}. 

liana Breitmann jflfe a Irttrty, 

I del la yon H'jaX hirn dear. 
I>ey rolle/l in m'/re aa neferi ke/ika 

Of ImnVr^U: I,a((<rr l',eer. 
Un/I VKiu^irr i\Ky k m/cka de ah(/i/;ket In 

iJe I>eiit.«/;hen ^fea a ihi-*:T, 
I (link* d«t «// vine a l«»rty 

Nefer ';/j</m t// a het dia year, 

liana Breitmann gife a Imrty ; 

iJere all vaa H/niae nnd Br'/nae, 
Veil lie a/Kijier i/mii-A in, de niim\iMiy 

\M make i\Kiiiv\f)i Ui h//nae ; 
I^ey ate 'laa Br'/t nnd Oenay lifW/at, 

De Bratwiintt nnd Brat^jfi fine, 
I'nd va«h der AI/eride«A«n d//wn 

Mit four jiarrela //f Ne/;kani'eia, 

Hann Br'ritrnann ;((fe » Imrty ; 

We all e/it trw/nk aah liijfn, 
I f/fj/zf, mine rn//nt t// a fiarrel //f Mer, 

('nd eTn;if,i/y| it '///(> mit a n/^hwfjfK, 
I'nd denn I iffitv-zl Ma/lilda Vane 

I'nd ahe «hl/<<( me //ri de k//j/, 
ITn/l de ^//rnjiany fit^/l mit daple-le/k* 

lijil de r«//TiahtaMe made o/m nhttrp. 



1000 



HVMOROVS POEMS. 



Hans Bwitwtinii jrilV a b«\rty — 

WhOT«> isl> d»t barty now ' 
AVht'iv ish Jf loMy goUU'ii cKnul 

l"h>t tUwt on lie mouuvtaiu's juvw ? 
Where isJ\ *U- hiimuolsti-alilondtf $tevu — 

IV slitar of de shpiritV light ' 
All ^nievl alay mit ilo Lagt'r IhW — 

Alav iu do Ewigkoit ! 



RITTER HUGO. 

Dbk noWe Kittur Hugo 

Vou S<'hwillous>utVnst<'hi 
KchU> out mit shjHvr uud helmet, 

I'ud he ovxuu to de jvmks of vie Khine. 

Uud ooj> der«> w»s«> a meerniaid, 

Vot havl n't gv>l lUHlings on, 
I'nd slie say, " O, Hitter Hugv\ 

Vare you goos mit yonrsolf alone • " 

I'ud he says, " I ride in de on-eu->\-ood, 

Mit helmet and luit shaver. 
Till 1 i\wuis into ein Oasthaus, 

I'ud dere 1 drinks svnne pe«r." 

Und den oxitshix»ke de maiden, 

Vot h-ad n't gv>t nixUngs on, 
" I ton't diufc uuHvh of bevbles 

Dst goes mit demselfs aloue. 

" You "d petter eoom dvwn in de crasser, 

Vare der* "s hearts of dings to se^;, 
Und hafe a shpleudid dinner, 

I'ud ttafel along mit me. 

" IV«* you sees de fish a sch>vimmin, 

Uud yv>u oati-hes deni efery one." 
So sang dis wasser lu-aiden. 

Vat hail n't got no»lings on, 

"Pare is dranks all full mit money, 

In shii>s dat vent down of old : 
t'nvi yoa helpsh yvnirself, by vluuder ! 

To shimmerin ermvns of gold. 

'• ^Qoost look at dese shpoons nnd ratches! 

Shoost look at dese di.vuond rings ! 
Come down und fill your IxK-kets. 

Und I "U kiss you like eferyvliugs ' 

" Tat TOO Tsutsh mit your schnapps unvl your 
lager? 

Coom down into der Rhine '. 
Deie ish {vttles der Kaiser Charlemagne, 

Vonce filled mit sv>ld-red vrine ! " 



l\tl fetchevl him, — he shtinnl all shpell-pouud. 

She |>ull(\l his evwt-lails down. 
She drawol hiiu under de wassor, 

Pis maiden mit nodings on. 



CH*KL£S C l^LANIX 



COLLISIOX BETWEEN' A ALE15A1TER 
I ASP A WATEK-SXAIK, 

TKIlWiril OF rHK WATER-SX.VIK : PKTll OF THB 
I .\l,K«.\irKK. 

1 Thkkk is a uilaud on a river lying, 
; Whioh runs into Oautinialy, a warm eountry, 
: Lying near the Trv^pieks, iwetwl with s!»nd ; 
Hear and their a symptuni of a Wilow, 
Hanging of its umberagious linilxs & branches 
Over the clear streme meandering far U-low. 
This was the home of the now silent Aleg.iiter, 
Wheji not in his other element confine'd : 
Here he wvxxl set ujh>u his eggs asleep 
With 1 ey ohser\-!»nt of tlis and otlier jvisasing 
Objects : a while it kept a going on so : 
Fereles of danger was the happy Alegaiter ! 
B>jt a las '. in a nevil our he was fouix-evl to 
Wake ! that dreme of Blis was two sweet for 

him. 
1 morning the snn arv>s»' with unuso^J splender 
AVhitch allso did our Ale^xiter, ivmiug fiom the 

water. 
His scails a flinging of the rais of the son back. 
To the fouut!un-head which tha origiuly spruug, 
Bxit having not h.avl nothing to eat for some time, 

he 
Was slepy and gap'd, in a short time, widely. 
I'nfoalding soon a welth of j>erl-white teth. 
The rais of the son soon shet his sinister ey 
Because of their mutool sjJendor and warmth. 
The e\-il Our (wl ich I sevl) was now vvme ; 
Evidently a govxl ch-ans for a water suaik 
Of the large s{>ecie, which soon api>eared 
Into the horison, near the bank where re(vs"d 
Calmly iu slepe the .Megaiter before sj>oken of, 
AKml 60 feet was his Length (not the 'gaiter) 
And he was ajvriently a well-pr\ijxirtioneti suaik. 
When he was all ashore he gljuevl uix>n 
The ihand with approral. but was soon 
" Astv>nishevl with the \-iew and lost to wonder ' 

^frorn Watsl 
(Fvir jest then he b^iau to see the Alegaiter> 
Being a uateral enemy of his'n, he wvirkevi hi>- 

self 
Into a fury, also a ni position. 
Before the Alegaiter well could ope 
His eye (in other words ^vrveive his danger) 
The Suaik had envelopevi his Kxly just 19 
Times with "foalds voluminous and vast " (from 

Milton) 



ULMOUOUS POEMS. 



1001 



A]]il liiiiJ Um: iiir »i<:vi;iiil hi'mU in tin; i.'orii'UHioii, 
l!i.;>iilr;» »(jui.-aziii;{ him awfully into liJH ittomoc. 
JiiNt then, by a fortinatJ; turn in hin ufl'aira, 
llir <:itii7.<ii\ into hix mouth the carvlcHit talc 
or the unrcllccting watcr-iinaik ! Grown dcR- 

fHMllt^' 

III', finding that hin tair: wax fiut iv{W:iwA 
Turrihli; while they roalcij all over the iland. 

It wax a wcU-conrlucktcd AiFair ; no noiHC 
Di)iturl)e<l the fuirmoiiy of the wen, ccw;pt 
Oiiet when a Wilow wan iinaped into by the 

roaling. 
Ecach of the eombat<;nee liu<l n't a rnitiit for 

holering. 
80 the eonflick wao natcrally tretnenjouH I 
iJut ooon by grat/; foree the tale wa* bit completc- 
Ly of ; but the eggzeration wait too much 
For hiH delieatc Coriotitootion : lie felt a com- 
pression 
Onto hi» chest anil generally over hut body ; 
When lie ecspress'd his breathing, it was with 
Grate difficulty that he felt iiutpircd again onct 

more. 
Of course this State must suffer a revolootion. 
•So tfie Alegaiti;r give but oni yel, and egspired. 
The waiter-snaik realed liiKself oil', k Burvay'd 
For say 10 minits, the condition of 
His fo ; then wondering what made hU tail hurt, 
He sloly went off for to cool. 

J. W. MOKBIg. 



SWELL'S SOLILOQUY. 

1 don't appwove this Iiawid waw ; 

Those dwi^lful Ijannalw hawt my eyes ; 
And guns and dwums are such a Iww, — 

Why don't the jrawties compwamixe 'I 

Of cawce, the twoilet lia» its cliawms ; 

But why muist all the vulgah cwowd 
Pawsist in sixiwting unifawms. 

In eullabs no extwemely loud ? 

And then the lailies, pwccioux deahs ! — 
I mawk the change on ev'wy bwow ; 

Bai ./ove ! 1 wirally have my fcahs 
They wathah like the tiawid wow ! 

To heah the chawming cweatures talk, 
Like jKitwons of the bloody wing, 

Of waw and all its dawty wawk, — 
It does n't seem a pwap^mh thing ! 

I called at Mrs. Gwcenc's laiit night, 
To sec her nicwj, Miits Mawy Hertz, 

And found her making — cwushing sight !- 
The weildest kind of flannel shirts I 



Of cawce, I wose, and Sfjught the daw. 
With fawyah Hashing from my eyes ! 

I can't appwove thiji hawid waw ; — 
Why don't the jiawties wjnipwamisc ? 

AKONVMOU*. 



TO THE "SEXTANT." 

Sextant of the mcetin bou«e, wich sweepn 
And dusts, or in supixrtcl t'j! and makes fires. 
And lites the ga»s, and sunitiuies |i.-aves a si.rew 

loose, 
in wich ease it xmelU orful, worse than lamp ile ; 
And wrings the Bel and toles it when men ilye«, 
to tlie grief of Burvivin iKirdners,andBWi!(;ps patlui 
And for the servusses gets $ 100 jxjr annum, 
Wich them that thinks deer, let 'em try it ; 
Gettin up b(;fore starlite in all wethers and 
Kindlin tires when the wether in ax wdd 
A» zero, and like aB not grei;n wwxl for kindlin 
i would n't Ije hirial Ui do it for no sum, 
But Sextant 1 there are 1 kenuo<l<lity 
Wich 's more tlian gold, wich doant i^ijst nothin, 
Worth more than anythingexceptthe side of man I 
i mean i/ewcr yire, Sextant, i mean jxiwer are ! 

it i« jdenty out of doors, so plenty it d'wnt no 
What on airth to dew with ititelf, but flys alxiut 
Scatterin leaves and bloin off men's liatts ! 

in short, it '» jest as "' fre as are " out doreH, 
But Sextant, in our church its w;arce as buty. 
Scarce ax Vjank bilht, when agints l^egs formiBcb- 

uru), 
Wich gome nay is purty offten (taint nothin to 

rne, wat I give aint nothin to noVxxly) tint 

Sextant 
U shet ."JOO men, wimmin, and children, 
Speshally the latt<;r, up in a tite plac;, 
And every 1 on em bretbeB in and out, and out 

and in, 
Say 50 times a minnit, or 1 million and a lialf 

breths an our. 
Now how long will a church ful of are last at 

that rate, 

1 ask you — say IS minitx — and then wats to Vm 

did? 
Why then they muxt brethe it all over agin, 
And then agin, and so on till each Iiax t<xik it 

down 
At least 10 times, and let it up agin, and wats 

more 
The same individoal don't have the priviledge 
of brethin his own are, and no oneB elac. 
Each one muxt take wliatever wjincs to him, 
.Sextant, doant you no our lungs Ib l>ellu»BeB, 
To bio the fier of life, and keep it from goin out; 
and how can Ijelluxses bio without wind 
And aint wind are 1 i put it to your conj>cben«. 



1002 



HUMOROUS -POEMS. 



Are is the same to us as milk to babies, 

Or water is to fish, or iieudlums to clox, 

Or roots ami airbs uuto an injuu doctor, 

Or little pjls unto an omepath. 

Or boys to gurls. Are is for us to brethe, 

What signifies who preaches if i cant brethe ? 

Wats Pol ? Wats Pollus to sinners w ho are 

ded? 
Ded for want of breth, why Sextant, when we dy 
Its oniy coz we cant brethe no more, thats all. 
And now O Sextant, let me beg of you 
To let a little are into our ehureh. 
(Pewer are is sertaiu proper for the pews) 
And do it weak days, and Sundays tew, 
It aint much trouble, only make a hole 
And the are will come of itself ; 
(It luvs to come in where it can git warm) 
And O liow it will rouze the people up. 
And sperrit up the preacher, and stop garps. 
And yawns and figgits, as ettectooal 
As wind on the dry boaus the Profit tells of. 

Arabella m. willson. 



ME. MOLONY'S ACCOUNT OF THE BALL. 

GIVEN TO THE NEPAULESE AMBASSADOR BV THE PENIN- 
SULAR AND ORIENTAL COMPANY. 

0, WILL ye choose to hear the news ? 

Bedad, I cannot {>ass it o'er ; 
I '11 tell you all about the ball 

To the Naypaulase Ambassador. 
Begor I this fete all balls does bate. 

At which I worn a pump, and I 
Must here relate the splendthor great 

Of th' Oriental Company. 

These men of sinse dispoised expinse. 

To fete these black Achilleses. 
"We '11 show the blacks," .says they, "Almaek's, 

And take the rooms at Willis's." 
With flags and shawls, for these Xepauls, 

They hung the rooms of Willis up. 
And decked the walls and stall's and halls 

With roses and with lilies up. 

And Jullien's band it tuck its stand . 

So sweetly in the middle there, 
And soft bassoons played heavenly chunes. 

And violins did fiddle there. 
And when the Coort was tired of spoort, 

I 'd lave you, boys, to think there was 
A nate bufi'et before them set. 

Where lashins of good d brink there was ! 

At ten before the ball-room door, 
His moighty Excellency was ; 



He smoiled and bowed to all the crowd, 
So gorgeous and immense he was. 

His dusky shuit, sublinjc and unite, 
Into the doorway followed him ; 

And the noise of the blackguard boys. 
As they hvirrood and hollowed him ! 

The noble Chair stud at the stair, 

And bade the dtlnnuns to thump ; and he 
Did thus evince to that Black Prince 

The welcome of his Compauj". 
fair the girls, and ricli the curls. 

And bright the oys, you saw there, was ; 
And fixed each oye,' ye there could spoi, 

On Gineral Jung Bahawther was ! 

This Gineral great then tiu-k his sate, 

With all the other ginerals 
(Bedad, his troat, his belt, his coat, 

All bleezed with precious minerals) ; 
And as he there, with princely air, 

Kecloinin on his cushion was. 
All round about his royal chair, 

Tlie stjueezin and the pushin was. 

Pat, such girls, such Jukes and Earls, 

Such fashion and nobilitee ! 
Just think of Tim, and fancy him 

Amidst the hoigli gentility ! 
There was Lord De L'Huys, and the Portygeese 

Ministher and his lady there, 
And I reckonized, with much surprise, 

Our messmate. Bob O'Grady, there ; 

There was Baroness Brunow, that looked like 
Juno, 

And Baroness Rehausen there. 
And Countess Roullier, that looked peculiar 

Well, in her robes of gauze in there. 
There was Lord Crowhurst (1 knew him first 

When only Jlr. Pips he was), 
And Mick O'Toole, the great big fool. 

That after supper tipsy was. 

There was Lord Fiugall and his ladies all, 

And Lords Killeen and Dutferin, 
And Paddy Fife, with his fat wife, — 

I wondther how he could stuft' her in. 
There was Lord Belfast, that by me past, 

And seemed to ask how should / go there ? 
And the Widow Macrie, and Lord A. Hay, 

And the Marchioness of Sligo there. 

Yes, Jukes and Earls, and diamonds and pearls. 

And pretty girls, was spoorting there ; 
I And some beside (the rogues ! ) 1 spied. 
Behind the windies, coorting there. 



HUMOROUS POEMS. 



1003 



0, there 's one I know, bedail, would show 

As beautiful as any tliere ; 
And I 'd like to hear the pipers blow, 

And shake a I'ut with Fanny there ! 



William Makepeace Thackeray. 



WIDOW MALONE. 

Did you hear of the Widow Malone, 

Ohone ! 
Who lived in the town of Athlone, 
Alone ! 
0, she melted the hearts 
Of the swains in them parts : 
So lovely the Widow Malone, 

Ohone ! 
So lovely the Widow Malone. 

Of lovers she had a full score. 
Or more, 
And fortunes they all had galore. 
In store ; 
From the minister down 
To the clerk of the Crown 
All were courting the Widow Malone, 

Ohone ! 
All were courting the Widow Malone. 

But so modest was Mistress Malone, 

'T was known 
That no one could see her alone, 
Ohone ! 
Let them ogle and sigh, 
They could ne'er catch her eye, 
So bashful the Widow Malone, 

Ohone ! 
So bashful the Widow Malone. 

Till one Misther O'Brien, from Clare 

( How qiiare ! 
It 's little for blushing they care 
Down there ) , 
Put his arm round her waist, — 
Gave ten kisses at laste, — 
" 0," says he, "you 're my Molly Malone, 

My own ! 
0," says he, "you 're my Molly JIalone ! " 

And the widow they all thought so shy. 

My eye ! 
Ne'er thought of a simper or sigh, — 
For why ? 
But, " Lucius," says she, 
" Since you 've now made so free. 
You may maiTy your Mary Malone, 

Ohone ! 
You may marry your Mary Malone." 



There 's a moral contained in my song. 

Not wrong ; 
And one comfort, it 's not very long. 
But strong, — 
If for widows you die. 
Learn to kiss, not to sigh ; 
For they 're all like sweet Mistress Malone, 

Ohone ! 
0, they 're all like sweet Mistress Malone ! 

CHARLES LEVER. 



BACHELOR'S HALL. 

Bachelor's Hall, what a quare-lookin' place 
it is ! 

Kape me from such all the days of my life ! 
Sure but I think what a burnin' disgrace it is, 

Niver at all to be gettin' a wife. 

Pots, dishes, pans, an' such grasy commodities, 
Ashes and praty-skins, kiver the floor ; 

His cupboard 's a storehouse of comical oddities. 
Things that had niver been neighbors before. 

Say the old bachelor, gloomy an' sad enough, 
Placin' his tay-kettle over the fire ; 

Soon it tips over — Saint Patrick ! he 's mad 
enough, 
If he were prisent, to fight with the squire ! 

He looks for the platter — Grimalkin is scourin' 
it! 
Sure, at a baste like that, swearin' 's no sin ; 
His dishcloth is missing ; the pigs are devourin' 
it — 
Tunder and turf ! what a pickle he 's in ! 

When his male 's over, the table 's left sittin' 
so ; 

Dishes, take care of yourselves if you can ; 
Divil a drop of hot water will visit ye, — 

Och, let him alone for a baste of a man ! 

Now, like a pig in a mortar-bed wallowin'. 
Say the old bachelor kneading his dough ; 

Troth, if his bread he could ate without swal- 
lowin'. 
How it would favor his palate, ye know ! 

Late in the night, when he goes to bed shiveiin', 
Niver a bit is the bed made at all ; 

He crapes like a terrapin under the kiverin' ; — 
Bad luck to the pictur of Bachelor's Hall ! 

JOHN FINI.EV. 



1004 



lUMoiuns roEMS. 



ST. PATRICK WAS A GENTLEMAX. 

O, St. Patuu'k \vsis a gfutloman, 

Who I'rtiiu- of lioi'ont pi'opK- : 
lit- built a I'luiivli ill Dublin town. 

And on it put ;> stooplo. 
lli.s father was a Gallntfhor ; 
His mother \ras a l>m<ly ; 
His aunt was an O'Sliaughuessy, 
His uuele an O'Oiiuly. 
So, sueoess atteiui St. Patrick's fist. 

For he 's a S;>int so clever ; 
0, he gave the snakes and toads a twist, 
.\nd IxitheixHl them forover ! 

Tlu" Wicklow hills aiv very high, 

And so's the Hill of Howth, sir ; 
l?ut ther<' 's a hill, n\uch biggi'r still, 

Much higher nor them Kith, sir. 
'T was on the top of this high hill 

St. Patrick pivache.1 his s;irinint 
That diwe the fivgs into the Kigs. 

And lvinishe»l all the varmint. 

So. success attend St. Patrick's list, etc. 

There 's not .■> mile in Ireland's isle 

Whoiv ilirty varniin musters. 
Put theiv he put his denr for«-foot. 

And n\ui\U'ivd them in dusters. 
The toads went ihijv the fri>gs went hop. 

Slap-dash into the water : 
And the snakes contmittcil suicide 

To save tliemselves fi-om slaughter. 
So, sviccess attend St. Patrick's fist, etc 

Nine hundreii thousiUid reptiles Wue 

He charmed with sWeet discottrses. 
And diuinl on them at Killaloe 

In soups and sei-ond coui-ses. 
Wheiv blind worms crawling in the grass 

l">isguste»l all the nation, 
He ga\-e them a ri»e, which oi^netl their eyes 

To a sense of their situation. 

So, siuvess attend St. Patrick's fist, etc 

Xo wonder timt those Irish lads 

Should he so g!»y and fri.sky. 
For suiv St- Pat he taught them that. 

As well as making whi.skey ; 
No wonder that the s;>int himself 

Should undei-staiul distilling. 
Since his mother kept a shelxvn shop 

In the town of F.uniskillen. 
So, success attend St. Patrick's fist, etc. 

0. was I but so fortunate 

.Vs to be Ksck in ilunster. 
'T is I 'd Iv Kiuud that fivm that ground 

1 newrmoiv would once stir. 



For there St. Patrick jdanted turf. 

And plenty of the loiities, 
With pigs galoiv, ma gra, ma 'stoi'e, 
And cablwges — and ladies ! 

Then my blessing on St. Patrick's fist. 

For he 's the darling Saint ! 
0, he g!>ve the snakes and toads a twist ; 
He "s a beauty without iwiut, ! 

HENRV BKNNErr. 



THE niUTH OK ST. PATltlCK. 

Ox the eighth day of Maivh it wiis, some people 

say. 
That Saint Pathrick at miduight he first sjxw the 

day ; 
While others declare 't was the ninth he was 

Iwru, 
And 't was all a mistake between midnight anil 

morn ; 
For mistakes will occur in a hurry and shook, 
And some blanu>d the bsibby — and some blamed 

the clock — 
Till with all their cross-questions sure no one 

could know 
If the child w!is toii fast, or the clock was too 

slow, 

Now the first faction-fight in owld Ireland, they 

S!»y, 
Was all on ai-count of Saint Pathriek's birthday : 
Some fought for the eightli — for the ninth moiv 

would die. 
And who would n't see right, sure tliey blackened 

his eye ! 
At last, l>oth the factions so {visitive grew, 
That each kept a birthday, so Pat then had two. 
Till Father Mulciliy, who showed them their 

sins. 
Said, " Xo one could have two birthdays, but a 

twins," 

Says he, " Boj-s, don't be fightin' for eight or for 

nine. 
Don't be alwaj^s dividin' — but sometimes com- 
bine ; 
Combine eight witli nine, and seventeen is the 

mark. 
So let that Iv his birthday," — " Amen," s,i)-s 

the clerk. 
■■ If he wasn't a twins, suiv our hist'ry will sliow 
That, at least, he "s worthy any two saints that 

we know ! " 
Then they all got blind dhmnk — which com- 

plated their blis-s 
.\nd we keep up tlie practice from that day to 

this, 

SAMV'tL LOVEK. 



HUMOROUS POEMS. 



lOOi: 



TlIK l.nVKUS. 

Sai,i,y Saltkk, hIiu wiiM a yiiuii;^ toaclicr who 

tiiii^lit., 
Ami lii'i' Iricnil, Clmrley Cluircli, wiw a ]in'ii(:lici- 

vvliii [irauH'it, 
Though Ills ciiiMiiics callc'il liiiii a Hcri'cohcr who 

ucruught. 

His heart, when lie saw lier, kept Hiiikiii;; ami 

Hiiiik, 
And his eye, meeting licrs, began winking, and 

wuiik ; 
While she, in her turn, kept thinking, an<l 

thiink. 

Ho hastened to woo her, an<l swei^tly lie wooed. 
For his love grew until to a inoniitiiiii it grewed, 
And what he was longing to do Ihi-n he iloed. 

In secret he wanted to speak, and he s[ioke, 

To seek with his lijis what his heart long had 

soke ; 
So he managed to Id the truth leak, and it loke. 

Ho asked Ikt to ride to tlie eliiiiTli, and they 

rode ; 
They so sweetly did glide- lliiil tln-y hoth tliought 

they glode, 
And thoy came to tlie place to lie tied, and were 

toed. 

Then homeward, he said, let us drive, and they 

drove, 
And as soon as they wisheil to arrive, they 

arrove. 
For whatever he could n't eontiive, slie controve. 

The kiss he Wiis dying to steal, then he stole ; 
At the feet where he wanted to kneed then he 

knole ; 
And ho said, "1 feel better than ever I fole." 

So they to each other kept clinging, and elung. 
While Time his swift circuit was winging, and 

wung ; 
And this was the thing he was liringing, and 

bning : 

The man Sally wanted to catch, and hail caught ; 
That she wanted from others to snatch, and had 

snaiight ; 
Was the one slie now liked to scratch, and she 

Bcrauglit. 

And Charley's warm love began freezing, and 

froze, 
While ho took to teazing, and cruelly toze 
The girl he had wished to bo squeezing, and 

squoze. 



" Wretch ! " he cried, when she threatened to 

leave him, and lelt, 
" How could you deceive nie, as you have dc- 

ceft ? " 

And she answereil, " I jnoiiiised to cleave, and 

1 've elefl." 

I'leeiiii CAKV. 



DKIiiiKAII LEE.» 
'T 18 a dozen or so of years ago. 

Somewhere in the West countree, 
That a nice girl lived, as ye Hoosiers know 

I5y the name of Delxirah l*e ; 
Her sister was loved liy Kdgar I'oe, 

But Ueborah by nie. 

Now I was green, and she was green, 

As a summer's sijuush might be ; 
And we loved as warmly as other folks, — 

I and my Deborah I-ee, — 
With a love that the lasses of Hoosierdom 

Coveted her and me. 

liut somehow it happened a long time ago, 

In the aguish West countree. 
That a chill Marcli morning gave the slmhcs 

To niy Iieautifiil Deborah Lee ; 
And the grim steam-doetor (drat him !) eaiiie, 

And bore her away from me, — 
The doctor and death, old partners they, — 

In the aguish West countree. 

The angils wanted her in heaven 

(Hut tliey never asked for me), 
And that is the reason, I rather guess, 

In the aguish West countree, 
That the cold March wind, and the doctor, and 
death. 

Took off my Deborah I,ee — 

My beautiful Deborah Lee — 
From the warm sunsliiiie and the opening flower, 

And bore her away from me. 

Our love was as strong as a six-horse team, 

f)r the love of folks older than we, 

Or possibly wiser tlian we ; 
I'lit death, with the aid of doctor and steam, 

Was rather too many for me ; 
He closed the peepers and silenced the breath 

Of my sweetheart Deborah Lee, 
And lier form liis cold in the prairie mould, 

Silent and cold, — ah me ! 

The foot of the hunter shall jjress her grave, 
And tlic jirairie's sweet wild flowers 

In their odorous beauty around it wave 
Through all the sunny hours, — 

• See pnge 385. 



1006 



UUMOROT'S POEMS. 



The sttU, bright summer liours ; 
Aud the bircis shall sing in the tufted grass 

And the nectar-laden bee, 
Witli his dreiiniy hum, on his gauze wings pass, — 

She wakes no more to me ; 

All, nevermore to me ! 
Though the wild birds sing and the wild llowers 
spring, 

She wakes uo more to me. 

Yet oft in the hush of the dim, still night, 

A vision of beauty I see 
Gliding soft to my bedside, — a phantom of light, 

Dear, beautiful Deborah Lee, — 

My bride that was to be ; 
And 1 wake to mourn that the doctor, and 

death, 
Aud the cold March wind, sliould stop the breath 

Of my darling Deborah Lee, — 

Adorable Deborah Lee, — 

Tliat angels shoulil want her up in heaven 

Before they wanted me. 

William h. Burleigh. 



ONLY SEYEN.* 

A PASTOKAL STORY, AFTER WORDSWORTH. 

1 M.\iiVELLED why a simple child, 
That lightly draws its breath. 

Should utter groans so very wild 
And look as pale as Death. 

Adopting a parental tone, 

I asked her why she cried. 
The damsel auswered, with a groan, 

" 1 've got a pain inside ! 

" I thought it would have sent me mad 

Last night about eleven." 
Said I, " What is it makes you bad ? 
How many apples have you had ! " 

Slie answered, " Only seven ! " 

" .\nd are you sure you took no more, 

M.y little maid ! " ipioth L 
" O, (ilease, sir, mother gave me four. 

But tltey were in a pie ! " 

"If that 's the case," I stammered out, 
" Of course you 'vo had eleven." 

The maiden answered with a pout, 
" I ain't had more nor seven ! " 

I wondered hugely what she meant. 
And said, "I 'm bad at riildles, 

But 1 know where little girls are sent 
For telling taradiddles. 



" Now if you don't reform," said I, 
" You '11 never go to heaven ! " 

lint all in vain ; each time I try 

The little idiot makes reply, 
" 1 ain't had more nor seven 1 " 

POSTSCRIPT. 

To borrow Wordsworth's name was wrong, 

Or slightly misapplied ; 

And so I 'd better call my song, 

" Lines after Ache-inside." 

H. S. Leigh. 



A TALE OF DliUKY LAXE.* 

FROM "REJECTED ADDRESSES." 

" Thus he went on. stringing one extravagance upon another, in 
tlie style his books of chivalry liaj taught him. and Injitating, as 
near as he could, their very phrase. ' — DON tJtJI.\OTE. 

To be spoken by Mr. Kemble, in a stiit of tlie Black 
Prince's armor, borrowed from the Tower. 

Rest there awhile, my bearded lance, 
While from green curtain I advance 
To yon foot-lights, no trivial dance. 
And tell the town what sad mischance 
Did Diury Lime befall. 

As Chaos, which, by heavenly doom, 
Had slept in everlasting gloom. 
Started with terror aud surprise 
When light tii-st flashed upon her eyes, — 
So London's sons in nightcap woke, 

111 bedgown woke her dames ; 
For shouts were heard mid lire and smoke, 
And twice ton hundi'ed voices spoke, — 

" The playhouse is in Hanies ! " 
And, lo ! where Catherine Street extemls, 
A tiery tail its lustre lends 

To every window-pane ; 
Blushes each spout in Martlet Court, 
And Barbican, moth-eaten fort. 
And Covent Garden kennels sport, 

A bright ensanguined drain ; 
Meux's new Brcwhouse shows the light, 
Rowland Hill's Chapel, and the height 

Where Tatent Shot they sell ; 
The Tennis Court, so fair and tall, 
Partakes the ray, with Surgeons' Hall, 
The Ticket- Porters' House of Call, 
Old Bedlam, close by London Wall, 
Wright's shrimp and oyster shop withal. 

And Richardson's Hotel. 
Nor these alone, but far and wide. 
Across red Thames's gleaming tide. 
To distant fields the blaze was borne. 
And. daisy white and hoary thoru 

• An imitation of Sir Walter Scvtt. 



HUMOROUS POEMS. 



1007 



In borrowed lustre seeniHtl to sham 
The rose, or red Sweet Wil-li-aiu. 
To those wlio on the liills around 
Hehehl the Ihmu's from Urury's mound, 

As from a hifty altar rise, 
It seemed that nations did eonspire 
To otl'er to tlie god of fire 

Some v:ust, stupendous sacrifice ! 
The summoned firemen woke at call, 
And hied tliem to their stations all: 
Starting from short and hroken snooze. 
Each sought his ponderous hob-nailed shoes. 
But first his worsted hosen plied ; 
Plush luveches next, in crimson dyed. 

His nether bulk embraced ; 
Then jacket thick, of red or blue. 
Whose massy shoulder gave to view 
The badge of each respective crew. 

In tin or copper traced. 
The engines tliundei'cd through the street, 
Fire-hook, pipe, bucket, all complete. 
And torches glared, and clattering feet 

Along the pavement paced. 
And one, the leader of the band. 
From Charing Cross along the Strand, 
Like stag by beagles hunted hard, 
Ilan till he stopped at Vin'gar Yard. 
'I'lie burning badge his shoulder bore, 
The belt and oil-skin hat he wore, 
The cane he had, his men to bang, 
Showeil foreman of the Hritish gang, — 
His name was Higgiubottom. Now 
'T is meet that I should tell you how 

The others came in view : 
Tlie Hand-in-Hand the race begun, 
Then came the Phamix and the Sun, 
The Exchange, where old insurers run. 

The Eagle, where the new ; 
With these came Kumfbrd, liumford. Cole, 
Robins from Hockley in the Hole, 
Lawsoii and Dawson, cheek by jowl, 

Crump from St. Giles's Pounil : 
AVhitford and Mitford joined the train, 
Huggins and Muggins from Chick Lane, 
And Clutterbuck, who got a sprain 

Hefore the plug was found. 
Hobson and Jobson did not sleep, 
15ut ah ! no trophy could they reap, 
For both were in the Donjon Keep 

Of UrideweU's gloomy mound ! 
E'en Higgiubottom now was posed. 
For sadder scene was ne'er disclosed ; 
Without, within, in hideous show. 
Devouring flames resistless glow. 
And blazing rafters downward go, 
And never halloo " Heads below ! " 

Nor notice give at all. 



The firemen terrified are slow 
To bid the pumping torrent flow, 

For fear the roof should fall. 
Back, Kobius, back ! Crump, stand aloof ! 
Wliitford, keep near the walls ! 
Huggins, regard your own behoof, 
For, lo ! the blazing, rocking roof 
Down, down in thunder falls ! 
An awful pause succeeds the stroke, 
Anil o'er the ruins volumod smoke, 
Kiilling around its pitchy shroud. 
Concealed them from the astonislied crowd. 
At length the mist awhile was cleared, 
When, lo ! amid the wre?k upreared, 
firadual a moving head appeared, 

And Eagle firemen knew 
'T was Joseph Muggins, name revered, 

The foreman of their crew. 
Loud shouted all in signs of woe, 
" A Muggins ! to the rescue, ho ! " 

And poured the hissing tide : 
Meanwhile the Muggins fought amain, 
Ami strove and struggled all in vain, 
For, rallying but to fall again. 

He tottered, sunk, and died ! 

Did none attempt, before lie fell. 
To succor one they loved so well ? 
Yes, Higgiubottom did aspire 
(His fireman's soul was all on fire) 

His brother chief to save ; 
But ah ! his reckless generous ire 

Served but to share his grave ! 
Mill blazing beams and scalding streams, 
Tliriiugh fire and smoke he dauntless broke. 

Where Muggins broke before. 
But sulphury stencil and boiling drench, 
Destroying sight, o'erwlieliued him quite. 

He sunk to rise no more. 
Still o'er his liead, while Fate he braved, 
His whizzing water-pipe he waved : 
" Wliitford and Mitford, ply your pumps ! 
You, Clutterbuck, come, stir your stumps ! 
Why are you in such doleful dumps ? 
A fireman, and afraid of bumps ! — 
What are they feared on ? fools ! 'od rot 'em ! " 

ttom. 
Horace Smith. 



POEMS 

RECEIVED IN RESPONSE TO AN ADVERTISED CALL FOR A 
NATIONAL ANTHEM. 

NATIONAL ANTHEM. 

BV DR. OLIVER WENDELL H . 

A DiAGNosi.s of our history proves 
Our native land a laud its native loves ; 



1008 



HUMOROaS POEMS. 



Its birth a deed obstetric without peer. 
Its growth a source of wonder far and near. 

f love it more, behold how foreign shores 

Sink into nothingness beside its stores. 

Hyde Park at best — though counteil ultra 

grand — 
The " Boston Common " of Victoria's land — • 

The committee must not be blamed for rejecting the above after 
reading thus far, for such an " anthem " could only be sung by a 
college of surgeons or a Beacon Street tea-party. 

Turn we now tu a 

NATIONAL ANTHEM. 

BY \VILLI.\M CULLEN B .. 

The sun sinks softly to his evening post, 

The suri swells grandly to his morning crown ; 

Yet not a star our flag of heaven has lost, 
And not a sunset stripe with him goes down. 

So thrones may fall ; and from the dust of those 
New thrones may rise, to totter like the la.«t ; 

But still our country's nobler planet glows, 
While the eternal stai's of Heaven are fast. 

ITpon finding that this does not go well to the air of "Yankee 
Doodle," the committee feel justified in declining it : it being further- 
more prejudiced against it by a suspicion that the poet has crowded 
an advertisement of a paper which he edits into the first line. 

Next we quote from a 

NATIONAL ANTHEM. 

BY GENERAL GEORGE P. M . 

In the days that tried our fathers. 

Many years ago. 
Our fair land achieved her freedom 

Blood-bought, you know, 
Shall we not del'end her ever. 

As we 'd defend 
That fair maiden, kind and tender. 

Calling us friend ? 

Yes ! Let all the echoes answer. 

From hill and vale ; 
Yes ! Let other nations hearing, 

Joy in the tale. 
Our Columbia is a lady, 

High-born and fair. 
We have sworn allegiance to her, — 

Touch her who dare. 

The tone of this '• anthem " not being devotional enough to suit 
the committee, it should be printed on an edition of linen-cambric 
liandkerchiefs for ladies especially. 

Observe this 

NATIONAL ANTHEM. 



One hue of our flag is taken 

From the cheeks of my blushing pet, 
And its stars beat time and sparkle 

Like the studs on her chemisette. 



Its blue is the ocean shadow 
That hides in her dreamy eyes. 

And it conijuers all men, like her. 
And still for a Union flies. • 

Several members of the committee find that this " anthem " has 
too much of the Anacreon spice to suit them. 
We next peruse a 

NATIONAL ANTHEM. 
BY THOMAS BAILEY A 

The little brown squirrel hops in the corn, 

Tlie cricket quaintly sings ; 
Ths emerald pigeon nods his head. 

And the shad in the river springs ; 
The dainty sunflower hangs its head 

On the sliore of the summer sea ; 
Ami better far that I were dead. 

If Maud dill not love me. 

I love the squirrel that hops in the corn. 

And the cricket that quaintly sings ; 
And the emerald pigeon that nods his head, 

And the sliad that gayly springs. 
I love the dainty sunflower, too. 

And Jlaud with lier snowy breast ; 
I love them all ; but I love — I love — 

I love my country best. 

This is certainly very beautiful, and sounds somewhat like 7 en- 
nyson. Though it may be rejected by the committee, it can never 
lose its value as a piece of excellent reading for children. It is 
calculated to fill the youthful mind with patriotism and natural his- 
tory, beside touching the youthful hear: with an emotion palpitating 
for all. 

ROBERT H. Newell [Orfhtus C- AVrr). 



THE COCK AND THE BULL.* 

You see this pebble-stone? It's a thing I bought 
Of a bit of a chit of a boy i' the mid o' the day — 
I like to dock the smaller parts-o'-speech. 
As we curtail the already cur-tailed cur 
(You catch the paronomasia, play o' words ?) — 
Did, rather, i' the pre-Landseerian days. 
Well, to my muttons. I purcliased the concern. 
And clapt it i' my poke, and gave for same 
By way, to-wit, of barter or exchange — 
"Chop" was my snickering dandiprat's own 

term — 
One shilling and fourpence, current coin o' the 

realm. 
0-n-e one and f-o-u-r four 
Pence, one and fourpence — you are with me, 

Sir? — 
What hour it skills not: ten oreleven o' the clock, 
One day (and what a roaring day it wa.i !) 

* Id imitation of Robert Brownit^. 



HUMOROUS POEMS. 



1009 



•nine, 



In February, eighteen sixty-ume, 
Alexandrina Victoria, Fidei 
Hni — hui — how runs the jargon? — being on 
throne. 

Such, sir, arc all the facts, succinctly put, 
The basis or substratum — what you will — 
Of the impending eighty thousand lines. 
" Not much in 'em either," quoth perhaps simple 

Hodge. 
But there 's a superstructure. Wait a bit. 

Mark fir.st the rationale of the thing : 
Hear logic rival and levigate the deed. 
That shilling — and for matter o' that, the 

pence — 
I had o' course upo' me — wi' me, say — 
(Mcaivi's the Latin, make a note o' that) 
When I popped pen i' stand, blew snout, 

scratched ear, 
Sniffed — tch ! — at snuff-box ; tumbled up, he- 
heed. 
Haw-hawed (not hee-hawed, that 's another guess 

thing ;) 
Then fumbled at, and stumbled out of, door, 
1 shoved tlie door ope wi' my omoplat ; 
And in rcstilmlo, i' the entrance-liall, 
Donned galligaskins, antigropeloes, 
And so forth ; and, complete with hat and gloves, 
One on and one a-dangle i' my hand. 
And ombrifuge, (Lord love you !) case o' rain, 
I flopped forth, 's buddikins ! on my own ten toes, 
(I do assure you there be ten of them, ) 
And went clump-clumping up hill and down dale 
To find myself o' the sudden i' front o' the boy. 
Put case I had n't 'em on me, could I ha' bought 
This sort-o'-kind-o'-what-you-might-call toy. 
This pebble-thing, o' the boy-thing ? Q. E. D. 
That 's proven without aid from mumping Pope, 
Sleek porporate or bloated Cardinal, 
(Is n't it, olil Fatchaps ? You 're in Euclid now.) 
So, having the shilling — having i' fact a lot — 
And pence and halfpence, ever so many o' them, 
I purchased, as I think I said before, 
Tlie pebble (lapis, lapidis, — di, — dem, — de, ■ — 
What nouns 'crease short i' the genitive, Fat- 
chaps, eh ?) 
0' the boy, a bare-legged beggarly son of a gun, 
For one and fourpence. Here we are again. 

Now Law steps in, big-wigged, voluminous- 
jawed ; 
Investigates and re-investigates. 
Was the transaction illegal ? Law shakes head. 
Perpend, sir, all tlie bearings of the case. 

At first the coin was mine, the chattel his. 
But now (by virtue of the said exchange 
And barter) vice verm all the coin, 



Per juris operationem, vests 

r the boy and his assigns till ding o' doom ; 

(In saxula sceculo-o-o-orum ; 

I think I hear the Abbate mouth out that.) 

To have and hold the same to him and them . . , 

C'lmfcr some idiot on Conveyancing, 

\V'hereas the pebble and every part thereof. 

And all that appertaineth thereunto. 

Or shall, will, may, might, can, could, would, or 

should, 
( Siibandi ccctera — clap me to the close — 
For what 's the good of law in a case o' the kind ?) 
Is mine to all intents and purposes. 
This settled, I resume the thread o' the tale. 

Now for a touch o' the vendor's quality. 
He says a gen'lman bought a pebble of him, 
(This pebble i' sooth, sir, which I hold i' my 

hand) — 
And paid for 't, like a gen'lman, on the nail. 
' ' Di<l I o'ercharge him a ha'penny ? Devil a bit. 
Fiddlestick's end ! Get out, you blazing ass ! 
Gabble o' the goose. Don't bugaboo-baby met 
Go double or quits? Yah ! tittup ! what's the 

odds ? " 
— There 's the transaction viewed, i' the vendor's 

light. 

Next ask that dumpled hag, stood snuffling by, 
With her three frowsy -browsy brats o' babes, 
The scum o' the kennel, cream o' the filth-heap 

— Faugh ? 
Aie, aie, aie, aie ! otototototoij 
('Stead which we blurt out Hoighty-toighty 

now ) — 
And the liaker and candlestick-maker, and Jack 

and Gill, 
Bleared Goody this and queasy Gafl'er that. 
Ask the schoolmaster. Take schoolmaster first. 

He saw a gentleman purchase of a lad 
A stone, and pay for it rite, on the square, 
And carry it off per salttim, jauntily, 
Propria quw maribus, gentleman's property now 
(Agreeably to the law explained above). 
In projyrium usum, for his private ends. 
The boy he chucked a brown i' the air, and bit 
r tlie face the shilling : heaved a thumping stone 
At a lean hen that ran cluck-clucking by, 
(And hit her, dead as nail i' post o' door,) 
'Then abiit — what's the Ciceronian phrase ? — 
Exressit, evasit, erupit, — off slogs boy ; 
Off in three flea-skips. Hactemts, so far, 
So good, tam bene. Bene, satis, male, — 
Where was I ? who said what of one in a quag ? 
I did once hitch the syntax into verse : 
Verbum personate, a verb personal. 
Concordat, — ay, " agrees," old Fatchaps — cum 



luio 



HUMOROUS POEMS. 



Nominalivo, with its nominative, 

Gencrc, i' point o' gender, niiincro, 

0* nnmber, ct pci'soiia, anil person. t7. 

Instance : Sol ruU, down Hops snn, d, anil. 

Mantes umbrantiir, snuH's out luouiitidiis. Pah ! 

E.xcuse me, sir, I think 1 'ni going uuiil. 

You see the trick on 't though, and can yourself 

Continue the discourse ad libit am. 

It takes up about eighty thousand lines, 

A thing imagination boggles at ; 

And might, odds-bobs, sn- ! injudicious hands. 

Extend from here to Mesopotaniy. 

CHAK1.ES S. CALVERLEV. 



LOVERS, AND A REFLECTION.* 

' In moss-prankt dells which the sunbeams flatter 
(And heaven it knoweth what that may mean ; 
Meaning, however, is no great matter) 

Where woods are a-trenible, with rifts atween ; 

Through God's own heather we wonned together, 
I and my Willie (0 love my love) : 

I need hardly remark it was glorious weather. 
And flitterbats wavered alow, above ; 

Boats were curtseying, rising, bowing 
( Hoats in that clinuite are so polite). 

And sands were a ribbon of green endowing. 
And the sun-dazzle on bark and bight ! 

Through the rare red heather we danced together, 
(0 love my Willie !) and smelt for flowers : 

I must mention again it was glorious weather. 
Rhymes are so scarce in this world of ours : — 

By rises that flushed with their purple favors. 
Through becks that brattled o'er grasses sheen, 

AVe walked or waded, we two young shavers. 
Thanking our stars we w'cre both so green. 

We journeyed in parallels, I and Willie, 
In "fortunate parallels ! " Butterflies, 

Hid in weltering shadows of datt'odilly 

Or marjoram, kept making peacock's eyes : 

Song-birds darted about, some inky 

As coal, some snowy (I ween) as curds ; 

Or rosy as pinks, oi as roses pinky — 

They reck of no eerie To-come, those birds ! 

But they skim over bents which the mill-stream 
washes. 

Or hang in the lift 'neath a white cloud's hem ; 
They need no parasols, no galoshes ; 

And good Mrs. Trinnner she feedeth them. 

• In imitation of Jean Ingelow. 



Then we thrid God's cowslips (as erst his heather) 
That endowed the wan grass with their golden 
blooms ; 

Andsnapt — (itwas perfectly charming weather) — 
Our fingers at Fate and her goddess-glooms : 

And Willie 'gan sing — (O, his notes were flvity ; 
Walts fluttered them out to the white-winged 
sea) — 
Something made up of rhymes that have done 
much duty. 
Rhymes (better to put it) of "ancientry : " 

Bowers of flowers encountered showers 
In William's carol (0 love my Willie !) 

When he bade sorrow borrow- from blithe To- 
morrow 
I quite forget what — say a daffodilly ; 

A nest in a hollow, "with buds to follow," 
I think occurred next in his nimble strain ; 

And clay that was "kneadcn" of course in Eden — 
A rhyme most novel, I do maintain : 

Mists, bones, the singer himself, love-stories. 
And all least furlable things got "furled ; " 

Not with any design to conceal their glories. 
But simply and solely to rhyme with " world." 

0, if billows and pillows and hours and flowers. 
And all the brave rhymes of an elder day, 

Could be furled together this genial weather. 
And carted, or carried on wafts away, 

Nor ever again trotted out — ay me ! 

How much fewer volumes of verse there 'd be ! 

rriARLES S. CALVERLEV. 



THE ARAB. 

On, on, my brown Arab, away, away ! 
Thou hast trotted o'er many a mile to-day. 
And I trow right meagre hath been thy fare 
Since they roused thee at dawn from thy straw- 
piled lair. 
To tread with those echoless, unshod feet 
Yon weltering flats in the noontide heat. 
Where no palm-tree proli'ers a kindly shade, 
And the eye never rests on a cool grass blade ; 
And lank is thy flank, and thy freiiuent cough, 
0, it goes to my heart — but away, friend, oH' ! 

And yet, ah ! what sculptorwho saw thee stand. 
As thou standest now, on thy native strand, 
With the wild w^ind ruffling thine uncombed hair. 
And thy nostril upturned to the odorous air. 
Would not woo thee to pause, till his skill might 

trace 
At leisure the lines of that eager face ; 



HUMOROUS POEMS. 



1011 



The ct'Uurless neck ami the coiil-blaek paws 
Ami tlie bit grasped tight in tlie massive jaws ; 
Tlie delicate curve of the legs, that seem 
Too slight for their burden — and, 0, the gleam 
Of that eye, so sombre and yet so gay ! 
Still away, my lithe Arab, once more away ! 

Nay, tempt me not, Arab, again to stay ; 
Since I crave neither Echo nor Fun to-day. 
For thy hand is not Echoless — there they are. 
Fun, Glowworm, and Eclio, and Evening Star, 
And thou hintest withal that thou fain wouldst 

shine, 
As I read them, these bulgy old boots of mine. 
But I shrink from thee, Arab ! Thou eatest 

eel-pie, 
Tliou evermore hast at least one black eye ; 
There is Ijrass on thy brow, and thy swarthy hues 
Are due not to nature, but handling shoes ; 
And the bit in thy mouth, I regret to see. 
Is a bit of tobacco-pijie — Flee, child, flee ! 

CHARLES S. CALVCRLEV. 



THE MODERN" HOUSE THAT JACK 
BUILT. 

Behold the mansion reared by diedal Jack. 

See the malt, stored in many a plethoric sack, 
In the proud cirque of Ivan's bivouac. 

Mark how the rat's felonious Anigs invade 
The golden stores in John's pavilion laid. 

Anon, witli velvet foot and Tanjuin strides. 
Subtle grimalkin to his ijuarry glides, — 
Grimalkin griin, that slew the fierce rodent 
Wliose tooth insidious Johann's sackcloth rent. 

Lo ! now the deep-moutlied canine foe's assault, 
That vexed the avenger of the stolen malt ; 
Stored in the hallowed precincts of the hall 
That rose complete at Jack's creative call. 

Here stalks the impetuous cow, with crumpled 

horn. 
Whereon the exacerbating hound was torn, 
AV'ho bayed tlie feline slaughter-beast, that slew 
The rat predacious, whose keen fangs ran through 
Tlie textile fibres that involved the grain 
That lay in Hans' inviolate domain. 

Here walks forlorn the damsel crowned with rue. 
Lactiferous spoils from vaccine dugs who drew, 
Of that corniculate beast whose tortuous horn 
Tossed to the clouds, in fierce vindictive scorn. 



The harrowing hound, whose braggart bark and 

stir 
Arched the lithe spineand reared the indignant fur 
Of puss, tliat with verniinicidal claw 
Struck the weird rat, in whose insatiate maw 
Lay reeking malt, that erst in Ivan's courts we 

saw. 

Robed in senescent garb, that seemed, in sooth, 
Too long a prey to Chronos' iron tooth, 
Bi'hold the man whose amorous lips incline, 
Full with young Eros' osculative sign. 
To the lorn maiden, whose lac-albic hands 
Drew albu-lactic wealth from lacteal glands 
Of the immortal bovine, by whose liorn, 
Distort, to realm ethereal was borne 
The beast catulean, vexer of that sly 
Ulysses quadrupedal who made die 
The old niordacious rat, that dared devour 
Antecedaneous ale in John's domestic bovver. 

Lo ! here, with hirsute honors doffed, succinct 
Of saponaceous locks, the priest wlio linked 
In Hymen's golden bands the torn unthiift, 
Whose means exiguous stared from many a rift. 
Even as he kissed the rirgin all forlorn. 
Who milked the cow with implicated horn, 
AVho in fine wrath the canine torturer skied, 
Tliat dared to vex the insidious muricide. 
Who let auroral effluence through the pelt 
Of the sly rat that robbed the palace Jack had 
built. 

The loud cantankerous Shanghai comes at last, 
Whose shouts aroused the shorn ecclesiast, 
AVho sealed the vows of Hymen's sacrament 
To hint who, robed in garments indigent, 
Exosculates the damsel lachrymose. 
The emulgator of that honiM brute morose 
That tossed the dog that worried the cat that kilt 
The rat that ate the malt that lay in the house 
that Jack built. 

Anonymous. 

JONES AT THE BARBER'S SHOP. 

Scene, a Barbers Shop. Barber's man engac/ed 
in culling hair, making wigs, and oilier bar- 
bcresque oiierations. 

Enter Jones, meeting Oily the barber. 
Jo.N'Es. I wish my hair cut. 
Oily. Pi'^y, sir, take a seat. 

(Oily puts a chair for Jones, who sits. During 
the following dialogue Oily continues cutting 
Jones's hair.) 

Oily. We 've had much wet, sir. 

Jones. Very much indeed. 



1012 



lUMOROlS POEMS. 



Oily. And yet November's Jnys were fine. 
JoNKs. They wore. 

Oily. I hopetl fairweatliermight hnve lasted us 
Until the end. 
Jones. At one time — so did I. 

Oily. But we have had it very wot. 
JoN'KS. ^Vo liavo. 

(J fMitse of some ten min iihii.) 
Oily. I know not, sir, «lio out yonr hair last 
time ; 
But this 1 say, sir, it was biully out : 
No doubt 'twas in tho oountry. 
Jones. No ! in town ! 

Oily. Indewl ! 1 should have I'ancied other- 
wise. 
JosKS. Twas out ill town and in this very 

room. 
Oily. Amazement! — but 1 now remember 
woU — 
We l\ad an awkwanl. now proviuoial b.and, 
A fellow ii-oin tho oountry. Sir, ho did 
More damage to uiy busiiu'ss in a week 
Than all my skill oan in a year i-o(iair. 
He must have out your hair. 
JoXEs (look-iitg at hiin\. No, 't was yoursolt'. 
Oily. Myself? Impossible! You must mis- 
take. 
JosES. 1 don't mistake — 't was you that out 
my hair. 

(A long pause, interrupted only by (he clippiny 
of the scissors. ) 

Oily. Your hair is very dry, sir. 

Jones. Oh ! indeed. 

Oily. Our Vegetable Extract moistens it. 

Jones. I like it dry. 

Oily. But, sir, the hair when dry 
Turns nuiokly gray. 

Jones. That eolor I prefer. 

Oily. But hair, when gray, will rapidly fall 
off. 
And Imldness will ensue. 

Jones. I would be KiUl. 

Oily. Perhaps you hiean to .say you 'd like a 
wig, — 
Wo "ve wigs so natural they oan't Ix- told 
Fi-cm real htiir. 

Jokes. Deception I detest. 

[Another pause ensues, during which Oily blows 
down Jones's neck, and relieivs him from the 
linen wmpper in which he has been enveloped 
during the process of hair^uttiny.) 

Oily. 'We 've bruslies, soajis, and scent of 

every kind. 
Jones. 1 see you have. (Pays 6 d.) I think 

you '11 find that right. 



Oily. If there is nothing 1 oan show you, sir. 
Jones. No ; nothing. Yet — there may be 
something, too. 
That you may show me. 

Oily. Name it, sir. 

Jones. The door. 

t^iLY {to his man). That 's ii rum customer 
at any rate. 
Had I out him as short as ho out me, 
lliiw little hair upon his head would be ! 
liut if kind friends will all our pains roipiite, 
Wo '11 hope lor bettor luck luiother night. 

[Shop bell rings, and curtain falls, 

rONCH. 



TO THE TEKUESTKIAL GLOBE. 

BY A MISKKABLB WRETCH. 

KoLL on, thou ball, roll on ! 
Through pathless realms of space 

h'oU on ! 
What though 1 'ni in a sorry case ? 
What though 1 omiiiot moot my bills ? 
What though 1 sull'or tootluioho's ills » 
What thougli 1 swallow countless pills? 
Never 1/1'" mind ! 

KoU on ! 

KoU on, thou ball, roll on ! 
Through seas of inky air 

Koll on ! 
It 's true I 've got no shirts to wear. 
It 's true my butcher's bill is diu>. 
It 's true my prospects all look blue, — 
But don't let that unsettle you ! 
Never you mind ! 
Roll ou ! 

[Tt rolls (nt 
■William schwenck Gilbert. 



MY LOVE.* 

1 ONLY know she came and went 
Like troutlets in a pool ; 

She was a phantom of <lelight, 
And I was like a fool. 



Powell. 

Hood. 

JFordsworth. 

£astmaii. 



t>ne kiss, dear maid, 1 stiid, and sighed, Coleridge, 

Out of those lips unshorn : Longfellow. 

She shook her ringlets round her head, Stoddard. 

j And laughed in merry scorn. Tennyson. 

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, Tennyson. 

I You he«ril them, O my heart : Alice Cary. 

I 'Tis twelve at night by the castle clock, Coleridge. 

Beloveil, we must i>ai't. Alice (Mry 

I * A specimen o.' what are called " Cento Vcncs : " patchwt»k. 



lli;.\IOKOL"S POEMS. 



1013 



" Come back, come buck ! " slie cried in grief, 

CiiiniihclJ. 

"My eyes are dim witli tears, — Bayard Taylor. 
How shall I live tlirough all the days ? Osijuud. 

All through a hundred years ?" T. S. Pernj. 

"V was in the prime of summer tinn' JlmuL 

She blessed me with her hand ; //<////. 

AVe strayed tog'-ther, deeply Ijlest, Edv'nr<h. 

Into the dreaming land. Cornwall. 

The laughing bridal roses Ijlow, Vatnmn. 

To dress her dark-brown liair ; liayard Taijlnr. 
My heart is bieaking with my woe, Tmnyma. 

Most beautiful ! most rare ! Riind. 

I clasped it on her sweet, cold hand, Urovmiiig. 

The precious golden link ! Smith. 

I calmed her fears, and she was calm, Coleridge, 

"Drink, pretty creature, drink." JVordaworth. 



And so I won my Genevieve, 
And walked in Paradise ; 

The fairest thing that ever grew 
Atween me and the skies. 



Coleridge. 

Hervey. 

Wordsworth. 

Osgood. 

ANONYMOUS. 



RECIPES. 

ROASTED SUCKING-PIG. 
Air, — Scots wha hac." etc. 

Cooks who 'd roast a sucking-pig. 
Purchase one not over big ; 
Coarse ones are not worth a fig ; 

So a young one buy. 
See that he is scalded well 
(That is done by those who sell), 
Therefore on that ]ioint to dwell 

Were absurdity. 

Sage and bread, mi.v just enongli. 
Salt and i)epi)er iimmlum stiff.. 
And the pig's interior stuff. 

With the whole combined. 
To a firfe that 's rather high. 
Lay it till completely dry ; 
Then to every part apply 

Cloth, with butter lined. 

Dredge with Hour o'er and o'er. 
Till the jiig will hold no more ; 
Then do nothing else before 

'T is for serving fit. 
Then scra[>e off the Hour with care ; 
Then a buttered cloth prc[)are ; 
Kub it well ; then cut — not tear — 

Off the head of it. 



Then take out and mix the brains 
With the gravy it contains ; 
Wliilc it on the spit remains, 

Cut the pig in two. 
I hop the sage and chop the bread 
I'inc as very finest shred ; 
O'er it melteii butter sjiread, — 

Stinginess won't do. 

When it in the di.sh appears, 
Garnish with the jaws and ears ; 
And whi-n dinner-hour nears, 

Heady let it be. 
Who can oiler such a dish 
May dispense with fowl and fish ; 
And if he a gnest should wish. 

Let him send for me ! 

PUNCH'S Potlical Zoolury Book. 



A KECIPE FOK SALAD. 

To make this condiment your poet begs 
The pounded yellow of two hard-boiled eggs ; 
Two boiled potatoes, passed through kitchen 

sieve. 
Smoothness and softness to the salad give ; 
Let onion atoms lurk within the bowl. 
And, half suspected, animate the whole ; 
Of mordant mustard add a single spoon, 
Di.stnist the condiment that bites so soon ; 
But deem it not, thou man of herbs, a fault 
To add a double quantity of salt ; 
Four times the spoon with oil from Lucca 

crown. 
And twice with vinegar, procured from town ; 
And la.stly, o'er the flavored coiiipound toss 
A magic soupr^on of anchovy sauce. 
green and glorious 1 herbaceous treat ! 
'T would tempt the dying anchorite to eat ; 
Back to the world he 'd turn his fleeting soul. 
And plunge his fingers in the salad-bowl ; 
Serenely full, the epicure would say, 
" Fate cannot hann me, — I have dined to-day.' 

SvDNEy Smith. 



SIEGE OF BELGRADE. 

An Austrian army, awfully anayed. 
Boldly Ijy batteiy besieged Belgrade. 
Cossack commanders cannonading come. 
Dealing destruction's devastating doom. 
I'jvery endeavor engineers essay. 
For fame, for fortune fighting, — furious fray ! 
Generals 'gainst generals grajjple — gracious God ! 
How honors Heaven heroic hardihood .' 



lOU 



HCiMOROUS POEMS. 



Infmiatp, indisi'iimiiuite in ill, 

Kindri'il kill kinsmen, kinsmen kimlroil kill. 

Labor low levels longest lot'tiost lines ; 

Men march mid mounds, mid moles, mid niur- 

derous mines ; 
Now noxious, noisy nuinbere notliing, naught 
Of outwai\l obstaeles, ojniosing ought ; 
Poor patriots, partly imnhased, pjutly pi-essed. 
Quite quaking, quiekly "Quarter! Quarter!" 

ijuest. 
Reason ivturus, religious right i-edounds, 
Suwarrow stops sueh sanguinary sounds. 
Truee to tliee,,Turkey I Triumph to thy tr.iin. 
Unwise, unjust, unmereil'ul Ukraine I 
Vanish, vain victory ! vanish, victory vain ! 
^Vhy wish we warfare .' \Vheivfore welcome 

were 
Xer.xes, Ximeues, Xtmthus, Xavier ! 
Yield, yield, ye youths ! ye yeomen, yield your 

yell! 
Zeus's, Zarpater's, Zoroaster's zeal, 
Attracting all, anus against acts appeal ! 

ano.nvmous. 



Zover. 

Edw. 
Loeei: 

Echo. 
Lover. 

Echo. 
Loi-er. 

Echo. 
Zover. 

Echo. 
Lonr. 

Echo. 
Lover. 

Echo. 
Lover. 

Echo. 
Loivr. 
Ec}io. 
Lover. 

Boho. 



ECHO AXU THE LOVER. 

Echo ! mysterious nymph, declare 

Of what you're made, and what you are. 

Aii- ! 
Jlid airy clitl's and places high. 
Sweet Echo ! listening love, you lie. 

You lie ! 
Thovi dost resuscitate dead sounds, — 
Hark ! how my voice revives, resounds ! 

Zounds ! 
I '11 question thee before I go, — 
Come, answer me more apropos ! 

Poh ! poll ! 
Tell me, fair nymph, if e'er you saw 
So sweet a girl as Pha>be Shaw. 

Pshaw ! 
Say, what will turn that frisking coney 
Into the toils of matrimony ? 

Money ! 
Has Phtebe not a heavenly brow ! 
Is not her bosom white as snow ? 

Ass ! No ! 
Her eyes ! was ever such a pair ? 
Are the stai-s brighter than they are ? 

They are ! 
Echo, thou liest, but can't deceive me. 

Leave me I 
But come, thou saucy, pert romancer. 
Who is as fair as Phcebe ? Answer ! 

Ann, sir. 

ANONV.MOVS. 



ECHO. 

I .\sKKn of Echo, t' other day, 

(Whose worIs lu'e few and often funny,) 
What to a novice she could say 

Of courtship, love, aud matrimony. 

Quoth Echo, plainly, — " Matter-o' -money ! " 

Whom should I marry ? — should it bo 

A dashing damsel, giiy and pert, 
A pattern of inconstjincy ; 

Or selfish, mercenary llirt ? 

Quoth Echo, sharply, — " Xary llirt ! " 

What if, aweary of the strife 
That long ha* lured the dear deceiver. 

She promise to amend her life, 
And sin no more ; can I believe her ? 
Quoth Echo, very promptly, — " Leave her ! ' 

But if some maiden with a heart 
On me should venture to bestow it, 

Pray, should I act the wiser part 
To take the treasure or forego it ! 
Quoth Echo, with decision, — " Oo it ! " 

But what if, seemingly afraid 
To biiul her fate in Hymen's fetter, 
She vow she means to die a maid. 
In answer to my loving letter > 
Quoth Echo, rather coolly, — "Let her ! " 

What if, in spite of her disdain, 
I lind my heart intwiued about 

With Cupid's dear delicious chain 
So closely that I can't get out > 
Quoth Echo, laughingly, — " (u-t out !" 

But if some maid with beanty blest, 
.Vs pure and fair as Heaven can make her. 

Will share my labor and my rest 
Till envious Death shall overtake her? 
Quoth Echo {sotto rvcc), — •' Take her ! " 

JOH.\ Godfrey sa.ve. 



NOCTURNAL SKETCH. 

BLANK VEKSi; 1,\ RHYMF. 

EvF.x is come ; and from the dark Park, hark. 
The signal of the setting sun — one gun ! 
And six is sounding from the chime, jirime time 
To go and see the Ih-ury-Lane Dane slain, — 
Or hear Othello's jealous doubt spout out, — 
Or MaclH-th ii>ving at that shade-made blade. 
Denying to his frantic clutch much touch ; 
Or else to see Ducrow with wide stride ride 
Four horses as no other man can span ; 
Or ill the small Olympic pit sit split 
Laughing at Liston, while you quiz his phiz. 



UUMOltOUS I'OEiMS. 



1015 



Anon Xiglit coiiies, iiiid with her wings brings 

things 
Such as, with his poetic tongue. Young sung ; 
The gas upblazes witli its Ijriglit wliiti; light. 
And paralytic watchmen piowl, howl, giowl 
About the streets, and take up i'all-Mall Sal, 
Who, hasting to her nightly jobs, roba fobs. 

Now thieves to enter for your cash, smash, crash, 
Past drowsy Charley, in a deep sleep, creep, 
But, frightened by Policeman H. 3, lice, 
And while they 're going, whisper low, " No go ! '' 

Now puss, when folks are in their beds, treads 

leads. 
And sleepers, waking, grumble, " Drat that cat !" 
Who in the gutter caterwauls, sijiialls, mauls 
Some feline foe, and screams in shrill ill-will. 

Now Bulls of Bashan, of a prize size, rise 

In childish dreams, ami with a roar gore poor 

Georgy, or Charley, or Billy, willy-nilly ; — 

But Nursemaid in a niglitinare rest, chest-pressed, 

Dreameth of one of her olil flames, .lames Games, 

And that she hears — what faith is man's ! — 

Ann's banns 

And his, from Reverend Mr. Rice, twice, thrice ; 

White ribbons flourish, and a stout shout out. 

That upward goes, shows Rose knows those bows' 

woes ! 

THOMAS Hood. 



LINlvS WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM. 

[A farmer s dauiflitcr. duririi; the ra,;e for albumg, handed to the 
j author an old account-book ruled for pounds, shillings, and pence, 
and requested a contribution.] 

This world 's a scene as dark as Styx, 
I Where hope is scarce worth 
; Our joys are borne so fleeting hence 
' That they are dear at 1 8 

; And yet to stay here most are willing. 

Although they may not have 

Willis Caylokd. 



ODE FOR A SOCIAL MEETING ; 

WITH SLIGHT ALTERATIONS BY A TEETOTALER. 

Come ! fill a fresh bumper, — for why should 
we go 

loffwood 

AVhile the Beetasr still reddens our cups as they 
flow? 

dccoctitin 

Pour out the riiih jmcc s still bright with the sun, 

dye-stuff 

Till o'er the brimmed crystal the lo^s shall run. 

half-ripcncd apples 

The pnrpk glebed u luotora their life-dews have 
bled; 

ta^tc sufjar of I'_-a'! 

How sweet is the byeatbof thc f f ttgrai i oc they ohod ! 

ranlc poKons Tinuf. ! I ! 

For summer's l act roooo lie hid in the winon 

stable-boys siiioliir):.' lorii'-nines 

That were garnered by in a idono who laugh e d 

scowl howl scoff sneer 

Then asffiiie, and a glass, and ateast,andaefeeer, 

stryclininc aii'l whiskey, an*! rjtsij.ine and beer 

For aii lli fj go»d w i i nj, and we've oonia of it her - o ! 
In cellar, in pantry, in attic, in hall, 

Down, down with the tyrant that masters us all 1 

iit-}«»gh»-feT-H*-a!l ! 
Oliver wk.m^rll Hui.mu^. 



METRICAL FEET. 

Tkochee trips from long to short ; 

From long to long in solemn sort 

Slow Spondee stalks ; strong foot ! yet ill able 

Ever to come u|) with dactyl trisyllable. 

Iambics march from short to long ; — 

With a leap and a bound the swift Anapaests 

throng ; 
One syllable long, with one short at each side, 
Amphibrachys liastes with a stately stride ; — 
First and last being long, middle short, Arnplii- 

macer 
Strikes his thundering hoofs like a proud high- 
bred racer. 

Samuel Taylor Coleridge. 



SNEEZING. 

What a moment, what a doubt ! 
All my nose is inside out, — 
All my thrilling, tickling caustic, 
Pyramiil rhinocerostic. 

Wants to sneeze and cannot do it ! 
How it yearns me, thrills me, stings me. 
How with rapturous tonnent wrings me ! 

Now .says, "Sneeze, you fool, — get through 
it." 
Shee — shee — oh ! 't is nio.st del-ishi — 
Ishi — ishi — most del-ishi ! 
(Hang it, I shall sneeze till spring !) 
Snuff is a delicious thing. 

LEIGH HUNT. 



TO MY NOSE. 

Kkows he that never took a pinch. 
Nosey, the pleasure thence which flows? 
Knows he the titillating joys 
Which my nose knows ? 

nose, I am as proud of thee 
As any mountain of its snows ; 

1 gaze on thee, and feel that pride 

A Roman knows ! 

Alfred a. Forrester {At/red Crtmquuri, 



1016 



IIUMOROLS POEMS. 



BELAGCHOLLY DAYS. 

Chilly Dovcbbcr with its boailigg blast 

llow cubs adil strips the beddow add the lawd, 
Evi'il October's suddy days are past — 
Add Subber 's gawd ! 

1 kdow dot what it is to whicli I oligg 
Tlmt stirs to sogg add sorrow, yet I trust 
[ sigg, but as the 
Because i bust. 

Dear leaves that rustle sadly 'death by feet — 

By liggerigg feet — add liU by eyes with teai-s, 
Ye bako be sad, add, oh ! it gars be greet 
That ye are soar 1 



The sud id sailed skies too early sigks ; 

Oo trees are greed but evergreeds add ferds ; 
Gawd are the orioles aild boboligks — 
Those Robert Burds ! 



Add dow, farewell to roses add to birds, 

To larded fieliis and tigkligg streablets eke ; 
Farewell to all articulated words 
I faid would speak. 

Farewell, by cherished stroUiggs od the sward. 

Greed glades add forest shades, farewell to you ; 
With sorrowigg heart I, wretched add forlord, 
Bid you — achew ! ! ! 

ANONTHOUS. 



INDEX OF TITLES. 



INDEX OF TITLES. 



A. 

^ Aboa Ben Adhem L.Hunt 760 

Abraham Cowley Fragments 939 

Abraham Lincoln y. R. Lowell 930 

Abraham Lincoln T. Taylor 931 

Absence Anonymous 247 

Absence F.A.Kemble 244 

Absence Strengthens Love Fra^met.ts 248 

Abuse of Authority Fra^:iints 813 

Adam and Eve Milton 711 

Adam Describing Eve Milton 209 

Adam to Ev J Milton 

Adam's Morning Hymn in Paradise Milton 363 

Addison A, Pope 910 

Address to the Mummy at Belzoni's Exhibition. 

H. Smith 717 

Address to the Ocean B.W. Procter 611 

Address to the Toothache R. Burns 952 

" Adieu, Adieu, My Native Shore" ......Byron 238 

Adventurous Daring Fragments 670 

Advice Fragments 215 

' Ae Fond Kiss Before We Part" R. Bums 233 

'* Afar in the Desert" T. Pr ingle 319 

After Death Fragments 311 

After the Rain T.B. Aldrich 430 

Afterwards Fragments 900 

A f ton Water R.Burns 447 

Age of Wisdom, The IK M. Thackeray 202 

Ah, How Sweet J. Dryden 145 

" A-Hunting we will go" H.Fielding 662 

" Alas ! How Light a Cause May Move" 

T. Moore 264 

"A Life on the Ocean Wave". E. Sargent 630 

Aim of Life, The P. 7- Baiiey 742 

Airy Nothings Shakespeare 867 

Alexander's Feast ; or, the Power of Music . . . 

7. Dryden 771 

Alfred the Harper J. sterling 645 

All 's Well T. Dibdin 627 

Almond Blossom E.Arnold 457 

Alnwick Castle F.-C. Halleck 677 

Alonzo the Brave and the Fair Imogine 

M. G. Lewis 861 

Alpine Heights Krummacher 445 

" Amazing, Beauteous Change" ...P. Doddridge 377 

Ambition Fragments 798 

America Fragments 603 

America IV. C. Bryant 587 

America to Great Britain H^. A llslon 588 

American Flag, The J. R. Drake 592 



"A Mighty Fortress is our God".. .M. Luther 

Amos Cottle Fragments 

Angel of Patience, The 7 G. Whittier 

Angel's Whisper, The S. Lover 

Angler, The 7. Chalhhill 

Angler, The T.B. Read 

Angler's Trysting-Tree, The. ..T.T. .Stoddard 

Angler's Wish, The /. Walton 

Angling Fragments 

Angling ./. Thomson 

Animate Nature Fragments 

6i Annabel Lee. E. A. Poe 



37" 
940 
275 
81 
668 
669 
667 
668 
672 
669 
495 
285 
904 
■ 55 
474 
726 
296 

875 
726 
323 
753 
776 



Anne Hathaway Anonymous 

Annie Laurie Douglass 

Answer to a Child's Question ...S. T. Coleridge 

Anthology Fragments 

Antony and Cleopatra W. H. Lytle 

Antony's Oration over the Body of Cxsar 

Shakespeare 

Apollo Belvidcre, The Fragments 

Approach of Age, The G. Cratiie 

Approach of Age, The Shakespeare 

Apres A. J. Munby 

Arab. The C. S. Calverley loio 

Arab, to his Favorite Steed, The. .C. E.S. Norton 664 

Arab to the Palm, The B. Taylor 454 

Are the Children at Home>. .M. E. M. Sangster 281 

Argument Fragments 803 

Aristocracy Fragments 812 

Art of Book-keeping. The T. Hood 989 

"Art Thou Weary?" St. Stephen 364 

Arts of Love Fragtnents 204 

" As by the Shore at Bre »k of Day" ... 7". Moore 577 

As Slow Our Ship T. Moore 237 

At the Church-Gate IV. M. Thackeray 132 

Atalanta's Race IV. Morris 164 

Atheism Fragments 395 

Athens Fragments 719 

'A Thing of Beauty is a Joy Forever". 7. Keats 675 

172 
170 
118 
249 
80s 
433 
434 
264 

I2( 

6^ 



Athulf and Ethilda H. Taylor 

Auf Wiedersehen J. R. Lowell 

^Auld Lang Syne R. Burns 

Auld Robm Gray Lady A. Barnard 

Authors Fragments 

Autumn T. Hood 

Autumn, The W. D. Gallagher 

Aux Italiens R. Bulwer-Lytton 

" A Violet in Her Hair" C. Swain 

'* A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea" 

A. Cunningham 



1020 



IXDEX OF TITLES. 



B. 

Babie.The J. E. Rankin 79 

Baby Bell T. B. AUrich •'9 

Baby Louise M. Eytinge 78 

Baby May W. C. Bennett 76 

Baby Sleeps i'. Hinds 2S2 

Baby, The Fragments 107 

Baby, The Geo. Macdonald 78 

Baby, The Calidasa 78 

Baby Zulma's Christmas Carol. .A.J. Reqttier Si 

Baby's Shoes W.C.Bennett S2 

Bachelor's Hall J. Finley 1003 

Bad News Fragments 346 

Balaklava A. B. Meek 516 

Ballad of Agincourt, The . ..*!/. Drayton 502 

Ballot-Box. The Fragments 603 

Banks o' Doon, The R. Burns 249 

Bannockbum R. Burns 573 

Banty Tim J. Hay 99S 

Barbara Frietchie 7- G. Uhittier 596 

Barclay of Lry J. G. IVhittier 536 

Bard's Epitaph. A R. Burns 917 

Baref »t Boy, The J. G. iVhittier 99 

Baron's Last Banquet, The A. G. Greene 293 

Bathing \ J Thomson 669 

Battle Fragments 725 

Battle of Blenheim, The R. Southey 538 

Battle of the Angels Milton 500 

Battle-Field, The IV. C. Bryant 534 

Battle-Hymn of the Republic y. IV, Ho-we 594 

Battle-Song of Gusta\'us Adolphus, The 

J/. Attenburg 519 

Bay of Biscay, The A. Cherry 628 

Beal' an Dhuine Sir IV. .Scott 510 

Beautiful Snow -J. iV. IVatson 334 

Beauty E. Spencer 730 

Beauty Lord E. T/turiozu 730 

Bedouin Love-Song B. Taylor 1S6 

Before Sedan A. Dobson 529 

Before the Rain T. B. Aidrich 427 

Beggar. The T. Moss 340 

" Behave Yoursel' Before Folk" A. Rodger 157 

Belagcholly Days Anonymous 1016 

Belfry Pigeon, The N P. Willis 472 

Belief and Doubt Fragments 397 

' "Believe Me, if all those Endearing Young 

Charms'' T. Moore 174 

Belinda A. Pope 128 

Belle of the Ball, The W. M. Praed 971 

Bel'is of Shandon, The T. Ma/tony 715 

Bells, The E. A. Pot 714 

Ben Jonson Fragments 939 

Ben Jonson 's Commonplace Book 

L. Gary {Lord Falkland) 907 

Benedicite y. G. Whittier 111 

Benevoience Fragments 797 

Beth Gelert W. R. Spencer 662 

Bethi^thed Anew E. C. Stedinan 460 

Bevond the Smiling and the Weeping. .//. Bonar 296 

Bible, The Fragments 397 

Bill and Joe O.W.Holmes :i2 

- Bingen on the Rhine C. E. S. jVorton 521 

Birch Stream, The A . B. .-iTerill 692 



Birds y. Montgomery 

Birth of St. Patrick, The ,$■. Lover 

Black and Blue Eyes T. Moore 

Black Regiment, The G. H. Boker 

Blackbird, The F. Tennyson 

Black-Eyed Susan y. Gay 

" Blessed are they that Mourn". ..ff'. C. Bryant 

Blessed Damozel, The D. G. Rossetti 

Blest as the Immortal Gods Sappho 

Blighted Love L. De Camoens 

Blind Boy, The C Cihber 

Blood Horse, The B. W.Procter 

" Blow. Blow, Thou Winter Wind". .S^rt.ttrj/^rtr? 

Blue and the Grey, The F. M. Finck 

Boadicea W. Co-wper 

Bobolink, The T. Hilt 

Books Anonymous 

Books Fragments 

Books .J. Higgins 

Boone. Daniel Byron 

Boston Hymn R. W. Emerson 

Bower of Bliss, The E. Spenser 

Boyhood W. A llston 

Boyish Ambition Fragments 

Boys, The O. W. Holmes 

Brahma R. W. Emerson 

Brahma's .\nswer R. H. Stoddard 

Brave at Home. The T. B. Read 

Brave Old Oak. The H. F. Chorley 

** Break. Break. Break" A. Tennyson 

" Breathes There the Man'* Sir IV. Scott 

Bride. The E. Spenser 

Bride. The Sir y. Suckling 

Bridge of Sighs. The T.Hood 

Brief ness of Joys Fragments 

Briefs R. Crasha-,v 

Brier- Wood Pipe, The CD. Shanty 

Brookside, The R. M. .Miln.s 

Brothers, The Goethe 

Brown of Ossawatomie y. G. Whittier 

Bruce and the Spider B. Barton 

Bugle. The A. Tennyson 

Buildmga Home 7. Armstrong 

Burial of Moses C. F. Alexander 

Burial of Sir John Moore C. Wol/e 

•• Buried To-day" D. M. M. Craik 

Burns £. Elliott 

Burns F. Hailed 

Bums y. G. IVhittier 

By the Alma River D. M. M. Craik 

By the Fireside L. Larcom 

Byron R. Pollock 

Byron's Latest Verses Byron 

C. 

Caliph and Satan, The y. F. Clark 

Ca* the Yowes to the Knowes R. Burns 

Calm and Storm on Lake Leman Byron 

Camp at Night, The Homer 

Camp-bell IV. M. Praed 

Cana .J. F. Clarke 

Canadian Boat-Song, A T. Moore 

Canterbury Pilgrims. The G. Chaucer 



1004 
131 
59S 
693 
233 
743 
824 
1 84 
261 

343 
467 
3.6 
533 
57= 
475 
767 
805 
768 
926 
597 
8=9 
87 
107 
978 
746 
746 
563 
454 
513 
%^% 

Zf2 
21 I 

335 
347 
362 
525 
'49 
761 
599 
573 
449 
445 
383 
920 
272 
9'4 
915 
914 
5.6 
227 
918 
250 



866 
'53 
68s 
414 
920 
3S8 
66s 
695 



INDEX OF TITLES. 



1021 



Cape-Cottage at Sunset. W. B. Glitzier 

Captain Reece JF. S. Gilbert 

Caractacus />'. Barton 

Careless Childhood Fragments 

Carillon H, W, Longfellow 

Carmen lielUcosum G. H. Mc Master 

Casabianca /■'. Hemans 

Casa Wappy D. M. Moir 

Castle in the Air, The T. Paine 

Castle of Indolence, The J. Thomson 

Cataract of Lodore, The R. Souikey 

Catiline to the Roman Army (7. Croly 

Cause of the South, The A.J.Ryan 

Cavalry Song' E. C. Siedman 

Cave of Sleep, The- E. Spenser 

Celestial Country. The B. De Morlaix 

" Centennial " Echoes Fragments 

Certainties Fragments 

Challenge and Defiance Fragments 

Chambered Nautilus, The O. U\ Holmes 

Changed Cross. The Hon. Mrs. C. Hobart 

Character of a Happy Life, The. .Sir H. W'otton 
Characterof the Earl of Shaftesbury. ._/. Dryden 

> Charge of the Light Brigade A. Tennyson 

Charity Fragtnenis 

Charles XII Dr. £. Johnson 

Charlie Machree W. J. Hoppin 

Chaucer Fragments 

Chess-Board, The A". Bulwer 

Chevy Chase A'. Sheale 

Child's Prayer Fragments 

Childhood C. Lamb 

Childish Days Fragments 

Children, The C. M. Dickinson 

P Children's Hour, The //. W. Longfellow 

Choice Friends Fragtneats 

Choosing a Name Mary Lamb 

Christian Life, The Fragments 

Christmas in the Olden Time Sir I!'. Scott 

Christopher Marlowi Fragments 

Chronicle, The A . Cowley 

City Bells R. H. Barham 

Civil War C. D. S/ianly 

Cleon and I C. Mackay 

Cleopatra Shakespeare 

Clergy and the Pulpit, The Fragments 

Closing Scene, The T. B. Read 

Closing Year, The G. D. Prentice 

Cloud. The P. B. Shelley 

Cloud-Visions Fragments 

Cock and the Bull, The C. S. Calverley 

Coliseum by Moonlight Byron 

Coliseum, The Byron 

Collegian to his Bride, The Punch 

Collusion Between a Alegaiter and a Waier- 

Snaik J. W. Morris 

Columbia T. Dwight 

" Come into the garden, Maud"...^. 'Tennyson 

Come, Let Us Kiser and Parte M. Drayton 

" Come. Rest in this Bosom*' T. Moore 

" Come to Me, Dearest" % Brennan 

" Come to These Scenes of Peace". H". L. Bozvles 
Comet. The C. Sangster 



4'^, 

970 j' 

57. 
108 
716 

590 
614 
279 
823 
S31 

449 
501 

596 



351 

604 
215 
540 
625 
374 
736 
908 
5'7 
308 
909 
153 
938 
100 
635 
107 

86 
108 
230 

98 
1 20 

76 

399 
69S 
938 
191 
716 
5=5 
732 
712 
809 
710 
752 
8=2 
807 
looS 
680 
68t 
992 

1000 

588 

185 

403 
863 



Com fort. . . J/. Collins 

Comin" Thro' ;he Rye. . . Adapted from Burtts 

Common Lot, The J. Montgomery 

Completion Fragments 

Comi)leynte of Chaucer to His Purse. ..Chaucer 

Compliment, The T. Carew 

Compliments Fragments 

Compliments from Nature Fragments 

Compliment to Queen KUia^beth. .. .Shakespeare 

Conception and Execution Fragments 

Conditions of Life Fragments 

Connubial Life J. Thompson 

Conscience Fragments 

Consolation in Adversity Fragments 

Constancy -J nonymons 

Constancy Fragments 

Constancy Sir J. Suckling 

Content R. Greene 

Contentation C. Cotton 

Contentment ./. Syh-ester 

Contentment O. W Holmes 

Contradiction. //'. Caliper 

Conversation Fragments 

Cooking and Courting A nonytnous 

Coral Grove, The ._/. G. Percival 

Coral Insect. The L. H. Slgoumey 

Coral Reef, The J . Montgomery 

Corn-Law Hymn E. Elliot 

Coronach Sir If. Scott 

Cosmic Egg. The Anojtymous 

Cotter's Saturday Night, The R. Burns 

Cuttle Amos Fragments 

Countess Laura G. H. Boker 

Country Life Fragments 

County Guy. Sir 11'. Scott 

Courage and Fear Fragments 

Course of True Love, The Shakespeare 

Court Lady, A E. B. Brozvning 

Courtin'. The 7. R. Lowell 

Cradle Hymn, A Isaac Watts 

Cradle Song Anonymous 

Cradle Song J. G. Holland 

Craft Fragments 

Cricket, The W. Cowper 

Criminality of War Fragments 

Criticism and Satire Fragments 

Cromwell, to the Lord General Milton 

Cuckoo Clock, The C. Bowles {Mrs. Southey) 

Culprit Fay, The J. R. Drake 

Cupid and Campaspe y. Lyly 

Cupid Swallowed L. Hunt 

Curfew Must Not Ring To-Night.. A". //. Thorpe 

D. 

Daffodils A*. Herrit k 

Daffodils ,...U'. Wordsworth 

Dagger of the Mind, A Shakespeare 

Daisy, The Chaucer 

Daisy, The J.,Leyden 

Daisy, The J. Montgomery 

Dance Light J. F. Waller 

Dancing of the Air, The Sir f. Davies 

Dangers of Peace Fragrmnts 



954 
.87 
308 
232 
904 
126 
133 
'34 
S35 
S67 

722 
214 

395 
347 
713 
206 
124 
731 
734 
731 
733 
780 
803 
201 
624 
623 

624 
557 
283 
991 

385 
940 

886 
489 
■94 
540 
250 
585 
993 
76 

75 
8.5 
485 
541 
80S 
009 
717 
840 
186 
195 



464 
463 
382 
462 
463 
463 
■74 
45 ■ 
539 



1U22 



INDEX OF TITLES. 



Panicl Boone Byron 

Daniel Websler O. IV. Holmes 

'• Darkness is Thinning" St. Cregvry 

Darwin M. Coilins 

Uawn R. ir. Ciliier 

" Day, in Melting Purple Dying" ...1/. G. Brooks 

Day in the Pamtili Doria, A H. B. Stozve 

Day is Dying M. E, L. Cross 

Daybreak //. \i'. Loitg/ottoiv 

Dead Czar Nicholas, The D. M. M. Craii 

DcaJ Friend, The A. Tennyson 

Death Fragtnenis 

Death and Sleep Fra^tents 

Death and the Youth L. £. Landon 

Death — Conventional and Natural . . .Fragments 

Death of Leonidas. The G. Croiy 

Death of the Flowers, The »'. C. Bryant 

Death of the Old Year, The A. Tennyson 

Death of the White Fawn A. Marvett 

Death, the Leveller J. Shirley 

Death's Choice Fragments 

DeathBed of Bomba, King of Naples Punch 

Death- Beds Fragments 

Deborah Lee IV. H. Burleigh 

Defeat Fragments 

Deity Fragynents 

Delight in Disorder K. Herrick 

Delight in God F. Quarles 

Delights of Fancy M. A kensitte 

Departure from Paradise, The Milton 

Departure of the Swallow, The.. . . It-'. /lowitt 

Descent, The .S". Rogers 

Deserted Village, The O. Goldsmith 

Desire -1/. .-1 mold 

Despair Fragments 

Despair Fragments 

Destruction of Sennacherib, The Byron 

Devil at Home, The T. K. Hervey 

Devil, The Fragments 

Devils Walk. The K. Southey 

Dickens in Camp B. Harte 

" Die Down O Dismal Day" D. Cray 

"Dies Ir.-e" T. o/Celano 

" Dies Ira; ' y. A. Dix. Tr. from Latin 

Diftereni Minds R. C. Trench 

Diilering Tastes Fragments 

Dinna Ask Me y. Dunloj> 

Dirye of Alaric the Visigoth E. Everett 

Dirge for a Soldier G. H. Boker 

Dirty Old Man, The W. AUingham 

Di&tippoinled .\mbition Fragments 

Disappointed Heart, The Fragments 

Disappointed Lover, The A. G. S7vinl<urne 

Disappointment Fragments 

Disappointment M. G. Brooks 

Disaster C. S. Calferley 

Discriminating Love Fragments 

Disdain Returned T. Carew 

Distance Fragjnents 

Diverting History of John Gilpin, The 

W. Cotvper 

Dtvina Commedia H. It'. Longfellow 

Dolcino to Margaret C. Kingsley 



936 
0=8 
360 
991 
409 
245 
682 
4"l 
408 
919 
113 
794 
3^0 
270 
310 
5*4 
466 
753 
=59 
301 
309 

932 
309 
1005 
54" 
394 
7>3 
3(k) 
819 
321 
47S 
446 
686 
359 
347 
Soo 
501 
95" 
396 
949 
926 
4"9 
353 
353 
388 
S14 
161 
903 
53' 
=53 
345 
=71 
6m 
Sot 
261 
990 
205 
»4i 
7=5 

959 
707 
214 



Domestic Birds .J. Thomson 470 

Dorothy in the Garret y. T, Troivhridge 351 

Doubting Heart, A A. A. Procter 31& 

^ Douglas, Douglas, Tender and True 

D. M. M. Craik 28* 

Dover Beach M. Arnold 'iii 

Dover Cliff.. Shakesfeare 445 

Dow's Flat B. Harte 996 

Dream of Eugene Aram, The T. Hogg' 895 

Dream, The Byron 764 

Dreamer, The Anonymous 330 

Dreams and Realities F. Cary 11 j 

Drifting T. B. Read 684 

/" Drink to Me Only with Thine Eyes" 

B.Jonson. From Creek 0/ Philostratus 135 

Driving Home the Cows A'. P. Osgood 531 

" Drop, Drop, Slow Tears" P. Fletcher ib\> 

Drop of Dew, A .■^. Marvell 430 

Drummer-Boy's Burial, The Anonymous 52S 

Duelling iK. Co^vper 780 

Duke of Gloster, The Fragments 93S 

Duke of Wellington, The Fra^nents 940 

" Duncan Gray Cam' Here to Woo"..^. Burns 196 

Duty E.S. Hoofer 557 

Duty Fragments 797 

Dying Christian to His Soul, The A.Pope 365 

Dying Hymn, A A. Cary 391 

Dying Saviour, The P. Gerhttrdt 375 

B. 

Each and All R. ly. Emerson 405 

Eagle, The A. Tennyson 485 

Earl of Marlborough Frag7nents 93^ 

Earl o' Quarterdeck, The G. Afacdonald 646 

Earl of Warwick, The Frag7nents 63S 

Early Death Frag-ments 107 

Early Death Frag-ments 30^ 

Early Friendship A. Del'ere iii 

Early Primrose, The H. K. White 461 

Earnest Suit, An Sir 'J'. Il'yatt 240 

Ecclcsiasticism Fragments 396 

Echo y. G. Saxe 1014 

Echo and Silence Sir S. £. Brydges 86s 

Echo and the Lover A nonymous 1014 

Eden Frag-ments 719 

Edmund Spenser Fragments 93S 

Edwin and Paulinas Anonymous 389 

Effects of Crime and Grief Fragments 899 

Eggs and the Horses. The Anonymous 95s 

Elegy on Captain Matthew Henderson.^. Burns 917 

Elegy on Madam Blaize O. Goldsmith 94^ 

Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog.O. Goldsmith 948 

Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard. T. Gray 305 

Elements of Success Fragments So» 

Emmet's Epitaph A'. Southey 021 

End of the Play, The >y. M. Thackeray 344 

England Fragments 602 

England Fragments 632 

England ^K Covifer 575 

English Robin, The H. Weir 475 

Enid's Song A. Tennyson 777 

Epigratns ,y. T. Coleridgt 954 

Epitaph G. Canning 95 j 

Epitaph on Elizabeth L. H B. ytnson 907 



JXDEX OI- TITLES. 



102» 



Epitaph on the Countess of Pembroke, j^. yonson 907 

Eve of St. Ayncs, The y. Keats 176 

Evelyn Hope R. Browning 284 

Evening Byron 413 

Evening Fragments 41^0 

Evening,' Cloud, The y. Wilson 692 

Evening in Paradise Milton 413 

Evening Star, The T. Campbell 412 

Evening Wind, The W. C. Bryant 411 

Eve's Lament Milton 321 

Eve to Adam Milton 321 

Evil Times Fragments 601 

Example y. Keblc 739 

Excelsior H. IV, Longfellow 777 

Exchange, The S. T. Coleridge 192 

Execution of Montrose, The W, E, Aytoun 877 

Exile of Erin T. Campbell 5 78 

Experience and a Mora), An F. S. Cozzens 253 

F. 

Fair Exchange no Robbery Fragtttentt 489 

Fairies Fragments 868 

Fairies, The W. Allingham 836 

Fairies' Lullaby, The Shakespeare 835 

Fairies' Song T, Randolph 835 

Fairest Thing in Mortal Eyes, The 

Charles.^ Duke 0/ Orleant 300 

Fairy Child, The y. Anster 840 

Fairy Song y. Keats 846 

Faith F.A.K. ButUr -j,^ 

Faith and Hope R. Peale 231 

Faithful Angel, The Milton 387 

Faithful Friends Fragments 120 

Faithful Lovers, The Anonymous aoi 

Faithless Nelly Gray T. Hood 964 

Faithless Sally Brown T. Hood 963 

Fall of Niagara, The 7- ^- ^- Brainard 449 

Fall of Terni, The Fragments 720 

False Hope Fragments 271 

Falsehood Fragments 797 

Fame A. Pope 780 

Fame B. yonson 781 

Fame Fragments 81 1 

Fancy in Nubibus S. T. Coleridge 822 

Fancy B. yonson 819 

Fantasy y. Keats 819 

Farewell. Fragments 241 

Farewell , A ; C Kingsley gy 

" Farewell ! But Whenever*' T. Moore 240 

" Farewell ! If Ever Fondest Prayer" Byron 238 

Farewell, Life T. Hood 327 

" Farewell, Thou Art Too Dear".. Shakespeare 239 

Farewell to His Wife Byron 238 

Farewell to the Fairies R.Corbet 847 

" Farewell to Thee, Araby's Daughter" 

T. Moore 294 

Farewell to Tobacco, A C. Lamb 548 

Fate Fragments 794 

Father Land and Mother Tongue S. Lover 778 

Fatima and Raduan W.C.Bryant 166 

Fear and Doubt Fragments 800 

" Fear No More the Heat o' the Sun" 

Sh a kespea re 30 1 



Fear of Death Fragments 310 

Female Convict, The L. E. Landon 330 

Fetching Water from the Well Anonymous 169 

Fiftieth Birthday of Agassiz, The 

H. W. Longfellow 935 

Fight of Faith, The A. Askewe 366 

Filial I,ove Byron 222 

Fine Old English Gentleman, The ..Anonymous 959 
Fire of Love, The. . C Sackville, Earl of Dorset 20* 

Fireside, The N. Cotton 226 

First Kiss, The T. Campbell 185 

First Love Byron 166 

First Snow-l-'all, The y. R. Lowell 275 

First Spring Flowers M. W. Howland 289 

First Tragedy, The Fragments 899 

Fisher, The Goethe 825 

Fisher's Cottage, The //, Heine 691 

Fitz -Greene Halleck y. G. Whittier 937 

Fitz-James and Roderick Dhu Sir W. Scott 655 

Flattery Fragments 134 

Flattery Fragments 810 

Fleeting Good Fragments 396 

Flight into Egypt, The Francis Mahony 383 

Flodden Field Sir W. Scott 507 

Flood of Years, The W. C. Bryant 750 

Flotsam and Jetsam A.nonymous 621 

Flower o' Dunblane, The A'. Tannahill 148 

Flower, The G. Herbert 768 

Flower's Name, The R. Browning 147 

Flowers Fragments 494 

Flowers T. Hood 460 

Flowers Without Fruit y. H. Newman 789 

'* Fly to the Desert, Fly With Me" . ..T. Moore 151 

Folding the Flocks Beaumont and Fletcher 469. 

Folly and Wisdom, The Fragments 798 

Foolish Virgins, The A. Tennyson 754 

Footsteps of Angels H. W. Longfellow 273 

For a Copy of Theocritus A. Dobson 405 

For a' That and a' That R. Burns 341 

For Annie E. A. Foe 259 

For Charlie's Sake ./. W. Palmer 277 

Forelookings Fragments 214 

Forest Hymn. A W. C. Bryant 452 

Forethought of Murder Fragments 900 

" Forever with the Lord'* .f. Montgomery 389 

Forget Thee ? J . Moultrie 161 

Forging of the Anchor, The S. Ferguson 554 

Forgiveness and Resentment Fragments 798 

Forsaken Merman, The M. Arnold 826 

Fortune F. Halleck 777 

Fortune Fragments 801 

Fra Giacomo R- Buchatuxn 885 

Fragility of Love Fragments 271 

Freedom Fragments 6o2 

Freedom in Dress B.Jomon 713 

Freeman, The W. Cowper 600 

Fremont, John Charles y. G. Whittier 935 

Friar of Orders Gray, The T. Percy 137 

Friend of Humanity and the Knife-Grinder,Thc.... 

G. Canning (j^z 

Friends to be Shunned Fragments 121 

Friendship Fragments 120 

Friendship i?. W. Emerson iis 



1024 



/XV£X OF 272'L£S. 



Kricmlship Siotftf^tot 

V"i ici\vt»hiv> »o<1 Lov-e /f>viv»>/"iM 

I •l^^\l\ l>»ri«iise l.i«t Ui.um 

V'lvnn ■ • Vhc Clunvli l\wvh" O. W^> .V./ 

Krom ihc K.\rmer's Boy A'. H,\vm^f<'<i 

I'lvmilic "Hymn to I.ikIh" <• <>«V<» 

• t^om the Recesses ot a Uowfly Spiril" 

Krosl. The .tf. R <">«rW 

Fvmire Lite, The M" l^ A»m«/ 

Future, The JiV,fmtmtt 

Q. 

G»lileo y,At^fmts 

tiamlwls of ChiWren, The G. I^'-ity 

Genius of Oe-ith. The tf. t>v^r 

(.;<Mrj!< \V.isl\inKton Amnt,rm,>ms 

Ghosts of the Dead ft^^i-mfmtt 

Gifts of God. The G. J/f>~,>*rt 

Giiievra .i"- Kfgrrt 

Girlh.Kki A lunymfnt 

'■ Give Me More Love iw More Disdain" 

7', cUrrw 

Gi\-e Me the Old K. H. Mftsniftr 

" Give Me Three Grains of Corn, Mother" 

A. K.£a'tntn/t 
Give Place. }■« Lovets,//!«r<trrf, £.»»•/ <^J>"»rr<.r 

Glo\-eand the Lions. The L. Hmml 

GluKKity l>lus 6. Ctim«m,Jr. 

"t,Vo Feel \vh."xt 1 Have Fell" Am*nym,^s 

" Go, Lovely Rose" /T. U 'aUtr 

Go to thy Rest L, H. Siffmrmrr 

" lUi Where Glory Waits Thee" T. .\tA>rf 

G^xt and Nature fy^icmtmli 

Gtxl K\-ery\vhere in Nature C /' V.',>t r 

lilt's Acre M II*, £#<tjt/i-.'.>n' 

ti\>>r» Judgnient on a Wicked Bishop. /f, SumUfjt 

Gv\liva -^ . 7Vi»n,i jtv»if 

Goins and C.^minR K. A.Jmts 

Golden Fish, The <;.Armi>/.^ 

l«^Men Girt, A B. H". /VA/rr 

Govvi Ale y. Stiff 

G.xxl By Aiutrnj-m^ns 

t<vHxl By /?. II*, £>Kfrs^m 

Vivxxi CvHinsel />M,C«*rii/j 

Iki^xl Gre.it Man. The S; T. C.>ftriJ^ 

twxxl Life, Lon^Lifc... ..fi,,/#iwttN 

t»\xxl Nature and Recklessness J^itjcm^mU 

" Gxxxl-Nisht" Kifirmtr 

Goixl Nistit and Go^^d Morning. ../T. .U. Mi'fmts 

tiougaune Rtna <.fj' C%i/A« o.a n 

Gv>uty Merohani and the Stranger.. ...7/, Smifi 

Gra|>e-Vine Swiivs:. The U\ G. Simms 

t~.r-»sshop(>cr and Cricket, The y. A'm/i 

Grassliopper. The Amtt-^'rt^m 

t.ravc. The Fhnjri'ifi't-i 

Greatness .■* . /V// 

t^reece .A>r»»n 

ImxxY fivf-^m 

" tJrecn t",r\>w the R.tshes. O" A\ J^a'-mt 

GnfenwovXl Cemetery C. A'fmmt^y 

Greenwixxf Shrift, The K.mmJC. Stmllktjt 

Greemw>o^l. The 11*. i.. iCT»*Vjr 



«u j Grief SA*tfi/r,ir* 

toi ' Grief for the Dead Am^Mym^'iit 

.;J> (*r\Ml(j^r Hill , y. /\ivr 

jl(^4 i«r\nvinK Gray A, /y^^m 



Gulf-Weed C, G. /•>»»« 



.175 Hallo, MyFancy H", CManJ 

■^ Hallowe^l Ground 7'. Cam/^ii 

•7,"^ Havnpton Be,tch J. l!. Il'iittitr 

79,s 1 UuR Sorrow F»--iemtMtt 

Hans tlreitmann's l^trty C, l!. LtJ<>m</ 

Happiness .<./'<>/* 

o.iS Happy Heart, The 7", Drkifr 

Sj Happy I.,<t. The ff-tgrnfutt 

74< Happy Man, The II'. cVn'/rr 

oiS HarxlenevI Crimii\al, The Ft\txmfKtt 

f,t^y- Hark ! Hark ! The Ijirk" SkAWifrA-t 

77* Harn\oSi>n A', t". 7'mt.A 

«,>< I tardier, to the Memorj- of Fletcher cVhi* 

711 H.\rlLeap Well H*. ir,<../«,s..M 

Hathaway, Anne ^ «.•» i»<,»« 

Hawthorne, Nathaniel /■'rt^gmtnti 

H.iunt of the Sorcerer, The Mift^M 

Healtn. A £. C. Pimimey 

Heart ol the Bruce, The »'. £. Aytfum 

Heart Rest ■"• 7>.i-/«'- 

Heath-C^Kk. The ?■ Btilfii 

Heaven /■\<tgmf»tt 

y. 7rf>'*r 

Hoiiven ..A^.'l. 11'. /Vi*st 

Heaven a Refuge for the Wretched . . Ff^gmmts 

He.iving ol the Lead. The C l>iMi» 

Hehr^-w Wc>ldii>g //.//. Miimtim 

Heishi of the Ridiculous, The O. II'. H»lmn 

Heine's Grave M.A nt*iJ 

Hell Fr-,tgmfmtt 

Helx-ellyn AVr 11". .S;w* 

Hen, The CUmi/int 

" Hence all ye Vain Delights" % Fttlcktr 

\y3\ Her Letter B.Hartt 

Her Likeness. D. .\f. U. Ct-^H 

Hennii, The /. Bmttif 

Hcnnit, The C'. (MJsmitJk 

Her\-» to Leander A. Temmywm 



"3 

*,« 

>"S 

'•37 

305 

S7« 
70» 
754 
«Ss 



r Herve Riel . . , 



£. Sr^tttvmin^ 



73«. 

ya9 Hester C. l.AmA 

yoS Hiffh and the Low, The t^AgiMfmts 

SjS High-Tide on the Cvxist of Lincolnshire,4'M^-k-/,*ni 

History ofa Life £. W. Pr-*.ttr 

577 Hohenlindcn T. Citm^>^7J 

^ Holly-Tree, The X. S,<titAty 

450 Holy S)>irit. The K. //nrult 

4S5 Home ..O. <t*fi9smit/k 

4S4 Home /.A»**rf.«* 

310 Home Life /•VAgmfrnts 

ySi Home rieasures /■>ii£m*mts 

581 Home, Sweet Home y. //. f\riu 

5S1 " Home rhey Brought Her Warrior De,vl" 

tgl .-1. 7>«w.VA«« 

^^^ Home, Wounde^l ,y. 7\^<V 

jSj H omes of England, The /". /ffmj « 

454 1 Homesick Z). Gr^jr 



W4 

7.^5 
tea 



7SS 

6.x, 
S>6 
»*» 
73* 
5SO 
• 15 
735 
900 
474 
7»» 
93S 
Mo 
904 
04O 
S,!0 
«•» 
504 
»*) 
477 
3» 
307 
36S 
34S 
6^7 
sia 
97* 
9«3 
396 
«54 
99' 
3'S 
■99 
Ijo 
737 
■3S 
•35 

«ir 

•8s 
S4» 

74« 
5'3 
435 
359 
••9 
••5 
•3» 
»3» 
••5 

tot 

3=5 



JNDHX HI' ■jrn.iis. 



nr2Xi 



\\nnr%\v Ifragiiltnlt iq/f 

Ilortfl, (o the Memory of 'VUomu , . , . /t tiffiywaut i/jj 

Hojir , ,,,,,,, .... t.t'rngmctttt Svi 

ll'ip'* , TtCamphell 74J 

l!'»(»f Ucfrrred tfrngttifntt 74ft 

M'»i.«- in Miwry , I'tit^iiipntn ;j47 

ll-(.rfiilly W.illinif A. I), I'. l<iin,M/.l, y,i 

y ll'<rallii<ai ilic llridKC 'I'. B, Muraulny jAj 

ilnrforn of War , /•'ranmientt $41 

ll./r»el)aik Klile, Tti« S. 7. I.I/'/ilm«ll </,% 

1 1 '/rwrnanilii |> , J'ritgiiunli 671 

ii'i%\MA\t\y ihagmentt I'jt 

ll'itnpur'n DcMrrtpllon of a Pop ShnkttJ'tart y/t 

lI'Miwholil f>i]Mi-xt\^n,H\M,,ill, W, Lone/'llovt yi) 

I \'t\twVrc\tfr, The . , C. i.niifh ^'''.'j 

llow» My »(.y.» S. Ilalirlt fill 

) I'/w Sl'<r> llir Urave W, Collint 5*3 

"• How They Bruu((ht the Good New» /rom fJhcnt 

10 Ai» R, Urmunlng 5(3 

Mudihra't Sword and Ctftf ^''- ■''■ /'»//"- '/X> 

Hu^o.To Viclof >4, 7'ennytan '/A 

H-jrnuniiy ,,,..W, Covifigr jHn 

humittiity'% Heroes.... ............ ..FraiiWfnti t/n 

Muntinff ., ..,.,,,,,,.,,.,. .I''rtti;nienti 671 

Kiirricanc, The W.f.llrynnl IJMt 

MuHt/and and Wtfe'A Grave, The. ../^. //, Datrn 304 

lluMy, To .MiMreH Marirarct J, .'iie/lon lat 

Hymn y. Thornton 417 

Hymn R. IV, Kmirton }ft> 

Hymn S. T. CoUrl^gt ^jf, 

HymnloNiKht 0. W, llrlhunr ^/r•_,, 

Hymn I'l ihe Flower* It, 'Imllh ^V) , 

H ymn 10 Ihc NiKht //. tV, I.ong/ellmu 4 !< 

Hypocrity Fraeminli y/j 

I. \ 

I 
"lama Friar of fyritrn Oray " 7. (TKit/i >/n 

"I Kear Thy Kiwieii. Oentle Maiden". ,..VA»//o' '31 
" I Knew \ty ihe Smoke that no Gracefully 

Curled" /', Moore at'', 

I I^'^ve My Jean U. /furni 342 

" I I'rifhr/' S<-nd Me r*a/;k My Heart" !.ucfitlni; 14^ 

^ *' I RemcmlHrr, \ Remember" T. Ilood /,} 

T Saw Thee H. I'almer yp, 

" I Saw Two Cloude at Morning" llrainard 137 

" I Would I Were an Excellent IJi»ine" 

N, Brtton yri 

l<:hab'^ J.G.WhItlltr (fu, 

Idie I^^/vc -. -.* Fragmentt »o4 

Idlcne^t and Ennuf Fragmenti 9i ; 

"H fA/uifhty I.>eed My I-ady Pleane" 

Graham 0/ (iartmort 146 

If ii be True that Any Beauteous Thinie" 

M. Angtlo 135 

" If Thou Wert t/y My Side. My Ixnre".^. Iletir 711, 

" If Th/.u Will Kane Thine Heart" 

T. L, tltJJoet yyj 

II Penaerofo M//ton fid 

I machination Fragmenli Z/rj 

Immortality ,,,,,,,,,,,, ,,,.Praf£m£nni 774 

Imf/artial Affection....,.,.,, Pragmrnli 134 

(n a Vear , R, /iroitmiti£ 'Jif* 

in Praiw '/f AnKling Sir II, Wotlon Urj 



•IV 

fru> 
5M 

*;*» 

»/7 

271 

>7« 
4'»4 
719 



In I'riwn ,,.,,,,,,, ,..,Slr R, l.'Kilrant' 

In Stale //. Wlllun 

In Ihe Ml»t , V, Wooliif 

Inch'apr K/jck, The K, .loulhiy 

iM'.ldini of the I'rench Camj/ K. Ilrownlng 

lMr;on»farK y I'ru^mfrttg 

Inioniitancy and ]i:»]im%y I'ragminh 

Ineonmancy of Man I'ra/mmlt 

Ineoflilancy of Woman I'ragminlt 

I nd ia n Sum mer .,,,,, , , , A nonympu* 

Indian Summer... I'ragminli 

Inner Vi»ion, The W. Woriliiuitrlh 

In«':ription '/n Mclrf;iie Abbey y/7 

Iniiit(nifi';ant KxiMtence I.WatIi 751 

Inloxiralinf; f-Up, '^\w,,,,t ,,*, ,t .,. ,I^rtt/!mtttt9 55* 

fnvMalion ,J, Covilty 77a 

Invoeatirm to l.iKht Mlllon t//) 

Invmation to Kain in Summer... W. C, lltntiill hjH 

lnvo>;ation Ui Sleep y, I'UUIiir 7^1 

IphiKeneia and Agamemnon W. S, handor S7} 

Ireland , ,.,D, P. MacCarlhy 'yii 

Mand I(. H, Dant 0,1 

" It Kindle* all My Soul". . ,,Cail>iilr 0/ fulaml )7j 

It SevTr (:omn» Attain ,,,,R, II. Moililurd 10* 

Italian Ravine, Kn FragmentM tvi 

Italy .S.Kogtri I/t) 

Ivy Green, The ,.C. Vltiiiu ^tb 



fiu.-k ntrrni:r A, /J, T, Whilnry 971 

Ja<:kdaw of Rheima, The ,.H, II, llarhiim i/n 

JafTar L.lluHt li) 

iaffier fartinff with fielvidcra T, Otway ^yi 

Jame» Kil/^Jame» and Ellen Sir W. Scoll «4» 

jame<» Thomn'/n .,.,..., 'Pritgmentt 940 

jntnir tAifru%'/n , fK Mothirwtll a^a 

Jenny KiMied Me I.. Iluni ifl 

Jeftter, The ,, Pragmtnii 9,i'i 

\K%v.r'% Serm'/n, The. ., C, W. Thornlmry 74? 

Je«u» Chriat I'mgrntnll y/j 

Jewi*h Hymn in Babylon H, II, Mllman yt't 

y\m U.llarit t^/i 

jMk Johntt'^ne, lb* Tinkler 7- HigK '>vt 

" John Anderv/n, My Jo** R, Durnt 323 

John Harlcycorn R. Burnt 944 

John Charlen Fremont 7. C, WhltlUr tfn 

J^rfixon, Ben Pragmenh 939 

Jolly Old Pedajf'^ue, The ,.,,,,.C, Arnold r* 

Jf/nn at the Barber'* Shf/ji Punch ton 

J'/ra**e S. Rogert lt%t 

J'«epb Rodman Unke ,,,P. Ilallrei i^j 

JudKC Not A. A, Procter 7*4 

June 7. R, Loiiielt 434 

June ...,,,, W. ^', llryant 435 



Kane I', (riinm r/ji 

Kilmeny 7. Hogg Hi7 

'lV> 
f«4 



Kin^ Charle* II , Pr/tgmenlt 

Kinu i< O.ld, The R. Ormmlng 

Kiny John and the Abbot of Canterbury 

An^mymout 
Kisft of Denmark'! Kide, The ....C. K, S. Norton 



'Mi 



1026 



/XV£X OF TITLES. 



King ot D.u'. The Fm^mfmts 719 

King of Thule. The O^tkf S6j 

King 10 His Soldiers Before Harfleur. The 

SA a kfs/^a re 50 ? 

Kings Enemy, The F»\*£:»t<emts S99 

K iss. The. R. HerHck 1 So 

Kisses IK Strod* 1S6 

Kissing Her Hair A. G. S^int^urMf iSS 

Kissing's No Sin Ami^mymi>ms 1S7 

Kitiy of Coleraine A m»»i.»'w.va»j 1S7 

Knight's Tomb, The 5. T. C\rrj\/£f 53S 

Kubla Khan ^. 7". L\\Wt\j^ S34 

L'AllcgTO \ftit0m 7S5 

Latx-)r Fra£memts 559 

Labor Song D. /\ MacC*rtky 556 

Laborer, The % dart 557 

Lady Ann Both well's Lament -I Mfimjrmi>ms 369^ 

Lady Barbara A, Smiik 163 

*' Lady Clara Vcre de Vere'' A, TemnYS>i*m 267 

Lady Lost in the Wood. The .Mutom Sao 

Lady's Chamber. A Fmgmfmts 736 

Lady's Yes, The £. B. Brfittman^ 144^ 

Lairtl o' Cockpcn, The ^ 

C. Oli/kamiy Barvmess A'ttirmr aoo 

Lambs at Play K. Bi^mjicIJ 469 

Lament, A P, R, SAt/Ity 353 

Lament of the Border Widow A tMmymffus 63S 

Lament of the Irish Emigrant 

H, S, SMfridans Lady T>iijfrrim 202 

Lancashire Doxology. A D. M. M. Craii 556 

Land o' the Leal. The. 

Car^tut^ Barinuss Xairmt 396 
Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers in New Eng- 
land, The F. Nemans 5S7 

Landlady's Daughter. The 

y. S. I>wz^kt. Tr. from German 14J 

t^ssof Richmond Hill. The J. I'/t^n 149 

Last Leaf. The O. n\ Hdmts 335 

Late Spring, The L. C. McmJum 323 

I*.uter Rain. The y. l'e*y 435 

Laus Deo y, G, M'kittifr 597 

La\v\-eni ;\nd the Law Fra^'memts Soo 

Lawyer's Invocation to Spring. The 

H. H. Brfrvmtll ocw 

Learning Frii^pttrmfs $04 

Left Behind £. A. A//rm 350 

Left on the Battle-Ficld 5". T. Aw'/.** 527 

Leper. The A" P. Uy//xs 701 

** Let Not Woman e'er Complain*^ R. Bmms 104 

Let the Toast Pass R. B. Sieridam 131 

Letters R. If. Emerson 746 

Life A. L. Bttr/^tm/d 303 

Life Fragments 793 

Life G. Nrrhert 741 

Life R.H.U'ildt 743 

Lite in the Aummn Woods P. P. Ca'**- 663 

Life's Love. A .-I m^mym^ms 973 

Light F. W. BfimrdiiL*n 135 

Light and the Sky Fragments 4S9 

Like a Lavcnxrk in the Lift y. Imgrh-'w 213 

Lincoln. Abraham y. R. Lt^tii 930 



Lincoln. Abraham T. T.ty/or 931 

Linda to Hafe^l 7". Jiiwrt a^x 

Lines. Written by One in the Tower. C TVAA'^n 745 

Lines, To the Memon,- of Annie H. B, St,rn*f 273, 

Lines, Found in his Bible Sir H'. Ra/ei^ 745 

Lines on Isabella M.i.rkham y. Harrim^Un a68 

Lines to an lndi.-%n .Air P. B, SkeHty iSS 

Lines to the Stormy Petrel A M^tnymcHs 4S3. 

Lines Written in an .Album W. C.ty/^rd 1015 

Lion's Ride. The F. Frri/i^arA 467 

Litany Sir R. Grant 35S 

Little Beach Bird. The R. N. Dana 4S3 

Little Bell T. H'^-j/tt^v,/ SS 

Little Billce... HI M. TAacii^r.iy 971 

Little Breeches ._/. Nay 999 

Little Cloud. The y. N. Bfyamt 593. 

Little Feet A momymoMs 77 

Little Goldenhair F. B. Smitk S5 

Little M.itch-Girl. The U. C. A mdrrsfm 336 

Little Milliner. The R. BmcAaman iSi 

Living Waters. C. 5. S/rn^er 739 

Lochaber No More .-I Ramstty 937 

Lochiel's Warning T. Camff-fH 575 

Lochinrar Sir W. Scctt 175 

Locksley Hall A. Temmys<>n 254 

Logic of Hudibras Dr. S, Bmt/rr 945 

London Churches R. JA. AfUmts 334 

Longing for Death Fragmenis 311 

Lord Bacon Fra^wtrnts 938 

"Lord Divine. All Love Excelling"..-!. T,>//ady 39a 

Lord of Butrago. The y. G. Ltv^ikart 507 

Lord Ullin's Daughter T. Camff>eU 339 

Lord Walter's Wife E, B. Br^rfmtm^ 317 

" Lorxl. When those Glorious Lights I See" 

G, U'itArr 376 

Lore-Lei. The H. Heine 835 

Loss of Properly Fragments 347 

Losses F. Bri^n-n 333 

Lost Chord. A A. A. Procter 760 

Lost Heir. The T. HMfd 94 

Lot of Man. The Fragments 30S 

Lot of Mankind, The Fragments 345 

Love .'. SAaies^are 135 

Love Sir U\ Sci^tt 20a 

Love - S, T. C^eridge i6a 

Love 7". A'. Merrvy 20S 

Love Ag.iinst Love Z>. A . U'ass^n 790 

Love and Time D. S. MacCanky 150 

Love Dissembled SAakes^are 144 

Love is a Sickness. S. Da niei 136 

Love-Knot. The X, Perry 190 

Lo\-e-Letters Made in Flowers. L. Hunt 195 

Love Lightens Labor A nanymtyms 330 

"Love Me Little, Love Mc Long*'...-li<r«»«r'*«'<'-r 141 

Lo\-e Not C. £. Skeridan 320 

"Love Not Me for Comely Grace". A n^nrwrns 141 

Love of Countrii*. The Frajntents 601 

Love of God Supreme. The y. U 'es/ey 390 

Love of God. The E. Scudder 39a 

Lo\-e of God. The. if. Rascas 3SS 

Love Scorns Degrees /*. N. Hayne 136 

Love's Blindness. Fragments 203 

Love's Dangers. Fragments 305 



INDEX OF TITLES. 



1027 



Lovc'a Memory Shakesf>eare 242 

Love's Pains Fragments 204 

I-ovc's Ph i losophy P. B. Shelley 1 88 

Love's Silence Sir P. Sidney 144 

Love's Younj^ Dream 7". Moore 262 

Loveliness of Love, The Anonymous 141 

Lovely Mary iJonnclIy IV. Allinghatn 198 

Lovers and a Reflection C. S. Calverley loio 

Lovers, The /'. Cary 1005 

Low Countries, The Fragnients 633 

Low-Backed Car S. Loner 197 

Lucius Junius Brutus over the Body ui Lucre- 

tia y, H. Payne 875 

Lucy iV. Words-worth 104 

Lullaby A. Tennyson 81 

M. 

Macaulay IV- S. LanJor 922 

Machclh's Castle Fragments 720 

Mahmoud L.Hunt 700 

Maho^any-Trcc, The iV. M. Thackeray 117 

••Maid of Athens, Ere Wc Part'* Byron 234 

Maid's Lament, The W. S. Landor 260 

Maid's Remonstrance, The T. Camfibell 144 

Maiden With a MilkJng-I'ail, A J. Ingeloiu 167 

Maiden's Ideal of a Husband, A //. Carey 142 

Maidenhood //. W. Longfellow 104 

Maize, The W. W. Fosdick 458 

Make Believe A. Cary 188 

" Make Way for Liberty" ./. Montgomery 584 

Man Dr. E. Young 776 

Man Was Made to Mourn H. Burns 312 

Man — Woman Fragments 795 

Man — Woman L, H. Sigourney 776 

Man's Mortality .V. IVastell 302 

Maniac, The M. G. Lewis 339 

Manhood Fragments yg^ 

Mankind Fragments 792 

Manners and Customs Fragments 814 

March W. Morris 4 18 

Marco Bozzaris F. Halleck 582 

Mariner's Dream, The W. Diamond 614 

Marmion and Douglas Sir IV. Scott 648 

Marria(;e .S*. Rogers 212 

Married State. The Fragments 231 

Marseillaise, The ; . . . F. DeLisle 584 

Martial Friendship Shakespeare 114 

Martyr's Hymn, The M. Luther 365 

Mary Morison R. Burns 149 

Master's Touch, The //. Bonar 388 

Match, A A, C. Swinhurnf 148 

? Maud MuIIer J. G. Whittier 158 

May J. G. Percival 423 

May Mornin^r Milton 422 

'May Queen. The A. Tennyson 327 

Mazzini L. C. Redden 934 

Means to Attain Happy Life, The.,.//. Howard 226 

Meetini; R. Browning 170 

Meeting of the Ships, The F. Ifemant 115 

Meeting. The .J. G. Whittier 378 

Medicine and Doctors G. Colman, Jr. 809 

Melrose Abbey Sir IV. Scott Cjs 

Memory Fragments Eqi 



Memory In Absence Fragmenls 248 

Memory of Joys, The Fragments 346 

Memory of Sorrows, The Fragments 346 

Memory of the Heart .. D. Webster 113 

Men and Boys Komer 583 

Men of Old, The R. M. Milnes 740 

Mercenary Matches Fragments 215 

Mercy Fragments 79^ 

Merry Lark, The C. KingsU-y 280 

Merry Youth. ... Fragments 108 

Metrical Kcct S. T. Coleridge 1015 

Might of One Fair Face, The M. Angelo 135 

Mignon's Song. Goethe 798 

Milking-Maid, The C. G. Rossctti 132 

Milkmaid, The ./. Taylor 957 

Milkmaid's Song, The S. Dohell i63 

Milton, John Fragments 939 

Milton, To W. Wordiworth 907 

Mind. The Fragments 8^/7 

Mind's Eye, The Fragments btj 

Ministry of Angels. The £. Spenser 373 

Minstrel's Song T. Chatterton 289 

Minute-Gun, The R. S. Sharpe 627 

Misadventure at Margate R. //. Barham 966 

Mist H. D. Thoreau 691 

Mistletoe Bough, The T. H. Bayly 891 

Mitherlcss Bairn, The W. Thorn 91 

" Moan, Moan, ye Dying Gales" //. Neele 315 

Mfjcking Bird, The IV. Whitman 470 

Moderation Fragments 815 

Modern House thai Jack Built, The. y4«t7«j'w/<>tt.t loii 

MoQUgue. To the Hon. Charles M. Price 730 

Monterey C. F. Hoffman 523 

Moods Fragments 725 

Moon, The Fragments 491 

Moonlight in Summer R. Bloomfield 432 

Moonlight on the Prairie H. W. Longfellow 433 

Moore, To Thomas Byron 920 

Moral Cosmetics H. Smith 545 

Morning Fragments 490 

Morning ... 7. Benttie 409 

Morning 7- Cunningham 408 

Morning-Glory, The M. W. Lowell 280 

Morning in May Chaucer 4:8 

Morning Mcdiutions 'P. Hood 963 

Morning Song 7- Baillie 408 

Mort d'Arlhur A. Tennyson 642 

Moss Rose, The Krummacher 464 

Mother and Child ^^ G. Simms 81 

Mother and Pf>ct E, B. Browning 283 

Mother's Heart. The C. E.Norton 83 

Mother's Hope, The L. Blanchard 84 

Mother's Sacrifice, The -V. Smith 86 

Motherhood C. S. Calverly 990 

Mother-Love Fragments 232 

Mowers, The M. B. Benton 552 

Mounuins, The Fragments 493 

Mourning Fragments 311 

Mr. Molony's Account of the ^^W... Thackeray 10&2 

Murat ■^J"'"" 9n 

Murder, The Shakespeare 88« 

Music, Fragments 726 

Music Fragments 808 



1028 



JNDEX OF TITLES. 



Music Skakespt^arv tjs 

Musical Duct, The .J. Ford 604 

Music:il Instrument, A E, B, BroivKin^ 865 

Mutual Love Fragments 205 

My Ain Fireside E. Hamilton 337 

My Autumn Walk /''. C Bryant 535 

My Brigantinc 7- ^" Cooper 6-'6 

MyChild J.Fierpont =78 

My Choice "'. Browne 140 

My Countr>- J. Montgomery 563 

" My Dear and Only Love, I Pray'*. 7. Graham 150 

" My Eyes, How 1 Love You" J. G. Sa.xe 195 

" My (iod, 1 Love Thee" St. Francis Xavier 360 

'' My Heart's in the Highlands** H. Burns 659 

" My Heart Leaps Up" 11^, Words^vorth 432 

" My Held is LiketoRend,WiUie". ..iV/i^Mi-f^'^// 1:69 

My Legacy ...//. H.Jackson 770 

My Little Saint y. Norrit- 131 

My Love Anonymous 1012 

*" My Minde to Me a Kingdom is". Sir E. Dyer 729 

My Mother's Bible G.P. Morris 100 

My Mother's Picture IV. Coxi'Per 92 

My Native Land J. B. O'ReilUy 579 

My old Kentucky Home S, C. Foster 238 

My Ship E. A. Aiien 318 

My Sweet Sweeting Anonymous 123 

My True-Love Hath My Heart . ..Sir P. Sidney 137 

My Wile and Child H. R. Jackson 51-2 

'* My Wife's a Winsome Wee Thing". .K. Burns 216 

N. 

Nantucket Skipper. The y. T. Fields 988 

Naples ^. Rogers 683 

Napoleon Byron 911 

Napoleon and the British Sailor — T. Campheil 616 

Narcissa Dr. E. Young 106 

Naseby 7". B. Maca ulay 576 

Nathaniel Hawthorne Fragments 940 

Nature J. I 'ery 403 

Nature's Chain A. Pope 405 

NYaicr Home P. Cary 375 

" Nearer, My God, to Thee" S, F. Adams 373 

Nevermore, \. -i D. O. Rossetti 744 

New Church Organ, The W. M. Carieton 995 

New Kiigland in Winter. J. G. ll'/iittier 436 

New Jerusalem. The D. Dickson 35S 

New Year's Eve A. Tennyson 752 

Newport Beach H. T. Tuckerman 692 

Night Byron 415 

Night Fragfttents 491 

Night y.B. White 415 

Night 7. Montgomery 416 

Night P.B. Shelley 415 

Night and Sleep Fragments 816 

Ni^ht Before the Wedding A. Smith 210 

Nightfall: A Picture A.B. Street 412 

Nighting.de. The. Gil Vicente 479 

Nightingale, The Af. T. I'isscher 4-1 

Nightingale and Glow-Worm, The..jr. Cowper 803 

Nightingale's Song, The R. Crashaw 774 

No ! T". Hood 435 

No Baby in the House Clara G. DolUver So 

Nubility of Labor Fragments 559 



Noble Living Fragments 

Nobleman and the Pensioner, The tVffffi 

Nocturnal Sketch T.Hood 

Noontide .J. Leyden 

Norham Castle Sir IV. Scott 

Northern Lights, The B. F. Taylor 

Norval y. Home 

Nose and the Eyes, Thc.v ll\ Couper 

Not on the Battle-Field y.Pi^rpont 

Not One to Spare A nonymous 

Not Ours the Vows B. Barton 

Nothing but Leaves N. E. Ackerman 

"Nothing to Wear" W. A. Butler 

Now and Afterwards D, M. M. Craik 

Nuremberg H. IV. Lon^/ello-w 

Nursery Rhymes 

Nymph of tlie Severn, The Mil/on 

Nymph's Reply, The Sir IV. Raleigh 

O. 

" O Breathe Not His Name" T. Moore 

** O, Do Not Wanton With Those Eyes" 

B. yonson 
"O, Fairest of the RuraUMaids" ../r. C Bryant 

"O, How the Thought of God Attracts" 

F. 11: Fader 
**0,Lay Thy Hand in Mine, Dea*r"...(7. Massey 

" O, May I Join the Choir Invisible" 

M. E. L. Cross 

•♦O, Mistress Mine" Shakespeare 

*■' O, My Luve's Like a Red, Red Rose" 

A'. Burns 

" O. Nanny. Wilt Thou Gang Wi' Me ?" 

B. T. Percy 

"O, Saw Ye Bonnie Lesley ?" R. Bums 

*' O, Saw Ye the Lass?" R. Ryan 

" O, Snatched Away in Beauty's Bloom," Byron 

*" O, Swallow, Swallow, Flying South" 

A. Tennyson 

"O. the Pleasant Days of Old" F. Brown 

" O. Winter Will Thou Never Go ?".... ^. Gray 
*' O. Why Should the Spirit of Mortal be Proud >" 

II'. Kno.v 

*"0, Yet We Trust that Somehow Good" 

A, Tennyson 

O'Lincoln Family, The IV. Fla^g 

Ocean R. Pollok 

Ocean, The C. Turner 

Ocean. The y. Montgomery 

Ode H. Timrod 

Ode y. Addison 

Ode IV. Wordsworth 

Ode for a Social Meeting, etc O, PV. Holmes 

Ode on a Grecian Urn y. Keats 

Ode to a Nightingale y. Keats 

Ode to Ben Jonson R. Herrick 

Ode to Peace IV. Tennant 

Ode to Solitude ., A. Pop* 

Ode to Tobacco C. S, Calverley 

Of a Ceriaine Man Sir y. Harrington 

Of Cruelty to Animals M. F. Tup/^er 

Of Myself A. Coivley 

Of the Warres in Ireland Sir y. Harrington 

"Oft in the Stilly Night" T, Moore 



797 
521 
1014 
410 
676 
409 
650 
95» 
534 
230 

213 

370 
981 
295 
678 

993 
830 
158 



184 
130 



760 



.56 



■7" 
44' 



39» 
47 
610 
631 
6u8 

53^ 
376 

757 
1015 
7.8 
3.6 

907 
534 
:-.-5 

945 



503 
318 



INDEX OF TITLES. 



1029 



Old R.IIoyt 333 

Old Admiral, The E. C. Stedman 932 

Old Age Fragments 794 

Old Age and Death E.Waller 755 

Old Age of Temperance Shakespeare 546 

Old Arm-Chair, The U. Caok loi 

Old Familiar Faces, The C. Lamb 274 

Old Grimis A. G. Greene 976 

*' Old Ironsides" O. iV. Holmes 620 

Old Maid, The A. B. Welby 790 

Old Man Dreams, The O. W. Holmes 979 

Old Man's Comforts, The R. Southey 54s 

Old Oaken Bucket, The S. Waodworth 100 

Old-School Punishment Anonymous 99 

Oliver Cromwell Fragments 939 

Olivia Shakespeare 122 

On a Beautiful Day ... 7. Sterling 406 

On a Bust of Dante T. It'. Parsons 908 

On a Fan A.Dohson 749 

On aGirdle E. Waller 125 

OnaPicture A. C. Lynch 247 

On a Portrait of Wordsworth. . .£. B. Brmuning 914 

On an Intaglio Head of Minerva. T. B. Aldrkh 749 

On an Old MufI F. Looker g-j^ 

On His Blindness Milton 366 

On His Own Blindness Milton 735 

On Love ^'r R. Ayton 140 

On the Loss of the Royal George — W. Coivper 612 

On the Picture of an Infant Leonidas 81 

On the Portrait of Shakespeare B.Jonson 905 

On the Prospect of Planting Arts and Learning 

in America G. Berkely 5S7 

On the Rhine W. L. Bowles 447 

On Woman O. Goldsmith 336 

One (;ray Hair, The W. .V. Landor 755 

OncHoss Shay, The O. IV. Holmes 977 

Only a Woman D. M. M. Craik 258 

Only a Year H.B.SIowe 278 

Only Seven H.S.Leigh 1006 

Only the Clothes She Wore N. G. Shepherd 299 

"Only Waiting" P- L. Mace 368 

Orator Puff T.Moore 961 

Oratory Fragments 803 

Orient, The Byron 451 

Origin of the Harp, The T. Moore 865 

Origin of the Opal Anonymous 865 

Othello's Defence .Shakespeare 145 

Othello's Remorse Shakespeare 877 

Other World. The H.B.SIowe 388 

Our Boat to the Waves «-'. E. Channing 630 

Our Skater Belle Anonymous 670 

Our Wee White Rose G. Massey 83 

Outgrown y. C. R. Dorr 263 

" Over the H ill to the Poor House" 

fV. M. Carlelon 342 

Ovcrthe River N. W. Priest 276 

Overwork Fragments 559 

Owl, The B. W. Proctor 483 

Ozmandias of Egypt P. B. Shelley 717 



P. 



Pack Clouds Away. . 
Pain and Weariness.. 



. 7'. IhyiKood 
. .J'rugments 



Palm-Tree, The /. G. Whittier 455 

Pan in Love W. IV. Story 488 

Panic Fragments 725 

Pantheon, The. Byron 682 

Paper B. Franklin 975 

Parrhasius N.P.Willis 88J 

Parted Friends J. Montgomery 114 

Parting Lovers ...E. B. Browning 236 

Parting Lovers, The W. R. Alger 236 

Passage in the Life of St. Augustine, A 

A nonymous 362 

Passage, The L.Uhland 1^1 

Passionate Shepherd to His Love, The 

C. Marlowe 157 

Passions, The W. Collins 773 

Past, The Fragments 792 

Pastoral, A 7. Byrom 245 

Paul Rcvere's Ride //. W. Long/ellom 590 

Pauper's Death-Bed, The C. A. B. Southey 341 

Pauper's Drive, The T.Noel 341 

Peace Fragments 541 

Peace P. Gary 533 

Peace of Death, The Fragments 311 

Peace on the Sea Fragments 631 

Pelican, The J. Montgomery 480 

People, The Fragments 813 

People's Song of Peace, The J. Miller 598 

Perfection Fragments 726 

Perseverance /-. Da Vinci 781 

Perseverance R.S.S.Andros 477 

Personal Appearance Fragments 720 

Personal Characteristics — Men Fragments 723 

Personal Characteristics — Wom^n. . .Fragments 722 

Personal Charms Fragments 133 

Pet Name, The E. B. Browning 89 

Petrified Fern, The M.L.D Branch 863 

Philip, My King D. M. Craik 75 

Phillida and Corydon ... .N. Breton 136 

" Phillis is My Only Joy" Sir C. Sedley 124 

Phillis the Fair N. Breton 124 

Philomela M. Arnold 479 

Philosopher Toad, The R. S. Nichols 694 

Philosopher's Scales, The ._/. Taylor 862 

Philosophy Fragments 808 

Physics W. Whewell 992 

Pibroch of Donuil Dhu Sir W. Scott 518 

Picket-Guard, The E. E. Beers 524 

Picture, A C. G. Eastman 229 

Picture of Death. A Byron 303 

Pictures of Memory A. Cary 89 

Pied Piper of Hamelin, The R. Browning 849 

Pilgrimage, The Sir W. Raleigh 361 

Pilgrims and the Peas, The Dr./. Wolcolt 953 

Pillar of the Cloud, The J. H. Neivman 3f,4 

Piper, The W. Blake 85 

Plaidie, The C. Sibley 187 

Plain Language from Truthful James.. 5. Harte 987 

Planting of the Apple-Tree, The. . W. C. Bryant 457 

Platonic W. B. Terrell 110 

Plea for the Animals J. Thomson 783 

Pleasure Boat, The R. H. Dana 666 

Pleasures of War J^ragjnrnls 539 

Ploughman, The O. W. Holmes 551 



1030 



/XnSX OF T/rLES. 



IVkids A\ /f. Xftrfii' 

Hoej of NMure. The /». y. tiAi/tr 

IVet »t Tv^-VUy, ihc S.%JL if^K.vtt 

l\>ci's Av1m»r«uM\. The AVnif"'*"*'* 

Pv<i"s Bridal-lliy S^Mij, The., A. C*imMiifi*,»m 

IXvrts KriwKl, The A. t\ff< 

IVK-t's Impu'sc. The /Jr»v« 

l\>cl"» Retirement. The Fi^tgrnrmtt 

l\^el^s SvM\s to His Wile, The ....*, »". .»Vve»»»- 

IX^etsMKl K^etry f^y/pmnti 

IVljUHl r. C^mfMi 

IXxv.Uek C I'^iMim 

l\>l>ular Recvdleclioas of Booapane.A'. .V^M^r 

K'lrtents Anv! Fears /^^^^t^mtrnts 

IVrtia's rkture SJk^Jbt^f^ijtrf 

Portrait. A £• /8. Smfrmimf 

Kmrait. The /T. Bm/tm~^ttt*m 

IVrtnut. The T. tf o^v f/ 

l\\ssessi^>n .....«...£. 7*^rA^ 

l\\saesiavMi- AV»^jr*wi»*» 

l\\ssessK«i * /T. A^niHtv*' 

tVssibililics /^yigrtrmit 

IVvrrty Ay^gmfrnts 

Power of Lore »nd Beauty /-'nt^mnts 

Praise /*>^»*»f* 

Praise O. Hfrirrt 

Pruiiteles. f*rm tit u'tti 

Prayer y-yis^tmi 

Prayer M»ry,Qmmn/'Hmi^try 

Pra>-er for Life, A CSL •'>"»r.><j,-4 

Prayer of Asassii, The 7. tf. M*«»/jVt- 

Pre-K-XTStence P- K. Hjtrmt 

PrejivhitViJ »nvi Missioos F>MgmttnSs 

Pntfvirativin and Battle Fm^^mtntt 

Presence in .\hseace fhtgmrmtt 

Present, The f¥,tgwtrmtt 

Press. The fV,jLgmrM:i 

Ptettv Girl of Loch Dan, The il /Vrjrajy. 

PriJe and Vanity »v«j«w«»f 

Primeral Forests, The ft. H". Z.^<«^rrt.>«r 

J'rince.Vleb G. ft. lt*itr 

Prisonerof Chillom. The Srnm 

Private of the Buffs, The, etr. , .Sir F. H. ZV».V 

l>oNem. The *. »", Swum-m 

IVvrastiiiatioo Dr. S. »bi^ 

PT\^t>hecies, F^Mg^m^ 

IV^Nhecy of Enterprise, A .FrAg^mfnti 

IVMjd MissMacbr*le,Tt»e y. <;, iUx» 

PruvleiKe Ft'^^gmrmn 

Prudent Sj^eech. /Vu^pw^^-v 

Psalm of Life. .\ Jf. M". Z.-^'^'.".-* 

Pumcvkin. The 7. G. U'iittitr 

Q. 

Qua Crsum Vencos A.M. C«Nif4 

guack Medicines G. 0»M* 

Ouaketvtom C. G. ffttf^mt 

Quarrel of Frieods, Tlie ,S, T. CM'rrii^ 

Quarrellinjr /">\«jr»w«.v 

Quarrellins /^.«4-»«e».-» 

Quarrels of Friends F-r-^tfmtmts 

Queen Mab SijutftfMtn 

Kailroad RhytM. J.G.Sjun 



TO' 
>M 
fit' 
01 1 
7*7 
TW i 
sio t 
Su« 
5S3 
O'S 
013 
S*J 
l«d 
97 
««5 
>»T 
>|S 
«07 

8I5 
$03 

■0,5 

SlO 

is* 
,*? 
iiSo 

0,!* 
T<^ 

5<o 

J4S 

Sio 
to? 
799 
*S3 
6S» 
Jo.< 
SM 
7JJ 

:«« 



Sij 
lit 

S36, 



Rain and Stona /Vxtfatra/t 

Rain in Summer /f. H", Ltng^Mi^w 

Raiu on the Roof <.\ AVwit<r 

Rainy l^y. The H. W. t.'iti/tttfw 

Ramon if, H*rtf 

Raven, The E.A.Fm 

Ratvw-Seller. The jyr. y. llW.-off 

Rcai^er and the Flowers, TXtt.H. U'. I.*i^rW!,ftr 

Rcxsv^n and Instinct A. t"^ 

Rebecca's Hymn 5JrV H". A-*n'/ 

RcciiK for&ilad, A ,!>. Smi'ti 

Recipes f^mi 

Reformer, The J. G. irnttitr 

Relief of Lucknow. The Jf. r. S. ZmW/ 

Relision of Hudibras, The 5, Bmtltr 

Relij;ious Meditativ>n F*-^gmtmti 

Remonstrance with the Snails A mfi>fimf»s 

Remorse FntgwH-mit 

Remorse and Retribution Fir^igmrmts 

Renunciation, A E, l>r«, Smri^^Oj(,^rnl 

ReiHitati>.Ml /"K^^wen.'x 

ResiSTiatioo v f^,i^mtMti 

Resij^ation M W". /.•■g/irAVw 

Resfiectahility /V«f»»e«.'i 

Rest J^, »:/ff!r.„mJ 

Retirement 7". H'^rttm 

Retirement, The c". Orfva 

Retort. The G. f. Mfrrii 

Retribution F. *>« Lt^m 

Retrosi^ection <. /Viivi'i^ni 

Return of Sv>riny . From the French of /". ^»fMatrW 

Rf\-e Du Midi /f. r, 0*t» 

Re%-elry of the Dyittg X v/«ranNu 

Reveixge Frjgmtna 

Revenge of Injuries . .' Ljuif i". Cjirnr 

Rhine. The Sjrr»m 

Rhodvxra. The /f. 11". Emfrtrn 

Richard Briasley Sheridan Fi^j>gmftm 

Ridies F'^Jgmfmtt 

Riddle, A C. /j«t4,rav 

Riviins: Toother... W. Mrrrts 

Rienii to the Romans .V, K. Mi^ftr-J 

Right Must Win. F. U: F.<ttr 

Rime i-^' the .Vncient Mariner i'. T. C*>'rriJ^ 

Ritter Husv» C. G. In'^mJ 

Riv.Un- in Love « 11". U'^'si 

River v^f Life, The T. Cur/^V 

River Thames, The 

Roust Beef of Old England, The, 

N. FuMim^ **•/ if. Z*tvrT«eV» 

Robert of Lincoln W. C. S-nrmKi 

R^*in .\dair Z^r C Xf>/*»* 

Robin Hok\] and Allen-a-I>a]e Am^Mrm^m^ 

R^vk Me to Sleep £..i. .-<*.'« 

•Rvvkof .Ages"" Fr^fiE. N. /TtL^ 

Rv^man Father's Sacrifice, The. . 7". /t, MMvm/tijr 

Romance of the Swan's Nest, The 

i. ^. SrevrmM^g■ 

Rv^maunt of the Rose, The .■(. TvAtwr 

Rv^me Frtagwtrmis 

Rome. jr. K/ft^t 

RoryO'More. S. i.*rrr 

Rosalie II" X/.'i.V* 



4*» 
97 

6o» 

S," 

954 

•^•■^ 

75 > 

IT' 
rot 5 
tot 3 

600 

S«5 

JSt 

399 

4S6 

S9« 

79* 

T*" 

Sn 

34S 

e-i 

39* 

•95 

406 

737 
99« 
747 
5>S 
4«> 
410 
S9S 
&» 
TS9 
446 
461 
940 
Soj. 

rrs 
SS3 
57a 

39» 
S54 
toco 

>47 
74' 
7«o 

sr.s 

4^* 
>.«4 

frss 

3^r 
srs 

SCO 

too 



INJ)I:X (!/■ ■IIII.ES. 



1031 



Kohalimri Complaint 7", Lodgt 

koMalJnc T. Lotigt 

Kofiary of My Teari, The A.J.Uyan 

I'.'.m: antl tlicr Gauntlet, The ,/. H'/'/ton 

Kow lluhh, The fV. IV. CnUwtlt 

Ko»c of ihc World, The C. Vatmore 

Rrj«c, The a. Taylor 

Row, The W.Cowper 

k'ju«h Khyine on a Kou(fl> Matter, A 

C Kingtity 

Uoyal Gucit. The 7, W^. Uoiut 

Rudolph the Ileadnman O, W. Holmti 

■ Rule Hrilannia , 7- Thorn wn 

Rulinj; I'as«iion, The A. I'ofit 

Rulint; I'aMJon, The Fragntentt 

Rural Life Fragmenh 

Rutitic Lad's Lament in the Town, The 

I). M. Moir 
Ruth T. Hood 

8. 

Sabbath Morning, The ./. J.eyden 

Sabbaihof the Soul, The A. L. liarhnuld 

Sabbath, The .J. (Wnhame 

Sack of Baltimore, The T. Davit 

*'Sa<l ii Our Youth" A. DeVere 

Said I not So ? G. Herbert 

Sailor's Coniwlation, The W. Pitt 

Sailor'H Wife. The W.y. MickU 

Sally in Our Alley //. Carey 

Samv/n on Hii fllindneM Milton 

Sandpipf-T, The C. 7/uaxter 

SandH o' Dec, The C. Kingiley 

Scandal A. Pope 

5>candal and Slander. f'ragmentt 

5M;holar, The H. Taylor 

Sch'x>l-lJay« Fragment* 

Scotland Sir W.Scott 

Sculpture Fragments 

Sea Fi(fht, The Anonymoui 

Sea I-ifc 7- Montgomery 

Sea. The Ji. Sa rton 

Sea. The D. IV, Procter 

Sea, The Byron 

Sea. The R. IV. Emerton 

Sea Weed H.W. Long/elloiu 

Sea-Shore, The Fragmente 

Seaitide Well, The Anonymout 

Sca»on«. The Fragmentt 

Secret of iJcath. The E. Arnold 

Selections from '* In Menioriam",,./4. Tennyton 

Sclf-Conccit Fragmentt 

Semproniu»*» Speech for War 7- Addiion 

Sentinel Songt J\. J. Ryan 

September G. A mold 

Seitlcr, The .A. Ii. Street 

y Seven Ages of Man Shaketpeart 

Seven Timcn Four /, Ingelow 

y Seven Times One /. Ingelow 

Seven Times Six /. /ngeloiu 

Seven Times Tliree /, Ingelow 

Seven Times Two /. Ingelotv 

Scvi((n^. To Madame de De Montreuil 



Shaded Water. The W. G. Simmt 44B 

Shakespeare IJr, S. J oh nson 905 

Shakespeare //, Coleridge yVl 

Shakespeare, Rpitaph on , , , Milton r/A 

ShakeHpcare, To the Memory of D.Jonton t/^ts 

"She is Not Fair U/ Outward View" 

//, Coleridge 129 

*' She Walks in fSeauty" liyron lyt 

"She waaa Phantom of Delight** 

IV. Worduvjortti luH 

Shepherd and the King, The //■'. Greene 136 

Shepherd's Life, A ,,,. Shukeipeare aaj 

Sh<*pherd'H Revjluiion, The G. Wither i';? 

Sheridan, Richard Urinsley Fragmentt <>4o 

Sheridan ')» Ride ,. . /', Ii. Read yf^ 

Ships Fragmentt 6'ji 

Shi[rt at Sea K. S. Co^ n -ifn 

.Shipwreck, The W. Falconer 6ia 

Sh'xjting Fragmentt Ojt 

Signs of Rain Dr. E.Jenner 437 

Shyness of I^jVC Fragmentt 204 

Sic Vila //, King yji 

Sidney, Sir I'hilip Fragmentt i^yi 

Sidney, Sir Pliilip M. Hoyden '/j^ 

Siege of ficlgradc Anonymout 1013 

Sighs, Tears, and SmJIcf Fragmentt 304 

Silent Baby Mrt. E.B. Currier 78 

Siller Croun, The S. Ulamire 155 

Silly Fair iV. Congreve 713 

Sin Fragmentt 395 

Sir Marmadukc G. Colman^ the Younger 958 

SjrenH* Song, The W. lirowne ^25 

Sit iJown, Sad Soul Ii. iV. Profler 36> 

Skating Fragmentt <yjt 

Skylark, The 7- H"t:iC 473 

Slavery W. Cowper 593 

Sleep Dr. J. IVoleott 7*51 

Sleep E. Ii. lirowning 762 

Steep . 7. Doii/land -jf^ 

Sleep Shaketpeare 762 

Sleep Sir P. Sidney 762 

Sleeping Beauty, A S. Hogert 130 

Sleeping Beauty, The A. Tennyton 174 

Sleeplessness W. Wordtworth yf,-^ 

Sleigh Song G. W. Pettee 670 

Sly Thoughts C. Palmare iM 

Smack in Schr»ol, The tV. P. Palmer 95 

Small Beginnings C. Mackay 779 

Smile and Never Heed Me C.Siuain 1^6 

Smoke //. D. Thoreau 691 

Sneezing , L.Hunt 1015 

Snobbery Fragmentt Zt2 

Snow— A Winter Sketch F. Ihyt 440 

Snow-Flake« . , . , //. W. Long/ellow 440 

433 I Snow-Shower, The IV. C. Bryant 440 

709 Snow-Storm, A C. G. Eattman 440 

7(1 Snow-Sf^irm, The R. IV. Emerton 439 

Zfi Snows. The C. Sangtter f/Zi 

87 Social Pleasures Fragments 814 

213 Society upon the Stanislaus. The B. Harte <>88 

172 "Softly Woo Away Wtzr Breath". B. IV. Procter «>6 

loi "Soldier Rest! Thy Warfare 0*er" 

<>i4 Sir W. Scott 530 



n\ss 



I.Vl>SX OF r/7l.SS. 



SeMirt'^ Druk. The T. C»m/^'i 

S-MttT^ R«un>, Tfce , it. JtiV>Mn«>W 

SWvSiMsot FirMdeai /v^«nr«t 

Solikx^uy, A «". /!■*•■}* 

iiiiiiloquy vM» De»rt> ^»^*.^fti\«-r 

Soliksuy: On ImonnalHy ^./^ .•(^-•;>« 

Solit»3e,,,„ A%\«it >•.■«« 

S.'WKKxIy .<»«>"f.AW 

S>Mnet<od!r>s Ikaotiac j<«i*m»wM 

So«^ ,,^ ,,,,,*.,**.»,— •!* K^imi^y 

Sons , -<- r««itrw« 

Song *.>.«»>• 

Si.'w^^ »^**»» ^««..««*% x/- HV.'"r^ 

ScM^ ''^ %»,**- »,»...*»*Jtf, .^ir».<.*rf^ 

Soi^ AV M". ><,vc.' 

Sc«s fJT St, Cecilia's Dijr, wSy, A.,.y. iVw* 

Souvs '^" '-"■'sn-^lN"* •S''" **'• ■^'**' 

Sotvs of Mjinon's Men M" C. Srjmnl 

Sonsoi S«im, The C W. Cmnrr 

S-Xigc* ihf Brook A. rtmit_vi»m 

Soos oi <hc Cimi\ The i!. Tjiw^ 

S-Mg ^m" the KiHisTant in Benaod*.. -■*. J/aTmV 

SoASOi :he Greek I\>ei Sr-vw 

Soojroj-jhe l->sl>tn>as *»• " • l~»-'«''" 

Sonsoilhe MUkiuuJ A. Ttmxj^s^n 

S<*n^\'4 the River C, AV<tjC^Vr 

Scw^ ^n the Rover i?r*v« 

So«s oj the Shin, The T. h'Mui 

SiMigrox the Sutnmer WithJs — .,. 1», /WrsVr 

Song ot Wood-Nymjibs & W", /Vvv.v 

Svxwsteis, W y, n/mafm 

Sonne* <*, C4 ^ M»i t« 

Sonnet H. Al^^r^ 

Sonnet „<i.*i»3^*nr 

Si4uiet 5»v f. Sijt'^ry 

Sonnet • t>'. L. titrHtfm 

Sonnet tt\ H'jnbtivri 

Sonnet W". »V«»v--f4 

Sonnet, The H". UW*s»frti 

Sonnet Upon a Stolen Kiss .C. HV.-ir»- 

Sonnets y, X". ivwnV 

Sonnets frcan the Ponagnese.. JE. £. £>w«iwt>^ 

Sonnets to GeotseSuid £. £.£mFa>^jr 

Smtoiis of Wefther tT.M. Tim-ir^r 

Sou) M Adrenrane. The Fnt^mrmtt 

Soul, The *. //, rv*». 

Sou>^ Crr. The JT, Aum^ 

Soul's Emik). The iltk- »' X*."i<j!4 

Sounds of Njitare /V<^wr«A 

Spk-e-Tww, The y, A»Wt ^<- 

Sfwnnin^Wheel SooK. Tbe. y. f. »•*.'.'<>■ 

Sftinster^ Stint, A A. Otrr 

Spitit-LjAd. The J. iV-r 

Spirits.,, , ,,,, — J^KtjfMr^*» 

SpieMiid Shaiias. Tie J. nf:->« 

Sjv^nts ,-», /]rff 

Sprit^t A, Trmmyxrm 

Spting Ct^rirt ffO^:Mtms 

Srrinsr E. K::ifn 

Sptins r.i^-v.r 

S|>rin|r Tr, fraa Gtcek. r. Mj^-r 

Spring in Cauofina N, nacni' 

"Spnnc. the Sweet Spriac** r..VAt« 






«,'■» 
rrs 

sss 

44* 
tiij 
StH 

t«e 

■"^! 

MS 

9^ 



6-v> 

jfiS 
»tS 

«»r 

«>s 
♦it 

••« 



St, Patrick was * Gentleman W, i^mmft t<K>« 

St, l^c^ers»t Rome />>«<»>»»l» r«> 

"SlabAi Mater IK^Io^osa" 

Tr, from Latiit, A. I'A'rtt ^>i 

" Stalvnt Mater IVkuwa" />« ^.vf-^tt ssi 

Stas Hunt. The , J. riAms^m 6j» 

Stas Hunt, The ^'V '*"• •S.>«-- »5* 

Stasv, The ,,.,v,.„/V««fw*«M &>♦ 

Star-Si>ansteJ Banner, The K S.AVj s»» 

Stars, The f^ntgmmti 441 

State-Cralt »>«f»tr«M Si« 

Still Pay in Auttian, A i,//, Wi.^wj* t-M 

Storos, The t;^ ,<. ,SnrT»« tv»S 

StvMias aiid Shipwreck F^^nimms «.?i 

Stormy IVtrel, The *, H", /Vwr^r ^S,! 

S^v^ry of a Summer Day. The j<, Hmatt «» 

"Strojvg Son of God, Immortal Love" 

Suicide f^it^mtntt 9>x> 

Sum of Life, The M". Ow/rr j^ 

Sumn>er Djx-!^ C. D. SiMtiy >6c< 

Summer Kveniivs, A /. I*'«J» ♦ji 

Suaitner Kreningr's Meditation, A, 

A. Z., K^trf^miJ 4^ 

Summer Friends Fnigmrm^s «»o 

Summer I.ooj;ins$ JX A", Mti-'jirtiy 4><> 

Summer Mixxts y, C*»r 4*7 

Summer Nvvxi, .\ H'. //fcNtt 410 

Summer SKTm y/. K. £<*«W^ 4*^ 

Suo-Didl, The .<,£W^« r&« 

Sunken City. The M" Man.Vr Us, 

Sunset /♦, i, i»v>V<r 41 j 

Sunset City. The /f.S. Ctrrtrn'l Si,? 

Sunset in the Mountains f^>»g>mrmti yw 

Swalkvw. The C. Smili ^jS 

Sweet. Be Not rrv>ud K.Hfrri.i tjj 

S«-eet Meetiiv: of Desires C. fjumnfr 170 

Sweet Stream that \Vim1s II", tVwAr^ to6 

" Sweetly Breathing, Vernal Air" T, C* rvtr 415 

Sweets of l.ove. The F*■^^fmrmtt s«$ 

Swell's Soliloquy -imf^rmimt not 

Swimming Bynm 669 

SwiRunins Fhagtmrmlt tjt 

Switieriand .WT*j:iw««t 605 

Switierland ^.S. /Cmrtria 58$ 

Sword So(« C. T. .K'j^mff 519 

Symtwthy 51t'r T, .V, r*<'»«rnrf rr^* 

Sympathy and Scota. f^^»gmrm}t 545 

Sn<> r, -Wwrr 451 

T. 

Tacking Ship Off Shore W. F. Mit.-iM 619 

" Take, O, Take Those lips Away" 

.<:*.• jn/mn' <W y, F!/t,-*fr s«5 

Tale of Drary Lane, .V ^. -n-wi,-* »«j« 

TamO'ShaUcr X. Sarmt S47 

Tear, ,\ i. *^Tr» ^Sj 

TeMMe, My Heart, if this he Lore 

trfi«»3Cr, ZVZ.f^^KiANi 157 

-Tell Me. Ve Winged Winds" C. Jtf*-4ojr jwj 

Telltale, The jli ^mm i r 4-^ 

Temperance n rn f mum tt jjS 

Tenperance.ortbeCheapPhysacian.X,CKu4i>w 546 



INDEX OJ' TITLES. 



H)'i.\ 



Tcmpmi, The 7. T. J'Mdi 

'lirinplc of ttic Clftumnuii Ilyroti 

'Icmijlc ••{ l'riendiihi|i, A T, Maurt 

Tcmptalion i'l-agmenU 

Tender Aflctton t'ragmentii 

TlianatopMH /K C. Bryant 

'• T!»c Ijjy Returns, My R/M/^m Hurn«",^, Iturni 
"The iJulc'ft i' ihit f/<<iinet it" Minc'Vy?, Waugk 

"The Forward Violet Thiu Did I Chide" 

Shakeipear* 
" The Harp thai Once Thrriugh Tara'» Hall»", , . 

T. Moore 

•The KiH, Dear Maid" Oyron 

"The MidKci Dance Aboon the Burn" 

/<. Tannahlll 

"The Moth'i Kim Fir*t" R. Ilrowning 

" The Sun U Warm, the Sky » Clear" 

r. B. Sktllif 

The Way, the Truth, and the Life T, Parker 

" The Winter fieint; Over" A. CoUiru 

Theolodfy Fragmente 

- There u a Garden in Her Face" /I. Alliun 

They arc All Gone //, Vaughan 

*' They arc dear Filth to Me" A nonymoui 

" They Come \ Tlic Merry Summer Month»" — 
W. Molherwelt 

"Thote Even Insr Belli" T.Moore 

" Thou ha»t Sworn by Thy G'jd, My Jcanie" — 
A. Cunningham 

Thought C. P.Cranch 

Thread and Son^ 7- f- Palmer 

Tliree Days J, R. Cl/more 

Thttt Fi«ber>, Tbc C. Kingilry 

Three Lovet L. II. Hooper 

Three Son«. The 1. Moultrie 

Three Warninu*. The H. L. Tkrale 

Three Vear« She Grew /f, WordM-worIk 

Thy Uraen Were Bonny J. Logan 

Thy Will be Done .J.C. IVhittier 

Tiger, The IV. Ulake 

Time Dr. E. Young 

Time Pragmtntt 

Time in Absence Pragmenti 

lantern Abtiey IK IVordruortk 

•• 'TU the Last Rote of Summer" T. Moore 

To P. D.Shelley 

To a Bird E. Hviiel, Ltrd Tkurlrta 

To a Child JK IVordiwortk 

To a Child During Siclcne»» L. Hunt 

To a Highland Girl 'W. WorJzmorlh 

To a I-ady Admiring Henelf in a Looking- 

GlaM T. Randolph 

To a Lady Before Marriage T. Tiekelt 

To a Lady With Some Painted Flower* 

A. L. Barliauld 

To a Loose ...R. Burnt 

To a Mosquito W. C. Bryant 

To a Mountain Daisy R. Burnt 

To a Mouse R. Burnt 

To a Nightingale U'. Drummand 

To a Skeleton Anonymoul 

To a Very Young Lady Sir C. Srdley 

To a Waterfowl IV. C. Bryant 



fnj I To Alltiea from Pri*r>n C. R, Lonilace 

im j To an Insect O. W. l/olmei 

iii/< To Augusta Byron 

81; I To Blossoms Il.llerrick 

2l3 

•96 
"3 

577 



'4« 
4«5 

f/20 

a«$ 
4>4 



To Campbell /', Moore 

ToChlf<e Dr. iVolcolt 

To Death Prom the German 0/ Cluck 

To Delia S.Daniel 

" To Heaven Approached a Sufi Saint" 

D. Ruml 3«5 

To Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. '/. R. Lowell 9J7 

To Her Absent Sailor 7, C. Whitller 341 

To His Mistress Sir II. Wttten 144 

To lanilie, Sle<rping P. B. .'iheilry 714 

To Latx<r is to I'ray P. S, Oigood syl 

To I.ucasta Col. It. I.ovelaee 243 

To Lucasta R.Lovelace 235 

To Madame De Sevign^ IJe Monlreuil 914 

To Mary in Heaven R. Burnt j«3 

To Milton W. Wordtworth tfy/ 

To Mistress Margaret Hussy y, Skelton 123 

To My Infant ^tn T. Hood 93 

To My Nose A. A. Porretter 1015 

To-Night P.D.Shelley 414 

ToSea T. L. lUddoet l,y> 

To Seneca Lake J. C. Percival 449 

To the Cuckoo , .J. Logan 471 

Totlie Cuckoo W. Wordivjortk 472 

To the Earl of Warwick on the Death of Addi- 
son T. Ticketl ^to 

To the Fringed Gentian IK C. Bryant 4^5 

To the Grasshopper and Cricket L. Hunt 4^5 

To the Harvest M'/z/n U.K. White 550 

To the Hon, Charles M£;ntague M. Price 73a 

To the Huml.Ie Bee R, W, Emerion 4^4 

To the Lord General Cromwell Milton <fx) 

To the Mcmf^y of Ben Jon vrfi y. Cleveland ijplfi 

To the Memory of Fletthcr Harper 

D. M. M. Craik 935 

To the Memory of Thomas Hood ...A nonymoui 922 

To the Nightingale R. Barn/ield 4*0 

Tothe Pliocene Skull B. Ilarte <fy\ 

To the " Sextant" A.M. IKilton iv^i 

TotheSkylark P.B.Shelley 474 

TotheSkylark W. IVordtworth 474 

To the Terrestrial Globe W. S. Cilliert «or2 

To the Unc< Guid R. Burnt '784 

To the Virgins R. tierrick 754 

To Thomas Moore Byron 920 

los ^To Toussaini L'Ouvettare IK. IKordiViorth 921 

To Victor Hugo A. Tcnnyion 1^6 

Trj-iiorrovf S.Johnion 754 

T'«ul's Journal, The .J.Taylor 851 

Tobacco Smokers Pragmenti 553 

Toby Tosspot C. Colman, yr. 958 

Toilet, The A.Pofe 713 

Tom Bowling C. Dibdin 629 

Tonis ad Resto Mare ./. Swi/t 993 

Too Late F.H.Ludlow 755 

Too Late I Stayed IK. R. Sfencer 117 

Touchstone, The IK. Alllngham 735 

Transient lieaoly Byron '3fJ^ 

Treasures of the Deep, The P. Ilemana 619 



V, 



1034 



INDEX OF TITLES. 



Trees Fragments 494 

Tribute, The C Put more 126 

Trifles Fragments 815 

Trooper's Death, The R. IK Raymond 518 

True Lent. A R. Herrick 361 

True Love Fragments 206 

True Rest ./. S. Dwight 557 

True Soldier, The Fragments 539 

Trumpets of Dool Karnein, The L. Hunt 699 

Truth Fragments 398 

Tubal Cain C. MacAay 537 

Twilight at Sea A.B IVelby 610 

Two Mysteries. The M, M. Dodgn 297 

Two Pictures A. D. Green 229 

Two Writings, The J. IV Chad^vick 277 

Two Women A''. P. IVilits 333 

Tyrant's Plea, The Fragments 691 

U. 

Una and the Lion F, S/enser S28 

Una and the Red Crosse Knight £. S/enser 827 

Under My Window T. Westrvo&d 85 

Under the Ponraft or John Milton.. .,J. Dryden 907 

Universal Prayer, The A. Pope 370 

Uviknown Poets W. IVords^vortk 766 

Unrequited Love Shakespeare 251 

Unsatisfactory Anonymous 194 

Unwelcome Lover, The Fragments 248 

Up Hill C. G. Rossettf 36;? 

Use of Flowers. The Af. Ho-.vitt 466 

Useful Plough, The Anonymous 551 

Uses of Adversity. The Fragments 34S 

V. 

Vagabonds, The J. T. Troivf'ridgs 547 

Vale of Avoca, The 7. Moore \ 16 

Vale of Cashmere, The T. Moore 452 

Valley Brook, The J. H. Bry,:nt 447 

Vanity H. P. Spofford 769 

Vanity of the Beautiful, The G. Gascoigne 712 

Vanity of the World, The F. Quarles 743 

Varied Misery Fragtnents 346 

*' Veni Creator Spiritus"..^^/. Gregory the Great 357 

*' Veni Creator Spiritus'* 

Tr. from Latin. J, Dryden 357 

"Veni Sancte Spiritus" Robt. II. 0/ France 356 

*' Veni Sancte Spiritus" 

Tr. from Latin. C Winkivorik 356 

Venice Fragments 720 

Venice S. Rogers 679 

Verses W. Cotvper 738 

Verses Written in an Album 71 Moore 133 

Vicar of Bray. The Anonymous 945 

View Across the Roman Campagna. A 

F. B. Browning 683 

View from the Euganean Hills. North Italy 

P. B. Shelley 44* 

Village Blacksmith, The. . .H. li'. Longfellow 550 

Village Schoolmistress, The W. Shenstone 707 

Violet, The U\ W. Story 461 

Violets R. Herrick 461 

Virtue Fragments 398 

Virtue Fragments 796 



Virtue Immortal G. Herbert 301 

Virtuoso, The M. A kenside 946 

Vision of Beauty A. B. Jonson 123 

Visit from St. Nicholas, A C. C Moore 96 

Voice, and Nothing Else, A Anonymous 923 

Voice of the Grass, The. ,S. Roberts 465 

Vow, The Meleager 268 

Voyage of Life, The M, Green 742 



W. 

Waiting for the Grapes /r. Maginn .190 

" Waken. Lords and Ladies Gay'\.iVr //'. Scott 658 

Walton's Book of Lives W. Wordsivortk 908 

Waly. Waly, Rut Love Me Bonny... Wwowywtfwj 268 

Wants of Man, The J. Q. Adams 732 

War P.B.Shelley 499 

War for the Sake of Peace -/. Thomson 499 

Warfare Fragments 539 

A^arnings Fragments 314 

Warren's Add ress y. Pierpont 590 

Washington y. R. Lo-mcU 927 

Washington, George A nonymous 928 

Watching E. C.Judson 763 

Water Fragments 493 

Water Sprites Fragments 869 

Water- Drinker, The E. Johnson 545 

Waterloo Byron 511 

We are Brethren a' R. Nicoll 117 

We are Seven W. Wordsworth 87 

" We Have Been Friends Together" 

C. E. S Norton 116 

We Parted in Silence J. Cra-u'/ord 240 

928 
685 

925 
136 

955 

135 
245 
322 
599 
8c 
;4S 
994 
45t 
3S1 
439 



Webster, Daniel O. W. Holmes 

Weehawken and the New York Bay../^. Halleck 

Welcome, The 7*. Davis 

Welcome to Boz, A W. H. I'enable 

"Welcome. Welcome. Do I Sing'*... ir. Browne 

Well of St. Keyne, The R. Southey 

" Were I as Base as is the Lowly Plain" 

7. Sylvester 

"What .Ails this Heart o' Mine?" S.Blamire 

" What Can an Old Man Do But Die ?". 7. Hood 

What Constitutes a State ? Sir \\\ Jones 

" What Does Little Birdie Say ?"...W. Tennyson 

What is Time ? W Marsden 

What Mr. Robinson Thinks y.R.Lo'weli 

What the Winds Bring E, C. Stedman 

When S. It 'oolsey 

" When Icicles Hang by the Wall" . .Shakespeare 
" When in the Chronicle of Wasted Time" 

Shakespeare 

" When the Hounds of Spring" , 

A. C. Swinl'.if-ne 

When the Kye Comes Hame ./. Hogx 

" When the Lamp is Shattered" P. B. Shelley 

"When to the Sesslonsof Sweet Silent Thought" 

Shakespeare 

" When Your Beauty Appears" T. Parne/l 

" Whenas in Silks My Julia Goes"... R. Herrick 

Wliere are the Men? Talhaiam 

" Where are You Going, My Pretty Maid ?" . . . 

Anonymeus 



419 
163 
262 



120 

530 
958 



INDEX OP TITLES. 



1035 



"Whistle, and I'll Come to You. My Lad" 

K. Burns 156 

Whistle, The A". Story 156 

Wliite Rose. The Anonymous 123 

While Sciuall. The B. W.Procter 629 

Whiltlinj; ./. Pii-rpont 979 

Why? M.L.Kittcr 148 

Why, Lovely Charmer? Anonymous 146 

*'Why so Pale and Wan?" Sir J. Suckling 263 

Why TIius Longing? //. IV. Sewn II 392 

Wickliffc, John Fragments 959 

Widow Hcdott to Elder Sniffles. j^. M. Whitchcr 995 

Widow Machree S. Lover 200 

Widow Maione C Lever 1003 

Widow's Mite, The F. Locker 282 

Wife.A //. Taylor 213 

Wife, Children, and Friends W. R. spencer 220 

Wife, The Fragments 231 

Wife to Her Husband, The ..Anonymous 244 

Will. The Dr. J. Donne 791 

William Hofjarth Fragments 940 

William Llovd Garrison .J. R. Loivell 932 

William Shakespeare Fragments 939 

Willie Winkie W. Miller 83 

Winds and Waves Fragments 631 

Winged Worshippers, The C. H. Sprague 478 

Winter 7. //. Bryant 438 

Winter-Evening HymD to My Fire, A 

7. R. Lowell 228 

WinterMorning W. Coivper 4-^5 

Winter Noon. IV. Cow/>er 437 

Winter Picture? y. R. Lowell 438 

Winter Scenes ./. Thomson 439 

Winter Song L. Holty 434 

Wish. A S.Rogers 225 

WisbcB to His Supposed Mistress., ./f. Crashaw 192 



Witches Fragments 868 

Without and Within Mctastasio 757 

Wolsey's Advice to Cromwell Shakespeare 321 

Wolsey's Fall .. , Shakespeare 321 

Wood-Nymps Fragments 869 

" Woodman, Spare that Tree" .... (7. /'. Morris 101 

Woman Anonymous 97$ 

Woman ...Calidasa 776 

Woman Fragments 795 

Woman Fragments 133 

Woman's Answer, A A. A. Procter 143 

Woman's Inconstancy Sir R. Ayton 267 

Woman's Love, A J. Hay 270 

Woman's Question, A A. A. Procter 143 

Woman's Will J. G. Saxe 981 

Woman Fo'k. The J. Hogg 974 

Wordsworth, William P^ragments 940 

Work and Play Fragments 108 

Work and Song Fragments 559 

World, The Francis^ Lord Bacon 320 

World-Weariness Fragments 346 

Worn Wedding-Ring, The W. C. Bennett 221 

Wounded to Ueath y. IV. Watson 526 

Wrestling Jacob C. Wesley 371 

Y. 

Yarn of the Nancy Bell, The W. S. Gilbert g''^? 

" Ye Mariners of England" T. Campbell 629 

Young Gr.'iy Head, The C. B. SontJiey Sgi 

Youth Fragments 793 

Yussouf J. R. Lowell 768 



Zara's Earrings 

Zimri 



y, G. Lockhart i-ji 
y. Dry den 90 j 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 



FAOE 

A baby was sleeping 81 

Abou Ben Adhein (may hla tribe Increase !) 7(18 

Above the pines the nioou y26 

A brace of slnnera for uo good 9'i3 

A chieftain, to the Highlands bound ^39 

A child sleeps under a rose-bush fair 741 

A cloud lay cradled near the setting sun 61*2 

A country life Is sweet ! 551 

Across the narrow beach we flit 4S2 j 

A dew-drop eanie, with a spark of flame 865 

A diagnosis of our history proves IW^ 

Adieu, adieu, my native shore 238 

A district school not far away ^9 

Ae fond kiss and then we sever 233 

A fair little girl sat under a tree 103 

A famous hen 's my story's theme 991 

Afar In the desert I lov« to ride 319 

A fellow In a market- town 1)54 

A flock of merry slnglug-blrds 475 

A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by 763 

A footstep struck her ear fi48 

Again the violet of our early days 421 

A gentle knight was pricking on the plaino 827 

A girl who has so many willful ways KiO 

'- A good wife rose from her bed one morn 22<) 

A happy bit hiinie this auld world would be 117 

Ah. Ben ! say how or when 907 

Ah! County Guy, the hour Is nigh 194 

. Ah, Chlorls, could I now but sit 147 

Ah, how sweet It is to love ! 145 

Ah ' little they know of true happiness 55f) 

Ah I my heart Is weary waiting 419 

Ah, my sweet sweeting 123 

Ah. sweet Kitty Neil! 174 

Ah, then, how sweetly closed those crowded days.. 87 
Ah, the world hath many a Homer 973 

. Ah I what Is love ? It Is a pretty thing 136 

Ah ! whence yon glare 499 

Ah, yes,— the flght ? Well, messmates, well 612 

A jolly fat friar loved liquor good store 946 

Alas, Fra Giacomo 885 

Alas, how light a cause may move 264 

Alas ! they had been friends In youth 116 

Alas : what pity 't la that regularity 958 

A life on the ocean wave 630 

A lighter scarf of richer fold 81 

A light Is out In Italy 934 

A little more toward the light 755 

All day long the storm of battle through the start- 
led valley swept 523 

All grim and soiled and brown with tan. 6U0 

All hall ' thou noble land 588 

All hall to the ruins, the rocks, and the shores 1 608 

All in our marriage garden 83 

All In the Downs the fleet was moored 235 

' All quiet alonK the Potomac" 534 

All the world '8 a stage 711 



All things that are on earth shall wholly pass 388 

All thoughts, all pasKluus, all delights 162 

Aloft upon an old basaltic crag 933 

Along the frozen lake she comes 670 

Although I enter not 132 

A man there came, whence none could tell 735 

Amazing, beauteous change! 877 

A mighty fortress is our God 371 

A mighty hand, from an exhaustless urn 750 

A milkmaid, who poised a full pall 957 

A moment then Lord Marmlon stayed 507 

Among the beautiful pictures 89 

Among their graven shapes 937 

Among thy fancies tell me this 186 

A Monk, when his rites sacerdotal were o*er 862 

An ancient story I'll tell you 943 

An Austrian army awfully arrayed 1013 

And are ye sure the news Is true? 246 

And hast thou sought thy heavenly home 279 

And Is the swallow gone? 478 

And Is there care In heaven ? 373 

And now behold your tender nurse, the air 451 

And now, unveiled, the toilet stands displayed 713 

And said I that my limbs were old 208 

And there two runners did the sign abide 164 

And thou hast walked about 717 

And wilt thou leave me thus ? 240 

And ye sail walk In silk attire 155 

An exquisite Incompleteness 711 

An exquisite Invention this 195 

A nightingale, that all day long 863 

Announced by all the trumpets of the sky 439 

An old farmhouse with meadows wide 229 

A poet loved a star 202 

Appeared the princess with that merry child 173 

Arches on arclies ! as It were that Rome 681 

Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers ? 550 

Art thou weary, art thou languid 364 

A rudrly rlrop of manly blood 112 

As beautiful Kitty one morning was tripping 187 

As by the shore, at break of day 577 

A sentinel angel sitting high in glory 270 

A simple child 87 

I As Into blf)wlng roses summer dews 790 

' As It fell upon a day 480 

I As Memnon's marble harp renowned of old 819 

[ A soldier of the Legion lay dying In Algiers 521 

I As once a Grecian maiden wove 103 

j Asongfortlie plant of my own native West 456 

! A song to the oak, the brave old oak 454 

I As. rifling on Its purple wing 367 

' As ships becalmed at eve, that lay 233 

As slow our ship her foamy track 237 

A stranger came one night to Vussouf's tent 768 

A swallow in the spring 477 

A sweet dleorrler In the dress 713 

As when, on Carmel's sterile steep 698 



1040 



INDEX OK KlUST LINES. 



At HaniuH'klmrn tho V'nplUh h»j- ftTS 

At t\trl> (l;t\vii I luavkoil t\w\\\ In ttto sk}' 4Sl> 

" A louipU' Co frlouilshti*.'" ortrtl Ltiura » IA> 

A thing of lH\»uty Is :) Jov fon'vor. 675 

A thousiuul ndlos fn>n\ land art^ we , 4tW 

A( mlilnlnht. i» Ills KiumUM tont S« 

At noon, wltlilu thtMhisl.v town 6*i 

At I'jirU H was, ai tho oiH'ra there St** 

A travellor thiwiKha tlnsty rvvul. Tt9 

At siMttnK*li>y «nvl rlslin: morn 161 

At theoloso v^f tho(la.v. whrn tho lioinlot U$ttU.... 7S7 

Avo Maria ; o'er I ho earth and siM 418 

A vlolot tn hor lovol^r hair l'-!6 

Awake, awake, n^v l^iv TTJ 

A warrior so Ih^UI, and a vttvtn so bright SWl 

Awaj- ' awtij- : thnniKh the sU;htU^ssalr SM 

A wt\'iry wrtM. tvvsstnl to and ft\> GW 

A well thor\» is In the Wost oonntry W.N5 

A wpl siuH*t and a tlow tuK soa *5JS 

A widow— she had only ono \ 'JS3 

A wind canto up out of the soa 4iV 

Ay. Iml I know "Jftl 

Ay, t^Nir UertattoriHlenstitn down; 63i> 

Raohe^o^^s hall, what a quare-Uwklu' pKioi* It Is !, . . UXW 
R»ekwar\l. mm lwekwaI^l. O Thne. In your flight. . 'iiJ ! 

liiUow. my I^i1h\ 1,v sill and sleipe : 'J«» 

IV'iU vMi, pr\>ud MUows, B<»r\'.is blow TSl 

IVantlful Kvelyn Hojv Is d»>jid 3S4 

Iteauitfut. sublime, and glorlv>us 6t^ 

Beautiful was the nlKht *.« 

Bivause 1 brtvithe not love ti> everle one 144 

IVfon* 1 sljfh ni,v last ^^Jisp, let mo breathe Wl 

Bofon' I trust n»y fate (o thee 143 

IV^have yonrsel' Wfore folk 157 

BehoM. 1 have a weaivn STI 

Behold the mansion poannl by daHtal Jao-k. UU I 

Bohohl the sea 610 

BtMiold the yoniig, the rwsy Spring 423 

Bt^hoM this ruin : 'T was a skull T&l 

Believe me. tf all thiv-ie endearing youiig channs. . . 174 

IVn Rittle was a soldier Ih^UI *'*! 

Beneath a shivering eanopy rt^vlhunl 410 

IVneath our ov^nstvratiHi ehn 9i7 

Beneath this stony n>of nvllutHl 4tW 

IVttor trust all and be dotvlveil 790 

Botwtvn N\*so an«i Kyes a slnmg\» ov^ntcst aroso.... 9*1 

' Bi>t\v,HM\ the dark and the d.'i.vllght »S 

Be wise tonlay : 't is madness to defer 74S 

IVyoml the smiling and the wtvplng 296 

B»\vond ihost> ohtUlng winds and gUMmj" skies. Sft* 

Birvt of the wilderness 47^ 

Birxls. the fnv tenants of land, air, and ooeau 47V^ 

Blessings on tht^. little man W 

Blest as the Immortal g\Hls Is he ISH 

BKvtson^ of the iibnond trxH's 457 

Blow. blow, thou winter wind S16 

Blue gulf all anmnd us 57^ | 

Bvtbollnk ' that in the meadow 47S | 

Bonnie wtH> thing! eannte wtH> tJitug I'JS I 

Bonny Kllmen\ gtied up the gleu SS7 i 

Break, brr'ak. break SIS 

Brvak. Fant.isy, frrnn tliy car^of oloud S19^ 

Breathes there the man wtl-h soul so dead 5GS '• 

Buritvl tod.-iy 379 ^ 

Burly. doKlng humble lH*e! 4S4 

But ohief-suriv»ssii>t; »U — .1 cuokeo clock 717 

But Knooh yearniM to :!«<e hor taov again %iS 

But Fortune, like sinne others of her sex 777 

But h«v^py they ! the happUvst of their kind 214 

But I nnnewlHT. when the fight was done 506 

But Kkik : o'er the fall see the .ingler staud ftfiS 



lUit now our tiuaeks aix' gamesters. 78S 

But whert' to tlnd that happlosi. siHU below ?J* 

But who the melodies of n»orn oan tell ?, 4»W 

■' But why do you g\> .»'* siild the la^ly 317 

By br\»j»d IVtomae's silent shoiv 9** 

By NelH^'s lonel.v mountain SS* 

B>- the tlow of the Inland river 5S3 

Bj- the ruvie brUlgv timt arelunl the flood 6S1* 

By tlu> way»lde, ou a ntossy stouo o:.>^ 

Calm Is the niorn without a sound 390 

Oar\' charmer i>Uvp. son of the sjible ulght 414 

Ca' they owes to the knowes 1.VJ 

Cease, rude Bort^as, blustering mller 63ft 

Charmer, on a given straight Hue 903 

CluH'ks as soft as Jul.v jwaohes 7& 

Chlekon skin, delleate, white 74;> 

Child of the later days! 6ii4 

Chilly Tovebher with Us Ixvullgg blast lOlfi 

ChliH'. we must not alwii^-s l>eln hwiveu IW 

Christ : I an» Christ's I and let tho uame 35!> 

Chrlstnias Is here 117 

CU\ir and eiH»l. clear and ihh>1 44S 

Clear, plachl UMnan I thy contrast^M lake 6S& 

Clear the brv>wn path to nnvt his otnilter's gleam,. Wl 

Cleon hath a mlllUm aen\s TS3 

Clhno of the nuforgv>ltou bn»ve t 6Sl 

Cling to thy home: If ther\> the meanest fihe^t *i!5 

Close his eyes ; his work Is done : 5Sl 

Ci^lumbla. Columbia, to glory arise S^ 

Come a little nt\'\r\*r. doctor 541 

Cv^ne, all ye jollj- shepheiMs 163 

Corneas artist. ^H^n\e us guest i«I5 

Cvime, br\*ther. turn with n»o fr\>m pliili\g thought. Siit 

Come, dear children, let us aw;iy SJ7 

Come, dear old eon»raile. you and 1 113 

Con»e : llll a fr»>sh bumvvr. for why should wo go.. 1015 

Come f mm my llrst. a.v. con\o I 931) 

Conie, gentle sleep, attend th,v votary's prayer 761 

Come hon\ ivmo here, and dwell !^^ 

Come hither, Kvan Camer\>n S7T 

Con»e. hoist the sail, the fast let go' 666- 

Come In the evening, oriH^mo iu the morutug 1S3 

Come Into the gaMen. Maud 153 

C\>me, let us plant the apple-tree 457 

Come, listen to me. yon g:\Ilaut$ so frw CSS 

C*>me live with me. and Iv my love 157 

Come, now a rxnuulel, and a fairy 6i>ug S^ 

Come on. sir : hen-'s the pUuv 445 

Come, O thou Tr.» roller unknown S71 

Come over, come over 153 

Come, rest In this l>os\nn . 1S5 

Come, stv the IVlphiu's anchor foivoil 554 

C\»me, SUvp, and with thy sweet dtHX'Ivlng Tlil 

Come, Shvp, O SUvp. the cxTt^tin knot of peace .... 7ti:) 

Come then. m.v friend : m>- gvnlus I come along 911 

Come to mo. dt»arvst 347 

Come to mo. O m>- Mother: 233 

Come to those seeni\s of jH>ace 4ti3 

Comrades, leave me heft-' a little 35* 

C^Hiks who M rwust a sucking pig 1013 

Coiild I |v\ss thivse lounging sentries i>33 

Could yeci^mo l«»ok to me. Pouglas. Douglas 3S£> 

CromwtMl. 1 did not think toslietl a tear. 331 

Cromwell, our chief of nien 90S» 

Cvipid and my CanH^isjH* playinl 186 

CnrstHi N' the verse, hvnv well si^o'er It flow, TSX 

CjTlack. this throe years' d.ij- •• 785 

Dark as the clouds of »T«>n 595 

Dark fell the night, the watch irasset 645 

P)vrkues« Is thinning 30l> 



INDEX Ol' nilST LINES. 



1041 



PftiiKhUTof Oo«l ! thntMltfMt im liljch im 

I^tiy ilawni'<I;— within u ciirtuliu-d room 741 

l>uy III ini'lllfiK piir|il<' ilyltitf 245 

Duy Im ilyliiK ! V\"nl, O hoiik -til 

luty Hi't bu NorhunrH ruHtlcl HUtep , (]?'> 

Day Htant! ttiat opn your TrownlfMH cyoii 4A0 

IXfiul I oiH* of thfrn Hhot )iy tlm hi;(i ,.,. 283 

I>)tHr <.'hl'»i', whllo til*' liUMy crowd 226 

lJi-(ir friend, wliow pn-wiicc In tin- hoiiiwf '99i 

l>fnr lirurtH, y(»a wcrir wultlnK »» ynr u«o 277 

iJcur Ned, no dotilit you '11 M' HiirprtiMMl 2tM 

lJif«|i In thi* wftv(- In n coral Kr*»ve 024 

iJcr Nolilc HllUr Huko UW) 

|>i'H(-rt'-d l»y th" wiinliiK rnoon 027 

Uld yoti hciirof (li(> Widow Mulonc. Ohoiio ! Um 

VU: down, OdUrnul day, and I»lino II vo 419 

DIoii Irif), diHNillii [ 1153 

I>l[i down upon thf; riortlmrn Hhorf* ..... 418 

Iiof'N till- roud wliKl up tilll ull thir way'f...., tm 

Down d'fp In a hrdlow mo d/inip KH 

Down, down, KlN-n, my lltflf oni* 776 

Down NWfpt till* chill wind from th« mounUtln 

Dtfwn lli(i dlinpl<'d Kri'i'iiHward <lanclnK 

Down Ut till; wliurvcn, un tin- nuii tt'n.'H down.. 

\ Dow'h Kl/it. TltJit 'm ItM nam<? 

Do you mnIc what the hlrdu nay 'f 

Drink t*t inu only with IhliU! oyuH 

Drunk and wnM-lcMH In hln pUuMi ,. 

Drop, ilrop, mIow f-urM 

Duncan Oray earn' here Ut woo 



Ktu'h day, whf!n the kI'>w of HunNot 

Karl Oawaln woo*fd tli« I>ady Rarhara 

Kurly on a Hunny rnornluK 

Karth K''tN Hn prlci: t4,r what Karth kIvvh un... 
Kurth huM not unythlriK to Nh'fW rnoru fair.... 

Kftrth wllh llMdark and dn-udful IIIh 

K<rhor mvHtcrlouH nymph, declare 

K'cn Huch \h time ; whir-ti takfit on truMt 

EnKland, with all thy faulth, I lovu thcc* Htlll.. 

EnHanKuini'd man 

Krratlc H«tul of iwimf* Kftit IMiriKxw, doomed.. 

Kt4!mul Nplrlt of the chalnlcNH mind 

Kthen-al mlnHtrel ; pilgrim of the Nky .' 

Evim Im eoine ; and from the dark J'urk. hurk. 

Ever let the Fancy roam 

Every duy hrlntcH a Hhip 

Every one, by Iniitlnct taught 



.. m 

. 8IH 
. OM 
, 474 
. 12fl 

. m 

. IM 
. 3«I 

. Ui» 

. trw 

6TH 

. aid 

. 1014 

. 74,'; 

. 575 
. 7H3 

. fm 

. 7(J8 

. 4;3 

.1014 
. 810 
. 746 
. 024 



Fathfrr! thy wonderH do notNlni<ly Htund , 

Kcarno more the lieato* tho huh 

Kearnot, i) little lloclc I the foe , , 

I'lrKt time he klHHcd m*-, lie hut only klMKMl.... ..,,,, 

Ktve yearn have paMt ; live Nummcnt ,...,.,.,, 

Kli'd now the Hrjllen tnurmur of tht* iiorlji.,.,,,,.,., 

Klowerm are fn-Hh, and hiiMhi-N KTi'fn ,,,., 

Klowerw Ui the fair ; t'^^you thew; flowern 1 hrUm.... 
V\t}w Kcntly, Kweet Afton. amouK thy KH'fii hriWftt. 

KliiiiK to (he heedlcMH wlndi* 

"Kly in the dewrt. fly with m«" , , 

KorauKht that ever I could rmul 

For r-loHc dcMlKUH and crooked c/junclJiiflt 

For KnKlanrI when with favorlnif KttI*)., ,,...., 

Forever wllh the I»rd , 

ForKet thee ? If to dream hy nltfht 

For many, many dayw ti*K*-tli'^r ,,, ,.,., 

Kor Hr;otland'N and for frccdr»m'ti rlKt'l 

For why, who wrIteM «uch hlHU^rlen a* ihanfi 

FreMh from the ffnintulnNof the woofi 

Friend txtUir friend dex>artM 

FrhMidw * I came here not f > talk. ,,, 

From harmony, frrtrn heavenly harmony 

From hlH brlmMt'fn'i li'-d ut hreak «tf day 

From the dewrt I come f > thir<* 

From th(! reeenwM of a lowly Nplrlt 

Full knc<}d(;cp IIcn lh*j wlnti^r Nnow 



Faintly on t«)IlN the cvenlnK chlmt; 

Fair daffodil In, we weep t*» Kce 

Fair Oreece ! ho/J relic of departed worth I 

Fulr InKfM.-t, that, with threiul-llkc Ictfs... 

Foir Ia*Iy, when you wi; the urace 

Fair pl(f<lKeH of a fruitful tree 

Fair Portla'H couaterfelt ? 

Fair HhIp that from the Italian fihoro 

Fair Btood the wind for France 

KttlNO diamond Mt In flint! 

Falne world, thou ly'nl ; thou canut not htin] 

Fare the*; well ! iiwl If forever 

Farewell, a loug f;irewi;n, to all my «T*atnr;NH ! , , - 
Farewell I bat whenever you welcome the hour , 

"FareweU: fofewell !" in off*n heord 

Farewell, farewell Ui thw*. Arahy'H dau(<hU;r ', , . . 

Farewell', If ever fonde«t prayer ,, 

Farewell, life; my M'nN'ftt NWirn , 

Farewell rewardn and falrlen ! 

Farewell J thou art t/»o dear for my pf>NH«;NfllnK 

Farewell, th'm tinny world, and may 

Farewt-Il h> I^chaU-r. and fariTwell. mj Jean 

Father of all .' In evt-ry ok*; 



Oamarra In a dainty nU'4ui , 

Oar'/JUN et HIIeN, venea UfUittun , , , , , 

Gather ye roN'^hudN u» ya may. , 

Oay, KulltleMN pair , ,. 

Oentifcl In iH-irtumuffti 

OIn a hody meet a hody ,. 

01 ve me more love or more flfNiIafn , 

Olve me my N<ralloi»HhelI of quiet 

01 ve me three xralnH of com, mother 

Olve pla/.'e, ye liulhrN, and l>f;Kone , 

Olve pliuie, ye lover* 

"Olve UN aN'mK!" the H^ildlerN crhid... 

■iinii inakcH Hech nlKhtN, all whlf; an' Mtlll 

Ood ml«ht have hsuU: the earth hrInK forth.,,., 
Oo<l of the thunder I from winmt- cloudy Meat.. 

Ood pr*rt»p«:r Iohk our nohle kInK 

Ood Nhleld ye, heraldH of the Npring 

Ood'N love and \t*'su:*i \>*: with thwj ,.. 

Go, feel what I have felt 

Oo from me. Vet I feet that I Nhall Htand...... 

OolnK— ti.e Kreat round Hun 

Oolden hair cllmln^d up on Oran/Ipapa'n kn<M;„ 

Oo, lovely nnus \ 

Oone at lant 

Oo now ! and with Nome darlnt; dru»( 

Ooodhy, proud world, I'm koUik home.. 

O/kmI Ifamlet, eaNt thy nl(<ht4'd color off 

Oo*kI morrow to thy Nahle lM:ak 

Oo^xl niKht ! 

Oo^xl jx:oplft all of (fvery N'jrt 

Oood p«-ople all, with one ofJionX 

Oo, patt<;r Ui Iuhlx;rN, and Kwat/N. do yc «ec 

Oo, N*(Ul, the fK»dy'H (fufxt 

Oo Ut ihy rent, fair child 

Oo where glory waltN thee 

Oreatf>cf-an I HtronK'-'flt of creation'* koim, 



aoi 

SI9 

, 400 

,301 

I» 

. 417 

, 151 
, 2W 
, lirjft 

, m 

. mt 
. ici 

. Wd 
. S7Ji 
, 708 
. 447 
. 114 
573 
. 775 
. !»10 
. 1W 
, »7» 
, 7S0 

. 4fl7 

. f«a 
. ir4 
. An 
. m 

. m 

. 144 
Ml 

, »» 
177 



. 4ftl 
. Ml 
. 4ff7 
. 125 
, 456 
. 122 
, »0 
. 503 
. 100 
. 743 

2X8 

321 
. 24t) 
. 233 

. 2»l ) Oreen Ix; the turf abf»ve the 
. 238 
. 327 
. 847 
, 230 

. m 

. 237 



Oreen (frow the r;uihrrN O 

Oreen Mttle vaulti-r In the Nunny graM., 

Orlef hath ticen known to turn 

Ouvcner B. U a scniiltU; man 



. 4116 
. »?2 
. «» 
421 
. Ill 
. 546 

. im 

. 754 
. Ki 
. 125 
, '^0 
. 516 
, 744 
, 2M 
. 477 
. 5A8 
. M8 
. M0 
, 015 
. 745 
. %I2 
, 237 
. 610 

, m 

. m 

. 4» 

.m 

. 9H 



Ha 1 bully for me a^aln when my turn for picket U 
over ! 



10« 



IXOKX OF KlUST MXES 



H«il. hvNl> Ujrht. ottsi>ni\s wl Hwivvn ' ♦'" 

Hailto tlu?Ohl*f whoininumi* Advances! MS 

HsUtothtv WUho s-ivirit ' . *T^ 

HAlf s UN^inu- hAlf a loa^tio . . .,« m: 

Hsmcltn Town •» u\ Kr«nswiok .. ,-..*.» ,.». S*^ 

HAns t^nimann iiifo a OAity ^. 5**^ 

HavH'*> i"'^'^"' ' '?^'<''' *>****' *" *^ 

Hapv\vins<vt, whafv-jui Vw . ., .» *4 

HAVn\v tho man vrhivw wish Attii carr' '^J> 

HatH"^ thomau who voU ^< 

H*rk Ah tlw* uightJiissU^ ' ■)i"li> 

Hark'hArk tho »ark at heaven's irate mi\i::s . *:i 

Hark tho laini hoUsof tho simkou city ... S» 

Hanioss mo vlown w ith yxHir lr»M\ IwiuU ^^^ 

Has then? aixy oM foUow g\>t tuixovt with tht> boyis.. SrS 

Hast ihouaohanu tostaj thomvMnUii^stAr s;iS 

Havt* othor lox>»r*;— sa^v tixj ^^v^^ 1^4 

H*v*? you h^vanl of tho woiulorfwl om-'^^ssshAy.. . 9~ 
Ha^^ you not hcatvl tho v*»^^^ ^''l' — ,>......,,., T9 

Ha \Tharo>vs*«" yoorAwliuforlio ?..•»», »*«,%*, ^S 

Ht^ai^on nu\ro wood tho wiml is chill ,-... v, fi^ 

Hoar tho siods^,* with tho lieUs 714 

HoAwn what an a.oMs this TS4 

Ho clasps the ora*; with htv\fco\l h*nAs ,.,, 4^ 

Ho had BO times of stu\t>- aiul no v>l*c«--«-.*. •«•*•- W6 

Hotfh ho vUts^osamt butu^tvuvt^ - *» 

Hoisjjono vMi thonunintam a?S 

Ho ts tho froomat\ whom tho truth makos fn>o *iX> 

Ho Is the hajH^y man whoso Ufo ovonixow. ;35 

Ho makuis apoo*i>- wtij- thn>ugh sporwti njre. S3S 

Honco. all >-o vaiu dolijrhts SIN 

Honoo. loathod Molanohv»ly - T&S 

Honoo- v:aiu doUuitng >o>-s TSS 

- Honri Hoino"— T is hoi\- ?J> 

How a shoor hulk, lios vxx^r Tvmu R^wU^^s t^ 

Hon.'" 1 come cneopins oiv<>pinS *'^'«ry^'*>«^^ **^'' 

Hore in this UNAfy place . ,....«,, Si? 

Here is omMoaf roserx'i'Hi for nw .......>.,.*.•....«. JS> 

Here rests ami lot no saucy knax* , „ , S6S 

How r "rst* his head uvvn tho lav* of earth . i*>r 

Here's the gaixieu she walko^i across , 14T 

How^s to the maidon of twshful Afioen ISl 

Hor hair was tawtij- withpv^ld.. , 5^ 

HorhvHiso is all of echo made ?Sl 

Her window o)x^ns to the bax « Sll 

He^sirano. he^pane' . ,..*.,,..,, 9lT 

Ho that Iv^ves a rn^sy cheek ,,,, , ,. 141 

Ho that matxy l»kcs iv^tys .,«»„».«•„,,, Tfi? 

Ho was in Kvic a ^rtvat critic »..*,„,.. S^A 

He was of that stuWnM-n crew ,„„,... S?; 

He who hath bent him oVr the de«d...,» .,..».. Si(S 

Hi^h walls and hx^re the txvty may confliiA,, SW 

His tvUoiJijr axe tho settlor swung TiV 

His loarninirsuch no author, old or new..,. 5<>T 

His puissant sw<\ni unto his side ...%„,„.,«,., 506 

Home v>f the Wtvy*s htsh-U%r« race. ....,,, , CTt 

Honw they brought her warrior dc-id 2Sti 

Honor And shantofrom no cvMulitiiMirisfr, TSl 

Ho" pretty pa^^ with the dimphsl chin. 3il2 

Horatio, thou art eVn »s just * man HI 

Ho sailor of the sea ■ .,. fit 

How beautiful is the ratn * <3s 

How he.i\uiftil this niicht ' the balmiest sigh ... 4l^ 

Howc^lm they sleep bonoAth the sha*lo . a* 

How iloAT K> this he«rt ax« the soene« of my child 

iKKXl W> 

How tleUclou* fe the wtr.nlng ISR 

How desolate wow nature 4S* 

How vlvvs the wau*r con>o down at LodOK «? 

How Jo 1 lovo thee • Let me coast the w»y« lAi 

How fai\>s my lonl ^ $50 



How (\ne has tho day Wvn ' how hrtjrtx tho siin ' . 4Sl 
How fresh. O U^rxl, how sweet anJ cU>An , , . '?SS 

How hap(\y is he l>om an»i taui^ht 796 

How hard when thvwi' who do not wteh «9 

How many a time have 1 . SfiT 

How m.-uvy summers, love . . aw 

How n>a>t>" thousand of nxy i^^otest $uh]ects "WJ 

How i\i\ir to ir*xvl is what Is fair , .Til 

How ^vv^^. how rich, how alxjix^t, how nuguist 7?6 

How puix^ ,M luvarl ami sound of head 291 

Hox.- si'Mom. friond a ^vM pt\\"»t ni;»n inhortts. . . T^ 
How shall 1 know tluv In tho sphon* which ktH'V\s. <r5 

UowsUvp thelvraNv whosluk to rt^st . . .. 503 

How still tho moraine of tho hallo\v,M liay StS 

How s«-xvt It was to hnsntho that cw^lor air. S3i) 

' How swtvtiy " s.'Uvl tho trrmhlinp matd ...... 3M 

Howswot^t tho hannoni(;>sof .-^ftomivM^ , — ti9d 

How sweet the trnvnili^ht 8.leov\s uvmu this bank I. . T75 

n.>« «.nuUr(ul isdtN.-*th: TU 

nnsl>&nd And Wife T no converse nviir y« hold 3i)4 

Rush, my dear. Ue still And ^lumber... 71 

lama frmrof v^nlersgraj* .,...«„,,., 3*4 

I am hy p^\^m^se tiotl ....•««.«,•«..««. ^ 

lAinil>ing Ksypt tlying ®6 

I an\ iti KvMne ' Oft as tht^ morning ray (St> 

lanv monarch of all I surxvy §33 

1 am muUmo thot\Ms no livins none d4d 

lam watchtus fv>r the early bUilsKtwAke 3SJ 

larlSK^ fKMu dTw*msof tlux* .. I5S 

I ASkiHi an Ap?^t man with hoary batrs . Ud 

l.-i&k»Mof tvho. tVthorday . 1014 

I brins ftesh showvrs for t he thlrsttns ttowcri. SSJ 

1 cannot iN»t but little uuvit 946 

1 cannot m.-iko him JoaJ ' ., 3JS 

I cannot think that thou shouMst pass away SIC 

Icarenot though it l>e .- ISI 

I climlHst the dark brow of the mighty Helvellyu . *M 

J come ftv^Ju haunts »\f ».XHn and horu 44fi 

IM been away ftvMn hor thrtx-j-ear*.— about that, . :*H 

I do nvn U>x'e tlHV for that fair l;^ 

1 dont appwove this hawKl waw , ..Wft 

ldv>nt (^^ muchon rell^on 999 

if all tho w^^rUl and lox-o \>vre young ISS 

If doujrhty doo\ls n\j* Uvlj- pUs-ise. 14S 

I b»sar thy kisses, gentle m.-iivlon ISI 

If dumb tiv> long tlw dtxxH^tiS muse hath stayed.. . 9W 

1 feel a nowYrlife in «^xvry gale.,., . 43$ 

If e\t^ry man"^ internal c-iw .,..* ,. TST 

I All this cup to one made np , 131 

If it be tnio that any beaut»Mus thing , , , , . 13S 

If I wowtxild that I must die tomorrx^w, SSI 

If loxx* wert^ xvhat tho rvxse is ., 14S 

If sleep and dt\»th Ix- truly v^ne * 9S0 

If s<Mitmlc hath exvrUNltliy steps. ,.....* 4U 

If stores of dr>' and learmsl lore wv gain U3 

If the TV*i sla.ver think he sla.vs T4« 

If thisf-tir T\v<itMxfrend thy sight ISS 

If thou must loxvmo, let it lvfori\aught 1S9 

If thvxu shouldst ever come by choice or chAhce. , . . S» 

If th*xu vrert by n\y side, n\y lor* SI* 

K tluni xvilt oASo thine heart A^ 

If t-hou w\Mildst viexv fair Melrose aright C5 

If tolx-.'*lvstMit xvervtolv *4a 

If xxouh^n could Ih"- f.iirand never fond. VW 

If ^^>H*n* waking, call mo early ...,., S35 

lga»Hl\UHtn the glorious sky , .. «B 

I gn^xv assurxM b^'forv 1 asked,, IW 

Ih.id sxvom tolx^a l«eholor ^.. 119 

I hae s*vn gT\>At anes and sot tu gre«t ba^a. 3t« 

I hax-ea name, alinlo name 89 

I havv A sou. a little sou 89 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 



1043 



I linvc Kot a now-born nliiter. "fl 

I havo had pluytnutcn.... 274 

I luivi; Hhlpn tliut wf-nt to Hca *. 2fil 

J hfurd tlx- tmlllnK Kfirtncntfi 'if tho nl|{ht 4lt 

I In thfdc M'lWfry mcndM would bo (MW 

I kni-w by the nriioku that no Kroccfully eurloO 228- 

1 know not that the nii-n of old 740 

1 know not whence It rlwjii 825 

I lay rnfj down to Hhiep 29.'t 

I leun»d out of window, I Mmolt tho white clover... \Tl 

1 h?nt my Kirl a book one day 253 

I like It church ; I llkn a cowl 7$i 

I like thai ancient .Saxon phnmc 8flO 

ril HinK you u Kood old nonK W9 

I love, and have Honie cauAo to love^ the earlh 300 

1 love at eventide to wolk alone 427 

I love conteniplatInK— apart 618 

I loved hint In my dawnln({ yearn 972 

I I'tvi-d film not : and yet, now he Is gone 260 

1 loved thee once, I'll love no more 2C7 

1 love It, I love It: and who shall dare 101 

I love thee, love thce.Olullo! 236 

I love ut hear thine earnest voice 4^ 

I love to wander through the wwjdlands hoary 802 

I mode a poftle, wfalU; the day ran by 741 

I marvelled why a xlmple child lf)(»6 

I rneta traveller from an antlrjue land 717 

I'm In love with you, bahy Louise! 78 

I'm sIttInK alone by the Hre 199 

I'iri Hittln'on the sllle, Mary 292 

I'm wearln awa', Jean 296 

In a dirty old houHe lived a dirty old man 253 

In aland for antlqulth-H ^eatly renowned 861 

In a Hmall chamli^-r, frlendleag and uniiccn 932 

In a valley, centuries a^o 863 

In Droad Street hulldlnK <'*n a winter night) 962 

Indeed Ihls very love which 1h my booiit Wj 

In eddying courjM? when leaves begun to fly 865 

I need not pralwj the sweetneHH of hU ftong 987 

In either hand the haHt'-nlng nntf'*! cau«ht 321 

I never gave a lock of hair away 189 

In every village marked with little iiplrc 7f/7 

In facile naturcit fancies quickly grow 781 

In good King Charles's golden days 915 

In heavy sleep the Caliph lay 866 

In holy might we ma/le the vow 2M 

In Koln.a town of monkx and bones K>1 

In Slay, when sea-winds plercoU oursolltudeff 461 

In melancholic fancy 820 

la moBA-prankt dellfl which the sunbeams flatter... 1010 

In my poor mind It Is mf>Ht sweet to rn use 66 

In Sana, O, In Sana, OrKl. the Ix>rd C52 

In e'umbcra of midnight thcsallortx>y lay 614 

In summer, when the days were long IG') 

In the ancient town of Bruges 716 

In the bam, the tenant cock 4fJ8 

In the days that tried ourfathers WH 

In the fair gariens of celestial peace 273 

In the hollow tree In the old gray tower 483 

In the hour of my distress 109 

In the lowraft<Ted garret 251 

In the merry month of May 136 

In their ragged reglmentaU 590 

In the region of clouds 823 

In the still air the muslclles unheard 8S8 

In the valley of the Pegnltz 673 

Into a wa.-d of the whitewashed walls 531 

In Xanadu did Kubia Khan 8^,1 

In vain the corals and axes were prepared 612 

I only knew she came and went 1012 

Iphlgenela. when she heard her doom 873 

) praised the speech, but cannot now abide It 508 



I prithee s<*nd me back my heart Hi 

I reckon I git your drift, gents 99cf 

I remember. 1 remem»*r , 93 

I reside at Table Mountain , 08B 

I saw him kiss your cheek , IM 

1 saw him once l>*'fore , 323 

I saw thee when, as twilight fell 803 

I saw twr. clouds at morning 137 

Is It the palm, the cocoa palm 405 

I slept and dreamed that life was Beauty 587 

I sometimes hold It half a sin 290 

I sprang to the stirrup, and .forlnand he. 573 

Is there a whim- Inspired fool 917 

Isth<Te for honest poverty 311 

Is there when the winds are sin gin j 84 

Is this a dagger which I see before mc 883 

Is this a fast.— to keep 961 

I stfjod, one Sunday morning 334 

It chanced tome upon a time to sail 579 

I thought our love at full, but I did err 219 

X thought Ut pass away before 829 

It Is an Ancient Mariner 854 

It Is <lone ! 697 

It Is not b<?auty I demand 141 

It Is not growing like a tree 739 

It Is the miller's daughter .,.; 183 

It kindles all my soul 372 

It lies around us like a cloud 387 

It must be Hfi. I'lato, thou reasonest well 1 7S9 

It's we two. It's we two for aye 213 

It was a iMfUuty that I saw 123 

It was a dreary day In Pfwlua 886 

It was a friar of orders gray 137 

It was a summer evening 533 

It was a time of swlness, and my heart 874 

It wfis fifty years ago 93$ 

It was many and many a year ago 285 

"It was our wedding day" 218 

It was the autumn of the year , 250 

It was the wild midnight 564 

It wan upon an April mom , 504 

Tve wandered east, I've wandered west 243 

I wandered by the brwjkslde 149 

A wandered lonely as a cloud 463 

I was a stricken deer, that left the herd. 790 

I was in MargaU: last July 964 

I weigh not fortune's frown or smile 731 

I will go Ijack Uf the great sweet mother 611 

I win not have the mad Clytle 460 

I win not let you say a woman's part 143 

I will paint her as I see her 97 

I wish my haircut lOU 

I wonder If Brougham 923 

I would I were an excellent divine 363 

t would not enter on my list of friends 792 

I wrote some lines 976 

Jaffar, the Barmecide, the good Vizier II."* 

Jenny kissed me when we met W 

Jingle, jingle, clear the way 670 

Johannr-s, Johannes, tiblclne natus 903 

John AiiiUrndn, my Jo. John , 222 

John Brown of Ossawatomle spake on his dying 

day 599 

John Dobbins was so captivated. 9!j9 

John on pin was a citizen 9'9 

JoraxfWf was In his thrce-and-twentleth year 6>l 

Judge not. the workings of his brain VA 

Justin the dubious point, where with the poi-il 669 

Just In thy mould and beauteous In thy form. 626 

KlngFrandswaJi a hearty king. 6S7 



1044 



INDEX OF FIRST LINKS. 



M6 

20!? 

031 

IM , 

SKIO 

963 

aw 

SB 
G9\ 

3iia 



Kl&slnp htT hiilr. I sat nK»l»st her ftH»t. -. 188, 

Kiss im\ thmiiih you ntako IwUovo ISS 

Knows ho that novrr took n plnoh 1015 

Kiiow'st thou the Itim! wIutv bkxnn the citron 

iHiWf rs T89 

Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle. . . 451 

1-fti.ly Cinrrt Vtnv do Voiv ' 267 

I-tirs I'oi-sfuu i>f CUislum WW 

Lt»st ulKht.nmous his fellow roughs 514 

Uxy him l»eneath his snows lO 

Uiul. klniUy Light, umid the encircling gloom 

Lft nu- U' your servant 

Let me not to the nuirrlasf of true minds 

Let uoumn wrliomy epltuph 

Let not wonian e'er complain 

Let Sporns tremble 

Let Taylor pn-aeh.uvuni a morning brccaj" 

Llfij : I know not what thou art 

Life may beji'ven in many ways 

IJiihi as a rtake of foam upon the wind 

LU;hi winded smokel learlan binl 

Like us t lie anmVI Knighto 

Like as the damask n>seyou8ee 

Like to the elear in highest sphere. 

Like to the falling of tt star 

Linger not long, Honu-- is not home without thee.. 

Listen, my ehtldrvn. ami you sJudl hcAT.... 

Lithe and long as the serpent train 

Utile Ellie sits alvme 

Utile Gretehen, little Givtoheu wanders 

Little I ask; my wants aro few 

Ultle Inmate, full of ndrih 

Little thinks. In the ileld, you red-cloaked clown... 

Loehlel. Loehlel 1 beware of the day 

Long porvi.1 St. Austin o'er the saortnl v>agc. 

Look at me with thy large brown eyes. 

Look in my face ; my name Is Mlght-havebeen 

Look rv»und our world ; behold the chain of lovo... 

Lonl 1 ei*U thy jmUIKI angi'l 

Lord of the winds : I fotl theeulgh 

Lon.1 ! when those glorious lights I set*. 

Lo, when the 1jot\\ made north and south 

Lo I where slie oomes along with jx^rtly i>acc 

Lo i where the rosy bosomed Hours 

Limd and elear 

Loud rvmnnl the drcadfid thunder 

Love divine, all lovo excelling 

Love In my bosom like a bee 

Love Is a little gi>lden fish 

Lovo is a sickness tuW of woes , 

Love me little, love me long I '. 

Love not, love not ! ye hapless sons of cla>* I 

Love not me for comely graee 

LoTo scorns degnvs ; the low he llfteth high 

Low'-anchorvHl eloud 

Low burns the sumii.er afternoon 

Low on the utmost luumdary of the sight 

Low simke the Knight 

Lucy Is a golden girl 



3or 

&»0 
436 
Itli 
£$6 
7S3 
4«5 
403 
5:3 

S6;i 
75 

744 J 
405^ 

&5; 

6S6 
S76 
13$ 
212 
42! 
716 
CS 

soa 
m 

ISS 
136 
141 
S30 
141 



Maxweliou banks aiv bonnie lU 

May the Baby lonlsti curse 54ft 

Meantiute, the moist malignity to shun 445 

Mellow the mounltglit to shine Is l>e^lnntng. 173 

Men »'.ylnK nmke their wills— bul wives 9BI 

Merrily swinging on brier and wetnl 476 

Merry Margaret \'ii 

Methinks It weiv no piiln to die 395 

Mica, nilea, i^'irva stella itPj 

MUiiael bid sound tiie aniiangel trumpet 3lX» 

j Mldntjjht jmst ! Not a sound of aught 2tii 

>Slld pleasures and jmlaees thougli we nuiy ixtam... 2-5 

Mild otTsprtng of a dark and sullen sire 1 461 

Milton ; thou shouldst W living 907 

Mine be a eot beside the hill 235 

Mine eyes have seen the glory 5W 

Mine eyes he closed, but open left the cell...., au& 

Miss Flora Me Flimsy 9Sl 

Moan, moan, ye dying gales! 315 

Mori* than the soul of aucteitt song 767 

Most iH>tent, grave, and rcven-nd 145 

Most sweet it Is with unupllfted eyea 767 

Mr. Orator ^^^ff had two tones In h la voice 962 

Muses, that slug Line's sensual empiric 1S5 

Sluslc. whi'U soft voices die 776 

My iKautlful. my beautiful! 6^4 

My boat Is on the sliore 920 

M.V curse upon thy venomtnl stAUg 932 

My dear and only love, I pray 150 

"My ear rings, my ear rings" 171 

My eyes! how I love you Ifii 

My fairest child, I have no song 97 

My gentle Tviek, come hither 8S5 

My girl huth violet eyes and yellow hair 181 

My God. Move thee I not bwause SSO 

Mv heart aeties, and a diMwsy numbness pains. 316 

Mj heart leaps up when 1 l>ehold 4SJ 

.My heart's In the Highlands 659 

My held is like to rend. Willie 269 

My letters! all dead i';iper, mute liud white ISS 

My life Is like the sumu»crn>se 743 

My little love, do you n'meinlH*r. 160 

My lovtNl. my honored, much respectotl friend SS5 

My love and I for kisses phiyed 1S6 

My love he built me a Umnle bower. 6SS 

My love. I have no fear that thou shouldst die 216 

My mlnde to mc aklng\lom Is 729 

My mule refrcshwl. his bells. 446 

My prime of youth is but a fix^st of cores 745 

My sister ! my swwt sister I if a name 223 

My soul to-day 6S4 

Slysterlous nU^ht ! when our tlrst j»arent knew..... 415 

My time. O yc Muses, was happily spent 345 

My true love hath my heart, and I have his. 137 

My voice Is still for war 570 



Maiden ! with the meek brown eyes , 

Maid of Athens, ere we jmrt , 

•■ Make way for Liberty I" he cried , 

Man's home is everywhere. On ocean's flood., 

"Man wants but little herel>elow" , 

Many a gnvn isle needs must bo , 

Many a long, long year ago.... - , 

Many a year is in its grave 

Margarita tlrst vn^ssessetl 

Martial, the things that do attain 

Ilaud Mullcr, on a summer's day 



. 104 
, 231 
, S»l 

, 776 
, 732 
. 441 

96S 
. 291 
, 191 

226 

. \Sb 



Nae shoon to hide her tiny taes .. 79 

I Nakeilon parent's knws 78 

Nay! if you will not sit upon my knee 4S8 

Nay. you wr\>ng her, my friend 363 

Nean»r. my God, to thee 373 

NetHly knife sHnder! whither are you going?. 952 

Never any nu>re..,. 36" 

Never wedding, ever wooing 144 

Next to tluv. O fair gazelle 454 

Night la the time for r\st 41S 

No tmby In the house. 1 know, 80 

No more these simple tlowers belong 9U 

No soldier, statesman ^iSS 

No splendor 'ucath the sky's proud dome 126 

No stir in the air. no stir In the sea. 630 

No sun— no moon 1 435 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 



1045 



Not fi drum was lieftrd, nor a funeral not« 920 

Not (IB yi>u mciint. O li/uriH'd iimn 891 

Not fftr (i(lvniic<*<l was nirjriiitiK day frlH 

NotliliiK 'Hit h-avcM ■ tin- spirit ki*1»-'V4'h 370 

Not in the lauylilim Ijowlth.. 3:W 

Not only we. thi- latfst Rfcd of Time 702 

Not ourK tlu* vowH of Huch aK pIlKht . , 213 

Ni>t yi't. tin- lIowtTH are In my palli 270 

Now came still rvcnhiK <»". aiid 1 wlllkdit ffray 41:1 

Now xcntle Hlei'p hath eloHc^d u]) thoHe eye«. 18(5 

Now the hrlKlit nicirnlnK Btar. day's harbinger 42*^ 

Now tin- third and fatal conlllet 709 

Now iiiKin Syria's land of roseH 4^11 

Now went fr»rth th»* morn 5(i0 

Now weHtwarU Sul had spent the richest beam 774 

O. a dainty plant Is the Ivy (freen 4R5 

O lieautcoUH Odd ! unelrcumscrlbed treasure 3fi7 

<) blithe m-w ciMiH-r ' I have heard 4T2 

O. breathe nut his name ' 921 

O Caledonia ' stern and wild 575 

O. came ye ower by the Yoke burn Ford 639 

O. deem not they are blest alone 743 

O. (llnna ask meyln I lo'e ye 161 

O. don't be sorrowful, darling! 231 

O. do not wanton with those eyes 184 

O'er u low coueh the settlnR sun 2lt3 

O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea fl2C 

O, ever from the deeps 'VM 

O faint, delicious, springtime violet ! 4(11 

O fairest of creation, last and best. 2Ifi 

O fairest of the rural maids 1.% 

Of all men. saving Sylla the man-slayer 92(> 

Of all the (lowers In the mead 4«2 

Of all the girls that are su smart 198 

Of all the ships upon the blue 97(1 

Of all the thoughts of God that are. 702 

Of all the torments, all theeares 147 

Of a' the alrts the wind can blaw 242 

O Father. let me not die young' , 380 

O fli*st of human blessings, and supremo! 499 

Ofora lodge In some vast wilderness r>93 

O forest dells and streams ' O Dorlantlde 2S2 

O. formed by natnre. and refined by art 209 

O for one hour of youthful J<iy 979 

Oft have I seen, at some cathedral door 7il7 

^ Oft In the stilly night 318 

O gentle, gentle summer rain 428 

OGod, methlnks, It were a happy life 21'* 

OOoti! though sorrow be my fate 3fi5 

O go not yet. my love 2;15 

O. greenly and fair In the lands of the sun 4.'>9 

O happiness! our being's end and aim! 7:5C 

O hearts that never eease to yearn 272 

O how the thought of God attracts 371 

O Italy, how beautiful thou art ! 679 

O. It Is hard to work for God 390 

O, It Is pleasant, with aheartatease 822 

O keeper of the Sacred Key 523 

O land, of every land the best 533 

O. lay thy hand In mine, dear! 221 

Old Blreh who taught the village school 996 

Old Grimes Is dea<l 976 

'^>ld man. God bless you! 52^1 

Old Master Brown brought his ferule down 99 

Old Tubal Cain was a man of might •'>37 

Old wine to drink! 118 

O loss of sight, of thee I most complain 321 

o Ir.vely Mary Donelly, It's you I love the best ! 198 

O. many are the poets that are sown 766 

O MarelUB. Marclus 114 

O mare leva si form© 993 



O Mary, at thy window be ' 149 

O Mary, go ami call the cattle home 621 

O. may I Join the choir Invisible 760 

O iiii'luin-huly bird, a winter's day 482 

O mighty CiL'sar ! dost thou He so low B75 

O Mistress nUne, where are you roaming ? 122 

O mortal man, who Uvest hero by toll 831 

O mother ilear, Jerusalem, 358 

O mother of a mighty race 587 

O. my love's like the steadfast sun 219 

O, my love's like a red. red rose 234 

On a hill there grows a flower 124 

On Alpine heights the love of God Is shed 445 

(J Naney. wilt thoii no with me 156 

Once lu the flight of ages past 308 

Once more unto the breach, dear friends n03 

Once more upon the waters ' yet once more ! 563 

Once on a golden afternoon 4 76 

Once, Paumanok. when the snows had melted 170 

Once Switzerland was free ! 585 

Once this soft turf, this riviilot's sands 5:H 

Once upon a midnight dreary 852 

Once when the days. were ages 74* 

One day, as 1 was going by 94 

One day I wanden-d where the salt sea-tldo 739 

One day, nigh weary of the yrksome way. 928 

One eve of beauty, when the sun 713 

On(; hue of our flag Is taken 1008 

One more unfortunate iiiH 

One night came on a hurricane 030 

One sweetly solemn thought 875 

One year ago,— a ringing voice 278 

On her white lireast a sparkling cross she wore 128 

On Linden, when the sun was low 513 

Only waiting till the shadows 808 

On, on, my brown Arab 1010 

O no, no,— let nie llo 134 

On Ulchmond Hill there lives a lass 149 

On tlu* erossbetiin under the Old South bell 472 

On the eighth day of March It was, some people 

say 1001 

On the Isle of Penlkese 936 

On the sea and at the Hogue 617 

On thy fair bosom, silver lake 449 

On what foundations stands the warrior's pride 909 

On woodlands ruddy with autumn 535 

O perfei^t Light, which shald away -126 

O, pour upon my soul again 317 

O reader, hast thou ever stood to see 455 

O, reverend sir, I do declare 995 

O Uosamond. thou fair and good 113 

O sacred Head, now wounded 373 

O, salrly may I rue the day 974 

O, saw ye bonnle Lesley 2J2 

O, saw ye the lass wl' the bonnle blue een H9 

O say, can ye see by the dawn's early light 592 

Osay, what Is that thing called Light 'M'i 

O sextant of the meet In -house UWI 

O singer of the flehl and fold 405 

O sing unto my roundelay 1 289 

O, snatched away In beauty's bloom 1 288 

O, St. Patrick was a gentleman 1001 

O swallow, swallow, flying, flying south 171 

O, terribly proud was Miss MacHrlde 985 

O, that last day In Lucknow fort 515 

O that the chemist's magic art 789 

O that those lips had language 92 

O the charge of Ralaklava ! 516 

O the days are gone when beauty bright 262 

Othe gallant flsher';* life 668 

O then I see Queen Mab hath been with you 886 

O, the pleasant days of old 699 



1046 



:\'.^KX or FIRST UXES- 



v\ »«» MIX*, ifcte* M«tt» M m ifc tti t . 

o Akvi «t tMiw Aw jra wi l ii* tar — 

C><V«<ra<»t>K4>ai'. 

0«M'XpK«lMSRV*<k'«V*W«)aM«t<iM>k.. 

v^ lMS»w« :^;<rft «s>«r « OfttM 4^rtlM. 

Oarta■Mle^^<v. t<K<nKaanie<«>t 

0«rWi»»K>A» '««'"«« sv-tse* 

«rwl -. 

«>»»■ SaiWrtwt • «»* wv^^ia ttKyttaK^w. 

Owr$mi «•*<>*$ saw* tkrrxWKfiH: air 

Oar he(w&M» (*««((«•$ IMnw& 

Oirltl»te i « M » i **-a*»<»lttsits«'in»'»cvN:»a 

OarK'W te»o«* ft Wig «MtM!r *.>«v^- 

Cav-rmrHaowAVf^Mk^.... 

^w««ik»K<»ait«tdw v~ 

C•M<«k»«*|^xyraaAliv: ,.. 

O a na wat fcH I KkmOi «»n 

<Qait aipMi «. 1 »ax» k-vsi 



XES 



0«(r «b» WM M> a» {«fv>r4K*3». — 

OtwAniwr *«!•»««*»»»»•■•.. 

<^Nrll»aw>«!S. — 

Qk «•* ikMI »r <^a» '"«<» ««n* k<M 

Ol «aCr. -aaly aap ik» taak 

0»a» wMi« «>f ' laigX iratwr »» t «n V. 

<V a >< « i t is f a imow irw im w r 

<X «lm» » i« « OMf yt fv>rau — 

O aMlttt t. »»* ni w«a« tf yt*. »»r >ar*. 

Ct, ««(!r «*«aM »» ^Mt «f B«ml tw (t«ari > 

.. -^-- ~ ->v'«i«irK>bMriaira»«s!. 

• .S*o>« •»■«», ■»T»rp» J. _ 



C t; -oi^tjtsaegaMy w ar j rir 

O Tvt V* ti«a <>Hit j ii w a ufct w $««*. 

i\ Tcwa; liKite-nr to ««■■» «a« «( A* WKt, .. 



r;»{fc <toa*? away, aiwl » <*t >T» « Ag 

IMtfeikr IVfc» i aM yifcy 

n«te.JUBcMm&a»4jLAMte.*iw. „. 

K MituiUm a« ii»*.! g»» « f, ftiaswtaittr 

rassda^ftwatltaljrw^ttoN*. 

ra*s» K4 »» itoMaa «( ttw tafor* bi«M» «£.... 

B(aK**»aHsaeh:. 

FMNteteiKrwrtritsr 

F»rM*i«(II«M« StM. 

I%(4 A» MatkMHl «• d» kM<«nnM< i^mcr. . 
ncy A»9<"«a<««'*V<<oi'<M a«»« 

T^*^ «»i»»ifc»'gj>er$waa_ 

Wiiatlf . ■tig.OawtaW 3>eW 

rwrRKW' ItMyMatMaaAwsawK . 

* Ftai» di>i (tvaa «V>ai aJI Mesite^ Anr". . 
fA«m Aty«vw^ 



SK 
SS 
»( 
«S 
.SO 

. «« 

SIS 

as 
. i« 

. «4 

.S3 

. at 

.SK 

. m: 
.s« 
.sst 

.SH 
.(S 

.«» 

. «! 

. MS 



. ja» 






K^k* thr «aak«is. Mow «1» raaks. 

a»a«*<««aii>ii1 ■a»r»wm>e»a teaw 

ICMMHa.slM«t ■a«ataaK3rs*<* 

Bll^aBCarttltv^^totiwwiMskT 

S^«v siM Ike Xasaer : ««^ aaM Ik* tMst . 

■" Roci of ASWS' SK 

Bti««ikikM»a&i«a«a Ma 

- Bwfc ttht >tt«r! RM^r' 7R 

a-s. SOS 






SaM I BM 96.— aat I wvaM ^ a* aMK .' 



. St 

. MS 



Si»Tt.«tr. a»w «>a*aa»»«*Kv $^ 

Say. tttan it^at < ! e >«t> natwt* »>< «»? sty *K 

$ay^^^^»'<«*^^***}*<'MX*>>^"<'*<C*^»- (^ 

SkyDKW rY-»||« ,. — ,«C 

sau. j-»s*a« fc»^-w. y» w** fc»*» Ml. «» 

Swva ».»<«>»»,>«•«< :«rMB,y««ka^i*f<v>«*«>t — WC 

$vaiv-*<)N«ikrnitaKr(aissi«ai; Am* •!«•», ;:» 

S)(tt»Nlls«« «*>» f«\>*faJa t» 

Sm»Ml <•* 4*y at «)># ««pka W» 

SMv ftvw <Ms<v<«aMrt(tl «tMK.. 10$ 

^KvtK'W tti«««««aA<JI*v — «» 

$i(v yMi K>Ma«*i<kr9ny ^ .^ 4a 

Sti*))lM«y.v*««K<a>I»»T»». M» 

SteM !.««»«■« ja^kstttlr we 

Stea>*««awttM«,a'm«» a» j » ti>A a » w •$$ 

j^iiiania^.yayvfc.R^Ma. MS: 

?Jwl a« Mor. <X s*»t •« imr S» 

$4)»4««(<aaa«aiir<lwaMtv«M<*aiaijis. (W 

StwisawiKwaMwwtkiiag. «« 

~ jkr «s *•* ~ «*ty s»M K* k*». *U 

saw tew* talr(vx<«T<raKt<it«w. t» 

$•» UM H wtMV ta» .- ai ata o i ar i i ML W> 

a»>*<n te»>k »».« m iMUms ftjf. «» 

St»siiys."tV'v'vvtfj\^ws — fcatk"*, S» 

$a»s*raatcttv«>a;;.w>4>nrstl«*t aKw4 S9» 

Shr«aiMi«aK<*»aakMs<tlw J4K«*(Mte. S» 

Sh»s*Mi4ki««tMckaa>M<tM«s(«. MK 

saw watts ia»«Ma(y.ia»<«H'»li*t »> 

SW was a twttWPf t>'«aw' » *y >ot» <B«*»* Ss$ 

Slw wa$a (kunvaa aT 4*14^. aji 

S>wa M a»** tf twita t»i > r-> V fti^pM. its. 

saHHaya«ikw«h«nrtiMse!v!. MS 

S)M|iket. «*«««.«»««•«. ai8s*M«.«»Ka>«i. iSi 

Sia» thMv's ».> lMt|<n.— «M*«. >«« a$ k*!» a»l inn* S!i> 

saife j. wi (tn fcna8fcw>lie«tka»Jsiag:.._ «R 

SM«l«Ktt(««^lk»tiM«»£. K» 

Sfc TMia l a^ i was a fc t i uO fealgltt. «$ 

Stt«(nis,$)MlaMA.a»<«HHM Sl» 

ISlR«i«;all«ayiaa«»rwaiiin. $9S 

Stat it'tteMaittaBWi. Stat ifc»*asa»<H>w«^ ra 

Staty«aiska«fala»A.a>4fMt5'«<«<k»six_.. St 

Sfcy. aajaaaaOas. rtntr. a la>i. tatea. Hr»wl t !« W 

Shiytratwjaa^.aitttwIwwuFilai. <)$ 

SkN»t««ttlM«ailas(tlwat«iMlkM SS 

StHft. Hoi* kat«r o(B*a«^ n 

a t n< >. teva. j > n» :. .IB 

StM9 aa ^a■i4 trrai «( Ii«an« awMt* V. .. Ok 

S>««»k8>t«»»»4»y. liniaaiaitat cawis. ......... S» 

S>w|> a^awtti >> ywar >»»a»**» tga^nw. SSI 

SfewtrBieteMrssaiwassMtiM^ fi» 

Staaaktr. S*«F^— OKy w«r» two teMkMK. M 

SaadI svrriw is irae a((T«(« wMt« ti tasas^ S» 

S»a«*iy K>aiStiwaot»«« kaxti«K«»4. «a 

S»«<c«<f:^itrit.asl(tsaa(istpai«. tM 

SaCrikw: s»K«f lWIM«w«th*aw« «» 

SMttywwaway Iw ferratk. IK 

SaMhr. twa : Ay wu«uv oVr »» 

S» aaay wxxite. so atack lo d<.> 4M 

£ii aat *n «ay^ i i iaiiiat sn i a i n* i.Wty R$ 

Saa»»a »am a « afctj atfctirsfcy te«*a»r. »S 

SMw«f iki«r<M«few«r»fi«ac«$«(tk*t>Ml W 

. t i »»i jwteiM llH * agt tfj^ats. ta 

Suaacswy DM ktsstos^a sk IS 

SMaww«(<4 «H SB 

So iMKk K> 4o : SB Hal* d«ae! IB 

Soqpad9rtbrSaikaai*inoMn«r<*>a(HL 9W 

Si»lhFnaAi%«aft. rW nar!» it Mfcg a i»at» SS 

> a w Ka « aJH»aiaas;.- SM 

^Mit. D aawft. ttesXKvat : n«$aM«a? KtssS :... Ml 

:^MrttllkMknMk(sik>v«^a>ylaitfe« «U 

^^rtacft te<keMy $« 

^aias. Ik* swmt s 



iNDKX or riMT Lism. 



1047 



)4t/rtn( with Om- natrM-l<-w> |i«(h//« In 0m •tr. *0 

MutMt nutU'r'l'iUirimit , ,.,,,,,,.,,,,, XA 

M. AKUft' lr.y; oh, MlU-r<'(l»ll (I WM ,,,,,,,„„„, H« 
huifi/) twrf, tiy my itH«*r*'l i»jr«, I \rrhy ...,,.....,.. i¥t 
Ntan'l ' lh<- yirimu(\'n yiiMTOvtu, luf iffuvmt',, ,,,,,.. Mlt 

Hutr 'it (hi' iimHfi ' n¥n-*^ niiuuhUrr fit ftmttMjr MR) 

hlur thnt tiriiiu*^^ iutttii: Un- )i*-*:,. ,,. ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,., i\Z 

HOiy, inWfr. •ux *»/) h/'nr M»y */>«'< SCft 

hu-ft/l/, li'xX*' "'^"^i^y ' /--*#, '%* 

Hit-tf tiHhfr. nu-i-r fffiir wliticfA fAwm^f /,*/, , Wft 

Ntlll U/ »« n<-iit, 111111 (/, l«! >)?<••♦ ItX 

Hirnuti Ht/ii lit Oinl, liniimrtHl \ii¥lt. , JSKi 

»«//(<, mortJtl ■ htT" I'lf liriAlurr Um i»M 

MlrulKtitway Vlrvfnla»l«dtt»ci»«M „.„..,„.., mi 

*»Mmr/ii'r Ium uuft*- ■■" .,,.....,.,,..,,tt,,f,.,,^p,. ffBi 

Humtin^ iiiy* Hn^ ti'irr ,.,,,„, ,„^,, *H 

Hwi'^tftfi'I iiiyf.nwitrtHntlU/w , M 

Htri'^ ur<' ItM' th//tw>iU tliAi Mivor i4 twnt^mt,, ., ,, , tUt 

nwirt^ft Ai0mrtt ' Urttr\U-tA ylJbuf'r itt itiM UlMin <W5 

Hwn^.tif tiiit iffirti/i 'if Un/ufi iwi/tryint,, ,,.,..,,,., xm 

Hwi-^ MrJ ' tliAi lelnff'vi Hwuy tf»*r itaiI^ li/^n 4'A 

hwi^-t liny. VI I'liiA. VI I'Alm, vi t/rixtit 3M 

Hwf*rU'r »tiii Hwi-fUr, ,.,., ,..,.^,,.,..,,,. ytt 

Mwert HIifhUtKl (rlrl. imerf ilhowtT , „, K* 

Mw«'«^ In »h*- (»lMi«fjr«; , ,,,,,,,#„, 5IW 

»w that'iilU «S! 

Hw • / »<-rnJil «lr ta 

•n»'<i I wln/lK Ihr'Ai*)! yoiukr |ttul« M* 

Mwlftly wnlK nvtfr Ui*i yriMUrrn w«v« 4M 

Xwwnl. <»n my l«ft «M« Klxttmltiie ,,, itt 

Tak^ f/i!i/fk tniiithy ^it/vun. irttrfh , , «3S 

T«k* '/«* frxampl'; t/t imr |/ur|>'M«; 'jolte,,,,,,, Wi 

Tak*, O. Uk<f lli/MK lt|M IIIWA7. 93)1 

T«»rn. Ml* t*»r«, I kmmr n'/t whAttbeyjnftso. '«,,,, ^."S 

T<ll /■-!» vm 

T-1. ■!« as 

T<-n /r |» 

T*ll nw. yr wtnK*^i wln4s , , Mr 

Tbank Hmi»»ii ' tlx; >rr1i>lil 3M 

That *a/;l4 wl*/y •^rtrrna a iMrpftnit« whOI«, Zfl 

That I liivt; ttti^. f:h*rrritnt( rrt»Ui ,##*„,*„,,,- Wi 

That •rhl'rh tmOi miuU: Itunn Unink , *H! 

Thatwht/;h iMrr tUTi/jTrwaJiit fy/nflo«d tR 

TttttMutt-.i Itt tb^. tUimiTn, i/n*! listf -..,,,,,.,,. 4M 

Tbc Aaayrttn csmc 4//«rD like tlw m<M oa Hie t»M. Un 

The aatamn la ol/l , , ,,^ ,,, *ffis 

Tlift Aninmn Usn*; U wUb w , vn 

n<e iM>it Kit* In berenHllc,., «« 

The IrtJ/y wejrt .,,, ,,,,,,, ^ 2ffi 

Tfie IaM tin* (oriif. 0'«1 nerer fOtBCd • MMd W 

TTie l/ar;r'' ^^jc- tJtr. In, like a l^fMJihed tt WC 712 

The r^ II ttrike^'/he: we take aoaoCCOf tfOM^.,,,., 7^ 

The l/Uek lialre^ Kaunt parjIlniM, 9W 

The l/te»»e/l 4an»//zel leane<l //trt, W4 

The We*»e^ r/*r/m ha* 'yyr/ie a«ain ♦•i^ 

T>*<- f*'^7 ^v/^xJ 'rfi the tmmtrisf lU^'.k , tit 

TT^ r/reaklrii; ware* ilaabol Mfch 5«7 

The l/rttlUnt l/lvrk eye 1^ 

The tmtAAInai tirniik lUith leaftWhtmTeomehr <« 

The htnijr larke. mtMeufftiAOMft , 4M , 

Tbeeafvfal hen «» , 

Tb« ewcle entr '/f r/raehenfeto „ «M 

Tbe eoM irtoda awei/t the ro'/nntahi'a hditM W. 

TbeemuKtoiu water naw K« in^ an/t MoalMd MZ 

Theewdmtrjr w»7' ■ ■ mtn Wf 

Tbeeaantetchar tM«faee 7# 

Tb«et»fewt/>IU ' :/ii1ia«dsr *« 

Tke4sr had been acaJk. ix.d aaoay <1«T til* 

TVs day la e«M. swl <lafk. aixi «naar M« 

Th« H»r retama. mr laxKim ban* Wd 

The 4rrll atu In <a«T«taalr. , Ml 



T»i«<1r«»mr" «w/f«., ,,,„,„„,„ 988 

T»»e<)«l«»l „„,„..„„ I*» 

The/Jij»k/f,,i.. ,. <kf .,...,, MZ 

T»»e earth (f/^« '//< '■ i^fitmUnffM 19fJ 

The eller f',!lr »t,', . ,H ,,„ ,,, !W» 

Thefa. /M(jlM»,, „„„„„, an 

Ihef., - „„„„,,. '/* 

'/(w f..,/.. . _ > "h«lr,„,,,„„<„„ 3S» 

Tlwf fdrwM'r'* wl/e fcot at '.l»e'J/*'yr„,, ,,,,,,„ ., 'ffa 

Th'- flf ',-f (',->- Ifi ?'.-j'f.-f-/l tH-<-/1 tri 

7 •.■■;'/. .41 

;,. ; ;* 

Tl<e ("r'/ot l/x/ke/i r- .lear nlnjiit *t. 

Tli'r ffTMcal «rtall, ». ' rei^/fte., ,,. . — ,,, *W 

Tl*e KU/rltrx 'it intr ' Vfi 

'till- i^i/rv I« yell///: , ,,„ 47^ 

Tl**' ic'*** I* K"*"'* '•■-•• --■- - — • ,, S(* 

Titf-icrny ittraiMtiJi tr*e i//rii( »/U/^k M(n4 I7# 

Th*- srr'/^ei. wi^T" '>'y1'« flf** '>'ffl«te* , *95f 

; • ■ .'. ill 

-.TT 

■; .; .-.,:.■ ., .: <>ji J5» 

T>>e fieatn tr>i« riKfM mnM in- ntf tma,...,,....,..... 3M 
T>»e h^/IM/w wtfH* ♦^''Srtfi •//»4'/w.. . ,,,,„,,^,,,,,., ^ 

<M 

SW 

.!«• M» 

Trie >e*ter Hi/j'/K nla r*/«'<0 an/l r;elhi,.,y,,«,,,,,,,,y,, ?4ft 
The keefMT leroi^'fct* rite- a«4 for«lw*?4«i», „,„,,, 4M* 

?« 

: v/f,. «/; 
. ■ ' , . .■ ■■A,.,. ■»!> 

'til". larK xrr*jta tin yij in it*rrimn Unini iimA,, .,.,,. 4% 

Tl<e latl/rr rain,— H falU In a»zl/«*hai><*,., ,,, «llii 

T>»e ll//n la tl»e 'le»ert>klftif 4<X 

Tl*e little tnirtfu jbrjijlrrel li//}^ In (teefj>m,««,f MM 

Tlie llule teate waa rea/.'he^ at laaf, , >^,, tW 

T?«e r/iaJ/1, an'l theret/y han^ataje, ,,, 211 

TT*e r/ial/] v^i \AuAm her warrV/f'a Muill, ,,,« Ml 

The ffteUri/;r, ,.>.,. ¥^ 

Themerrrt.- ,,,....,.... t9 

Ttt*-. uttrrry . ti '^"Mi" ^ 

TTie ml4ife« dati/^ ^tiinrti Ui". ifirn .... — ,,...,,,*,, 411 
The mlietit '/f iitf. fair fvre «at/lln»e< my lor«.,„,,,, W 

Tlie tnl<t>et/A bonx in the «a<t1e hall , IN 

The rn/^/n It al/lnea .,,,-, ,.,>,».>. 9 

Thenowe we lire, ni//re brief afffawr, Wl 

TheM/Ah-aktaa, AfM; »» 

The mrrtm: a^y^/tent ta not nq' t>»4« iH 

"/;riMte4a(an ai^eaml ^hn« W7 

'i^irtM l)^>t In b/. 'Urk time,,.,.. IM 

ill t»«T «a>wl. the bMy inw.,.. itZ 

Then ne^r me. t^nuvrfin* Heav«a «„,„„,..... 29 

Then i/^/fc the Kf^ttrfimx tufH, 4M 

The nb(ht haa a tV/OMUvl eyei tK 

Thenl^bt la late, the b'/tu<: la <tin , *77 

Tlw nfa(ht wax 4ark. tV/a«h v/rnettmwsdiatMar 4W 

The nl«(ht waa winter In btt T'insOifr» mood ,„, «H 

The'.^**n at the ly*4/|lnif '/f the uit^/a ^,,„.,„„ M 

The »/l4 HUtyiir ellml/<r>1 the I,elfr7 U/w«r, ..,.,, fl> 

The |>a(h l/y wbleb we twain -IM jr/< „,, Itt 

The play i« *Vme, -<he enr^sln Ir'/J** ,.„,.. <•• 

The |^*etry of earth I* nerer 4**/! -- 4M 

The {^/hit />f hf/m/r baa t>een ii*r^a^ «'j< ■••,.. ?W 

The^mwn )/fMtA q{/.arc1 «aVl, ,,,,,,, W 

The rain haaeeaaeil. awJ In uij tttf0m ....,...,., 4W 

There are a nomly^r '/f ';«er<3^, , ...,, W 

TU^^T*- are xalns f',v a;; wr i/,e*ea tM 

There are n/> i-zA/zn Ir* 're fAJre«« ticy.,,,. .,..,....„ •§ 

There are v/nw heana like weO* .,, 1W 

There are wfeoao' Ok lorer'»lKan ** 



1048 



IN'DFA OV IMKST LINES. 



Thon> I'liiue u man, niukluK lilt: litisty niotui TlX) 

There caiiu' to thtt U'lU'h « pourrxlltMtf Kriii 5TS 

TliOM' In tlu'fftiu'a lu'tuitcoiisi'i-fnturt'stamis T7ti 

Thoiv is a ilmijrtHin InwhostMUm Uivur tl^JiUt 223 

Tlu'Vf (sa Mower, a lltthMlowi'i- -IGS 

Tlu'iv Is a gaitii*u la her rju-f lis 

'riuMV Is a nilaiul on a livi-r l.vlng MM) 

thvrv Is no foiro, howt-vor nivut 992 

Thrre was au apt'. In the days that were earlier !*yi 

Tho sunuiKT ami aulunin hail boon so wot 879 

Tho summor sun is falling; soft SSO 

Tho sumnior sun wussinkiUK i^lO 

Tl»o Ruii burnt niowors aro in tho swath rou 

Tlu' sun eonu's up ami tho sun Kors down "(W 

Tlio sun lias gjino down o'er tlu> lofty Bon Lomond. 1-Is 

Tho sun is warm, tho sky tsoh'ar 817 

Tho sunlight tills tho tromblhiK' air Itti 

Tho sunlight Klittors keen and bri^iht OOG 

Tho sun shinos briiiht In our old Kontucky home... 2SS 

Tho sun sinks softly to his ovoniuK post IU08 

Tho sun that briof Dooouihorday 436 

Tho tattoo boats; tho llKhts aiv gimo S22 

Tho thouKhts aiv strauKo that oi-owd Into mj* brain 4-19 

Tho timohmh laid his nwmtlo by 121 

Tho troo of doopost root is fo\ind "M 

Tho twillKht hours. Hko blnls. Mow by (310 

Tho wanton troopers, rldtuK hy 25!l 

Tho waters purled, the waters swoUod 825 

Tho woary nl^lit is o'er at last 518 

Tho weather leach of tho topsjill shlvors ClU 

Tho wind blew wide the casemont 81 

Thowimi 11 blew, and tho ship It Mow WC 

Tho winds transforrod Into the friendly sky 414 

Tho win tor bolnK over 42(1 

The wisest of the wiso TW 

Tho w»>rti of the Loiit by nlnht Sit7 

Tho world goes up and tho world goes down 214 

Tho world is too muoh with us 4iW 

Tho world Is vory ovU SSI 

Tho world's a bubble, and tho llfo of man S.H1 

Tho Yaukooboy boforo he's sent to sehool UTl' 

Tlu-y are all gono Into tho world of llKht 27-1 

Thoy ai-o dying I Ihoy are dying! 5711 

Thoy oomo I the morry summer months 42S 

Thoy oourso tho glass, and lot It take no rest 712 

Tlio year stood at its oquiuox ISJ 

Thoy '11 talk of him for years to come 91S 

Thoy told mo I was heir : I turned in hnsto 77(1 

Thoy toll mo I am shrewd with other men 110 

They've got a bran new organ. Sue 9ltS 

Think not I love him. though I ask for him 144 

This Ilguro. that thou hero see'st put 9ltt 

This book is all that's left mo now UX) 

This is the forest primeval 453 

This is tho ship of pearl wbioh pools foign (525 

This life, and all that It oontalns 766 

This only grant me that my moans may lie 73tl 

This region, sun^ly. Is not of the earth t)83 

This way tho noise was. If mluo oar be true S39 

This world's a seeno as dark as Styx 1015 

Those evening bolls! those even hig bolls! 716 

Thou blossom, bright with autumn dew 465 

Tlunigh tho mills of ii<ul grlntl slowly 747 

Thouk-ht is doopor than all spoooh 7S1 

Though when other nuilds slund by 156 

Thou Grace Divine, onotrollng all 392 

Thou happy, happy olf 93 

Thou hast sworn by thy God, my Joaule '.SIS 

Thou hidden love of Ood. whoso height 39(1 

Thou largo-lirained wonuui 923 

Vhou lingering star, with lessoning ray 2SS 

Thou little blnl. thoudwoUor by tho sea 4S2 



Thou still unravlshed bride of qutotncu 

Thou who dost dwell alone 

Thou who. when fears attack 

Thou whoso swoot youth 

Three Hshorsweiit sailing out into the west... 

Throe poets. In thive tl 1st ant ages burn 

Thrt>o stutients weri' travelUuK over the Uhlno 

Throe years she givw in sun and shower 

ThiHiugh her foired. abnonnal quiet 

Thus, then. 1 steer my bark 

Thy braes were bonny, YanHJW stream 

Thy error, Krenutnt 

Tiger' tiger! burning bright 

Tinu* has a nuigte wand 

'Tis juloEon or so of years ago 

'Tisn fearful night In the winter time 

•Tis an ohi dial dark with many u stain 

! Tis a little thing 

I 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose i-ed and white.. . 
j •Tisbollevod that tidsharp 

'Tis midnight's holy hour 

'Tis morning : and the sun with niddy orb 

'Tis muoh immortal beauty to adndro 

'Tis night, when Meilitation bids us feel 

^'Tls past,— the sultry tyrant of the South 

*'Tis sweet to hear 

'Tis I ho last rose of summer 

'Tts the mldiUe watch of a sununer's night 

'Tis thne this heart should be unmoved 

To bear. ti» nurse, to ivar 

To bo, or not to be.— that Is the question 

To claim the .\rctlc oamo tho sun 

To draw no envy. Shakespeare, on thy name.. . 

To heaven approached u Sull saint 

To him who, in tlie love of Natuiv, holds 

Tolling In the naked Holds 

Toll on ! toil on ! ye ephemeral train 

Toll for tho bravo 

Ti> make my lady's obsequies 

To nuiko this condiment your poet begs 

To-morrow's action I can that lioary wlsdont.. 

Too late, alas! I must confess 

Too late I stay oil. —forgive tho crime I 

To sea I to sea! the calm is o'er 

T'other day. as I was twining 

To the sounds of lind>rols sweet 

Toussalnt I thonuist unhappy man of men.... 

T<i woary hearts, to mourning homes 

To write a vi'rso or two is all tho praise 

To you. my pui-se. and to noon other wtght.... 

Tivati softly,— bow the head 

Tros ridlosophl do Tusculo 

Trochee trljw fi-om long to short 

True banl and simple.— as the race 

True genius, but true wonuin ! dost deny 

Turn, l-'ortune. turn thy wheel 

Turn, gentle Hermit of the dale 

Turn, turn, for my cheeks they burn 

'Twas a .tolly o\t\ pedagogue, long ago 

'Twas at tho royal feast, for Poi-sla won. 

'Twas in heaven pronounced, and *twt»8 muttered 
in hell 

'Twas over thus fi"on\ childhood's hour 

'Twas in tlie prime of summer time 

•Twas nuirn, and beautiful ilie mountain's brow... 

'Twas on the shores that round our coast. 

'Twas tho night before Clirlstnuw 

Two barks met on tho tleep ndd-sea 

Two hands upon tho hivast 

Two little feet, so small that both may nestle 

Two ndtos. two drops, yet all her house and land. . 

Two of far nobler shape, oivct and tall 



718 
3S9 
990 
3t'i4 
(321 
1KI7 
142 
103 
159 
743 
283 
93S 
4ti8 
9?2 
UI05 
440 
134 
770 
122 
SC5 
753 
4SS 
730 
415 
430 
106 
465 
810 
•250 
-^13 

m 

409 
906 
3(S 
S07 
557 
623 
612 
300 
1013 
754 
1(30 
117 
6:50 
195 
213 
921 
275 



204 
341 
991 
1015 
920 
923 
777 
138 
163 

Tte 

771 

773 
990 
895 
447 
963 

96 
115 
'»5 

77 
362 
711 



INDEX OF FIRST T,I\ES. 



1049 



Two pIlKrlmH from tho diHtant plain. 

Two wi'iit Ut jiruy ? O, ruthcr nuy 

Tying ber bonnet under her chlu 



UihUt a Hpn-adliiK ^'lu-Ht nut tree , 

UmliT my window. uii(J<>r my window , 

L'ridiTncatli tlilH marble hcfirMO 

UnfadlnK Hop** .' wlit-n Ufo'M luKt embers burn. 

UntrcitiiiloiiM In thd river clear 

Up from ilii* mciuldWH rich with com 

Up from tin; South at >ir'-ak of day 

Upon am* Bt(triiiy Hunday , 

Upon a rock yt-t iincrculo 

Upon thi? wlilt<i Hea-HUnd , 

Up ; fjiill thy bower ! 

Up HprlriKM thi* lurk , 

Up the ulry ni'iuntaln 

Up th« dale and down the bourne 

Up the Btrec'tfl of Aberdeen 



Venl, Creator 8pIrltUM 

Vcnl. Suncte HplrltUH. 

Victor In pocHy • Victor In romance!. 
Vital Bpark of heavenly flume: 



. 550 
. 85 

. m 

. *I20 
. Mf6 

. 1K7 

. iKd 

, a-B 

, 4UH 
, 400 
. ffM 
. 425 
. KJ6 

. 857 
, 366 
. KJ6 
, 3G5 



Waken, lordH and ludleg (fuy 

Wurnaw'M luifl champion from her height Burveyed 

Wuve ttfK-r wavir of green ik-hh rolling down 

Wc ar« two truv(;llerM. IVigcr and 1 

Weehawken ! In thy niountuln Hcenery yet 

"Wee, modoMt, crImHon tl pp''-d Hower 

Weep ye no more. Had fountulnul 

Wee, (deirltit, row'rln. tlm'rouM bcaHtIf 

Wee Willie Winkle rlnn through the town 

Wo have been frlendK trtgetlier 

We knew It would rain, for ull the mom 

We know not what It Ih, dear, thlHHleep w> deep.... 

Welcormf. muldM <tt iKmor; 

Welconu;, welcome, do I King 

We live In dr-edM, not ycarR 

We meet 'neath the Hounding rafter 

We part4;d In ullence, we parted by night 

We pledged our heartK, my love and I 

Were I uh hum', um Ih Ihif lowly plain 

Werther hml a love for Charlotte 

We Hat by the flHher'H cottage 

We iicatt4*r wedH with carelesn hand 

We Be«* not, know not , all our way 

We iiUKid upon the rugged roeka 

We the fulrleH blithe and antic 

We were crowded In the cahln 

We were not many.- we who Ktood 

We wreathed about our darling's head 

Whan that Aprllle with hlw Hhour/-» MOOtc 

What a moment, what u doubt : 

What allH thiH heart o mine '. 

What change haH made the paiitureB Bweet 

What conHtltuleH a Htat<; ? 

What drM-H little rdrdle Hay 

What hfrl'Ht thou In thy treasure cave* and oelU?. ■ 

What hofK; Ih here for modern rhyme 

What Is death? Tls l/j he free 

What Is it fables and flickers In the fire , 

What Is the little one thinking arK>ut ?... . 

What needs my HhakeHrnrare for his honored boneii. 

What's fame?-a fancied life In others' breath 

What shall I do wlih all the dayn and hours 

What's hallowed ground? Mas earth a clod 

What's this dull u^wn to me ? ,. ., , 

What was he doing, the great Ood Pan ? ... 

What, was It a dream ? am I all alone 

Wheel me Into the sunshine 



150 When u'lther bul mien are huHhed to their hamn 91 

, 2Gi Whenus In hIIIu my .Julia goes ViA 

190 /When lirltaln llrHt, ut Jleuven's command 676 

Whence cooich my love? O heart, disclose 268 

Wlien rhttprnan blllh'H leave the street W7 

Whi-n ehlll NovejiitxT'N surly blast 832 

When liella on the jdulii appeurH 137 

When deHcendM on the Atlantic 022 

When Kve brought woe 975 

When falls the soldier brave 532 

When (IrMt 1 saw sweet Peggy 197 

When IlrMt thou earnest, gentle, shy, and fond 83 

When Freedom, from hi.-r mountain height fl92 

When fiod ttt first made man 778 

Whi;n I am dead, no pageant train 903 

When Icleh-H hang \>y the wall 4P^ 

When 1 consldiT how my ll^ht Is spent 866 

When I do count the clock that t<dls the time 7.13 

When In tJie chronicle of wiist^^d time Vti, 

Wlien In the storm on Albion's coast 027 

When iMrmI, of the Lord M-doved 372 

When I think on the happy days 'iAi 

When I^*arnlng'M triumph o'er her barbarous foes,. 90fV 
When leaveH grow Here all things take sombre hue, 4a* 

When Ij'HhUi. flrnt I saw so heavenly fair 7ia 

When lovely wo/nun stoopH U> folly 836 

When I>»ve with uneondmd wings 146 

When nialdeiiM nur-h an iieHt<;rdle 28S 

When mighty roast hw;f was the Kngllshmau's 

fowJ 575 

When Music, heavenly maid, was young 773 

When o'er the mountain steeps 410 

When on uiy bed the moonlight &lls 285 

When stricken by the freezing blast 928 

When Hummer o'er her native hilts 247 

Wlien that my rnood Is sad and In the noise 448 

When the black Ictt^.-red list to tlie gods was pre 

KenU;d 220 

When the TlrltlHh warrior queen 572 

When the hounds of nprlng 419 

When the hount of day are numbered 273 

When the humid shadows hover 97 

When the lamp Is Hhattered 262 

When the leHHijnsand tasks are all ended 2:10 

When the Mheep are In the fauld 249 

When Ut the wHslons of Hweet ^llent thought 115 

When troubled In spirit, when weary of life 6(Ki 

When your beauty ai^fK-ars 185 

Where are the men who went forth In the morning 530 

Where are the swallown fled ? 318 

627 i Where are you going, my pretty maid 938 

523 Whereas, on certain boughs and sprays 992 

280 ;- Where did you come from, baby dear? 7B 

eftT) Wherein the grave of Sir Arthur O'Kellyn ? 538 

Where the remoU; U<fnnudas ride 625 

Whether with reaKon or with Instinct blest 781 

Which Is the wind that brings the cold ? 451 

Which I wldh Ut remark, and my language Is plain. 987 

Which shall It hn- ? which shall It be? 23f> 

While on the ellff with cairn delight she kneela,..., 81 

While sauntering through the crowded street 760 

Whilom by silver Thames's gentle stream 946 

227 Whither, midst falling dew 481 

75 WhfH'ershetH' 192 

906 Who has not dreamed a world of bllM 410 

7W» Who has not heard of the Vale of Cashmere 432 

244 W^ho would care to pass his life 974 

78S Why came the row* ? I**'eaus*; the sun I0 shining. . . 148 

\TA Why. lovely charrner. t<'II me why 14rt 

669 Why slt« she thus In s'>lltude? 790 

S27 Why %fi xiule and wan. fond lover? 263 

329 Why thus longing, thus forever sighing 892 



1060 



INDKX OV nitST LINES. 



W'Ulow Maoh«M>, it's no woiulor you frown 901) 

Willi ^^^so of Allowjiy : in,v thnnks 913 

W nil.', fohl your Uulo liamls 516 

Wiih awful walls, far KlnomluK. tlmt possessed.... 65*11 i 

WUhiloopamH'llon TWf 

WUh lluK»'i-s weary ami worn 337 

With how sail stops, O moon I thou cllmb'sl 349 ' 

WUhln the navel of this hUloous wotul S;Xl | 

Wtthln Ihese walls of AroaiUo... 9M [ 

Wiihtn the solu-r realm i^f loartess tnM>8 "10 ' 

With silent awe 1 hall the saereil morn 410 | 

Wlthsornnv ami hoarl's illstivss 321 

WiVHlman. s^wr*' thai tnv: 101 

Worilsworth upon llelvollyn ' lot tho ClOUil 914 

Wor\l was bnnisht to the Pantsh kl«K !Jl»3 

WouKlst tlion hoar what man oan srt>' 907)' 

Would ye l»e taught, ye feathered throng 904 

VVould you know wliy I summoneil you together ?.. Si5 

Vcar after year unto her finH 174 

Vears. yoars aj^^, ert» yet my drt^ams 971 

Ve Imnks and hnies o' InninleLVtou 'J49 

YolUtlo sualts 4Sti 



Yo mariners of EuKlai^d (»■.»•> 

Ye po%vors who rule the tongue 7S0 

Yes ; hoar thorn to tholr ivst 7<»3 

" Yes." I answorod you last nlj^ht 144 

Yo sons of fivodom, wake to glory 1 584 

Yo who would havi' your foaturt's llortd !M5 

Yield to nie now, for 1 am woiUc 371 

" You are old. Father WiUiaiw," the young man 
oriod ^4^^ 

YoulM'llsln thostet'ple 101 

You oharm when you talk 914 

" You havo heanl." said a youth 15fi 

You know we V'ronoh stormed Ratlsbon M3 

You lay a wreath on muniered Uueoln's bier 9S1 

You tneaner bojuitles of the night IW 

You must wake and eall nioearlj' 337 

Young Hen he was a nleo youuK nian 963 

" Young. gay. and fortunate :"' Kaeh yleldsa thomc. 106 

Young Kory O'Moro oourted Kathleen Hawn 196 

Your fav'rlte picture rises uplH'ror«' mo 81 

Your horse is faint, my king, my lonl Sffi 

Your wedding-ring wears thin, dear wife 331 

You 800 tills pobblo stone i It's a thing ! bought. ..UWi^ 



INDEX OF FAMOUS QUOTATIONS. 



ANALYTICAI. INlJl':X 



Ol' I'AMOUS AND Al'l I'(jl/JICAL C^UC/IATIONS. 



'fim Potlical QiuiUlUim r*brnA In in thin ImUn will Im imnd —Mindie*Uui iiy lh« p>K»4iunilwr Inntminn i)i« 
littn or til(r.iM lrKl<XR'l -vltlMr in lltA l''>'ly r/f vrfrw iHpniit, iir m« » l/fkf m ** fiMyjintut* in it* »|/[/foi/rijit4 l>iviiH'/n, 
'J III IcTV'Worflft, itii'Ipr wlikli tliTM jir'; iri/Uj(4fl« will tifAUmilly tj« lit« ttoant hi ttii nwAntUitu kMtini0t tlMr« I* many 
fl " )>ol<] «xprtcMiv« |>lirM«i,*' iImq «MM!lflial |cf.ijli4rlli<!» f/f v/ljtclt ;ir4 i(i/kx«>l, wti4t*:virr th«T/ m^/ l>« 'f;ib4 Iv/o 
Uinilmr in<iiiirf<««, tlut lu;y«worJ« Mux U«rti iullciMd i 

*' J ruth < f'»:tt'.'l tf.i.irlh il-.ilj f-v-f .t^Kj* " 

it found In Wm. Cvi.i.kn DuvAH-i't p<j<m trilllUd '"nwi lialltitl'itUl,'' mi ;a>k« f)4| wlilt* 

" \it;hnt miui lD«k4it itnultiratilr thingt " 

frtt XfAV" '''i '* foiirif] tr/ ]m » ItAj/iintun irtiw "Tim H«a«ryn«f Honinwr/' l;y /amk4 'J'ii'/M)»'/M, 'Itiw tlw r«3Ul«f mjy 
■RCcrtMiii tif (f'/sition in tliU volin/m, 1I14 f/riifjniil umw^ in \f*mm, 'li« n«m« (fi lli« «ulfv/r. ark) t^Mr <wrr«<;t r«jidlnK f^ 
cIm ItciuMfMik of i^itU'^l nwAiui'itiit KJv«n in (li« Wjk. 



A*l"v''>. -' M-'i.t, 111"- y/i 

A).^ ■ -It, -9/1. 

At. 7 

At--. '../ liitMA, 

Al-.. 14 

Al''- • - lr)l>« fn<r«M«, 

Mfnit ma r«Mn '/< 'trtUnmry limn, ^/j. 
Al/fMifffw»l r>l *tl ftwl MM* f;f««Mnl bt riMHf 



A0I//1.. 

A"' 
A/i 

I 



A/< 

A'l... 



Al, 

Ai- 

Al. 

Al. 

A>v 

Al/, 

A. 

A-.. 

A' • 

A" 

A" 
A<. 

A«' 

A/ 

A-- 
A<' 

A-y- 

At- 

A/.f 

A<» 

A/,1 

A/.t ' 

Act. 



'■-'■7. 



I l», '/;', 
/J/yiM li«r pan. 



A-l-,. 
A'l-.. 



A-). 
A'l • 
A-).- 



tw, y/i. 


Aff'.i 

A/n. 


: •/. ...W. ,) 


/M rtj« Ufj^f y*t, «44. 




AM 




VW*f 


w». 




Ad/ 






■ ' Hum •», »»» 
muiui, m. 












■ 'I; »'S. 


V 










l;l/t, «-/« 
■i-.i.. ■!, 7./5, 



■I, 'on, 

■fi Untit/l \jfAh iiy. few. 






A*' 



,-.*•/ .•< .■!., ^, 



'"4. 



MWi, 'W, 73>^ 



AIM. I 

Air, « 



■•4 (tvJtf, r^ 






• vMum MiMMWk Iv/xi*, jw^ 



1054 



INDEX OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS. 



Air And h.-irmony of shApe express, 7*1. 
Aurora of tlic, 3 j'OunK, Stf^^ 
Ociiedictioi) of tlie, &)?. 
iMlcs slitowvIly,4gi. 
cool cisterns of the midntjjlit, 416. 
desert atul iUiiuititblc, 4S1, 
dcsfrt, «.iste irs sweetness on the, 306. 
dtwv tti shncs> tills tlic silenl. 491. 
evrry fio«or enjoys the. *<)$. 
fairer (h.m the evening, 134. 
ficetinc. desert rocks and, ^>i. 
heaven s sweetest, yw. 
hurtlcii in the darkened, 540. 
is dehcitc, J30. 

is full of farewells to the dyiuR. sri. 
light as, a sximcthing, 2^4. 
love free as, 215. 
lunt^ receive our. If their. jkM- 
melted into thin, 86?. 
nimbly and sweetly recoinnicntls itself, 

rao. 

nU>ping and an eaj^cr, 491 • 

of glory, walking m an, 874. 

outward lines and, ;ii. 

pure the. and light tlic soil, 719^ 

raine in the, 4S^ 

rustic woodlanvl, 67. 

scent the ntoriiing. methinks 1, iSg, 

summer's noontide. 409. 

sweet as Englisli, could make her, 7M. 

that awful. 713. 

Irides light as. ao;. 

vocal. 7-J0. 

wantons with the lo\*esick, 131. 
Air^lrawn dagger. SoS- 
Airs, gentle, iresh gales and. iJ09. 

soft Lydian. lap mc in. 73&. 
Airy nothing. S07. 

purpi>>cs. execute their. SoS. 

tongues that syllable men's names, Sjo- 
Aisle, Iong-(lrawn. andfteitcd vault, y*. 
Aisles of christian Rome, groined the. 736, 
AJax strives to thriiw, S06. 
Alal»ster skin, smooth as, 731. 
Aladdin's toner, unfinished nindow in, 940. 
Alannns. stern. 541, 
Ahicrman. forelinger of an, 836. 
Ale. God send thee good, enough, 94& 

spicy, nut-brown. 785. 
Alcxandrmc. needless, ends the song. S06. 
Alike, all ages. 933. 

as if we had them not, twere all, 79;, 

fant.-istic if too new or old, 806. 
Aii\-e. bliss to be, 490. 
All all are gune, the old fanuliar faces, 074* 

chance direction. 484. 

discor<.l harmony.' 4^ 

rather of. 370, 

honorable men. S75. 

hope .iK-^ndon who enter here. 396. 

I give thee, 1 can no more, ^%. 

in all. take him for. 7J1. 

in the IXiwns the fleet was moored. B35. 

"s fish tliey get thatcometh to net, 67a. 

is not lo^t. 540. 

mankind's concern ischarit)-. 39S. 

mankind's n-onder, 134. 

my pretty chickens, 30^ 

opjcct> 01 all thoujfht, 404. 

of death to die. 311. 

pUccs sh-'\U l>e hell. 30&. 

seasons for thine own. O Death, 30S. 

that is bnghl must fade, 793. 

that hve must die 395. 

that wo believe of heax-en. i3_). 

the world 's astage. 7»r, 

things dilVer, .ill agree though, 815. 

thy end "s thv country's, jaa- 

iR-ant sense, if. 304. 

we know or dream or fear 58^ 

went merry as a marriage bell, 51 
Altayin)* Thames, cups with no, 147. 
AlM.>cholding sun shall see no more, 307, 
All-judging fove, 61a. 
Allies, thou "hast great, 922. 
Alliteration's .irtful aid, apt. S07. 
Allured to brighter worlds. 6SS. 
AUaighty's form glasses itself in tempests, 

orders to perform, pleased the. 539. 
Alms for oblivion. 79^. 
Aloft, cherub that sits up. 615. 
Akme, all, all alone. 1^56. 

doubly feel ourselves, 048. 

fair or gootl, nothing is, 40& 

least, in solitude. l^Ij. 

on a wide, « ide sea, $56. 

that worn-out wonl. 813. 

with his glorv, ^^'e left him. 93a 
Aloof they stoo«i. the scars remaining, it&. 
Alph, the sacred river. S34. 
Alps, that nui;tuy chain, 493- 

though perched on. 39S. 
Altar, I Ciiw l>efore thine, Lo\-e, aoj. 
Altars, strike tor j-our, and your fire^ Jte. 
AttcratioQ. alteiv when it, finds, aoS. 



H-hat a name, 940. 



Aniariuthine riowcr of fiith. pluck the. 398. 
Aniaryths sp^'^t w<tl». in the sh.vle. «^i. 
Ama.-ing brii^hluess purity, and truth, 133. 
Amber, pretty in, to oWerve. 815. 

scent of Oil-m>us pcrfUme. 631. 

tipped "itti. S14. 

wiioso fo.uu is, 730. 
Amber -droi'l'in^; hair, 869^ 
Ambition. [lin< .iway, ;afl. 

higli. loxUy l.ml.676. 

illwo.nied. 310. 

make, virtue, 71a. 

oi a 1^1-iv.ne man. 575. 

shoiifvl lie made of sterner stuff, 975. 

to lili up bih heart. 70^ 

to roi^n is worth, ,>>* 

x.uiltiui;. ^^IlK h o'orteaps Itself. 708. 

\\iU\, lovoN to slide, not stand. 79^ 
Ambitions I.iddor, lo\vliuc>s is young, 790. 

monstrous si.nn.uh does iucreiisc, ;^ 
Anibni->iisoc<;in swell. (131. 
AmbrosuU sin. worthy of this, 167. 
Amen sliick mniy thr>v\t. S^Sji. 
AinerK.o) strand, jwss to the, ;%)5. 
AuuabU- youth, iulieu. dear. 700. 
Aniicc gT.^y, morning came lorth In. 490^ 
Amorous causes, dire oifencc froin, 815. 

vlil.iy. reluctant, 711. 

dcM-nu. sung, 413. 

fond and billing. 205. 
Amos Cottle. PhivVmsI v 
Ampler ether, .an. 30D. 
Amuck run, and tilt at All I meet. S06. 
.\n,il\tit;. prvH'oundly skilled in. 945. 
An.u.Mny. a mere. 7J2. 
Aneostr.d voices pn'pliesying «ar, S34. 
Ancient grudge I War liiin, feed fat the, 99> 

s.-)ge$ of, time, Sco. 

sorit.\ry reign, jv^s. 

trusty dtiiuthy cnm*. 847. 
Angel ai>pcar for each lover beside, 185. 

CvinsuuTaiion like an. came, 395. 

drew an, down. 77;. 

dropi>cvl do^\n from the clouds, 671. 

Ruariliaii. o'er his life presidmg, aia. 
ands to v.ilor given by. 59a. 

lioi>c thou ho\crnig, 83* 

in his motion like an, 775. 

ministering. 509. 

sings like an, 775, 

whiteness, 723, 

wrvite and vanished, 350, 7691 
Angel's wing, feather freMn an.*9o8>. 

wi"!rs luiilosophy wilt clip .in. 808. 
Angels, agree .is. do above. 3^ 

.alone eiyoy such lilxrrty. 147. 

are mimed f.iir to look' like you, i3>. 

by that sin fell the. 3-v. 

fools rush iu where, fear to tread. 798. 

forgctiue-not of the. stars, 49J. 

fruarih.iii, sung the strain, 570^ 
iclp. m.ike avsay. _»o. 

his virtues will pieadlike, 900^ 

holy. guar*l thy bed, ;*. 

laugh too, 979. 

hstcn when sJie speaks. 134. 

our acts our. arc or good or ill. 797. 

s.\d as. for the pitod man's sin. 395* 

s.iy sister sinrit come away, 365. 

tcar>such as. wceji, 9461 

thous.ii)d livcricel. lac ky her, 79& 

treml'le wliile they gaze, 939. 

iruui|x;t-tongne.i. 9i\>. 

visits, 547, N(s 

weep, m.ike the. S13. 
Anger no higher than may sweeten wTath, 141. 
Ai4;le-rvHl. m.idc of a stutvly ixik, 07a. 
Angry for asking thy due, Soa. 

l^ssions rise. n>S. 
Anguish, here tell jtnir. 348. 

[■■ain and, wring the brow, 509. 
Animated bust, storied urn or, 3C^ 
Anmi, here thou great. ^14. 
Ann,als of the poor, short and simple, 306. 
Annihilate but sjsice and time. 005. 
Annual visit o'er the glol>e. 479. 
Another and the s;uue. 494. 
Another's weakness, moulas, Sia. 

woe. teach mc to feel. 370. 
Answer echoes. Mow, bugrc. 440> 
Answers, ne'er, till a ImsKmd ccwls, 315. 
Anthem. i>eaUng. sxx'cUs the note of praise, 

>>& 
Anthriiix>phagi, the, 145. 
Antidote, mne and, death and life my, 759. 

sweet obli\-ious. 347- 
Aini>iuc Kouian ih.iii a r*anc, more an, 811. 
Antres \ast .lud deserts iillc. 145. 
Anvil, in-m did on the. eix>l, 712. 

unto sorrow, my hcan is as an, 899. 
Anything, what is worth in, 803. 
Anywhere, \lly^* here out of the irorl<L 335- 
At>e. like an angry, 813. 
Apostles shrank, site while. 795 

wvuld have done as they cud, 396. 
Aposts)Iic blows and knocks, 387. 



hu' 



Apothecary, 1 do rememlvpr .in. Sc^, 
Apisjirel, fashion wcar> out more, than nxAn, 
799- 

oft proclaims the man. jaa. 
Api>arrclled in more precious habit. Soi. 
Ap)>i(rcut miecu, 413, 

real .inu, arc the s.inic. 310. 
Apparition, a lovely. laS. 
.VlHsiritioiis. a ihoiisaud bluslliiig, 793. 

seen and gone. 147- 
Appelite,colors and forms were to mean ,404. 

increase of, 905. 

K~rown by what it fed on, 905. 
ungry edge of, cloy the, 346, 

may sfcken and so tfie, S08. 
Appetites, cloy the. they fectl, 719. 
Ai>pI.iuM-. atte-iiti\ to his own, sit, 9(0. 

contidenn' of he.ivcn's, 540, 

delight .Old w.'uder .>f our stage, 905. 

of listeiuin; si-iiaies to conmiand, wo. 
Apple, goodly, r>>tton M the heart. 7^-. 
Appli,inces, with. ill. and means to boot. 763. 
Apprehension of the good. 340. 

sense of death most in, 310. 

wc.lknes^ of our, 899, 
Apprvucli. sweet, of even or mom, 407. 
Appropiiuiue .in end, my da>*s, 309. 
Approved gviod m-istcrs, 145. 
Approving licavcn. 311. 
Ajiril il.iy. uncertain glory of an. 493. 

pmud-picd, 499. 

sunshine of an, d.iy. 371. 

when they woo. men arc, 914, 
Aprille.wh.iuthat,wit'ihisshowressootc.69i 
Aprons, i;ri is\, sl.ncs with. 709. 
Apt .ilhtet.ni.'iis ,ifiliil aid. ftj?. 

,ind gr.ici.nis w.>rds. 723- 
Arabian trees. ,lrop tears as fast as the. 725. 
Arabs, fold their tents like the. S16. 
Araby's dauijluer, f.irewell to thee. 394. 
Arbitre-ss, the moon sits. 4^1. 
Arborett, with p.iinted blossoms drest, 4.J4. 
Ar.h. i.iuiui-h.il. th.u n!l'st the sky. 



Archer. iiis.n 
Arg^ie .It their 
not ag.ii 



. 4>>4- 
mid not one suihce, 491. 
.<s>, 
hand or will, 735. 



not ag.iinst he;iv.u s hand or 
still, th.>uL;li v.iii.iuished. 6SS. 
lied much of good .itul evil, i^ 



Argiic 

Ar)^ies yourselves unknown. Si;;, 
Arguing, owned his skill in. t»88. 
Argument, height of this great, 595. 

lack of. sheathed their swords lor, 503. 
Arguments, lools for. use w.igers, S03. 
Arise or be forever fallen, 540. 

ye vioths .ind glut your ire. 68t. 
Aristotle and his pliilc»sophie, 6q6. 
Ark of her m.ignitKent and awful cause. «;:^ 
Arm sh,.uld .ounucr twenty worlds, ? 8- 

-.iis upon my. some undone widow, 541. 
Armcil so str«Mig in honesty, 79;. 

thrice is he, 7<j6, 

thus am I doubly, 759. 

with resolution, ao4. 

w ithout that 's innocent within, 796. 
Annor, .ig.tinst fate. no. ^^l. 

arms on. clashing brayed. $'■"«• 

in his honest thought, 736. 
Annorcri .iccomplisluiig the knights. 540. 
Arms, bruisixl. hung up for monuments, 54U 

hatl seven yc.irs' pith, 145- 

iinixiradised in one another's, 005. 

niv souls in, 541. 

oii armor claslnng bra>xd, w. 

take, against a sea of irwublcs, 297. 

take your last embrace. 809. 

waving, and Kmucrs bright, 49I' 

world within our, 3o6. 
Aromatic plants bestow no fMgtance. 348. 
Array. Kittles magnilicently stern, 519. 
Arrest, strict in his. 3p9- 
Arri^w for the he.irt hke .1 sweet wice, 204. 

shot mv. o'er the house, lai. 
Arrows of light, swift-winged, 739. 

slings and. of outr,igeous fortune, 097, 
Arsenal", shook the, Aj4. 
Art, adorning thee with so much. 795- 

adulteries of. 713. 

all nature is but. 489. 

bashful, I&9. 

concealed by, love of pr.iise, 8to. 

ease in writing comes from, Sq6, 

gloss i>(. (^ 

IS long, time is fleeting. 770. 

is trx> precise in every jvirt, 713. 

hist and greatest, to blot. 8.*. 

may err, nature cannot miss, 489. 

of God. course of nature the. 48^ 

of slower nature. 039. 

onlv. her gxiilt to co\-er, 336. 

refiniil by. 309. 

rclincs, 541. ,j ^. 

thou weary art thou languid, 364- 

unpremeditated, 473- 

tried e.ieh. 688- 

want of. hide with omamentt. a■^ 

war's glorious, 54*- 



INDEX OF POETICAL QUOTATKjNS. 



1055 



ArinxcriteV llirnric, to Mncedon and, <(o4. 
Arlful nld, apt jtlllleration'«, K07. 

Arllrit« raw, ncccnl<i flow with, BC7. 
Arts, Itttjlorloui, of (tcncc, sVf 

ui w7il(.h tlic wKc excel, tf/j. 

iiiotlirr of, iinti cloriuencc, 719, 

iif w«f and pence, 5*j. 

tiitoroM of, .ind sciciiccH, lofl. 
A4 It fell upon fi d.iy, 49^. 
Ashes hc»t th(.-Hc, into tlic Avon, 939, 

e'en In our, live their wonted fires, 306. 

from Ilia, iiindc the violet, 311* 

of hlii ffithcr«, ^/j, 
A^lde, IiiHt (o h\y (Fic old, &^. 
Atlof the wlnrK6i4. 

Aitklnt(, only f .oj nmy be lind for tlio, 4^4< 
Aslant, I'lown n\\, 49). 

the dcw-hrl^ht earth, 710. 
Asleep In l.ip ot letjcnd* old, 177. 

the very houses seem, fyjft. 
Aspect, meet In her, and her eyes, 130. 

tweet, of princes, jai. 
Aspen, <|iilvcriiiK, shndc inadc by the, 509. 
AsMMlnailon could trammel up the consc- 

'I'irnce, V"j. 
Asuiy, help angels ! make, 399. 
Anviy<-d. thrice he. 346. 
Aosrot with i.lvll leer. 910. 
At^crt rt'_-nial I'rovldcncc, 305. 
Assume a i>l'-.isiti|i,' sliape, y/i. 

Ji viftiif If you have it not, -K^. 
Asviines tlic ijod. affcf-lH to norl, 771. 
Asturancc doubly liure, I'll make, jrjy 

full, ifivcn by looker, VH. 

of a man. to ylvc the world, 7-ji, 
Assyrian carne down like the wolf, jji, 
A&tronoiiicr, an iindevout, Iti nm<l, 4'/j. 
Astronomy, devotion daiiifbter of, 4oa< 
Athrisin. the owlet, 395. 
Atheist half believer a fiod by niKht, 491* 
Alh'isl's lauL'li 'ji a poor eKchanifc. 395. 
Athens, maid of, ere wc part, ^34. 

the eye of Greece, 719, 

truth-, refined as ever, heaftl, 805, 
Atomlrs. team of little. «yi, 
Al"in<( "T ■•y'^trms Into ruin hurled, 394. 
Attempt .111(1 not the deed c<infounds us, 883. 

fearintf to, lotic tfood by, Moo, 

tlie end. 800. 
Attention, enforce. Ionics of dyln^ men, 310. 

in'juisitlve, Hto. 
Attentive to his own applause, sit. 910. 
Attic bird trilU thlck-warblcd notes, 730. 
Attlcut, if, were he, 910. 
Attire, best, simjile robe their, 795. 

in ifay, is Sf'cn, -j'rj. 

%o wild In their. 86U. 

walk in silk. i<5. 
Attraction, robs trio vast sea with hl<i (freat, 

AH;. 
Attractive kinde of (Trace, a sweet, 9'>4. 

metal more, here's, 133. 
Attribute to law and majestv, 7'A 
Auburn, sweet, loveliest vlllaicc of the plain, 

WW. 
Audience, fit, find thouffh few. 807. 
Auuht divine or holy, 803. 

In malice, nor net down, 734. 

Inanimate e'er jifrleves, 513, 

that di(;nifics humanity, J48. 
Aiild .i(.i|u.iintancc be forifot, should, 118. 
Aurora of the air, a younff, Wn- 
Author, chooM an, as you cnoose a friend, 

Authority, base, from others' books, 804. 

drcst In a little brief. 813. 
Autumn fruit that mellowed lonf;, fell like, 
3">- 

noddlntf o'er the yellow plains. 499. 

of adversity, ivo. 
Autumnc all In yellow clad, then came t)ic, 

Avon, sweet Swan of, 905, 

to the tide of Severn, 030. 
Awake arise or be forever fallen, 540. 
Away you 're all the same, 371. 
Awe, attribute to. and tnajcsly, 708. 

tho s'tui of Richard, fate couM, 541, 
A-wcary of ihv sun. I '(Hn ta be, 34^ 
" * * thin tnat, 

:on 
ruiin, V, 

robe of nlifht, 593. 

Babbllnif dreams, hence, 541. 

Babe In n house a wcU-sprJnfc of pleasure, 

I07. 

she lost In infancy, 309. 

sinews of the ncw-bwn, soft as, 399. 
Babes fearer wordes, 540. 
Babel, silrof thcyreat, Bia 
Baby who can tell what a. thinks, 7$, 
Babyhood's roval dignities, 75, 
Bac( hus ever fair and yountf, 771, 

that firit from out the purfilc tf^npe, 538. 



Awful volume, vithin that, 39^. 

Ay, proffercr construe, would have the. 79*. 

Azutc main, ^76. 



Hack iin<l side jfo bare, 946. 

harness on our. die wKli, 541. 

resounded iJeuih, 310. 

thumping on your, 1^1. 

to the hd<l and f- ct to the foe, 574. 
Backward, turn, (J I iiiie in your flight, aasi. 
Itackw.irds, yesterdays look, with a Mdilo, 

Baron, think how, shincd, 938. 
Bad, affright the, 3.is< 

eminence, tj-j. 
Bade mc Adieu, so sweetly she, 341, 
Biidf(c, nobility's true, sweet mercy Is. 798, 

of all our tribe, suirerance the, 346. 
l!;ifll'd oft Is ever won. 58a, 
It-ilin- e. heaven's iiisX, Htki. 
i:.il-U,< . milky, of the skies. 5^/1. 
It.iltiid. wilful, made to his mistress' eye- 

lirow, 711, 
Ballad-monifcrs, these same metre, 807. 
Balm of hurt minds, 88j. 

wash the. from an anointed kin(f, 7^3. 
Balmy sleep, nature's sweet restorer, 816. 

sweets, dllfuscd around, 348. 
Band, heaven-iiorri. 603. 
BanrliKi, blur-eyed. ';K, 
Banc an'l .tnli'lote, 'b.ith niid life my, 750. 
Banishm. lit, hiic r t,r<;id of, 346. 
Bank and biiOi, both '.vrr, 671. 

and shoal of time, i/ji}. 

I know ., 4'jS. 

iiioonli^lit sleeps ujxin tills, 775. 

of violets, brcallicH iinon a. 8(5(. 

on K^H'^'^y, a snow-white ram, 494. 

whore the wild thyme blows, 495. 

wlllowtufted, f,yj. 
Bank-note world, this, 677. 
Banner, freedom's, strenmlntf o'er us, 593. 

In the sky, 630. 

starspanKlcd, 560, 593. 

with tlie stranjfc rievlcc, 777. 
Banners, brltfht, waving urms and, 491. 

hang out our, $f>. 
itanquct song and dance and wine, 583. 
|{*in<iuet-ha(rdeserted. ^i8. 
I(.tr, poveriy's unconinierable, 813, 
lt.irbari;iiis, young, all at p1ay,6Bi. 
JJarbaric pearl and gold. 733. 
Barbarous disvjnance, 831. 

skill, adorning with so much art a, 795. 
Bard, blind, who on the Chlan strand, 833. 

more fat here dwelt, a, 940. 
Bare Imagination of a feast, 346, 
Bargain, dateless, to engrossing death, 

899- 
Barge, drag the slow, fkia. 
Bark, attendant sail, my Utile. 911, 

dogs delight to, and bite, 108. 

drives on and on, 3V7. 

Is on the sea. 930. 

wntch-flog's honest, 166. 
Barleycorn, inspiring l>olfl John, 848. 
Barren jjath, penury s, 803. 

sceptre In my gripe, 345. 
Bars, nor iron- a cage, 147. 
Barty. where is dat. now, looa 
Base authority from others* books, 804. 

ilegrecs. scorning the. 799. 

firm, this rock shall fly from Its. 655, 

in kind, born to be , fclavc, 0,i. 

of I'ompcy's statue, even at the, 876, 
Baseless fabric of this vision, 867 
Bashful art, 169. 

sincerity and comely love, 304. 

virgin's sidelong looks, 687, 
Baskin west-wind purr contented, 493. 
Bastard valor. 900. 
Bnt, the filark, night, ir3. 
Bat's back, I do fly on tlie, 869. 
Bate a Jot of heart or liope, 735, 
Bate'l breath and whls]/ring humbleness, 

7^4- 
Bath, sore labor's, 883. 
Battalions, sorrows come In, 345. 
Battle, feats of Ijroll and, 145. 

for the free. 585. 

freedom's, once begun. 583. 

front o', lour, s^e the, 573. 

L'ret prize o' death In, 539. 

In the lost, 510, 

leaving in, no blot on his name, 574, 

perilous edge of. 540. 

world's broad field of, 770. 
Battle's magnificently stern array, 513. 

van, f-tm. 
Battlements, sheer o'er the crystal, 735. 
Battles, foiight all his, o'er again, 771. 

sieges fortunes, 145. 
Bawl for freedom In senseless mood. 6oi, 
Bay of Bisciiy. O.638. 
Be Just and fear not. 333. 

iKrt worldlv-wise, 798. 

nothing wfiich thou art not, 796, 

she fairer than the day, 193. 

to. no more, sad cure, 794* 

to, or not to be, 39?. 



Bn wise to-day, 748. 

wise with bpced, 793. 

wisely worldly. 798. 
Beach, 'amu to the, a poor exile of Itriu 

57H. 
Beadroll, fame's ctcrnall, 938. 
Beads, ttll their, in drops of rain, 404. 
(ieak, take thy, from out iny heart, 85 j. 
Beaker of the warm South, 316. 
Be-all and the end-all. 900. 
Bcarn. morning's, is glancing, 539. 

that smiles the clouds away. r34. 
Beams, candle throws his. how far that, 797. 

Orient, spreads Ills, 490. 

trir,kshis. 49". 
Bear like the Turk no Wother near the 
throne, '^lo. 

those Ills we have, 297, 

110 and steer right onward, 735, 
Bcar'l of formal cut. 711 

the lion in his rb-n, O48. 
Bearded like the jiard. 71 1. 
Bears his blushing honors thick upon him, 

331. 
Beast that wants discourse of rcawm. 733 
Beasts, brutish Judgment thou art fled to. K7U 
Beat tis to the liip, our enemies have, '//</. 
Btriililif- vi<,ion. B'/i. 
Beating of my own heart, 149, 
Beaumont, bid. lie a little further off, 9'.5. 

rare, lie n little nearer Spenser, 939. 
Beauteous, all that Is most, imiigcd there, 

eye of heaven, 736. 

hliot. 713. 

ruin lay, lovely In death the. 794. 
Beauties, just, see In small proportions, 739, 

thy naked, 814. 

you meaner, of the nfght. 134. 
Beautiful, and therefore to be wooed, she's, 
7V5' 

beyond compare, pnmdlse how, 399. 

exceedingly, 731. 

Is nlglit, how, 401. 

thought and soirly bodied forth, Hf/), 
Beautifully blue, darkly fleeply, 490. 

less, mic by degrees and, 721. 
Beauty, a thing of, is a Joy forever, 675. 

and her chivalry, 511. 

as much, as could dye, 907. 

bereft of, 735. 

born of mtirmiiring sound, 103. 

changing witli the changeful (lay, 333. 

doth shine alike to nil like the sun, 796. 

draws us with a single hair, 303. 

rlwells in rieep retreats, 906. 

l-Jysian, v'/j. 

f.K.e best dressed by Its own, 193. 

f.ideth by too much possession, I93i 
;entle&t, 814. 
langs on the check of night. 731. 

homely, of the goorl old cause, 814. 

Imaged In liapiMer. 399, 

Immortal, awates from the tomb, 737, 

is Its own excuse for being, 461. 

Is truth, tnith beauty, 60, 719. 

Isle of. fare ihee well, 348, 

lines where, lingers, 303. 

making beauliiul old rhyme, 193. 

mind dis«:-*ed of its own. fAj. 

more than, tliy gr.ice thy, 796. 

of a thoiisann stars, clad In, 134, 

on the shore, h,-ft their. 41/,. 

ornament of, is suspect, 7;;3. 

provokcth thieves, 133. 

she walks in, 130, 

shot forth peculiar {(races, 303. 

smile from pnrllal, won, 795. 

teaches siicii. as a woman a eye, 795. 

truly blent, 133, 
Beauty's chains, sport an hour with, Si6. 

heavenly ray. 720. 
Beaux, where none arc, vain to be a belle, 

133. 
Beaver, young Harry with his, on. 671. 
Beckoning sh.idows dire, 830. 
Bed by n^ht. clicst of drawers by day, 669, 

holy angels guar<l thy, 76. 

pendent, and procrcant cradle, 730. 

thricc-drlven, of down. 539. 

with the lark, to, 495. 
Beddcs heed, leverc have at his. 696. 
Bedlam, -ill, or I'arnassiisls let out, Soj, 
Beds of roses, I will make thcc. 157. 
Bee. how doth the little busy, 108. 

some, had stung it newly, 31 r, 

where the. sucks there suck 1. 869. 
Beef, roast, of old Fingland. 575. 
Beehive's hum shall soothe my car, 335, 
Been, what has, has been, 793. 
Ilecr, sm.-ill. chronicle, 733. 
Bees, murmuring of innumerable, 4<n. 
Ilretle, poor, that wc tread iip'in. y6. 
Beeves and nomcljrcd kine, 403. 
Beggar that is dumb may challenge double 
fiity, 304. 



k; 



1056 



INDliX OK IH^KTK AL QUOTATIONS. 



r-iv*:-*'* '» 'f»*>' ''«'** ^l^** *■*** '** i«ck,««Ki. 
I- . www ftv. 4frU 

utuin-v't^M;, n;h> »%HtU k\N« thu. ^M. 

^.' ■ , ■ -' . .. ■— - ■-'..■ASS*' 



IW^iMiKtu, uHiU-i whuh Vin^;, \#.\ 
HttsK*. l>4»i\li-iix vM thp. .>M. •t.>. 






lU Alt M^atip^U4Wt 






"vUK* *»« bCAUV, 



^xsvl CAtK«U line%t 
, ANN»(mUiM>Uy. gx 



UiUv'WN «U>uiut A4 (hv\ yvt *>tte »» IN* s«Nu 


















VI. vvl IU\ W vtWvt I 



) tUA«t tx>' vk-.^r l\k\v>^ in utH\n \Hti esftn., "Mv 



^A(\^U\ li^cv 












OK'. 114. 















<!V!«i thou K^, «)K 



t>t I'l u .( iwu to K' aUxc, 4dk\ 



. &»i 



V>l' All 






. .1 his. *x\. 

. IX ill H\.V, Jl«^ 

A imu", >>.\v 









,.i.,«fst Alt. A-CV 



luicwhivo «l>u\^ he v\>«UI 'oUh 1 



- 4** 



.A 

■^i.l. Si*. 






M-"-». ." 



iichI wen, tASi, 
■ UACC, pSS. 
:.■ MUlt tll<-. r.»\ 



niuxlor WVAlbCf 



Ik^U ill riVvU<>^ UMiurr. 7A<h 

Rv- •^-.•K'w. like «. ^^^, 



atN-tiv Sl> 



INIJKX OV VOy.TlCAL QUOTATfOVS, 



1067 



t'lZ'i.' 



•il I;- 















',„,',it. 

■in 
iit'l 'liK rrMk«« ali ttic tilv 



:;;,^i;;'i 



K^t Leaf, ^17. 

f rliy l/fil/l/|/:«'/iiwaf'l, f/zj. 

wi'i/ 'lull* ttir <:'ij£«: '^ lMJbl>«0'irx, 

i //rr'/wtujjf, 547, 
ritry'ft omjm:, ^yat. 



.7«4. 



■/'*' 



^.':, »?». 



^f^-- wn-; hSr yrj. 



■ I7I' 

■r^v^llcr return*. 



Wtti) f/OTf 






litiyiin'i'i, ifrtuMiH in, and i^rMc •• fittiit. 

ll'ijrK""'! » y^N'*, llf: xrillv* tiM UMk of, 1(lf. 
Il.,yi,li 'l>«ya, »¥«(( from iny, 14^. 



njf t«i rri/, ('II V: 



my, */it, 

il of ii»<r, 71//, 



fttMiL<(W, I-'1iI»m1 m **»(t'ff'«i(«nli, 734, 

" ■ ■ ' v'/tjr, V/i), 



dy;. tfkMif>;<4 '/f ttlf:, &yl. 

' i" ' »'■■ ""''/rK'/lun, 5*Ji. 

'' v;ry«:*lti« ftilr, j?/. 
1 i-'dr Ihn iumit, 795, 



•ix, •/-'. *'-?/■': iTd.-, ti.',, ',14- 
wti«> wouUi WA b« a, 41^ 






'11/. 'v.ap«»i' tlw, 14V 



.i/;/:M 'if, tt/j. 



;'ir. 



"41. v«* 






•■» an*J brf4», 'A7. 
' /'« t*j«, «», 

'ly, ja-y, 

- J, aw, 

■ 9 */« J/Ul lj»/.', ^>, 

:;, ', >') '/f, 4c/i(, 
.',..,','1 w'/fftUHttwrn, 
■• -•..• ■;.'»? word* In \M\n, 



i-.r 

!'.< ■ ■ ■>.■ 

UrbU, wile dearer ttiM th<, ati$, 



Dri'l' 
l}rl<.r 



«j> itiA Jif^iiriififf In lit* tMUUt4 riitflH, 



'■ • *''7( 
'II a JftlU, «(|, 



, IM, 



fit'A. 



■ 1 llWrf), '^'y 

>4ii, 
W4 ili«y tak« Iticfr JSiiffi^ 

wiL «ia. 



: VfV 



VKriiifi o'trr, *//?, 



. ttt>t, y/,. 
'I, »)»», 974, 

' ' H vera, 847, 

'•iU, 'd4i& 

■ J, I'l /.'.':*»/■-'.';/,>;■). 

'.-fily live Ml, lK«n wiU l>rcaJ(, y-tt' 

' •■-.,...... ■^\..rf^ tint, i»4, 

- ♦■/'- 






n your, 7*4, 
iM«r nf/, 'fin. 



'■ m tyAAm. $41. 

- /-. 

(*'* W^riokU:* 'yd 

! -,.■ ifiU, 7«, 



IT*- 
•■'/rH, *>4 



i'l/'", 4»>^ 

•■'^11, f4fc 

-/■'• 
"?' 

.-, >--♦- 



'^M- 



I huiUU^ Utlcr utiiu li« kttcw, 7 ^, 



lOoS 



INDEX OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS. 



BuiMmi;, htV o" iho, stoJc the, ^.xv 

BiiiMs a vhvir« h i.^ iVvt \\^.\ ■«, 
Built ^.*.^^,^ A . • 

hi> \\x\n.\ ;. S,^S. 

B\»IIci\> fw- At I'toir, ^r> 

Bvilwark. nir.\ 
CuUwrks UntAiuiiA nco-i^ no, &?>, 

nA(i\T, of the iwss. ;»,». 
Biirxirn *M" hiv s>mj;, Sio. 

of my vvii;. 141. 

of thi? nixMerw ♦N4. 

of threcsvNMT, a?* 
Sunlen?; of 1 \c BiMe ^,^l^^ tSS- 
Bunv «vr\tv that. ^7. 
Bun^mc ilcvk. the Ihiv stv^vl »w\ the, 614. 

S.\p^>ho lovcvl An<l >ui\t;. s&v 
Eviriis with one lo\x. i».v 
Burrs. 0\MuvrN.itivMi's, *>%. 
Burv ^ in a Chrisniias pie. Sift. 
Bush. i\un in ihf, with ».«vl iua>' n»cet, 744. 

thicl' lioih fc.xr csch, .\n omccf, 70$ 

thrvHuih. thnM»;h tmcr. A,». 
Business, «r.»>Tr aI"! hi^s ,f>j. 
Bu«t. Aniii«ttNl, vtotitsi unnv. j,*» 

of l^itlAv ivivhcvl ni»»M\ a. §5*. 
Bust con\iv»uifv of men. -10. 

bee, how iK^th -he little. 00. 



li; 



i.-r : 



^ 



. konwn holutay, <»Sa, 



Bi 

Bot. 

B«t;,- 

Buitctiii :-cAk> A. iiiyy\ a wheel, 9i>>> 

Buiton on fortuiie-s 0JH\ 54*, 

BuTtone\) Jowh Ivft^re, c\Mt all. 0;^ 

Bu)- with luuch CAte. ihey kvic it that vlo, 

CaNnei,) cribbeil cv^nfinetl, a.-<a. 
CailiDus. letters, f axx;, 5S1. 
Cxsar. j^TVAt. fell. :*76i, " 



hath wciM when ihc [sw haxx; crieiL 875, 
I'.iic to Nii^', not to ivAise hint. 



i\ !»\.>re »lan)r«\His than he, ^99. 

tO!i^\ic n e\-er>' wvhuuI of, 9ff. 

WAS Aml^ilivMiSs ^5. 

n-ith A senate At h'ls heels. *Si. 

w\M\i iM". mijrht ha\-e stivvl. S;;*. 
Caesar's spirit ranpni; for rc\xn^:e, <;j»». 
Caije, nor irv>n bars .x, 14-. 
Catamity i> nun's tr\ic twiohst.Mie. 54S. 

of so ioni; hie, resivs-t that nukes, a*,"- 
Calevloiv.* vt,:,., v.-.,l «ita. 5-?;- 
Odl b . 1 ' i,l tiine retnn\. ^>i. 



.^l^re-Mhinj; mon'.. v^ 
It oiM«e no* .V an, Jio^ 



spirits ftiMn the vA^ty ileei\ Sre, 
tneso .ielii.-.\te crratures oiirs. 00?. 
tvvtiay his o«t\. he who oan, ;>95 
Calleil so liMiii that hell reso«mie»1, 54CV 
C&lUnf shA|>e^ and beckonini; shavtow-s vlire. 

Cftlnt v ' ■" ! ,v .1 «\imnter sea. 651. 

-' i lorsAkiits *■>*** ^ *4'^ 

''•■ ■■:\ -^i. 

so .),-,-:, i;.-.r ^iw I a. fr:S. 

Cahnncss, law in. n«vle. 54,v 

thy currents, ^si-*. 
Camhiis>."An Iv^Kl. the stv>ry of. r*T. 
CaimU-v sw itt. sconrs the i4ain, &^ 
Can-iL ihe slow. G?*. 
CanJivi fhenA save me frvMii the. tet. 

where we can, be, ite,*. 
Cutitied tortile lick absunl iXMn^s let the, 

III. 
C>ni.11e. ' 



Can.'. 
Can.- 

Car.V--: 



:?f. .n: 



^ that. N*- 
;. 4*>. 

1 A. 400. 

<rief .\re mine 



Cannibals, that each other eai, 145. 

Cannon tv^ riy^t of them. 517. 

Canm-tn s m<.^uth. seekinjj' re{^>utatton in the, 

-11. 
Canon 'piinst srff-sUughtcr, s"* 
Canopie^l by the blue skj*. -65. 
Cancvpv. roseAte. 4^. 
Canst nvM s.»> I <.M it. Sr«. 
Cap (ax whiter thar* the liriven snow, ^^6. 

fort',;Ti.-\ tVi v.-rv ^Ut^■«n^■»0. ^n;. 
Cap-i; > \e r^.\s^^n. SWS. 

Cajvr - v's chamber, 541. 

Cap': 1 mxm the. ftia. 

"^ :>»<. 

C»r^^n. '.vrL> >«<h!;.-sl. Iineil. -n. 
Capnre (jws\ Attew,'.Ln>; captain ill. .M? 
Carar.\n, innumeraWe, >■>-, 
Ourase fit for h.Hin*ls. hew him as a. *v\ 
Card, reason the, but passion is the jTalc, 



Care a^Uis a nail to o»ir cv^xhn. ^98. 
fvw uoNsiy. I. Sio. 
fricn-llv .K i:h ..ime with, toj 
1 •; . irth, 04.>. 



I. A\». 
..-ckswith, i9> 



w-eep away the life ol, st^ 
wilt Vill .1 cat. SrCs 

Carv" H4. 

Car. . .■•■ics 

Car^.. :i.»yevt. rov"*. 

>li.-,v.i.i,^ ui ".i.iMjtie, ^r^, 

their iuccit> or laults to s^-.tiv 6SS, 

trirtc. .In ^t wTrc a. J09. 
Cares vt>>i»Un>:. doublinj; his i^leasiires, 01a. 

caiinjT, -J^n 

humlMC And tlclicate frars, aji, 

noWer k^ws Aiiii noWer, 43. 

noKvlv, t\^r uie. Sio, 

that inTot the lUv. Sifc. 
Caress, »^>■^»i; the, !^»4. 
Cart>.i4;e An>l his CiM\^4Vlc^( cease, 541. 
Canals. TMvlc. owns m, i*;->. 
C\TA-e nim an a .lish tit lor the C^^ls 9''V*. 
CatatnI with rii;^iTx> strAii>*c anil swvei, 7^^ 
Carver's hrain. titjiires ma.le v^it of the. 7X». 
Carvinj; the f.v<;hton of a new lionblct, t^y. 
Cascv rent the eu\i.His, nu^le, S;Ck 
Case, when a laJy'Nin the, ly. 
Cvscaient slowly grv^wrs a j^limmerini; square, 

3S^ ■ . \ 
y-vMtiier ivietl. ^u 

Cask, an oracle within an ein)^, -a|. 

Cassins has a le.\n an*' huniir\*KHiJt, yaa. 

Cassivk. their silken. coKueijrreen, 49,9. 

Cast, ivilc. of thiMi^t, c^-. 

set niv V.^f r.]^-".\ .-^ P,Tr, 

Cast:. * • ■ -A 



*-Asi.- — > ,• to s*^>rn. 540. 

C.imKsI K'un, .!«,■!,. ;li bv the. 4.J4- 
Castles in the cloiuU that ixus, Sji». 
^'asual e>*es, tticse, Soc 
t.~.LsuistSk souiuiest. .^--iibt. &.». 
Cit, care will '■dll a. Sicv 

harniless necess»r>', 4g& 

r the a,1aj;o. like tne IMXW, Rxv 
Cataract. sx>uniiini;. haunted me, 4CV4. 
C.«.\racts, jilent. ^,-;. 
Catch the cxviscience v^f the kint;. Saj. 

him trippiui; if \\hi cau, -ff4. 

the manners living as they rise, ¥>.,>*, 
Caters pr^^^^^lently, tW the sivam>w, ,194. 
CAth.iy. a cjvle i< .-jS, 
C.\to t^ive Inv hule senate Uw-s, (o*. 010. 

knows neither of them. ^n». 
C.ittlo. be n.'-t like tUimb drix'en. -:w 
Caiic.ishs, rrv»Nty, thinkii\<^ i>n the.' 546. 
Caucht by glare, nvwlens hke mevths, ai?- 
Cvihl iHiT cite, te.»n, 006. 
Cause. co\mtr>''s, N.-«soiu b«At9 do* in his, 

CSV 

*:- > Ivauty of, S14. 

h ■ vn-o, xu- 

iT, i ."t\ii,5:s. 

m.tv.- ;! \ .-.ir, -.-.I, 

Cause of ,s>ltcy, turn hiin to .\ny. j^ 
rei^Nrt me .-ind my, aright. Sri. 

th.'u .-T.- It V"'->.| ;-,\ 

Cauv, •^ ■ .- to Niml. :^>?. 

Caut. ^, le»ioiv icA 

Cawv, , jU her, 3k\ 

un!".t-.,i:iuf.i, .M ise-ii\, ,<so(v 
Cavi^ms mea$urele?%s w nwn, Sj* 
Cease e\-er>* Joy to ^Inimer'on uu* mind, 
Aw 

mde BiMTAs 6**5. 
Celestial hamictny ol~ Likely heiUtS lore is a* 
««. 

n>sy re\i, sniile that glowext 9^ 

white, (Hire, <5«. 

w>>rth. there \Hids the jw!\mise <tf. Wv 
Cell, each <ti ^i* n/nrv^w. forever laid, 305. 
Cemc-i' ■-...., .•(' the s«,>ul, is& 

«•' -..ishiis wa 

Cenvii . ^est, Sii. 



*. cnf ■,;, ^\4, 

Cere' .-vv 

Ccnv; .,;, the. :i: 

Chaitt. h.-.:-,^:i-... U'. i j; ■''■'."•, jo;. 

Ien!;^heninc. ilracs al each renKi\-4 £43. 

slumber's, has Kvinii me. .iiS.' 
Cluins Nvinil in icy, by thee, »,*. 

frx?t frv'nn marriiuonial. cjja. 
Chair, one \-at.Ant. .— j, 

iwk of a tvx* e.A-y, rs4- 
Chalice, lx^i^one^l. ;nc«>lients of our, foo. 
Challen^ do\ible p't>-. c^^4. 

to Kis end, life that dM«s send «, tgtS- 



ChAHilvr, capers nimbly in a lady'i; 541. 

cvime to the bridal, \lcath. ^Aj. 

in the silent h,Uls ol' UeatK ^>7. 

where the j^svl nv\n -ueets t.;* fate, qo^ 
Ch.\nce, bniKl it up as. will ha\c it. *:. 

by happy, wo s,o\ a twofold ini.in'c, 49> 

direi.'tioii, -til. jSsx 

ri>;tu by. a fool now and then. :Sv\ 
CKincellor in embi\\\ 10, 
Chances diMNtrxnis, 145. 
Change. l>cAuty Cv^iiitant to the constaiiu 

came o er the spint of mj- dre&nv ^«S' 

chivngnl And such .x <>8t». 

down the riui^iui: i^nvn-cs oC ajS. 

of many-colorcsl lite. *.>5. 

old lv'\-e I'lM- new, ai*. 

the place but keep tlieiwin, 700. 
Ch.anncml dream, tickle as a, Si ». 
Clwiii-es, monthly, in her citvlcd o) 1\ aoy. 

t.> their, half ttieir charms we o\m\ yi% 
Chanticleer, ct>iw- like, my lui\j^ SiA 
CJwtvs and denial nioht, Min^i ot', 4. 7. 

rvijjii f>f, ami old "Nicht, ;^j. 
Characters, hiirti, from liitjh liYe arc dra»vi^ 

Stc; 
Clvaractcry. fairies use t^owers for tltcir, S69» 
CJiarge Chester charge, 5iv\ 

is i\repare»l the k\w>-crs met. -aa. 

with Ml thy chivalry, stj}. 
Chariots, brarcn, maddinc wheels of, jixit, 
Charities that soothe and heal .ind bleSI» 

Charity, all iiwnkind's t.incem Is* 39S. 
j;i\-e hun a Iillle earth for, uts. 
mcltinj;, hand o|*en .ts d.ij' for, 7*4. 
IMty i;a\e ere. l^ej^an, oSS, 
r.iritj- of Christian. ^1,45. 



Charkttaii. vletamevl by e\■e^^■. 707. 
Chann can s\H>ihe her inetancnat>-. 



, 5^*- 



*h*t. 



dear wsimanS chtefest, gentle voice, 7^5, 

female, loudly o\-erconie «ith, Sgg. 

(Wmu the sky secn»s to hallow it. inv 
"5- 

of cirliest Wr\ls, aA 490. 

one natix-e. ttdi>. 

I>iwer t^^ nor witch hath. ,»>:. 

renuMrr. bythou^chts supplied, 404. 

tender, of jv*etry and lo\e, 495- 

the certainty h.i (■Jease, ju. 

that lulls t»» steei\ 15* 

tvt «tay the momins ***'• 37*»' 
Channesl with distant viewi of happiness* 

Am. 
Channer. free fn^n every other, 79^ 

sinner it or v^int it. A.-^s- 

were t'other dear, awaj", 154. 
Chaniiers, hke other. S14, 
Channini; >snir Wvvxl with iileasiuj; heavW- 

ness, Si 6. 
Charms All thtvse endeariD^ jvun);, 174. 

each dune haih. 906, 

freevlom has a th«Misand. &^s. 

half their, we owe to their chants r8> 

music hath, to ^oothc So> 

n.imeless, i,^s, 

SvMiiiide where are the, ;5& 

strike the Mj;ht. so;. 

that daxjle anvl endear, Wt 

t\> win and sense to rix the neart, k* 

we d.\re c\Micei\-c in IvylKWl. 867. 
Oiarter, a» lar<v a. as the win>,l. 60s. 

of the lanil s;<i. 
Chanerevl lil«ertine, the ait a. VJ- 
Oiase, iMtc^HJs, l>t^ rmmd tears in. 4^ 

the glowing hiMits with fl>iiig feet. 511. 

the sj'sMt ol kmt:~s ft;i. 
ChAstc as inornin>; dew, ic6. 

as the icicle curded by the f^ost, 49S- 

niu!«, &*. 
Chastises m«v>t whom most he likes, heaven, 

Chasjitv. ckrtheil iw with. ft*;. 

saint:* , .--o .'...u to he4\-cn is, 796. 
1 1^ --v-v 

Chath.-. -^ mother tonj^ve, 57^ 

Chaucci, .V v.„ .^ :;i.Mi«;ht more ni|ih t^ 

lodcc thee by. or Spenser, »>>. 

w^Sl .'f Tncli'^n undefyle^V 05S. 
Che.it. ■ ■ \- hfc t is .<\\ a. 793. 

C^.e- V ,in£ in the. jSj. 

Che. V - her. csi. 

h. • -V . 141. 

of !iij;' t. Iv iu:\ h.^ns^ ^w the, 711. 

o'er her wann. ^^- 

P*le grew thy. and ciMJ, 241. 
luto s. drew- irvMi tears down, 797. 
smilinc, villain with a. ;«o*. 
Cheeks, blow wHnds and crac^i jsnir. 404. 
make pale my. with care, 10?. 
stain my man s, .;4^> 
Cheer, cufw that, biit not inebriate, itM.. 
Kvely, of viifor Ixun, 793. 



INDEX OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS. 



10/59 



Cff-rt'i\ (/•^lltn«>««, y? 



'■4i« the«. jn. 



■ '") "f. (^ 



' .'tip, fti^ 

' - I»i<r, 77:^ 

Chcwinff ihf (.iKlof ftweet andtrfttcr fjuicy, 

C'hUn itrjifi'l. Mind fNrd whoonih«, ti-jy. 
Chlclcpnt, nil iriy [ffctty, jt^^. 

* '.ikln' tvitct, 805. 

I CilU elw fV'fo up of iDjr, 

t/ch^il'l th«, f/?. 

InOm-.'-"- -■■: 

Ufau i'^. 

Hc'i' -ij. 

IUlC(> <r«'. 834. 

ni«ke rii'- 1. ■i-^-uii, rr*. 

nwck ruture'b, '/^-f, 

nalud new'U/m, on parenti' knc«» a, 

7». 
fif tufTcHnif. 147' 

D'n'ilc, inert nur%e ff>r s, Mj 

Shjike«(*cJire F«ncy'», 786, 

»lint>lc. ^. 

%um\ tn«, ipare the rc/d *tv\, fJi. 

tnanklcM, f^ have n, ui^I. 

Ihre*! year*', IklTnt Ulte .1, tfA. 

watpft wil'l went o'er hl», j^ 
Chlldh'Kffl, tarcIrM. •(/«/£'], loAs. 

day* of, 374. 

/l-rTtc'l W. how rny, t'M. 

f/Mfifi'i'vI ;ind 'le^reptt ajc;, 77a. 

v.cff* of »iy, fA, 

ftliowt the inan, 107- 

w/iiMnVy^J and, Reef, irj4. 
Ch)Mti'v,d'» h'/ur, ever Ihua fr'ira. aji. 
Chtl'litri trcMe, 711, 
Childi«hne«i, »ec/jnd, and mere obllvkjT), 

711 
Chft'llcH and crivwnlew, mo, 
CbiMl;'/' .-.n-l M;,/.-t, -.«,lfc that wu, r^. 

..'• »h//re. If*. 
u af<r, 107. 
C*. 'fieir nfAAc rajf<:, 

winter'*, one rent admits the, 310. 
Chlmima 'lire, (f'/rifon* hydrat and, HfJf. 
Ch*' r ' -■-»-'-F.*-f»^ <y>Tn« to r]u«t u, y>i, 
Ci ' r 'h t^Mt waa neat ber, 3tt, 



'-f H-. 1-7. 



, riJi, »ji. 



■ id her, 511, 
Mhy, 5i> 
. , • tn hi», to iteep or die, 

quWer'«, deril hath not >n hl%, 304. 
w'/fd and ff»*^'.'(r-'1 fihraic. 807. 



. >»5- 






.XI4. 



. i,;ht, »5J 

■Oi'.'f ' ,, '■■»!! ll'-rl'-, it .„';( w^\ rcviy, 847. 
Chriu that la U* l«, rmif In the, yia. 
fChrUcened Joye, i'cter** keya a^lom v/me, 

yA- 
ChrfMiaa charity. ala« for the rarftjr of, 715* 

la the hj{[hc«t Uyle •-/ m»n, y/-, 
ChriWians hirr Virnt "-Th f*1iver, 3(>6, 
Chrtatntat ' .t yea/, !if^ 

pte, t- - 

*!»*»■ . A 

Chronklr • ' . iw, 

%aMU t«eer, ;y ^ 
Chronicler, tuch an hoacM, a« Grfflhh, £111. 
Chrr»ollt«. one entire and perfect, j3y 
Oiijf f,. t^ii". L..,^ knoOcd to, 347. 

I chanf e, 80^ 

O.^...,-,: ,.,^ ,^n. ;ja 



Chfifhyard m'fuA, %n thfl very verffo of 

^ the, ,*». 
ri r.rn, wi. 

' ' , f ul U;k/W, 107. 



' .' ■ ti'.i with, J7> 

' . .,"!* (n her, v/j. 

' ' ■ 1 f^ iJtc, 0/. 

<^tr. ,,.;■■ 1 ,'-iw), fA war, ?». 

fJMern* '/f ihe lut/ltitiiht itir, cW, 416, 
Cities, f>ir ff'/fn ifiiy, and tl>e ways t/f nkan, 

hum of hiiinan, iff%. 
towered, p)r.iM; us then, 'fit*. 

rUy of t),. y„.i. U>/me, ;>* 

1 th'/iitand stare, (14. 

' Ttt, effille at (he, a*>j, 
f v), f ■udle/f'-lt, 7». 

■ in to trra/1 'in, fc'/y 
- 'lain '>< htiiftan, yj'j, 

-r (nforrne^l the, yA 



tUfntjih decj* yet, jaj, 
Ork Iher w«t tAOtmO/rit, 6>6, 
Cliff, iJiJI, ilut lifts Its awful f'/rin, «ys%. 
Cliffs that hiui l»*:en rent asumler, ii'*. 
Clini)rfrr-ii(rwi4rd iwrns his fa/.«, 7'//, 
Clir'M: ad'/red, in f-ii-ty, -170, 

t/.Id In. ..'.- ".M .r. f.W^, 905. 

'Jec/J^. ' . 'heir, 45J. 

eau'.h, f 

Tn %tjttif: i.Ti,riiTrf^ 1,1-1 UK ff'Kjd rn/>m)n(f, 

the unfr/rif'itlcn Mave, ^i. 
A ill 'he Hasl>:m, 4'/^, 



,A* 



Ci.. irid itarry skiea, lyt. 

■■■ th, Ssff 
Ci(;. ,; ' ,,/t, phi]/.v/f/hy will, VA 

Clonic, ifi^ici^, d/oun/l hiiii, t/it^t. 
CUjck, fancy like the finifer lA a, feio 

varnished, that ticked tyehin/1 the door, 
«>> 

worn cAit with eating lirne, y>/ 
Cl//te design, w/rk In, ti*. 

<.f '),-■ 'J./ ^?,'(, li,-: f<;«rnlel U Min, 777, 

ci'' ■ ,/.. 

c; . > 

CI' lines*, 7fv 



cr. 









iinllta/, 49r*. 






f 








♦f-?' 








■i. ¥»*• 








el, 814- 






.-.t 


frorn the, ^1 


■ / 




WA 




'■ '■■ '■., _ ■ . 


.-<• 




way. i>4. 




■'y. 


f^ c-r. 


'■'IV. ♦» 




f-. 


♦-H- 












,-.1 i,UyI 


tl 


^''f 





rol*e '/f, 4i'/> 



.n,7W. 
(I. 

11 n \fninTc, 



CoHt*, fiole In z' yt/at, fSr/ju 
Cot.w#-tA. {.-(ws Itte, In art a(fe«, 8to. 



C'^ i- • 

C'. ' 



Cof,'. 



y,i. 



- • .-.(he nv/m, S«J, 
•'-ni, Htfi. 



{. .ffAn and jf&M» 



C'/tne 'yf vantajfe, 7x1. 

Cou, nv/nal. shuffle r/ff this, «>7. 

• ..rv. rr.. 'r. i' . ri.^'lf f/<r me, 548, 
Coi- "rry, ^/fc 

Col : ;^,^rlx, y/,. 



C'/fd ffi-dl'ifn kn//w», frtcndettlp *o la^.. 
'--»m my hnit.ic 



rny hnit.ic, 7V^ 
- -■ (ie»d, »7r. 



r;.i/»(j, fOft. 
n;( in the, 
' W'rth. V54. 



C'>)<'fs 4f.d forn>F* *fcre i/* rrte an appetit% 

</f the rslnt.'.T*', Jtv fr, tt^, «^ 

C'.floml/ti, t. , ' ' :, '/yj. 

to j;l/-r , 

" • r ■ l.rleht, 'ftft. I 

C'.r^ .'Je*d, 7>l* 



cr> j~ , 
(/en'l' 


"me, yo. 




, I'rt'e, i«7. 



. ^'/. 

wh;U ma/, I have t.i«en \Ak*X, vvj, 
will th'-y, «1./T. y^/ii /(o /_«I1 Ufi xSxtmfita. 
0/Tnc9 t/y r." " ■ ■ ■• •' »-" fiitnUU, »)». 

atlUrt,'/' It. 

Cw/»etB, /.' . yara die, &», 

C'/rnf',rt t,- ,; 



f>/Tninjf cvetrtt tj^ti their <»had//w» ty«for<^ 



Ca, 

Co.,. 



*7. 

/ friend, TU- 



;'.:' .nd. 5391 
^/r my, jax 



'.f ' ■ 

Cz/Ti.]. ..' .■■• 

Cotf. 

C'/mj/ii •'ic.i 

Ccmpiexi'yr. 

of her., 

ComiAimv'-. v,. 7^ 

Cfimptte* k^Anr.f I. - 

0/fnpIjtnent«,t.««ni^: • : , i /,* 

C'/mp'.^urc stolen (f :.- 1,1. 

Comp^ytjnd f'/r Ur- ■ : t., y.7. 

Compunction, ttf.- , ;/7, 

C'/rnj.'in'.'i'.-n vr. • , /, 

O/Tf.; ■ ■-- - ' • . ,y ..«/, 7*14, 

Or re 7*5. 

Cor, . only to, 804. 

Cor, 

C'/fl^':-i J/.'.'i' IliC: ^ *'.ri.-| ; !he trtld, 1M, 

C'm'-eit, what are Utejr al' I'l iheir ht^fh, 744. 
Conceive in ^vy^"''''^ ■^'''J purwje at rrtet^ 



retch, 563, 



^rity. yA 
ifid rta, ^(A 



i.^f'/'i, at-j. 



lOGO 



INUKX OK rOKriCAL ^^UOTAnONS. 



•*»■■ 



C«>«'»l«'' 






thcv txJ^ ,1;*. 






Cw^ftisvxt. hATiu,»ni«>ustv. Si$. 

C^w^jp?"*** tv» »v,v hi\»rt. oA>. 
with tho n\j;tu. *>i\. 



i.\%nlMl. t;'>UI iti phwik, is A. S.' ;- 

tuHV lil^i' A. .-ivv 
Col*, m »>^ Ue.xftv Hi.'. 

l\*Hl. lllON o\t tt>,- MlUvHaKVU. A*. 



l lMJ*i' 



».l> A iv«4; i\\ .UA 



CvMi.;. 



CvMI 



.v thai nin awAy, ejNv 
■it is Jirtt, SW 

; i4' A. Wj. 

^« tVsAtSAll. JvtS.. 

1.1 hU. cvswc. 54». 



t\A\-C \AvAll.MV why sAvHlM »K»t, .»i> 

oi Ih<? t^HVfi. ^ AUh the. Am- 

WAU't s.%W (tv V".<kI AU.t (.*lil%hvSL .A> 

Citn^citt. whi>t>cii»\s I vnU ne'er. co»v«:n«M. 
C<»»sc.iuv»o.\ *KviN-vt. bclrA>- H« in. <w&. 
CvMivMoiAii.Mx liV*- AH ai\j:v1 cAi«c asiS. 

CW'^tAUt Av ■ 
AS Ihv W 



vitu , , hom\r n\M»», Su. 

M\v\ vlowulv HHiv«ul«nuc, 50ft. 

«^tIY (I>v bAl»n rt\ (Ixy jwn* c*w buy. ?»*• 

't Iv^kU* tho hill, m>n«; b« A. ntfj. 

.'»Aj;<. iu*hU>i Kv^ks the. mi^l «a*>r«. 

.*uvh. »ltA|S-iy of t>iv *vv 

H\^w.-V, >» viV|to« st.-i'lS .Uft. 
gTAwv. thov to tti.n. ii.; 
of ».ti. rtiuiv rtixl >lvvl s,M» 

CxHinseU. hAirnvmio, i«-<wl. i**;' 

UMtUTX'M. lKTl»K-\ rtluiMASh. .-«♦■ 

Coum (tlAt *(AV lo^^. l^JSv 

timo l»v hvsvntliroUs M**, 

V\v«Htv'ltV>t A Klo^Ml., USVvh li^Ut U\ T*?' 

Country, ^lu- ImU oiu -' to sa« our. ooi. 
t\*rl\i'v hi" mhIknI. ST* 
i;,v( lUAilo tlu\ u>A« the WwH. oj* 
hiv tiiNi lv>t, 1 \v'i U At luvmc. tfj» 
m*-;iN.-N lull--* '»»'* v»thcr. ;s»5. 

IvMKh OVH. Al\vl llwlt ihAvWos fAll, $»♦. 

CouwtryN cau-c. Kvxvmxi bcAts not »» nts* 
vVunlrvmoii. ' 

^l«UAt . 

CodrAni* lu- -'■ 

11 . omivAvMon. 5,<i* 

• biN. «1\ uv- 
,, i.U-i\Nt 4-43. 



vtAwu. t»**y. 
vKsMor. hiv wT^t. ''"'w hw sjMrit. ja». 
V t\MUiTx-. MauV. mtvtiivmnN ol a. ;s* 

uol A. w.*-. M»nn>;, \)C^ 

not UHi bni;I\t 01 ijwsl. ».*i*. 
Crc«t»i*N. ..All tUfvc n.lu.ii.. ourN co^. 

IJAV, 01 lU*" oU'iufnt. Av 

UlilllOUv Ol N)>llltUAl. ?kV^. 

Cre*Ul his own lie. NN 

»»t hts I'ooW voiuVmuK A\i. 
who lii,AVvtl> his J^V' . 

Crv^Ut^n. »;Uviy of a, aotv*ri«ii\c» ihe, ^j. 



Crw^is, mv« lUtth in viouht tlwiv haU ' 



th% 



.W. 



.11.196- 



t- 






Con. 

CvMl^ii '1 

Cwtsmivm '■■■ wishes!. *sr. 

Cvxisxinpi -*>• 

Cont.\t;'ioii ; - 

Cw«cm|M.Atiou .mi »,»! >' i.Hincxt. fiw, ;u. 
CxWtomi»iAH»-e. iVkMs. >\i iUx-t\ ^ux 
Cwttv-iu, All f lo^Ant suihvivMwy. ai4. 

("ArexTcU, --•*. 

hmnWo li^-xrrs ii\. tAixs* with. ,W> 

in cxt\'m.vK Sts, 

th>-«lt l\> l>c olvscurely t^tXHl. 61.M, 

M viwvU »n vltvcuvios hMx wr. *.». 
O^^Mentmeiw ttvun h<\*hh >i*ri)\ir^ js* 
C««csts. nn,;htv. r^so from triviAl thiuir^ 

CwittirAites. vlh»Amcs)^>l'y. wr, 
Co»«ij;«iiy of shA^c, s*>!"o U>ui\ai«». «n 5. 
ContinuAl v^KvliUr;. siimU hA\T cwr «sm\. 

&>4. 
Conlitiifenviw. ^^ |»iiUV **"• 
Cofttort»vMi\ ol' his IAC<, shnijT* *»** itraive. 



Con: ' ■ 
C 

Cor 
COU\ •.■!>> - 

hi<h. - 
if mil. 

CvM>V<TNiU, 



tUo 



still ;«?5 



tuiitvcs whcii he 



. . liMiul tulitViTS 

ftMw ne\t «%^ 

the ovwrtiug Uk* tx* he«x-en, 10?. 
Con"M»moiis o? A s.nvvxh-liVHW'* >-hell. <Sjt- 
Co«>k.\. uiAH vAunoi tiw with*HH. Si*. 
Cool l*ecvw\e moire cvawtAnt as they, pj^ 

rrasvin. A*k 

le^uestv-rovl vAloof lui' j.vv 
CojM-vis l>n-.loi\ wAuu-vi or forg\*l. svW 
Copy, leA^-e the «-v>rI.l no, «•*. 

ol Ihe fAthct. wJiole lUAtter and. lor. 
CoMfV^ n4t\u« in htr, ogj. 



■IHVII, -XSX 

■ .li,l mu !JniX»th, tfjix 

V, I'le imvii. **». 

Oom>.svi m\ )■■•: >loshow. S»«. 

ste.-i thoit. hKe slviivs, ».•?. 
Court »vn" .tunvh. -^)s. 

I,M . ■" - '■' '>i,- x\Mi\i\ eo* 

I ■ i.\ 

Cov.i ' . ■■ilvts. Mi- 

ll < ■ ..uIh?, *»5. 

Oomt.-v, ■, n\*. --I. i .»mtho xfty, r*4- 
sviim this lvivs\ihu\);. m. 

v'oiifts, other, o' til' n.«ion, 505- . , 

t. owt l>tei\vUe» b,Hlu>s of uuhunc^\ men, 

Oowft, »n shA^icst, hi.l 4*ir* 
Coxvt hvMvv, if it W A sin t\\ Kit. 
Covvtvms ix^r ip^vl \ ah> ttot, S»t. 
CowArxU aU ittAttkina is. one ot lhe>e tw^ 

Ana wickevl hxvrs *» , ,, 
iNMiscionce .Vws make, « "s «". e>Jr* 
die niAiiv tiuios ,■(''>. 

r:^«>hp'v K-11 I U.-. m A. S^*. . ^ . 

*.oxxn1iivs wAil tint h,oXfi the |>ei\MXX hea«\ 

Coy smMnivdon, vioKixsl with, ri»- 

niivxnain. Ana hArNl to j^icvisc, 5»^ 
CiNJfnA^v-. stt^ttj^v'. ,M.> 

CTA»k. ot avVMU. -JJ. 

\-xHlT Oh^*^■Ws. WoW wnuls AlUV *>4. 
CTA.^If v-iin^t 't."H hl4. J-SV 



(.'t.inVs. vjiiips Ana. Aiui wAnton wtles rSs- 
CrAiuw. ov^iv. but the n^ht. Av. 
vrApe, s.\tiit in. twioe A si»mt in Iawiv, Stfc 
Ct.xvv niv mm.le forUia^to, ;«* 
v'Mxes .» kiiul 1^ wit. -*1. 

I't-lffV s\MTxiW, t<»\ > , w LV. 

v'rtMie A soul iinaer the ntw of xie*in, asi. 
Cre.\tfvl hAlf to rise Ana h«\f to fAtl p;». 
Ct*Ati«Mi. Amia its i;.\v. 4A> 

A new. resv vi.-^l ft\>n; his rei^it, <tS»* 

e-ss-entiAl \<'stim; of, y«i». 

fevers ln^x lAlse. *7. , 

A fAlsc. iKxin the he*t-orvvness*vl tMAtn, 

sweet. v\t" sonic heAtt, EtfcriA, **i. 



Cteei> »ntv» his stinly ol ini«»;inAtK»H, ftai. 

Wll thAI CAtV IJIO. 

Cteei^nK liWe siiAil :»!. 

whcrv no lite i> seen. 4ft6. 
Creeivi in this »>e*ty (vice cVotn xlay to itay, 

rx>*. V 

i"iv>t. stiAki. fterve KeiweniAO':* reara her. 

Crew.' helpless, snnk in the iswinji m*in, 

t^tij. 
CtiW'esl. V AWnevl, contine^l. *sv 
Ctukiet vhirtnivs ^w the htNirtli. i^* 

on the livAtlK r*r- . , 

Crime, fot^ix^ »he. tVKi Ute I stajcsl iiT- 
lUAaa.n tA 45^*. . ,. 
miml-eis s.»notlIiea the, 541. 
un^'tvl. i-n« o of niAny «. i^>* 
Ctisis mon.ll. aoih potiena, >>* 
Crist** lore Aiia tiis Ai^-vstles t«-elve» «»;. 
iniu . in lo^iv .» ttv.n. *ls 
Ciui.-sevo. aoiiS \u-xv me with a. to?- 
iHnv a1. 1 Am nothmii if not. ;aj. 
1. rituise. not cVn ^ rilu-s, Suv 
•.liiuiMnj: eUes si^te ol aII the. ft* 
Cnttniie, cuh aA\ a. on the l-ist. ;m8. 
CrxMiittell .lAnuie.1 to exv tl.isimj; t«mo, .i*». 
i;\nlt)ess ot hi* comitijs W^hhI svW* 

CrxMW. AiKtent tnisty aronthy. 8*f. 
CrvHit. I'V h^v^V. ot, P.M. , . . 

ttie jyveuAnt hu\t:vs vM the Knee, m. 
xVm*s tlie iWeiv loo^l. joc 
Cr>x>N liittei. haiUM tvn xHir AavaniAK« «l 
the, >j-. . 

e'en tW it l>c a. thAt taiseth me. «;> 

lAst At his OAlhesl At his KTAVe. NS- 

s-lsAiWhus. '» h»« xvhite Uvast. ij& 
Crvvssasiw, K»ll livm st^vl. ^rI. 
i.'rvv»e\With Aaveisity. ,i4*i- 
i.'t\\s\e». Uvvses Ana. .u^^ 

rehvs^nuitives, _?j(v ^ , , ^ 
Croxv aoth smc swvvtiv as thi- iaiK. t^ 

liVe V hAntuUN-i. mv luujrs, Si^v 

Iti.-it Ihes in lie.uvii s s«ivtcM ait. ;?*. 
Civ»>l. fAr t\x^nilhv- mAaann;. .fr-e, 

not on niv soul. Sts-s 

of eonimon men. aeAth vaIU ye to, >vS. 

the hum the sJi.vV of men. i\<.. 
Crx'wn, A sonvws. ot soiimw. .-^s 

iWitU-vN rlA.ev! upon n» heA^l S4S. 

heAa th.\l «»Nirs .1. nneAs> lies tne, t«> 

oia >x imet's hcAa with llowcts, ig* 

th.- .■,>a of sl.-ep. Sift. 

preseniea him *. Sj*. 
i;.s..! upiessin}; Hi !«. 

mothers" sxmxs, M»- 
,T»leis on their, SCS. 



thiK 

Cr^^xvn1l■ 

t,1V" 



Cm. ^ ■.■N-S..S06. 

Ctv.el AS a, ,a^. I'un^iy As the RtAX-e. 510. 

v'rtishof wamUIs. *>>>. 

Cnitvh, shoviiaeust hiv ^!=^. 

Cry, l>«l»Win»;. of some sttx^n^: sixmxiner. 

(\^^'\yin(; Inxni. ,«exv 

IUaxshV ana let slij> the xlogs ol «•". 

IS Milli They *,-\»me. 140. 

incxx. Ik- a Vitten ami cry. *.»7. 

no IxniixiAce Inil a. j»a. 

wAr is still the. 541 
Cua of swTct Ana l»»tet fiuie v, 8i». 
Ouinmt; \xf the scene. slixuV Vy tne %-ery, 
8.M- 

MACvrs. oia. So.v 
Cup. Kn>x c a kiss »Hit in ;he. »;s. 

o' kuiancss \-et. t*W .V >»!<• 

of xvAtv-r. little thii\t: to gtve a. ryo- 

to the ae,ia AlreAvly. ^S. 
Cnpia, Nxlt of js*. , 

ivxintrsi Mma. wii^rexl, Ait. 
OmsM.i or min.o .-l. I.int.xstu Ally set mth. ;»». 
Cuivs. rtovnn<. (V.XVS swiitlv r\'uu-l. 14;. 

th.M ehe*-r I'ut not meVuAio. ma 
Cxirilevt hy itu- iVx* trvmi purest snow. 443. 
Cure, oheAp Ana nmx-ervit. hoin-, Aw. 

lot hies ws^r^t 111-. ■» IS ■"» »"'. M^ 

on e\et\ise a.-pena lor. the wise, oru 

s*vL tx> tw no irtorc. ."V4 



INDKX OK POETIC A r. QUOTATIONS. 



1001 



Ciirfrw t»ll» ittn knoll of pnrllnif lUy, y>v 
(!iirl"iu ' tilld, 1 liuva wrnii u, Oji. 

Ill iKHik-i iiol *iilltor«, Nu^. 
(.'tirk'l (iMrlliiif* "f "iir iiutl'rii, 739, 
t titla, Kyitvrrrii'a, 7^1 
(.'iirr'iit, tftiii'il. "f ill" «"iil. yA. 

«'r '■'• -' ■' '" i"y.»yf- 

tiiV ' ' ■ fvc», H>rJ. 

Ili.t "iiiur |[IUIe«, 493- 

Ciirri-iii 

(.'urrrulu n.ni i^ry, ^z/. 

(!iir» "f )«w 'l'«r>r. vw 

Ciirtq (III jitl Ijiwi lull ili'Ktc (if InvQ. iri;, 

prriiiil • M' .1, I lididuT'ii iiiunlcr, '/*0, 

■ 1', 7'M- 

• ' ' ' ■ . liMiiry llmii, />/,, 

Ii . 

Clirliilii irifl r-ya, 71». 

Cudiii.'. iiivllc'lon.'»t, WS. 

Cutlxii. ..,■,' I III tlifl broAch, H14, 

of bt.ink*.>i.i.T II..I1. kuchUtlte. »i4. 

fetnlc lifir liiruilic viirtnly, 713. 

Iho tyr -W. ■.,, 
Cml'ipi. I I I1I111 from llic. y». 

till. I. -r. 

Ill ' .ll,H70. 

oir 'iMiK of my nifi, )i'j 

fill ix" < -iiiit ilio rill'', >ir( 

Cytlr I 1111: ilie <*I<J, <*>4 

Cyii'riiui' .. .... iiiiif cyr*, 7H5. 

Cy|ircat. <lrit't|»^ to ilt:.illi. tlic very, tiv. 

Uii'l wUf^tt! llic, (Hid myrtle, 451, 
C'yilicrea'ft lireatli, ^ji 

Ifurlni) rnnttier, fAt. 

Il.lltrd Ihr world N<ll<I«, 7Vt- 

iMIIo'lIK r,ilrc,4'i4, 

tliiit (.'iiiir Urfiftr tlir kwiillow, 49;. 
I)ii|f|/rr, iiir-'Iriiwii, W^, 

■Triiwii, t)ir h'>iil MdllcH itt ttie, 7V/ 

U tliU II, will) li I ivre \)c(nrc liir, '•'.'•',j, 

(if (Ii(! iiiliid, H**, 
Hiilly llff, wliiit hcfori im lie* In, 7v«. 
I>iiliiilf )l'(W(_-r or li(;rlir, 4/^4. 
Diililf; or clii llir ryr: uf tlif; /1ji^ 4^, 
r^iiUkn (fled, mni'Iown trim Willi, yH-; 

mnn cullcii in (mr f/wii, ifrj. 

myrlu'U of, 40;. 
f>jiUy proUrcU tfi<; dcwflrop from Ok; hiiii, 
»y. 

«wi;ct, oft I tiilk t/> lliT, ifvj. 
Diilc, liJiwilioni In tlici, uiidi^r tiiv, jH*;, 

D.il-o.ind ft'-UU. ir,7. 

Dull!. Ill' 1-, itriiiirow! |Mitli of, Ho;, 

iJjilll--, Willi tlir lmio(.ci|(.r! (;f lovr, v.* 

lJ.iiii;ii.W (.licck, fcrd on licf, aji. 

iJaiiic of liiihutUH v) nvmtiicti h<:r love, '^m* 

«ij|l«n vilky, H47. 
h«ini-« of Bfitlcnt liny*, -jts. 
|>;iiiiii wltli fiiliit pr^tk", ^ici. 
Ij.hiiimIiN' 'If rlifiil woiiiJtri, ft<^ 
UiiiKMt , '1' ..I, r,<ihd iIk; liiid. a-. 

derp, of Inn Likiii)f olf, r/x>. 

drink, s^. 

wet, «58, 
|>jimn"d Iw hlin lliat (Irtt cri«ii Hold, 540. 

d< vil Willi .1. vil.-;i'„ 

I « I , . V53. 

nil 'I J, wlifll, v/;. 

to. VW- , 

l>;imiiiii^, - ...' , ,..t^c no mind to, yij. 

HaniM:! witli t diil'-ijiicr, 9^ 

Dan (Jtuiu<.cr well of Jiiii^Uli undcfyled, 

'J pi. 
Djiiicr, (;ill kliall, Jack ttuili iA\K and, tli6 

oti wllli (he, 511, 

J'yrrhlc, 5»i, 

rc%poii(lcnl. 67a, 

wltcn you 1(0, 1^4. 

wJio l';.irnc(l to, move ciuIrM, */* 
Dancfs, tiiidiilK>il, iin<l (li<; puMic kliow, {i-j, 

on the UTctin, In liiinilcts, aoa. 

ftiicli a wMy, ulie, 'jn. 
Dundntf In the ciR-ckerrd elude, jH*,. 
Dantfer, brave tlic, und to bear tlic h'lrm, 

knows r,.r-%ar U more dnnifcroiM, Uyj, 

on the tlrrii, there '•, 6^. 

out of ihU nrttlc, ^71. 

MH'I, from •-.ikt to wctt, 670. 
Dnilifr''. ir'.iil.l'-d iili;lit, fry^. 
Vitun': fi<r.. d'Tiy. .ir", In wJir, ^-y,. 

lomciliint:, li:ivr I in inc, fj^ 

»uch mm nif, j-j-j. 

Ihint;. « little leiirnlnjf U a. floj. 
I>aii|{er«, loved mc for (he, 1 lutd (M««e(|, 

of the tea*, 6y9. 
Daniel, 11 M(.ond, m Dnniel Jew. ^^4. 

ronie to Jiidifinrnt, jj^ 
Dappled fnorn, ifrefCt iFie, 671. 
J ».ire do all 1 lul mny lief^oni'- » man, Hiy/. 

noi wait iii>on I would, t*ri. 



liari» think mir tliini; iimrther tell, T/J. 

who, irrritily iKfi-i i;r(tittly, A/'- 
l>i)rleii, itiT'iit upon II p>:itk In, (V^v 
I)>irlni{ III tull 'If ^^, K14. 
Ijittu 'Miii'l III' l>ri/< '>( noon, yji. 

mid d'liihtdii, lov •, lo run from llic, U'/j, 

mid l-n- ly tildJinf pLu.--, y^s, 

ii« I',ri;l>u», nlI<;i.lK.ii», 77'i, 

l>i!lwe<ii (lie, iind th'j <hiylluhl,{><f. 

Iihin oeu, (j'nr Iho (find wuterD of the, 

ever-diirlnif, vn. 

eyo Ui woinitii, Uaht of n, '^i. 

niouriiful rii>k|[tiit/ In the, Vim. 

i.<t Oil, li'-r !>ilv' I iiMiitli Ihrcw, 41J' 

hlilttlii^ iiowlii-n* hill III tin-, 'y/4. 

iiiiLiltioiiK-d ( live, of o' Vifi. 

wiiy4 ihiil itf, tind lrii.k>> tliui Hrn viiln, 
./It?. 

wliJit In me U, Illumine, uj. 
iJiirkvkt diiy will have pJiOM'i away. t/j. 
Dmkly dc'(M»ly heiiulllully hluo, 4r/j, 
[Jurknetn, CliniiierliiM, 74^ 

•liiwn on oiif, Y/l- 

fiillii from the wlii|{4 of nliflit, ^/t. 

Inbtruiii-'iil'k of, f/i. 

Jawn of, do dpvoiif It up, i'/i. 

rliiKoiit the, o( ili<- ImikI, 7'//, 

ftiiioodiliii; llic f;iven d(»wii of, ^a6, 
I>iirllii|j hill U I'rlde tliiit a)H-4 liiimtllty, y/i. 

th. l-rcii'IiiiMn'',, pK. 

iJ.iri, ^ilul.vlewt-d liitiownlcutlieron llie, 80/. 

Iiow crui I in thy, -J04, 

polndilinf of II, like iJic, 7y5. 
Mmo aliiill throw 11, nt tnee, *)»)•}, 
r>nle wtiiit tho' <»liorl ihy, 704, 
I/iitelen* li.ir^iilti t'l eii^riiuiiiii^ d<''ilh, ^/y. 
I'liiiifhter of ii'.lroii'iiiiy. devotion, /^'/j, 

of ]'ivi:, r' I'-iitli'.i powi-r, H'/* 

of th" Vol(..-.,f l,od, duly. 7'>7, 

otill li'irphi^ oti my, 'jiti. 

liiVn iiw.iy llili) oil) rniin'k, 14;. 
lJiiii;;hti:r», liilrenl ui lirr, I'.vc, 71^, 
liiiw, no wiocr lliiin u, Hiu. 
biiwii, Iw.toii^; not to the, yrj. 

l*iUh lo l.c jilivc in thul, 4//>. 

(.milloii'ti, ">(7, 

ifoldeii eih.ilii(ionii r^f (he, 4f/t. 

Miiy Iinie iind lh(; dwcrful, raH, 

on our ihirkii'-in, y/7, 
Diiwn'n eiirly IlKhl, <.;ui you wre by (lie, "Jtii, 

I)iiwnlni{, liird of, r,lni{elli nil niuht, yf}. 

Keiitlc, of H l>rlifht *ii' cev^, ftv^ 

of morn, lorrowrelunie'l with the, S'*;, 
I>ay. im It fril upon ii, liV*, 4'/*, 

neaiily clmiii^intf with lli<! (Jianifrfnl, :ia> 

lio khc fiilrcr iluin tlic, i'f%. 

break of, eye» like, -i/r^ 

cloM of the, wlicn the hiimlet U Mill, 

rUnmif hour of, 4i>o, 

r'fimi thiit, |(i«(, yyV. 

djirkc«t, will hiivr paMved iiwny, 77^ 

rlAwn on the nl^ht of (lie ifravc, 7)7, 

dfow-iy niiiiiiii'-r, p.iMllii'; of ii, 70, 

cnlrrMiiin tli'- li.in/ilf/i, 717. 

eve (»», h.|ol'I ii"i' . ihiit ( l(,*e lh<r, 4'A 

eye of tli<-, the (|.ii-.lr, 40,1, 

hliht Jinolher, live (o, »M). 

from hiihy, ttic pcweliil nijflil, y/,. 

In June, whut U vi riir'r 11* ii, 4-j4. 

U aye fnlr hi the Ijiiid o' the icul, v/>, 

\% (Utile and (lie d.:irkiieM falln, t/ft. 

)(Kund, klandk on tlpl(je, ifft. 
Ifc** yoiint;, lure o', -j^j, 
lllfht of (.oiniii'/ii, r.ide Into (lie, ^*}^, 
majM'-M merrl( >.t, f/7, 
make e.M.li, .1 < rili'|Ue on the tiM, t^. 
merry .(■a the, t'. lonij, 7a4- 
nljfhlj'iliit-l.ilior'rr with the, 559. 
not t'l iiu: r(:turll^, 40/. 
iiow'ii the, and iiowS the hour, 573. 
of death, firkt dark, -y;f. 
of nothlntfneM, lirnt dark, yy\. 
of woe, v"/ 

open n», f'^r meliinif charity, 734. 
piiftlntf, turfew tolli the knell of, v»5. 
p^irthiif. (Ile« like the dolphin, tf/t. 
\tt:i-\t of. In it» ncut (It, *j. 
powerful kliiK of, Vfi. 
r.ilii'-th every, (he fain it, 494. 
roui'li'ii, time and the hour runkthrou({li 

the. 7./!- 
sti( dt ilie «hlnlni{, 71'j, 
hummer'-.. Jill the way to heaven, 541!!. 
»ure pledf'e o(, <f,i, 
awe'-l riio.plior Itrin^' the. 480, 
hweirt, M* ' o',l 'J. I .ihii V* bri^nl, yir, 
thill 'oiii's heiwUt Saturday ami Mon- 

d.iy, !',« 
tli;ii IS dea'l, tender ifracc '/f a. 315. 
nil' '-ftalii tflory of an April, tf/i. 
uitherc«( In (lie, :rKH, 
warm prcLlnr-th of (he r.heerful, yA 



I^ay'q dlt»i4(er9, tearne'l t/f (nice (li«, 6H(l, 
life, the deiilh of eath, ««j, 

Miar' h nearer home, V*/- 
lJ»iy<-tj, r,prmt; lull of owe't, hik) rohet, ym* 
I>aylli(til, 1,' Iw. II the d.irk i.nd the, -A 
iJays. iinioiiL/ ili. d-.id -in p.ivi«;d, bA 

lire III tli; yellow le.d, -^'j,, 

buyln with troiihl'r here, yX. 

boylnh, ev 11 from my, 149, 

brave, ui old, ^f,n. ' 

deifeiioratf men lliiit live In th«M, ycii. 

f-ilSn oil . vil, 14H. 

(tiifht of liitiir«r, never-enilliiif, V/n. 

tiapi7 /(ii''u(. ',f iiir,re liappy, i»A 

h;ii;'< I all wayb to, »o^ 

11^1'' ' 

loiii; . 11', w, ft*. 

niel.iii'.li'))/ .If. ■ oiiii.-, iffy. 

(/ iiiiM hiiiff »yiie, \%h. 

tli (.lilhlliood, 'J74. 

one of thohe heavenly. Vy>, 

perfect, (hen If ever f.omc, 4114. 

pride of former, 577, 

been better, (47. 

hluKh up (he Mory of our, 745. 

hweet clilldltli, I'M. 

thai are no nn/re, 315, yyi. 

that need Uomw. 10 j, 

wliidlii({ up, with (oil, *'//. 

with f.<M h'- p.i-.:,fd (li- , y/.. 
iJiiystar aiiiki. In the (,. ran I,, d, ii/j. 
Jia/e the world, hinl'len viblt.itlon^, 8l3. 
)Jil^/lch to bliii'l, 7 j;, I 

iJead, belli hhn oer the. lie who Itatll, yrj, 

belter Iv with the, -tii. 

but ■' ' [.IF'-'I ■ov'T'-lyiih, r;«i, 

d.iV 'li.il r , (. 1,-1. , ;'/.(<<■ o( a, Jl^, 

d.,y, „„„,„,. 11m, .,,. jm^vd, ^yA 

J'.i.t;li,l., .)n ' ifM waliup with our, 50J. 

i.iiiiiii/ h"w,r. ol the, O76, 

Iforallol am, Km, 

life from the, 1^ in that word, ■pi'). 

ml(flity, hli;li tjiitvrrhf. with the, «'/i. 

mounihiif!. f(/r the, vj3. 

moui-nn the, who Uvea tt» tliey desire, 

n'*t, but ifone before, "jii. 

of midniiflil ill th'.- noon of thouffht, 4}i. 

(|u;iff tt ciiii lo the. alreiuly, Hi/i. 

piibt bury Ms 'levwf, lei the, 770. 

vaht an'l middle >/ the lilif lit, 4>jt. 
lfc;ully fair, no, Cyj, 
lieal (famiiatl'fn round the tanil. ■J70, 
I>ean, (.lishion nii'l v/ft, invite to re»t, y/i. 
iJevir n!» remnmbere'I kliwch after dcatfi, 31^ , 

an the llifhl, >A ' 

ah the ru(]dy dropit, vA, 

ii<i the vU.il warmth, w/i. 

ah these eyes that weep, vt6. 

beauleouh death, 374, 

(.harmcr away, were t'other, J34. 

common fitiwcr, 4VS- 

departed «hadc, ifi^. 

dihcrotioii, Hi/L 

five hundred frk-nd:, Pr.( 

wjii tli meiii' r ' r f.mie, i//,, 

lo heaven 1- //«. 

to me mor' , , tre-irt, 6*>i 

too, for my j.' ■ 

Valeria, ^^ 
iJearer th.in hii. horne, 

lh,.o;velf. 4<^ 
( n .rr. 1 li.jr," I,,- owed, throw away the, yt^ 
! ' ' done, inuM be, ^14. 

1 ••' iirh the Utvciy. J9t. 

; ■■ "Y end, 3fO. 

.1111, . WHO (o.ilcr hpitc, yj^. 

all ol, to die, 311. 

and liih brother HIeep, 714 

and life iny bane and antidote, 759, 

bail inanS, i>> horror, 311. 

ba/.k reviunded, 310, 

be laid low. In, 574. 

birth h notliini( tiUt our, li'-intu, yi8. 

brouifht, UiUt tlic worM, vys 

callh yc Ut tlie crowd of (.(/iiimon merv 
yA. 

came with friendly care, 107. 

can tliit.be, y/$. 

dov d llpi w;cm U} hinile a(, 69, 

conielh vfdi or hitc, 5O7. 

cri'^d out, I fle'IaiKl, 310. 

(.riiel Ht. huiiiiry ai the k'rave, 310. 

crurl, i^ ;ilways near, yi-i. 

(Ie;ir (jeaiit'om ^74 

dr-ad 'it vnnetliin;' aCer. 3f/j. 

dilllr.'4de;,rof, f/,. 

dusty, the way to, 7'//, 

eriKfohsinif, a datelew bargain to. 89^ ; 

ere th*«J hstht hiain another, </ij. 

evil, (.an hhow, I know no, 7'M. 

fatlli that |f>'.k« llirouKh, jyf. 

felt herifeaiit, yjy. 

firhl dark day of, 303. 

Krct (/rl«c o , in battle, 5^* 



. »55- 



10G2 



INDEX OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS. 



De.«h. jjrim, in opposition sits. 310. 

iiriHUcU horrible « ijhastly smite, 8». 

Ikiw n->.i»>.lerOtl is. 714. 

I \voo thcc, 311. 

if in, still lovely lovelier there. 794. 

in life. 515. 

is a thing that makes men vfeep. 310. 

is but the souiuler sleci>. 310. 

knclU us l\»ck to « worKl of, joi 
J lays his icy hand mi kings* 301. 
,' loveliness in. ^15. 
• lovely iix. the beauteous rum lay, pM- 

loves a shining mark. .¥>». 
, uuin makes a. which nature never uiade. 

nothmg Ci\ll our own but. 31* 

of each vlay's life. 8i?3 

of kin^r*. siitl stories of the. 310. 

of princes.the heavens bUuc f>.wth thc.&>>. 

p.ira>.lise to what ^ve fear of, 347. 

reAt>cr whostf name is. 3;^ 

remeinbere\l kisses after. <le.u as. 315. 

ribs of, create a soul umlcr the, S31. 
, ruliut; [Mission stn>nji in. ~Ax 
/ sense of. most in apprehension, 310. 

silent halls of, 307. 

slavery or. 570. 

sleep brother to, 816. 

sleep is a. %io>. 

sleep of, wn.u dreams may come in (hat, 

so noble, what may quiet us in a. 7g4- 

song whose breath nuy lead to, 53^ 

speak me fair in. 31?. 

studie\l in his, ^cw. 

terrible thou ah to the happy, 311. 

the great teacher, wait. Soi. 

thou hist Mi seasons for thine own< 308. 

there is no. ^72. 

to us, tho' play to you *t is, toS. 

urv'OS. 3^5. 

valiant taste of, but once. 310. 

what shouKl it know of. S7. 

what we fear of. 34r' 

where is thy sting. O. 365. 

will come when it will come, 31A 

whose portal we call, ST3. 
Death-bevi s a detector of the heart, 311*. 

of fame. ';74. 
Deaths feels a thousand, fearing one, 310. 
D^'lkMe. Rupert of. 723. 

tempest of, ^15. 
DcKiucliee. tremulous, give wne to the. 54.5. 
Debt, cliest comrive^l a double, to pay. ^ 

slender, to nature 's ijuickly paut 3<'*- 
Decav. muddy vesture ol, 7:5. 

uni'orceivcd. .i^e that melts with. 7^ 
OecavN eiiaciniT fiui:ers. 1^^5, 
Decays, mere i^liuuncnng and. 374. 
Ueceit. meiifawrthc. 793. 

rumor of oppression and. 5'J3. 
Deceitful shmc vleceitful flow. ^». 

woman, destructive damn.-iblc. 795. 
Deceive, he "W certainly, if he swears, sja. 
Deceiver, sly, 55$. 

Deceivers, men were, ever, i3S;37i. 
D,ceml>er, mirth of its, loS; 

si.'ck rviscs in. ice in June. S06. 

when thov wed. J14. 
Decencies, dw-ell in, forever, 333. 

thousand, that daily flow, ;^^ 
Decency, emblem right meet of. does yield, 
708. 

want of, is want of sense. 803. 
Decide when doctors disagree, who shall, 

S03. 
Deck. Kiy stood on the burning, 614. 
Declivity, mild, of hill. po. 
Decorations, solemn, ol the great tomb of 

Decrease, life is in. ^oS. 

Decree, luxury curst by heaven's. 6^x 

Dedication. «'"tKl, of Yourselves, Sac 

Dee. river. live\l on the. s^ij- 

Dccd. a little water cle.us us of this, SSj. 

a*.tomi»t and not the. confounds us, SS3. 

ilocr's, dignified by the. S13. 

good, in a naughty world. 707. 

intent and not the', is in our power. 671. 

of dreadful note. 900. 

of shame beneath our feet, 399. 

unless tiic, go with it, 797. 
Deeds, dcvihsh. 6oi. 

emblems of, done in their clime, 451. 

foul, will rise. 9oc>. 

it" douiihty, my lady please, 146. 

ill, sight of means to do, S15. 

makes ill, done, 815. 

pure in. perplexed in faith, 397. 

ujihicky, relate. 734. 

virtuous, blessings wait on, 398. 

we live in. not vears, 74^. 
D->em not the framing of a deathless lay, 70 

not they are blessed alone, 745- 
Deep and dark blue oceiui, 607. 

luid glooinv wood, 404. 



Deep and utter ii^ony, Soo. 

ttS first love, 315. 

contemplative, fools so, 810. 

cuTNCsnot Uuul but. ;94> 

d.iinualiou of liis t.iking-otf, 9<w. 

dive iuio the bolt.'Ui ot the. 070. 

dnuk, or taste not. f;.i5. 

eiuhosouied in the. Ov- 

hsho that tipple in tlic. 147- 

hor hv^nw is on the. o-t). 

liolUnv. of hell rebounded, 540- 

home ou the rvillm^. 030. 

lowest, a lower deep in the, 39*^ 

malice to conceal, 31)6. 

researches. >'cx the brain, 805. 

there's danger ou the. 01.'. 

lhrvHii;h ihe frii;hted tied. 7-'5. 

vasty," spirits from the. Si i. 

vet clear, 7a ^ 
Deeper than all speech, thought is, 731. 
Deepest coiLseviuence. lvcUa>-s us in, 396- 
Deep-mouthed welcome. 100. 
Deer, let Ihe >trucken. ko weep, 671. 

my own stricken. 1S5. 
Defamed by e\ety cliatUtan, 797- 
DelVatures. !.tran>:e. in my face. 7«. 
Defect, fine by. and delicately weak, 733. 
Defence, ende.ivor for, 541. 

iminoilest words atlnul of no, 805. 
Dcleuvl fiAMu Jealousy all my tribe, so?. 

your dep.irted tViend. IJO. 
Defender, faith's name of, Oos. 
Defer not till to.morr\»w to be wise, 793- 

t is madness to, 74S. 
Defiance in iheir eye, tvn. 
Deformed uiitinished, 9V*. 
Degenerate dajs, men that live in Utese, 794. 
Degree, curs ot low, 941' 
Degrees, tine by, and l»eautifully less. 731. 
Degrees grow> up by, 395. 

"ill habits irather by unseen, 493- 

scorning tlie Ivisc. 799- 
Deify the things th-it wc adore, 333. 
Deity, felt presence of the. 491. 

otfended, 39!;. 
Delected eye, Si^'. 
Delay, law's 397. 

repro-'-ed each dull, 6SS. 

sweet rcluct.\nl .unon^us. 711. 
Delays are dangcn^us in war. 539- 
Dclilieriues. woiium that, is lost. 796. 
Delicate creatures ours ciill these, 307. 
Delicately %vcak, 733. 
Delicious to hate you. 304- 
Delight, Soly cahn. 373. 

lap me in. 814. 

my ever new, arj. 

never too late for, aoj. 

ovcr-i>avment of. 3119. 

she 's my. all mankind's wonder. 134. 

slie was a phantom of, ijS. 

to i>ass aw,-iy the time. 038- 

turn, into a sacritice, 304- 

w^iir thou hast thy fierce, S39. 

with liliertie cn.loy. 489. 
Delightful task, to rear the tender thought, 

Delights man. me not nor woman neither, 

soft. that wiichingly instil, 831. 

to scorn, aia. 

\-ain. hence all ye. 315. 

violent, have violent ends Sis- 
Delphian v.ilcs, 9»7' 
Demi-p;»nulise, this other Eden. 633. 
DenuKratic. fierce, wieldetl at will that, 8a4. 
Democrats wrinkles the d ti. won't flatter. 

Demon thought, the, 396. 

Demosthenes or Cicero, foil below, 107- 

Dcn. bear\l the Hon in his 64S. 

Deniilc, comes to nccre that comes to be, 

Denied" him with unhvMy tongue. 795. 

Denixen. wvrld's trie^i. 4iS- 

Deny, poor heart would fain, and dare not, 

"94- 
Depth, far be>'ond my. 331. 

self-withdrawn into a boundless. 867. 
Depths and shoals of honor. 532. 

rolls through the d.irk blue. 491. 
Dcscant, amorous, sung. 413. 
IVsceiu. claims of loiii;, smile at the. 368. 
Description, bogg.ired all. 7iJ. 

paragons a lu.iid that. Z"- 
Desdemona seriously incline, us- 
Desert air, waste its sweetness on the, 30& 

a:id iltiiuitablc air, 4S1. 

dry. of a thous;\nd lines 807. 

le.'iticss, oi the mind, Sio^ 

my dwelling-v>lace, 3e<>. 

nicks and tlccting air, 801. 
Deserte*! at his utmost need, 771- 
Desert-circle spreads, 491. 
Deserts are small, 1 50. 

idle, centres vast and. 14S- 



Dcsigns intent on high, 603. 

our slow, ilotli backw.ird inill. 793. 
Desire doth not die with dead. S03. 
liveth not in liercc. 30,j, 
soul's sincere, prayer is the, 398. 
speed of my, tSa 
this fond, 759. 
young, bloom of. LV3, 
young, hope tliou nurse of, Soo, 
Desires, calm, gentle tluni}:;hts and, 141. 

present 111. tliouiih absent. 34S. 
Desolate, none arc so, but something dear. 
4t5- 
uticny, none so. 345. 
Despair, conscience wakes that slumbered. 
3^6- 
depth of soinedivme. 313, 330. 
ticreer by, 348. 
huge as. 720, 
hurried tjuestion of. 309. 
intimie wr.ith and inhnite. 39^ 
mess.»gc of, waft home the, 397, 
nyinpholci»sy of some fond, 869. 
[van^-s and fury of. Soo- 
reason would, love can hope where. 

acki. 
unrciiched Par.-\disc of our. 867, 
wasting in. 193- 
Desv»aiTinc agonies destroy. S»». 
pf his fee to-niorr»iw. So* 
sweeter for thee, 't is. 134- 
Dc-s|i,itchiul Imiks. turns in iKiste with, aja. 
Desperate steps bew.jte of. 793, 
Destined to that ^ood hour. 899. 
Destiny, shadows meet of. O03. 

sli.idy leaves y^(. 193. 
Destr,>\ one, to. is murder. S4»- 
DesitoMui; still. (ii;htiU4; still .uid. 7f3. 
Destruiti.'u. st.irtfes at. 759. 
Desttuitue il.ouuable deceitful woman. 79$. 
Detector of the lie.irt. a deathbed's a. J"* 
Detests hiin as the g.i;es of hell, 797. 
Device. Kiiiner with the strange, 777- 
Devil. alwislied the. stood. 39*. 
can cite Scripture. 797. 
did grin. 390< 

God or. every man was. 9<»3- 
hath not in all his quiver's choice, 904. 
hath I'ower to assume a shape, 396. 
how tlie. (hoy cot there. Si«. 
piqued sui h s.iuitslup to behold. 803, 
play the, seein a s.ont. 396. 
stole livery of heaven to ser%e the, 797. 
sugar o'er the, himself, 396» 
take her. 303. 

tell truth and sh.ame the. 39S. 
wnh devil d.imncd. Sis- 
Devilish deeds, CsM. 
Devils I'ciiii; otfended. 733. 
Devoid of sense and motion, 794- 
IVvt'tion daui-liter of astronomy. 492- 
Devotion's yisaj;e, 39^ 
Devour all it sees 798, 
Devoutly to be wislied. a consummation, 

3o'7. 
Dew. chaste as morning. 106- 

f.dling like, upon a thought. 805. 
t'nnu tlie heatli-llower dashed the. 731. 
ijlisteriui; with. ^xXs 490. 
infant, youii)- diamonds in their. 343- 
on his tliin rol*c, ^78. 
on the mountain, like the. 383. 
resolve itself into a, thaw .ind, 311. 
sliall weep thy fall. wt. 
sunli^:ht drinfceth the, 305. 
washed with moniiiig. rose is sweetest, 
S04- 
Dew-bright e.irth. aslant the. 719. 
Dew-drop, pnrtects the lingering, from the 

sun. 89. 
Dew-drvij^ which the sun impe.irls 493. 
Dews, brusliing with hasty steps the, away, 
306. 
mother of, meek-eyed mom, 490- 
of sunmicr nights did f.Ml. 49>- 
of the evening, te.irs of the sky, 491. 
Dewv eve. irom noon to. 723. 

I'reshiiess fills the silent air. 49L 
Dhrames g\v by conthraries i97- 
Diadem ot snow, 493. 

precious slolcj 813. 
Di.il. an hour by his. 810. 

from his poKe, drew a, 791. 
more tedious than the, 348. 
to tlie sun. the. 796. 
Diamonds bright .as young. 34S- 
Dian s temple, bangs on. 493- 
Diai^ison closm< full m man. 775' 
Die, allth.u live uuist. -m?. 

as muili beauty as could. 907- 

bec.iuse a woman's fair, 193- 

before 1 wake, if 1 should. 107- 

better. how can man, 567. 

but once to save our country, 601. 

cowartls. many limes 3»'* 

do or. let us 573* 



INDEX OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS. 



1063 



Die. htte&t place where ttian can, 602. 
hazar'l of tlic, 8cw. 
!■> UiuJing on suiiic !>ilcnt shore, 309. 
lon^ini; yet afruid to, 34c, 
'ove Can, ttiey sin who tell us, 3o6, 
nainc) not liom to, 583. 
nature broke the, 940. 
not vahaiit that (tares. 900. 
swan-like let nic sin^; and, 581. 
tnut/ht U5 how to, 911. 
Uy by sleeping what it is to, 310. 
unlaiucntcd lei me, 73^. 
what can an old man tlo but, 32a. 
where to be born .ind, makes all the his- 
tory. 797. 
wish 10, when he should live. 900. 
with harness on our back, 541. 
without dyfni;, huw sweet to, 761. 
youiii;, whom the tfods love, 107. 
Died, so j^roancd and, 794. 

tlic do^f it was that, 949. 
Uies aniont; his worshippers, 534. 

nothing, but soinctlun^ mourns, 414. 
Differ, .-ill things, all aerce though, 815. 
DitTcrcutie betwixt w.ike and sleep, 816. 

O the, to me, 105. 
Dilfercnt men directs to different ends, 799. 
minds to ditfL-rcut objects, 814. 
views cn^a^c, 804. 
Z)i)festion, from pure, bred, 490- 
Dignified by the doer's deed, 813. 
Dignities humanity, aught that, 34S. 
Dienity and love m every gesture, 309. 
Diligently slow, 633. 
Dim and perilous w.iy, 808. 
religious light, 787. 
the sweet look nature wears, 49a 
Diminished heads, hide their, 719, 

rays, hide your, 797 
Dimness, faints into, with delight, 720. 
Dim|>Ics prt^tty, of his chin, 10?. 
Dined, fate cannot harm m<^ I nave, to-day, 

1013. 
Dire olTence from amorous causes, 815. 

was the noise of conllict, soa 
Directed by a wife. ay2. 
Directs the storm. 539. 
Direness familiar to my slaughterous 

thoughts, 900. 
Dirge is sung by forms unseen, 563- 
Dirt, loss of wealth is loas of, 347. 
Disa;;rec, men only, 815. 
Dis;ister, laugh at all. 631. 
Disastrous chances, spake uf most. 145. 
Discontent, n-jw is the winter of our, 541. 

what more miserable than, 799. 
Discord harmony, all, 489. 

horrible, soo. 
Discourse, bid me, 803. 

hold, at least in fable, 495. 
large, made us with such, 808. 
more sweet, in. 808. 
of reason, a beast that wants, 723. 
sweet ami voluble is his. 733. 
Sydncian sliowers of sweet, 193. 
Discourses, sweet, woes shall serve for. 241, 
Discredit more in hiding of the fault, 815. 
Discreet, too, to run amuck, 836. 
Discreet est best. 209. 
Discreetly blot. 806. 
Discretion dear, 803. 
Discriminating sight, keen, 806. 
Disdam, beautiful, 736. 

calm, 94a 
Disease, old shapes of foul, ring out, 752. 
D.»h fit for the gods, carve him as a, 900. 
Dislike, hesitate, 010. 
Disuul tidings wnen he frowned, conveyed 

the, 68g. 
Dismissing the doctor don't always succeed, 

809. 
Disobedience, man's first, 395. 
Dis'irder, a sweet, in the dress. 713. 
Dispcns-itions and gifts, 396. 
Dispraised, to be, were no sm.all praise. Sir. 
Dispute, f-jrbear, and practiv; love. 399. 
■Dissembling subtle cruel and inconsUnt, 232. 
Dissension between hearts that love, 264. 
Dissimulation, tired, drops her mask, 310. 
Dissonance, barbarous, 831. 
iJist.uicc lends enchantment to the view, 248. 
notes by. made more sweet, 773. 
smooth .It a, rough at hand. *>4. 
Distant prospects please us, 81-1. 

views of^ happmcss. 801. 
Distemper, of no, of no blast he died, 6s. 

309- 
Distinct as the billows yet one as the sea, 

608. 
Distinguish and divide a hair, 945. 
Distinguished merit. dispLiys, S12. 
Distracted globe, memory holds a seat in 

this, 801. 
Distraction, fine, 713. 

soothe, and almost despair, 809. 
waft me from, 685. 



Distressful stroke, when I did speak of 

some, 145. 
Uistrcst by poverty no more, Sua. 

griefs that harass the, 345. 

oft to agony, 203. 
Ditties of no tone, 718. 
Diver, adventure of the, 8or. 
Ilividc a hair, distinguish and, 945. 
Divine, anglit. or holy. 803, 

enchanting ravishment. 726. 

hand thai made us is. 376. 

how. a thing a woman. 723. 

human lace, 407. 

in houk.ihs, 814. 

|.hl|..,.,;,(,y, yjy. 

1. i'',;iv..:. to *.rr ishunuin, 798. 

VI I H irid tile faculty, 766. 
liivni.r .iir, .1. y>>. 
Divinity. >.utli. doth hedge a kmg, 722. 

that shapes our ends, there's a, 793. 

that stirs within us, 759. 
DJinns' wild-streaming swarm, SOH- 
Do .ind die, theirs but to, 517. 

good by stealth, 797. 

or die, let us. 573. 

well and riylit. yS. 
Doctor, dismissing,' the, don't succeed, 809. 

fee the, for a nauseous draught, 671. 

silent, shook his head, 809. 
Doctors', learned, sjjitc, 814. 
Doctors disagree, who sliall decide when. 

803. 
Doctour of phisik, with us thcr was a, 809. 
Doctrine, from women's eyes this, I derive, 

prove their, orthodox, 387. 
sanriiCi-^d by truth. 039. 
noclriiii-s;.l,un and 1 Icir.what makes all.809. 
nocr\ 'l.;c-.l. |,!.u:r- ili^Tuticd by the, 813. 
Doii, tanhrul, \.U.i\l l)i_-ar liini company, 399. 
ht; hunts in drcants. like a. 250 
it was tliat dic<l. the. 949. 
something better than Iiis, 255. 
to gain his private ends went mad, 949. 
Dogs bark at me as 1 halt by, 938, 
between two, 810, 
delight to bark and bite, 108. 
Utile and ail, 346. 
of war. let slip the, 539. 
Dog-star rages, 805. 

Doleful sound, harlc from the tombs a. 310. 
f)ol|iliin, dies like the. parting day, 490- 
iJijiii'j, haiighiy, 726, 

l'-_-t.jr\. hantl that rounded. 736. 
w._lkiri. thy sUrs have ht the. 592. 
Domestic liapj>iness tliou only bliss. 232. 
joy. smooth current of, 807. 
malice, foreign levy. 311. 
Done, if it were, "t were well it were done 
quickly, goo. 
what is, IS done, 792. 
wliat's, we partly may compute, 784. 
Doom, crack of, 735. 

had an early, lovethat. 271. 
Door, clock that ticked behind the. 689. 
IJoors of breath, lips O you the, 899, 

pictures out of, 723. 
Dote on his very absence, I, 248. 
Dotes yet doubts, 207. 
Doublet, fashion of a new, carving the, soj. 
Doubling his pleasures and his cares divid- 
ing, 212. 
Doubly, feel ourselves alone. 248. 
Doubt, more faith in honest, 397. 
most in. when best resolvca, 146. 
never. I love, 206. 
never stand to. 800. 
once in. is once to be resolved, 307. 
soundest cisuists, 803, 
truth to be a har, 206. 
who read to, or read to scorn, 397. 
Doubts, dot'-s yet, 207. 
our, arc traitors, ftxi. 
saucy, and fears. 800. 
Doughty deeds my lady please, if, 146. 
Douglas, hand uf, is his own. 648. 
Dove, beside the springs of, 104. 

burnished, 254. 
Doves, in immemorial elms, moan of, 493. 

will pi'ck in safeguard. 798. 
Dower, liuman nature's higiicst, 539. 
Dowered with the hate of natc. &>?. 
Down, he that is. needs fear no fall, 347. 
raven, of darkness. 726. 
th'.- glowing side, 814. 
tliricc-drivcn bed of. 539. 
Downs, all in the, the fleet was moored, 235. 
Downy pinions, swift on his, 816, 
Drab, cursing like a very, 725. 
Drachenfels, castled crag of, 446, 
Drag the slow barge. 802. 
Dragon's tail, hook baited with a. 672. 
Drags at each remove a lengthening chain, 
248. 
its slow length along, 806. 
Drapery of his couch, yj9. 



Draught, bitter, that life holds out to all, 
494- 
fee the doctor for a nauseous, 671. 
giTis that make sweet the bitter. 6jt. 
lit cool refreshment, 770. 
Draughts, shallow, intoxicate the brain, 605, 
Draw folk to lieven by fairnesse, 809. 
Drawers, chest of. by day, 689. • 
Dread and fear of kings. 798. 
of something after death, 297. 
secret, whence this, 759. 
Dreaded as thou art, 492. 
Dreadful ttrs, those, 803. 
Dream all night without a stir, 494. 
changeful, fickle .is a. 813. 
forgotten, hunt half a day for a, 661. 
hiJeous, like a [thantasiiia, or a, 900. 
life is but an empty, 769. 
love's young, 262. 
of things that were, 793. 
perchance to, 297, 
silently as .1. the fabric rose. 493. 
soinetiiing fashioned in a, 105. 
sjjirit of my, a change came o'er the, 
765. 
Dreamed that Greece might still be free, 58a 
Dreams books arc each a world, 805. 
empty dreams, 791. 
hence babbling, 541. 
hunts in, like a dog he, 256. 
lie down to pleasant, 308. 
pleasing, and slumbers light, 816. 
such stuff as, are made on. 867, 
that wave before the half-shut eye, 831. 
what, may come. 207. 
Dreamt of in your philosophy, 808. 
Dreary intercourse of daily life, 404. 

void, rapture to the, 816. 
Dress, a sweet disorder in the, 713. 
daring in full, 814 
pomp of, beyon'l the, 795. 
Drcst in a little brief authority, 813. 

still to be. 713. 
Drew an angel down, 772. 

my whole soul witli one long kiss, 205. 
Drink damnation, we, 558. 
deep or taste not, 805. 
never taste who always, 803. 
nor any drop to, 855. 
to me only with thine eyes, 125. 
to the lass, 131. 

with him that wears a hood, 946. 
ye to her th.->t each loves best, 305. 
Drinking, constant, fresii and fair with, 494. 

largely sobers us again, 805. 
Drinks and gapes for drink again. 494. 
Drip of the suspended oar, urops tlic light, 

685. 
Droghte of March, 695, 
Droj). every, hinders needle and tliread. 
338. 
in for an after-loss, 271. 
into thy mother's lap, like ripe fruit thou, 

310. 
last, in the well, 920. 
of i)atience in some part of my soul, 725 
that falls cold and ceaseless, 248. 
to drink, nor any, 855, 
Droppcth as the gentle rain from heaven, 

798, 
Drops, like kindred, been mingled into one, 
594- 
mmutc, from off the eaves, 787. 
of rain, tell their beads in, 49*- 
rutUIy, ih.at warm my heart, 206. 
ruildy, that visit my sad heart, 206. 
the light drip of the suspended oar, 685. 
what precious, are those, 345- 
Dropt from the zenith like a falling star, 723. 
DrovLTitd honor by the locks, pluck up, 670. 
IJrowsyhed. a jdeasing land of. 831. 
Drutil lies, in yonder grave a. 940. 
Druids of eld, 453- 
I)runi. not a, was heard. 920. 

the spirit-stirring, 722. 
Drums, lilce muffled, are beating, 77a 
Drunkard clasps his teeth, 558. 
Dry as rcmaimlcr biscuit, €03. 
as summer dust, hearts, 309, 
desert of a thousand lines, 807. 
Dryatl. light-wingtd, of the trees, 316. 
Drydeii, even copious, wanted or forgot, 

806. 
Duck or plover, muskets aimed at, 671. 
Dukedom, my library was, large enough, 

805. 
Dulcimer, damsel with a, 834 
Dull as night, the motions of hts spirit arc, 
776. 
cold car of death, 306 
cold marble, sleep in, 321. 
gentle yet not, 723. 
tame shore, 625. 
Duhicss, gentle, ever loves a joke, 803. 
Dumb, beggar that is, may challenge double 
pity, 204. 



KKVl 



INIHOX Ol' riil'/nCAl. (QUOTATIONS. 



Puiiib driven callW, 770. 

ItHKilllilnrts. tk ptcy to. uif*. 
DuiicAit liiitli Ihii'iio lilh tiiLulllcM %o meek, 

licut It not, ««a. 
Duiu <• (lint tiu<i been kept at liomff, 793. 

llhit li.m hceu stint lo n»ttm. 793. 
Piiii^ciiii; <«t iiiiiKril 111 1))n. .)o4t. 
lliir.iui.r vllf, ill. Mix 
Dusky r.u f. hlu- sliiill rear my, as;. 
UuHt, l.liisiinii ill tlu-lr, ,it<i. 

toiiio to. .iM tlilmiK-y).wfe|)prs, >m, 

(liy ii'i suininor. hcnrtt, \o<i. 

liiM|i<i(. ittunc ifiiiiiiiit of litre, tii. 

k.-. p. ■..Mil, Ihliij; .>t lil!nil'"'V '■» ''>'■• I'l. 

kiii^M--. liH,!.-, .1..-. sty. 

uiy-.l. Ill s .1' li.' liryiniil thy. jh 

piiili- ih II li> ks llic, giv^ 

le-.inn Ills V.-IV. ;'J4- 

fccck l..r tliY n.'l>l<- ratliet In ilie. j"fl 

kllciK, can lioum's vuico ptuvoko the, 
joi. 

thiK Itt It Ittllo Kl't. Sti. 

thou nrt to ilntt returne^t, 769. 

vile, fVoin when, r ho sprunif, $63. 
Unity tlrinh. lln- w.iy lo, j.yj, 
DiUli's, moil will' lln-lr. know, 590, 

prtiiiitl. shiiii- .il'<li )ike htiim, :t9tl. 
IhUv. I 'vi- 'h'ln' "U-. I "vw ih'UO IK) nioro, 799. 

love .1 ■.liiii'lc, ,-1)0. 

mil'l<'i I "wrs ihf priiuv, ^15, 
Ihvflllii .!.-..Mnl.-.ili.rrvor, Jia. 
Dwcllint; In lh>' h^ht »f ^eilhitf millH, 4iH- 

ot histlioiik'hts. ^-H. 
l)iyellin>;-|'l.i. •■, lU-sett my, av*> 
l)wrUH iinuit , liii^rilnK luul wuiKlorln){, tloy. 
Uyiiii- eyes, when unto, 315, 

fall, U hiiil It, tk>H, 

fntewolK lo the. tt70. 

liroi\nt> of the, >iio. 

iiiiiii to ilvlnj; nion, w5. 

nwecl to ilto without, 701. 

liACll iiiutii nliir hair to Matul on onil, jj.s. 

Hivnet fiT the li.iv. S4>. 

l-;ai{le. M> I lie sliiuk. Hii'. 

Matfle's l.il"' mul mine nro one, 134. 

wltiy-., s, .in.liiKllyon, «u. 
I{rtr. tame «''i-i inv.IlKOtho hwcvX timilh. B''H. 

(Iiemnlii);, vuln- In my, t*j. 

.hilli.il.r"!' ileaih. i-rfi. 

ihill. I'l ft ilrowsy man, vexlnt;. 7 >'. 

riiiliaiit thine. I will, t!,it> 

i-lvr ev'ci V nian lliiiu-. tiis. 

I w.>-..iII;Hii. 

towel ill .in l\thioj>\ 7J1, 

keep the worvl »u proiniso to onr, ijs. 

o( r.iith. Ml. 

inoio K monnl thnu meets tlio, 7)';. 

itenMiul, 71H. 
Enre, one, it henril, io«. 
liiitliett nt hii K-rnvts, 795. 
liarly l»^l^;Ilt tiaiisirnl clmste its ilow. 106. 
Untk, Kuotl, playtrnant lU hU tnlo», 711.1. 

len.l mo v»m, «;■;. 
mi, 
Hi. ;\:S. 

pi>lil<\ U.V.I uioinlon-. hell lo. i-jf«. 

poil.ullisrsot. Ji^. 

she n-vvo 1110. J 11. 

with lavisliei), the inrnmrv-h hortr*. ?t\. 
Ii«rth rt staee. the w.uhl \ a theatre, 79^. 

n\U»X the (lew hrlnht. 71* 

h^iiuii MUrtll model of the. jto. 

l.,-ivoU.\i the h.irmlevt, S'*. 

Initl.ill »!' the, and tikle, \<n. 

elvMiiiu on, j,>i. 

felt the w.iuikI, Ho* 

fliinm« vanities ot*. 491. 

tjave sl>;u .il t;iatnl«tion, iM* 

i-ive liiiu a little, for ihaniy. u\ 

has ImiMiIo% fts tho water li.is, hW. 

has ui> sorrow Iloftvcn cannot heal, l4^^. 

heaven on, 710. 

heaven tiles the. If It ho In tune, .\j\. 

inliabllaiUs o' tho. KWi. 

*s .» thiol, the. 4S* 

lap lit. hra.l iii>vin the, \i\j, 

laitls tho h-an, 'Ji, 

l.ivhoi 1' tlio. ,i>. 

Iisirnnii;. nii^Iitlv to the, 176. 

m.ni niiiikstlio. with ruin, 00;. 

inont lie.ivon l»v m i'»iiit;. a hell. wN 
I h.'.ooit ami, &Vl. 



of I 



^:ln w 

n.M« 



.'O.l I 



V. thi 



'M- 



pnotiY "I, Is novor ilertd, 4^1?. 
proii.llv woaritho Pnrthenon. 7,l(W 
Noverolnn'sl thill); on. 50& 
•towed the, with orient pekrl, 4X>t 
taint of, inv(. 
toenilni;, »io. 

th.'n sure and firm sot, flSi). 
this, ihis ,;iavo this dust, -4S. 
thiislv, s>Mks lip (tio ion. 444. 
Uoiiiblod fT\<in her cntiaiK. .'ti>K 



I-:arth. truth irimhed to, shall rise nirnln. si4- 

two piues ot the vlloht. jio, 

w.iU. ttio, iiiiseou. HWl 
l-aiths . Ill' t sunt lures, ;jf.. 

Ill Mi< lit. sl.irs llial shino In, 414 

I-M I' 1. M'■nll^; troin. (Mj. 

uu'iiM, iiK'ii.il iiiixtuie of, ;j(>. 

hill']. -.1 iluin;, a woman pcrl'ettcil, 7uj. 

li.h. .imi.h' iMuiid. 495, 
laiihll. I li'ippy Is ilu lose dUtlllod. 41}';. 
I .mlilv i;<»ll.ilhcrs of liciiven's llkiJUs. &04. 

p.'vi.i .inili then show llkoHt TiodH. 798. 
I Miiliipiako shock the ocean stnnn, ^tiJ. 
1 ,iso, aii,.,;e..f, OS;. 

■Hid .ilteinate labor, 1114. 

(iilloss, aiiontt Ilow with, 807. 

hciiii . ot. O woman in onr, j."), 

In wiitiiih' Inau .ill not chniici;, fiod. 

jiv al h-.inoat, cw, 
Ivasot ol all woes, sloop, «lO. 
i-ast, i;otk;ii'Us, with ricllOHl hand. 7UJ. 

1 've wanden'd. 1 've wimdorcil west, (i^a. 

leJoUiuu in the, klilti of diiy. 490. 
ICit and drink as trlvnds, ui. 

but little meat, I oannot, p4<^• 

MTUplcd not to, iittaliiHt lii^ knowlod);c, 

Fating; tnuo. dook worn out with. j<^. 
I'livos, II 11.- Ji.'i-, iioin oif tho. 7H7. 

I'l'hi. .01 .*>. <-. ivlu ir, t'-J. 

t'> 111' ■.. II ■■ , -.'iiiid soriuan, Hi*. 

'■•'• ■, .M,■>^,^M..^^ln,^iK.. 449- 

i"ll ' 1 '."III li> soul, 449. 

■■' I ''>' "'Id. Oyinn. 44<J> 

I ' .i.i'S '1 li'H'. the very, aoi, 

K-.ll. ,-.. ll.' 111. 111. 

waki-.i I.', iho tlvliiij lyre, 306- 

■.Ol.lj.ll WIUKN "1. -Jl* 

bdon. ihis.-ihei, .loml-paradlHe, <kvi, 

thronv;li, tonk thojr solltarv wav, \it. 
l-d«e. borrowlut; dulls the, of Iuisb.indry. 
ssy. 

Is sharper tlimi the NW.nil, Hit, 

ol* ,i|>potllo, oloy the hungry, J4ft, 

poilloiis. ot" bnttlo, uo. 

101 luy tooth oil, H07. 
I'Muiiui; H'HhI, lYoiu soeminn evil, 4i«, 
Irdm alum tonus tho i-omniou mind, t^iv). 
Ultsoomt they hciirdn iiiOHt luchidlous sound, 

HJ.), 
I\;.ii,i sweet iTentlon of sonio lunrt, Sco. 
I i;I.Miiiiu', swoot iiuisk-nvsex nnd, 495. 
I ir. v\,i'. ivi 1. did see that ftice, i)(H. 
lid. Hiuid-iof, 4^,, 
l.ldoi, I tlio, and iiioie terrible, «9o. 

lot tho woman lake an, tfij. 

siiii'tiiro wiit by liod's own hand, 4S9. 
J'l I>.aaihi In tho yia^s. 49^. 
l-le^.tlit Mllhi'ioiiiy oontent, till, J 1 4> 
lUemeiit, nay vioalnrosor the, IW9 

one ^|0^1 one 1-iw one, hu. 

lliol.iworiu^:. s..nvls.494. 
Mom.-UIs. w.li ,.{, ;vJ. 
Movale, lll..n^;lns lu.ire, Ho«. 
Mf. Ih.in hiippv Iiai'py, 9t. 
Mm, ..viliiiK slia.L.w of a Mutely. 4y3' 
Mills, 11I...V0 tin- nioou, iwH. 

Iimiioiiioild. lu.xiiiof doves In, 491. 
Mo,|iioii, o , haiiiis the Mint, ft* 

mou iif wit and social, 94a 

lu.'thtT of arts and, 719, 

resistless, those nncleiit whose, Sn4. 

truth doiiloH all, to woe, 34S. 
b'loipirut. I'M ni;tn, 919, 

puip.iHii'ns. 7*6. 
Mves. 1 1 itiv isiut;. ■»|'lte of nil the, .-(.m, 

laoiv. wh"si' niidiii^ht rovoN, 4gi, 

whos.- little eves ^.dow. 1 14. 
Mvstau hoautv. J^ft. 

lite, suburb of the, u^a, 
Mysinin ou earth. If there bo nil, »ot. 
l-.mbalmed in tears, lovo U loveliest when, 

VSV4. 
Ivnibattled fiinners. 589. 
bnihepi, Kh^wiii^, 7H7. 
I'niblem rijrlu meet of dcconcy does yield, 

rniblems of deeds done hi their cUlitc, 451. 
I'luhosoiiioil In tho vloep, n^a. 
Iiul't.i.o. .iiuis take your la».t, »». 

slloiii ill a last, jK,^. 
l-iiibi.>i.loiv. llower ihat sad, wenrn, 494. 
I nil.iv-. .h.ouollor in. 10*. 
1 iiioli.'. Ill' mso the sonne and, AV>. 
Piniiioiuo, b.id. :.-3 
bnilts a brlijhter ray, Chv 
liupire, e.inr.se of. westward the, 5^7, 

.'iit'pnrse of the. Hi i. 

roil of, >ift. 

sooops out an, fuj, 

survey onr, and Vohold our homr, fiaft. 
b'nipires.'l.me ninthri- of de«d, 7'.s>, 
l-mplovniouts. wlshliu; the woist of all. S.11. 
iMuptess and llouio i-l iLniio-. all, jr..-, 

Iiinptiiiess. eternal smiles his. hotray. »i.>. 



l-jupty lioxrn. be^uarly Account of, Soq, 

I- mi>ly-\. lulled iiIkIiI, 7^0. 

I 11, mulled evis. all your (imtint, 494. 

I nam. nod, liiiiin nvor livr, tfoi. 

I 11. Ii.oit llim. (.11. I will, K..{. 

I 11. Iiamiui; ia\i-.lim. 111. divine, 736. 

riKliantimnt, dist.iiive lend*, to the vlev^ 

J4ti 
Inconntor. keen, of our witii. 804. 
hiid. appiophuiuo an, uiy tlayk, J09, 

ittlompt the, ttoo. 

by onpoNluK, thoin, 99/. 

deiitli ft iiriessaiy, ■^la 

foFMike mo 111 my, 194. 

Iniiii'Utod 111 lliv. .'•f4' 

llle\ Ki"'>l. hie lliat answers, 794. 

nieaiis unto an, life Ik but a, 7ifl> 

orijiimil »ml, jiy4- 

served no |>rlvate, I7(k 

there's an. nil t, 793. 
nml-nll. be all and the, 900. 
lindenrnioni, eiich fond, tries, 688. 
hiidcavor, virtue too painful un, ujk 



for defence, 541. 
Midlnv:, never, still bi 



Fudlnv:, never, still bej;lnniiiK, 77a- 
l-ndiessori.a huiled.ln, 7^8. 

iiii;ln. I liisc.l Ills eyes in, 9W. 
I lids, dlltrniit mou to dilleroiit. WQ. 

.livinity that shapes our, there s a. 79^ 

.il lieiiit;. pi'ovi'd by the, to have boenk 
V'j;- 

ol vorso. ihoered up with, (47, 

lli.m aim'sl at be thy cmmtiy's, jjii. 

priviito. the il.'n t.> jjalu liis, .)49. 

violiiil d.llKhts have violent. HiJ. 
I'aidnnilK'e lorosi(;lil strcnulhand .skill, ijtt. 
hncmics have beat us to the hip, 900, 

iiiiikc, of natiomi, 594, 

naked to my, vjj,' 
I-'nemy, a we.ik invention of the, SW- 
bnornles, i;,iiheim^', ttiil ot, h.7. 
l-nfon^d toionu'iiv. nsrtli .111. jod. 

bniianod, 1 o, slnn;j;lim; I. < be free, w 

liij;lnes, m.'il.il, wli.'se rude tliroiUs. 71IJ. 
l-.n^;laiid. iiu torn flan of, ftag. 

novi I .It proud i..i»t of comnicror, 603. 

r.Mst Ivol ot old, S75. 

sl.ivestannot lueatfiu In, 594, 



this umIiii ihls, fun. 
wuh .dllhy tanltsi love 
yenontlemenot, fcij. 
yo luarlliers of, 6J9. 
HiiKliNh dead, ctoHO liic wall up with onr, 

her. j3i. 



ironlloman. .1 thie ohi. g^.). 

svv.'.-i .1-.. .01 ..'iild maU-1 

»oll ..1, im.I. ivl.-.l. .}\H. 
1-liloved III \i.i..ii I'o.ilifii. H.13. 
1-nniity. works o\ love or, Rfttt, 
l-ntobe the roaring waters with my silkv 

laisample, pieitt ouuhte, for to j-ive, H09. 

to his slieepe he K^f. ^7- 
l-nsi);u, iiuporial. ft^m the ullttcrm); stuff 
untinV.l. 7J<;. 

t.ai li. I l.itl.i. d, d,-.wn,o.M. 
V'll1.-1).li > ->l :'<. 11 I'llli .in.l UlOU)0llt, ^97. 
hnt,-n,.ni. Ill, ImhuI. . .I,m, ; 17. 
lntiii-'m''.l 111 ill. Il' .01 . I'l Ivnij-s, 79S. 
Inliail'., o.iiili 11. iiiM.'.l tioui her, tl99. 

wob lii'iu thoir own. spin, -j^n- 
biitiaii. ilio rapiuiotl soul, sweet to, xA. 

to ,1 i|n,iriel, beware of, 540. 

wls.loin at one, iniile shut out, 407. 
Irntiauees, they have their cxit» niul ihelr^ 

711, 
I-nvions faHi a. K7& 
liivv. heie 11.', swelN. ti. 

i.f loss Ii.ippier lands, 6oi, 
l-phosus. dame of. so mourned hor love. 



ws>4. 



1 1 ii 's stately rhyme, blot out the, 



ire, live while you live the, 



le, 015. 
wonhl sny. 



I pii.iph, beilovp a woiimn or tin, fen. 
1 pitaplis, let s t.ilk of j;rnve\ wornts. .ind. 
no. 

1-pitome, nil mankind's, o.-^. 

l'.|uable as inf.int's breath, lalm thoughts., 

7». 
1 trims. .ilVo.tlons d'Uk as. ;-6. 
I i..t himsoli .dH.vo himselt, rt..8. 
I 10. to. I l.>.-k.imn met eaih .'tllcr With, 735. 

spiiit. M.immou toast, 801. 
I im m.iv.aiTnoen, brln j-o brrtiih, 579- 

1 <->'l'- "r s;8. , ^ 

Irr, .111 mav, iiiitme . .mnol mUs. 4*0. 

Iiiiiii. Ml t.., M l.-iidve divine. 7^8. 

1-Tvliu' I I' r- -Il 0110, ^7, 

s|.ini, ' Ml n .1 no and errlnn. 9f^. 
I'n.M till' 111 111 "11 il I. mils, that one, J71. 

Ill . ii'll.".'., hull. 'I, 79U. 

mioas..mui; pride, rw- 

w..un.l< •! writhes in ImIii, ^h. 
lilTOi's wTetih, ;iiO'' 



INOKX lip- I'dMTir.M, (.UIO'I'AIIDNS. 



war, 



> rrMtK, fi-iiinlt:, i jH 

>.«» ynui |M,t, ,;^ 

\ I'l.'l .1 I- .il ) wn, 1 |.| 

I ,( .f , I'lll. ll'l.-.u'lVl . [ll|'ll, .-T, 

III. . '.I, .ill'l .>Lii». Jllllr, |j[, 

l.ii ril.tl lil.i/'iii iiiii'il nut bo |u cnrit nf (\c<\h, 

lilMs (1ml Iddk, 7</i 

lit(|it' «iirlii^«, III tlio liiiinnii hrnfiHl, Hm 

miillcii IiUi'iiiiiiliii-'.t liutrtiy, iii>.u 

ftiiintitCT kII(Im (Iiihii yrt. ifHo, 

Biiiriiiiur •tliiill iii)| liiili.', ij.|. 

Miiihlihir M'lll'ii Nil lli> IidikI, (VHH. 

yiMi'i •>{ f.M.I, ',),i. 
M'-niltlfH, llio Ptiit lliH I-iitiiru, two, 791, 
l-A. miry, liiiiiKi' I'f, filt.Mi<lhlil|>, IJ.J, 

llilltiinto, t'l iiuiit, jyj, 

liKiiiriKilli'il. (4H. 

lit itximctit'i, iiiiiltn till, 'J41. 

Ixi.stiii.' lliriiMtfti luitiirii to, ■J')%- 

tiK'ii |J' I ,liu; <lroii<lful UioiiKlit, 73g, 

(I i:li) ■ ili.it wiintlrr tliruiiifli, 794- 

^ I. i....M'r. ni. 

I "i".. I'lrr. vri 

I' ilii'M-.il iiiil.ltir'tf, < niiio iiniillr fiprliiu. 493 
l'ilii<.|>'>.r,ir, rkh Irwcl III hii, 7JI. 
('iniri.iii ilitiilfi )i[l;)i ovrriirclinl. 4>M> 
1 iinip'-. .ill, l^lnl', niiiii tlilo III ttltfr, ;f5 

1» ll< r tifly yi-.if. ol', j<iH. 
I vr, A-1.11II -lulvr .iinl, 'i|iiin. i^i. 

<l''wy, (rM„, 11... 7J',- "' 

fiilri-'il of h'T il.iiiL'litcri, 71J. 
■r.vpn. Kray I ilr<l. Ilhi> n '..ul vul.irlnl, H,n, 

Hltir thiit iivlicfH In tlir, .(iji, 

ii(lllii''>t>> «r II '• icr, )ir.;. 

Kwnt >i)iiir<iiii:li III, iir liiorii, 4'}J. 
I'vcii.lmii.lr.fjii^tl. r, «.».. 
J-.vciiltin h-IK, lln.ti'. 71C1 

(Ifwi III tlic, Ifivis iif llip nky, 491. 

^riitcfii), liillil, ■J-'''. 4>t. 

Oflucr iiitirtiliikf wxtr i", )4",, 

iiiiw (.(inn.' ■ilin, "ri, ,|i t 

)>r.|< i-llll, W-l Ill, Hio. 

'.tliiili'>i i.n'Viiit, 'n.uii irt llio, ;)7fl. 
t' v''iilti>,''ii I lii'i'-, I ill- III 111 III lino nt, v}3. 
I'v.'iit. "»i: (iir I'll illvlnr, m. 
I'vciilH, (.iiinlnif, t:m>( tlit-lr JiiuIiiwn hrfuTv, 



V?- . 
HplrllH rif Krt'iit, Hon. 
1 vcr-itnnilK (liirk, 4117. 



I vcrliivllntf ytiwn, 7:14. 

I very Itu li it kliuf, 7^1. 

t very iltiyncv^ of tlih work-dny wnrli), ui",, 

I vi-ryUiliitf l>y sttitiv and nntlilii); luii^, 

I'l niiiii{)H, HuH. 
kdiu, 711. 
I'vll. till tmrllal, iinK-urHdl ({odd, 4H-;. 
Iiu tii'iii my t{"*"li 39S< 
diiy«, fullciKin, \ifl' 
doulli can vlmw, I knnw no, 794. 
rruiii ncoiiiliiK, ^tlll rdiiclti^ »■""'• 4'" 
Ijood itnd, iniicli (liry iir){iii-i| nl, Kni., 
ini-ii d>i llvrt .ithir Ihcin, H;;',, 
iii'it.il, unit »if yiiMil, 4'j4. 
iKiiil of Kiiiiiliii-s<i in tlilntfii, Koj. 
wfuiiKlit liv wiiiil .if tli.Hinlit, 794. 
...inrH.. Willi, K.ln.Uh.-, ill, ;47- 

.llt'il Wllhlllr tlllr.ll'niTI.'il.ilKl',. ',,1. 

..Hniil<>. niv k!ri'til, tii.iki- lliy iilri miii, , j \ 

■.■.u >Mlh lUirvtty. I 'II. 4«'>. 

I I I .»vn. III! l!io (u\r. fiH. 

, wlirri! miiKj iKlinlrL', 1 1 1> 

'livl<l".l. Jli. 

' I.I.Mif IMT, 7'>7. 

(.ullnit tliliiK in wtijitiin, jj y 

lo luivK A i{laiil\ "trrnKlli, Hi ). 
I' ciH, kIvo rue, (if It, fi'M. 
of lltclit. lilti>ili<d Willi, 9)'j, 
wiitlc'fiii iiiid rMhiiloii*, jjf>. 
K.reiiirnt, K<*'>'*rAt, c(ini[>i)iitur(} ft((i)''ii 

fr'nii, .(H^,. 
;. (I.. , Iir iMtv !■* Il4 own, for hrliiL'. 4'"- 
(...lit III. »..rvt.y llir, Hiv 
f.,r til. ;li.-., .Ii--|| |.fnvn"i„i, i,r. 



'•?'■ 



. 'l''' 



liiirmiu; I. ilK- n-.lilf.t, '.;i, 
«li.il.in'.ii. ItIi'IiI. In iIk- nvmttnf, ti'"'. 
.uli.iliitl'.ti ., i^i'l'lm, (if tlic diiwii, 4'/.. 

'.kIi.iIoiI, Iir WII4, fij, 

llio Will, mid went to lionvoii, ifA 
inlMii.li-d wnrldi mid tlicn liiuitflitcd new, 

Ilip, wluil, -y/i. 



*>i 1 ix' :>>, ihuy linvc lliclr, 

I'.xpatliil'- trco o'er til tills tctlio of nniii, 



I'Rliutlatos, roHtii ■lid, Inn llfu to coiiir, 

Hijl. 

1' Mpn I. villi M Mciirco, niio of my (luo, m;- 
1' K|«'k liiliiiu, liiih, rhn, |47' 
III, Ik. >. II hli-Wnif di?<ir, Hoi. 

• •tt lull'., Hnl. 

l(x)iiM l>i liU evening' [ircy, I'lH. 
1' x^K'ti'i'', iiruiii' at llicir own, Hm), 
l.Klimiiii' I'. liHtl, ic-ll'. In QVtuy null. Hi,i. 

iilil il.iiitiiiin. 7H/, 
l.)i|>oi.<' tliv-.. II lo Icil, Hotf. 
iMilirc'ii^dil 111 liiiK y, not, yuu. 
I.siirr'.'tlvr- i,il.-mr, 41M. 
I'.i«|iil<iiti\ loy, t<Mi, III liml, Hoi. 

i-r. wlii>ii I'linl, Hmi. 

I'xt.-iniaK-. nothing, yj.\. 

I \1<>niiil><, < iiiiM mil \.hu:n roiiti<iit til, llil. 

I' .11.1^ MMMl oikI I'irliik' tpiill, 'IfiH. 

I ■ , |M iplr^r.l III (lie. Jj^ 

I , I.. I'.. Iluoil nl,'M>'4. 

ir Id Jiouoiiil iHf. '/<)<): 

111 worm, •;4d. 
I^Nlronilly, iimirn inonl diirk, ~i.i>4, 
I'.xnltiitloirH iii{onlu«, llty rrloinlN iirc, i/'jj 
I'.yi , riiMt 11 )iriir|(in>i •ii-i'lti||/ to thu, J" i. 

■Itlll ITdHJIUCl of likMonl, H<ll, 

lii-aiilctniiH, df liciivrn |{itriilHli, jjd. 

1 rllli!'ii, vli'Wi nin wllli ii, 117, 

doliiiiii <^ In lliflr, 'km. 

(|i'J<ii:liil,H..j. 

rrliiL[/id I iirtiiliKi (if llillir, 7J1. 

i;l>i<Tni<' Willi ICiHofl IiIiilK, J^t. 

Utr.il, -.1 linivt-n, HjH. 

uf'M M'lkiiiii'.lKr'i, fjY. 

n.ill lil'lilm fiiinillio, ii)|t. 

)iiiir>.liiii, dniiimH liflforfl llm, H|i, 

liiird l'nKlntlii(!HH' iiltnrcd, Hw, 

liciivi'ii In hrr, 'jixj. 

In ii II1H' fn'ii/y riillliiu. iiort'**, jjj, 

III mv iiil[i'l\ ll<>r,ill<i,flri/. 

Inh-n '.1 iiiiliiirniwnil fniiii ttii>, 4'i.t. 

hnv^ifl, • IkiiikiI tliclr, ili.|. 

r.l thi'lilKMif nollliido, 46,1. 



IKflit of <i iliirk, til woniiin, <Mt,. 
Uk(> MniH Id tliruiili'ii an/ 



1 rrinniiiiiid. 



7jr. 



lo.ikltiif wllli IiK kluilro, 791. 

I»v<"ll^')il In hnr, t'ji;. 

itianv nil, I1111 dmii i-il tri nrn, fyxn, 

imliirr'i, walk'., Hu;. 

of ilay. I|i|nlil noin-ttlinl rlimfj llm, .('/i, 

of (.ri'iT r. Alhrlii.. 719, 

of niiliir'', llvrd In lliti, 4H9. 

iif ihr.liy, tli<'.l,ili,|f<, 4ri». 

rn|>l villi '.illiiii' ill thlnu, 7HA. 

PlCt'^l Willi cillllll, i-Ll. 

Xlfhi'll wllli <i|ii'll, '«;•! 

ftinlli' III li(-r, 19;. 

tinlillni", 711. 

Ir>ar In li»r, Riiillr mi Iht lljni and a. i/'.. 



llprilt thrill witll 11, 



tlilrf liiultlirr, 1.16. 
tlirciitriiliiK, Iddkit 



iinpfrnnniptiKiini, lift to linnvitn on, ^hki, 

vl-iliiii.iry, lordu 'if (Iir, W,H. 

wii'i 111 ll'.rlf a mail, lliat, t )|. 

wluTi' fn-lUii' pliiyi, 7^1, 

wlillr wriiiir>.lila. k, 7:'l. 

wni[iair<i, li-ai Ik'h hiii 11 lifiinty ii'i a, Tfy 
Fyrlirown, liiilind nun In to liU iiiKt roni', 711, 
lylldi., irnwii tlic yod of iilnrtp on your, 
Hit,. 

Iinivy and larl, 114. wj. 

iif Ihi- niorn, opciilnif, 490. 

wt'lKh iny. down, yf.j. 
I'.ycHari? Iioiiiuh of Hiliriil iiraynr, 199. 

an- niitdo till) foolu o tlio ciilior HDirtt^^t, 

mi. 

IJiill'-n'n, KfiBpcMlKliI flrtl frfim, 397. 

Litmial, Hfif}, 

til'ixrd lih. In rndlriKi nlt{1it, 919' 

cIm^h- IiI'i, iio| II frlriid lo, 771, 

( yno-airc uf nrliflitiorlii«, 7'l-,. 

(f.jir iiHtJii"!'', llial wi-np, ■j'>'t. 

donln- Ihr triilll, Iht nji.-it. '-.J, 

■ Irink (11 iiin only widi llilii'-, i j',. 

Iil-iiory In II nalioirn, read lliuir, 106. 

klml, lliat liavn wrp|,793, 

li.l. 1-1 Iiino\49,, 

li^lit that Ih'i In wonmit'd, ani. 

Iii.;lil tliiit vIhKi l)in<io %tn\. •ii/i. 

llLr- l.rrak of day, ^ir 

liki' tl.irn iilarl frdui llioir Aplloru*!, ^i% 

I'liik yiiiir ).l^(, fb/;, 

hivr lo'ik I with tho, v'lf 

niald<-n Willi til'' ini't^k lirowii, t'14, 

rllUjr 
ni<!>'l In hrr .itpnM nnd linr, vift. 
iikdit liii>i a llionnJilid, 1 |',. 
no '.pi'i iiliillon In llir.iir, H4H. 
oi-c thrlr uoldril, 47 (, 
P' arl-i thai wrrr liU, (Vi-;, 
pofirlv lathify oiir, i^.|. 
(jiialnl ciiHinullod, 4';4. 



Uyob, rnvluliuit, wligrumio'ir I liini iny, H117. 
riiln hilliittii(.o, liidlui wlliiao, ytlb, 
cad liithii, of ollturt, lui, 
I i>v> 11^:11 III), uodii uii niurdaror* IIr, 90i>. 



, 7". 



lIii' ijavf mo, \\w yavr nin imri, till. 
nhowliK. an.l^'iluvi, hh. liaari, Urid! 
»d liili^hl iiikI iiwIiiI nir, 71 1. 
«ufl, h.dk.ul InvC.Ull, 

Hdiikiht llm w.'-.! nlVit, hnr blue, 491. 

unul wtdilii Iht, 7'./i, 

iiiiiih tido liiilhrr tlinii onr, v\\\, 

4(aillk<', '.n.k furl (rom, 141. 

ulrlkit mini-, lail not my h(<ari, 71 1. 

Imr<-ai h dllii-iV i.,ll, 

lliiil iih'ifin tidw dhnniod iind ifnjto, ;|i> 



Ihal wix-p. a lildMutiii/ liir till', ; 
till) Minw-wofiJi litndllmn, 1 u. 
niilo dyliiu, tlio ciitoiiKint hIiik 



ly Krown» 



wcic iimilii for uonhii;, l(. 4''ii, 
whhJi ••piikft ii|/iilii, ',11 
wiitiK'ir'i, thji) dorlrliii' from, i 1 1 
Hyo<tlt{hl loHi, prtiijiiiii troumin' ol lii.,, ,1''. 

I'iil>li>ii, wormi tlimi, yot liava rdunod, WA. 
lalirh . Iiimi'hos d/ lliti vIMmi. iPo;. 

riioo illi-iilly ii<t II di'ffiiin, 4u |, 
I'm.i' liriii by li<i nwii btiiinty (Imimpd, iv|. 

' Iliiiiidl (.omliirt In a, 9114. 

Ilnrr liiiiii (ir Invcllnr, 7;^!, 

fddllih, IraiiMiilltor df II, Niii, 

ylvc mr a, ;i), 

hciivrii n-il.'i ird In lior, 10& 

licr iiti|j'?l>., HifH. 

Imr, O Mill It fair not pain, 7111, 

lidiipul labor lii'iirq 11 luvoly, sgo, 

lininmi, illvhin 407. 

lo.ik uii lirr, and yun 'II fotKrl Ihcni, ijH, 

mighty itiMih<-r did iinvll hrr awliil, 9)9. 

mMTiiliiK. diiy'ii dkiislT-4 In hU, Oltlf. 

imnth liiriKlilntj Inan hnr, 1 1|, 

my, K my fiirtniid, i)f^S. 

tiinK^ iipiin IiIm, a>9Morl IiIh own, ftn, 

iif linavn, rnako no Ihui llio, 1 14. 

rnnillu noiiio faio, H>ii. 

loiiml iinthlnkltiir, 7^1). 

iiaw Ihr niaiiiifin In llio, '>,to. 

iililiiln^' mornhi^f, 711. 

i4lraiii:a Lonbirliomt of hin, iihrii|j<i and, 

■Iranifr dnrtiatnrnti In niy, 79'j. 

thnin )ti a t^ardrii In hrr, iv^, 

irulli IniN \.w h a. and iJi' h ii mini, 19II. 

vl'ill li'), tMHrum:l.lv. ■M.<>, 

wa-i riror i-W i|l<l 'hc ihal, .j.14, 

arr^. Ihr^i.lil I Illiii, ai-V 

ailntr (••.iiliil.Mldu, n'^/, 

II' lliiii >.< I'l'aii i"itli(ir4 Ill-ad, whnrn, rnit 

11- 1. 1-1. 1,;.". .' (hrlawn, Hiu. 

■ K lllll' '., Iifilllf lib, KO IIHH'k, 90U. 

i.o^iUidvn, ItoH. 
.'iciiKy, divine, vKhm nnd llio, 706. 

wlihlnllir Mdiila, iibldm, Kr.7. 
.idr, nil thai '1 brlKiit imihl, 791. 

Iiil'.tli<-lli.dil of Mil a ihiy, 75K. 

adi'i, fi'rr llu' wjilrr«i blur, :*(H, 

aillni; arr Ihr Jiiyi* wi- ili.tr upon, how, )47, 

horiofv. .if tfir- d'lid, fyiU. 
n^ry rlvi-i wliom' iiildnlk;nl rnvrln, 491. 

vl'ilmi, I tridk it for a, iKx;. 
all. If w<- nhdiild, K..;t. 

no im.h w'.Mtai, K<i;i. 
ailing. niT< y lo t-vry, hut tlloir own, 967. 
.\\\\\\)>^ l<'an<"l to Vlrtur'n nldu, riHH. 
all<i, i.M -Hprrlalhin, H-m. 
.ihil and (nil lo Ilvr alnn*-, 109. 
air I lair'T llinri Ihal word, tilio U, t n- 

and iiiipolliiird ll'<iih, II'. 

fi<k a ular wlicii only oiiu U nhllilllif, 10^. 

I all It, not pah', 7'.»i. 

.IIvldrdrxM-lhnM,, iiyj, 

rvrr, and m-vi-r proiid, 71 (. 

Cd.alnlnhl. to all to .-ni.tMi. Hirt, 

unrrd-.n. »ij 

li'iw ii'-ar (<i i;oiid ti what I't, 711. 

lariff fioiii and ryr tndillnm, 711. 

latitfhft tlifi liiorn, loM, 

MrfriiB(T, vl«iw, nrluhl, ();<(■ 

nonr but Ihn brnvfl d««i*rvPH ihr, 771, 

noiliini; lo, or i^ood nloiKr, 411(1. 

l>.i>.'.lni;, I'l dhn not, in 

pr'>porilon, nirtallfif df thU, r;|)i, 

■a.Wwi.ti frown'-'l not milih liumblo blrtll, 

■t'l lU'.idly, VM- 

tipnik mil, hi dunth, -)i^. 

to dill ward vlrw, ilit^ U not, 139, 

wlial rarn I Iniw, "shf bn, 19,1. 

woiiiiin mid bravo nioii, <(f 1. 

yoiiiijifandtio, !«. 
lotlrn ilaffadlk 4'>4> 
l-atr'T than that wtird, nlio It, i-\\, 

than the day, bn hIid, 19 |i 

tliuii tho ttvonliitf idr, 1 )4. 



1066 



INDEX OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS. 



Fairest of her daujjhters Eve, 71-- 

of stars. Vi- 

of the rur.ti nmid.s, I3c> 
Fairies iiso llowcrs for their cliivractcry, 869. 
Fairies' midwife, she is the. 8i6. 
Fnirnesse, draw folk to heven l)y. 809. 
Fnir.pruporlioned, native grace sat, 795. 
Fairy haiuls, their knell i^ rung by, 561. 
Faith, nuiiirantliiiie flower 01, pluck the, 
1q8. 

and hope, world will disagree in, 398. 

and inur.ils which Milton licld, txtn. 

laconic a passtonnie intuition, 397. 

brother of. hope, 800. 

ear of. 611. 

fanntic. wedded to falsehood, 397. 

K.i^ centre cvtrywherc, 397. 

in rncmlsliip the noblest part, i2o. 

in honest doubt tlici . lives more, 397. 

i'l some iii.e li'iiel-. wmn^,'. 398. 

law morale all be-au, where. 808. 

modes .if, let zealots li^lit lor. 397. 

of ni.inv made for one. 3<j7, 

perplexed in, but pure in deeds, 397. 

plain .uid simple, no tricks in, -job. 

pure-eyed, 830. 

ripened into, persuasion and belief had, 
397. 

simple, more tli.in Nornt.m blood, 368. 

that Itmks throuijh de.itli, 759, 
Faith's defender, name of. twj. 
Failhful ainon^' the laHhK-.s. ^87. 

dog shall b.nrhim c-'iup-my, 390. 

in action and m honor ile.tr, i.-o 
Faithless, faithftil amnni; the. i>;. 
Falcons, towcrini;, our hopes like, 730. 
Fall, dyiny, it h.ul a. 808. 

fear no, he that is down needs, 347. 

in Adam's, we sinned all, 397. 

no lower, he that is down can, 347. 

only bliss tliat survived the, 232. 

successive ami succe->sive rise. 792. 

what a, was there my countrymen, 876. 
Fallen. aw;ike arise or be forever, 540. 

from his hiyh estate, 771. 

great thou>;h, 581, 

into the sear the yellow leaf, 794. 

on evil days, 14(>. 
Fallini; uilo nauj^lit. horror of. 759. 

with a falling state, 603. 
FaUint;s from us, vanishinurs, 759. 
Falls as I do, 321. 

early or too late, nothing to him. 793. 

like Lucifer never to hope again, 331. 
False, all was, and hollow, 724. 

philosophy, vain wisdom all and, 808. 

science, betrayed by the glare of, 737. 

to any man, const not then be, 7^7. 

woman's love is, lightly thou say st. 207. 
Falsehood, faith weducd to some ilear, 397. 

of extremes. 602. 

practised, under saintly shew, 396. 

stings of, those shall try. 899. 

what a goodly outside, hath. 797. 
Falstaff sweats to death, 722, 
Faroe, blush to find it. 797. 

damned to evcrlastmg. 9^. 

death-bed of. 574. 

elates thee, 237. 

field of generous, 601. 

field of luB. 920, 

fool to, 107. 

glory but the blaze of, 8n. 

grant an honest, or none. 811. 

great heir of. 906, 

IS foreign. 78i. 

in heaven expect thy meed, of so much, 
812. 

is no plant that grows on mortal soil, 

8l2. 

Is the spur, 812. 

nor. 1 slight, Sii. 

60 truly circular. 930. 

what is the end of, 8ii. 

youth 111 fortune iuul to. unknown, 307. 
Fame's eternal beailroll. 938. 

proud temple shines .iTar, 812. 
Fanuliar .is his f^arter, 723. 

be, but by no means vulgiu, 121. 

faces, all nre gone the oKl. 274. 
Famine and the ague eat them up, 540. 

should be tilled, 899, 
Famous by my sword, 150. 

victory, 't was a, 538. 
Fanious^d for tight, warrior, 540. 
Fanatic faith, wedded (o falsenood, 397. 
F'ancies are more giddy and unfirm, 315. 
Fancy, a young man's, 354. 

bright-eyed, 867. 

cud of sweet iuid biller, 813. 

draws whate'er the Grecian Venus was, 
795- 

flics to men of other minds, 632. 

tree, in maiden meditation, 836. 

gay hope is theirs by, fed, 793. 

nallo my, Sao. 



I-ancy, home-bounil. runs her bark ashore. 
807. 

hopeless. 315. 

like the linger of a clock, 810. 

not expressed m, 732. 

point oi his own, falls on the, 3ta 

where is, bred, 125. 
Fancy's child. Shakespeare, 786. 

young, rays 108. 
Fanny s way. call it pretty, 134. 
Fantasies, shaping, 806. 

thousand, throng into my memory. 830. 
Fantastic its a woman's mood, 813. 

fickle fierce and v.iln, 813. 

if too new or old. 806. 

summer's heat, 346. 

toe. light, 785. 

tricks, plays such, 813. 

tyrant of the amorous heart, 304. 
Fantasiiially set with cupola or min.iret, 

719. 
Fantasy s hot fire, 203. 
Far as the solar walk or milky way, 399. 

from ^ay cities and ways of men, 489. 

from nic madding crowd's ignoble strife. 
306. 
Fardels, who would, bear, 297, 
Fare thee well and if forever. 338. 
Farewell, a long, to all my greatness, 321. 

a word tiiat must be, 341. 

content, 722. 

goes out sighing. 792- 

hope biide the world, 583. 

I only feci, 338. 

king, ij-'^. 

the neighing steed, 733, 

the pluni('d troop. 732. 

the trail. Hill mind. 722. 

to tliee Ar.ibys daui^hter, 294. 
Farewells should be sudden. 241. 

to the dying, 273. 
Farmers, embattled, 5S9. 
Far-otf divine event, 394. 
Farther otT frcm heaven than when I was a 

boy, 9), 
Farthiuys lo the poor. 803. 
Fashion, fool in. 799. 

glass of, and mould of form. 73a. 

of a new doublet, carving the. 203. 

wears out more appnrel than the man, 
799- 
Fashion's brightest arts decoy. 689. 
Fashioned so slenderly, 335. 
Fashions, same rule in words as. 806, 
F.ist and furious, mirth and fun grew, 848. 

by the oracle of God, 399. 

by their native shore. 613. 
Fat, a barti more, than bard beseems, 940. 
Fal.il belhiiaii. the owl the, 8S2. 
l-'ate. a heart for any, 770. 

a heart for every, 930. 

accursed by, 345. 

binding nature fast in. 37a 

book of, heaven from atl creatures hides 
the, 703. 

cannot harm me I have dined to-day, 
lot 3. 

could awe the soul of Richard, 541. 

fears his, too much. 150, 

fixed, free will, 808. 

good man meets his, chamber where the, 
309- 

man is master of his, 777. 

no armor airainst, 301. 

providence foreknowledge will, 808. 

seemed to wind him up. 65, 309. 

storms of, struggling in the, twa. 

take a bond of, 793. 
Fated sky gives us free scope, 793. 
Fates, men are masters of their, 793. 
Father and his God. bosom of his, 307. 

feeds his flocks a frugal swain, 650. 

full fathom five thy, lies, 869. 

inethinks I see my. 867. 

my, and my Friend, 3.^4. 

of all in every age. 370. 

of the man, the child is, 452« 

whole matter and copy of the, 107, 

wish was, to that thought, 800, 
Fathers, ashes of his, 567. 
Fathom, full, rive thy father lies, 869. 
Fault, docs one, and lies to hide it. 395. 

excusing of a. makes worse, 815. 

hide the, 1 sec, 370. 

is not in our stars, dear Brutus, 793. 

lust hint a, 910. 
Faults, careless their merits or, to scan, 688. 

his, lie gently on him. 312. 

one error fills him with, 271, 

with all thy, I love thee still. 575. 
F'avors, princes', man that h.ings on, 321. 

secret sweet and precious, 847. 
Fawning, thrift may follow, iii. 
Fear and bloodshed miserable train, 539. 

be just and. not. 3^-2. 

dread and, of kings, 79S. 



Fear is affront and jealousy injustice. 795. 

no fall, he thai is down needs, 34;. 

no, where no hope is left. 8uo. 

painting of your, the very, 868. 

soul deceives with grountiless, 207. 

taste of, forgot the, 900. 

thy nature, yet do 1, 724. 

to die, let no m<tn, 310. 

to hve alone, why should we, 309. 
Fearful innocence. S14. 

odds, facing, ^67. 

lovely and a, tiling. 203. 

summons, upon a, 8b8. 
Fearing to attempt, lose good by, 800, 
Fears, uelicate, humble cares and, 231. 

his fate too much, 1^0. 

more pangs and. than wars or women, 
3=1. 

no, to beat away, ao6, 

saucy doubts and, 800. 
Feast, bare imagination of a, 346- 

life's, chief nonrisher in, 883> 

of reason and flow of soul. 814. 
Feasts, wedlock oft compared to public. 331. 
Feather, a wit "s a, 780. 

espied a, of his own, 134. 

fowls of a, 820. 

is wafted downward, 490. 

viewed his own. on the fatal dart, 800. 

whence the pen was shaped, 908. 
Feathered minstrel of the sky, 210. 
Feats of broil and battle, 145. 
Feder.ition of the world. 357. 
Fee, dtspairim^ of his. to-uiorrow. S09. 

the docti>r lor a nauseous draught. 671, 

thrice tliy, take O boainian, 2\i2. 

wag witli()ui a. could not, f^i-g. 
Feed fat the ancient grudge 1 bear him, 899. 

my revenge. 899. 
Feel anottier's woe, teach me to, 370. 

like one who treads alone, 318. 

must, theniseh-es who make us, 864. 

wh.it wretches feel, 80a. 
Feeling and a love, 404. 

deeper than all thought, 731. 

high niount.iinsare a, 493, 

infinite, stirs the, 813. 

of sadness and longing, 813. 

petrifies the, 396. 

sensible to. as to sight, 8S2. 
Feelings, unemployed, waste of, 816 
Feels a thousand deaths in fearing one, 
Sto- 
at each thread and lives along the line, 
496. 

the noblest acts the best, 742. 
Feci beneath her petticoat like little mice. 

311. 

every turf beneath their, "^ij. 

her pnttv. lil^e snailcs diil creep. 731, 

slippers lip.Mi comrary. :.-.• 

stiinduii; with reUictani, 104. 

those blcssid, 397- 

through faithless leather. 347. 

to the foe, back to the fieUI. 574. 

two pale, crossed in rest, 295, 
Felicitie, what more, can fall to creature, 

489- 
Fclicity, absent thee from, awhile, 811. 

our own. we make or find, 807. 
Fell like autumn fruit that mellowed long. 
65. ?<i9. 

of hair. 900. 

purpose, sh,ike my, 9o»> 

sergeant, ticalh, 309. 

swoop, at one. 309. 

upon a day. 460. 
Fellow in a market town, 954. 

in the firmament, no. 493. 

many a good tall, 506. 

of the self-same flight, 802, 

touchy testy plcasiint, 734. 

want of it tlie, 7S1. 
Fellow-feeling makes one wondrous kind. 

804. 
Felt how awful goodness is, 398. 

in the blood and, along the heart. 403. 
Female charm, fondly overcome with, 899. 

errors. 128L 
Festus 1 jilunge, 801. 
Fever. Ufe's fitful. 311. 

of the world, 404. 

raging, burns. 799- 
Fevers into false creation, 867. 
Few and far between, 347. 

sh.^!l jvirt where many meet, 513. 
Fibre, each fr.iil, of her brain. 899. 
F'ickle ,-\s a changeful dream, 813. 
Fiction, truth is stranger than, 805. 
Fie upon this single life, 333. 
Field, accidents by flood and. 145- 

back to the. and feet to the foe. 574. 

beat this ample, 792, 

of battle, the world's broad, 77a 

of i;enerous fame. 601, 

uf his fame. 93a 



INDEX OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS. 



10G7 



Field, tcntcil, dearest action in the, 145. 

what thouifli the. be lost, 540, 
Fields bc-loveu in vain, loH. 

hunt in, for health nuboneht, 671. 
invested with purpiire.il jjlcami, 399. 
little tyrant of his, 306. 

poetic encompass nic, 807. 

showed how, were won, 688. 

those holy, 197. 
Fienii%. sport or inockin>,', 558. 

these juifuling, no more believed, be, 
345- 
Fierce as frenzy's fevertrd blood, 813. 

democratic, wicldt;d that, 804. 

desire, livetli nut in, 203. 

fiery warriors, 899. 

Repentance rijars her snaky crest, 799. 
Fiercer by despair, 348. 
Fiery Pcj^sus^ turn and wind a, 671. 
Fife, ear-picrcmji, 722. 
Fifteen, bashful, ni.iidcn of, 131. 
Fight apain, those that liy may, 540. 

another tliy, 541J. 

for luvc as men may do, 795. 

warrior fainous&d for, 540. 
Fitjhtinj;. rusty ijrown for wunl of, 507. 

still and still dL-stroyindf, 772. 
rights and runs away, he who, 540. 
Fi>;ure to ourselves ttie thing we like, 867. 
Figures, carved with, strange and sweet, 

7215. 
Filches my good name from me. Sir. 
Files arrayed with helm and blade, 539. 

foremost, of time. 358, 
Filled with fury rapt inspired, 773. 
Final goal of ill, g<».d the. 39--. 
Find tlic other forth to, 802. 
Fine by dcfcut ;iiul 'lelicately weak, 723. 

by <legrei:s and beautifully less, 721 

frenzy rollinif, poet's eye in a, 722. 

issues. 797. 
Finer form or lovelier face, 721. 
Finger, fortune's, not .1 pipe for, ria. 

of a clock, fancy like the, 8ia 

slow unmoving, 725. 

'twlxt his, ana his thumb, 506. 
Fingers, decay's etfacing, 303. 

silent, point to heaven, 396. 

weary and worn, 314, 337. 
Fire, fant-xsy's hot. 203. 

hold a, in his hand, 346. 

in antique Koman urns, 205. 

kindle, with snow, 203. 

little, is quickly trodden out, 815. 

more smoke than, 558. 

motion of a hidden, 398. 

rouse of, 867, 

of light, an unconsuming, 867. 

pale his uiiellcctual, 490 

pale, sn.Uches from the sun her, 4S9, 

Phrubus', scarce thaws the icicles, 7**. 

Promethean. sp.irkle still llie right, 133. 

stir the, close llie shutters, Sio. 

whether in sea or. 868, 
Firelight, shadows from the fitful, 273. 
Fires, wonted, e'en jn our ashes live their, 

306. 
Fireside happincHs, 212. 

howsoe cr defended, no, 272. 
Firm concord holds, 815. 

connected Ijulwark. 632. 

united let us be, 603. 
FirnKimeiit, earth's stars that shine in, 494. 

glowed with living sapphires, 413. 

no fellow in the, 492. 

spacious, on high, 376. 
Firmness, wonted, nature shakes off her, 310. 
Finn-set earth, thou sure and, 882, 
First by whom the new arc tried, 806. 

Cause, thou great, 37a 

he wroghte afterward he taughte. 6>7. 

I have nosscssed, 207. 

I was tlic. who came away, 215. 

law, order is heaven's. Sia. 

man's, disobedience. 395. 

sure symntom of a minu in health, 231-. 

true gentleman, 723. 
Fir-trees dark .md hlgn, 93. 
Fish, all 's. ihcy gel ttiat cometh to net, 672. 
Fishermen a|)pear like mice, 445. 
Fishes that tipple in the deep, 147. 
Fit audience find though few, 807. 
Fits and stirs of his mind, 241. 

sad by, by starts 't was wild, 773, 
Fittest place where man can die, 6m. 
Five hundred friends, her dear, 814. 
Fixed fate free will, 808. 

figure, alas to nuke me a, 725, 
Flag, meteor, of Hngland, 629. 

nail to the mast her holy. 6ao. 

of the free heart's hope and home, 592. 
Flame, heavenly, vital spark of, 365. 

liquid, my blood is. 899. 

love's devoted. 121. 

nurse .1, If you, 205. 

of love, lives witlun the very, 271. 



1-lariie that lit the battle's wreck, 614. 

b'laining minister, 900. 

Flat, stale, and unprofitable, 346. 

Flatter, wrinkles the d— - — d democrats 

won't, 794. 
Fluttered alw.iys takes your word, the, 810. 

being tliea most, 8io. 

to tears, 176. 
Flatterers, besieged by, 910. 

hates, when 1 tell him he, 810. 
Flattering talc, liopc tells a, 271. 
Flattery's the food of foots. 810. 

never seems absurd, 810. 

ne'er lost on poet's ear, 811. 

soothe the dull cold ear of death, 306. 
Flaunting extravagant (|uuan, 131. 

robes of sin, 813. 
Flea has smaller Heas, 496. 
Fled and cried out Death, I, 310. 

fast through sun and sIlocIc, 721. 

from her wish and stiid Now I may, 723. 

in light away. 309, 

tnurinuring, 490. 
Fleet, all in the Downs the, was moored, 235 
Fleetest. l)ri>;hiest siill (he. 793. 
Fleeting gmxl th.ii nunjks me, 396. 

show, litis W'irl.l is all a, 399. 
Fleets, iii.iilcd, and ariiiid towers, 541. 

swecjj over thee in vain, 607. 
Flesh and blood, ears of, 735. 

fair and unpolluted, 311. 

is heir to, sliocks that, 297, 

this too too solid, would melt, 31 1. 
Flics of estate and snnneshine. 121. 

o'er the unbending corn, 806. 

with swallows' wings, hope, 800. 
Flight, afar off to view the, 730. 

of ages past, 308. 

of future days, never-ending. 801. 

of time, beyond the, 114. 

of years, unmeasured by the, 399. 

self-same, his fellow of tile, 802. 
inighty purpose is never o'ertook, 797. 
lliiij^' .iw.iy .tinbition, 322. 
I'lnit, Mi..r.- iipi.n the, weariness can, 816. 
I'linty -md sleel couch of war, 539. 
Moat double, swan and shadow, 493 
Flock however watched and tended, no, 1:72. 

tainted wether of the, 348, 
Flocks, my father fee<ls his. 650. 

or herds or hiitii.in f.icc, 407. 
Flood jui'l li.'l.l. ;i. c idi;iits by. 145. 

in tlir iryst.d, .iiioilier ami the same, 494. 

leap witli mc inlu tliis angry, 670. 

of years, a never-ending, 750, 

taken at the, leads on to fortune, 802. 
Floor of heaven is thick inlaid, 775. 

the nicely sanded, 689. 
Flour of wifely patience, 231. 

vertue cngendred is the, 695. 
Floure of floures all. 462. 
Floures in the mede, of all the, 462- 

white and rede, 462. 
Flourish in immortal youth, 759. 
Flow like thee, could 1, 723. 

of soul, feast of reason and, 814. 
Flower, amarinthine, of faith, 398. 

born to blush unseen, 306. 

dear common, 495. 

every, enjoys the air it breathes, 49b- 

every opening, 108. 

impcarls on every leaf and, 492. 

little western, 836. 

may prove a beauteous, 492. 

meanest, that blows, 759. 

of frailest rcvery, 228. 

safety, out of this nettle danger, 671. 

seize the, its bloom is shed, 848. 

that sa<l embroidery wears, 494. 

that smiles to-day, 754. 
Floweret, meanest, of the vale. 489. 
Flowers and fruits of love arc gone, 250. 

are lovely love is flower-like. 120. 

call the. Its poetry, 494 

called the. stars, 494. 

chaliced, 474. 

crown old winter's head with, 193. 

fairies use, for their charactery, 869. 



that grow between, 276- 



mat grow 
that skirt 



the eternal frost, 



,]£, 



vcrn.ll. purple the ground with, 494. 

wither at North-wind's breath, 308. 
Flowery meads in May, 193, 
Flown with insolence and wine, 558. 
Fh.wre. no daintie, or herbe. 494. 
Mm inations and its vast concerns, 810. 
llnsliiiig round a summer sky. 831. 
1-ly betimes, 205. 

could I, I '(I fly with thee, 472. 

let me, says little birdie, 80. 

on the bat's back I do, after summer 
rrily. 



Foam is amber an<l their gravel gold, 720. 

on the river, like the,, -■83. 
Foe. feet to the, back to the field and, 574. 

insolent, 145. 

last armed, expires, 582. 

manly, give mc the, 121. 



one worthy man my, 781. 

' -lalf bis 
, 615- 



overcome but half 



by force hatli, 



that sips treacle is lost, 205. 
" ey that need to flv, 540. 
those that, may figfit again, 540. 



they that need to flv, 540. 

those that, may figfit ag.i 

Flying, borne down by the, 510. 



the, they come, 512. 

to love, fortune an unrelenting, 205. 

tyrants fall in every. 573. 

where bre.ithes tlic. but falls, 592. 
Foenien worthy of their steel, 655. 
l-ues, long-inveterate, saluted. 725. 

ilirice he routed all his, 771. 
l-'old, like the wulf on the, 501. 

their tents like the Arabs, 816. 
Folio of four pages, 810. 
I-'olks, them unluqipy, on shore, 630. 
1-ollies, pretty, they themselves commit, 203. 

sense in wearing others', 799. 
1-ollow as the night the day, 797. 

what to, is a task. 808. 
Folly, from cor.d lips such, broke, 713. 

grow romantic, if, 805. 

mirth can into, glide, 395. 

nights wherein you spend your, 315. 

noise of, bird that shun'st the, 786. 

shoot, as it Hies, 807. 

to be wise where ignorance is bliss, 108, 

when lovely woman stoops to. 336. 
Folly 's all they 've taught mc, 2(14. 
I-oiid despair, nyinphoTepsy of some. 869. 

recollcLti'iTi ] .resents them m view, 100, 

reconi-,, \M|.i ,i\v.iy .-ill trivial. 801. j 

Fondly ii\ . ,. iki- whIi female charm, 899, 

Food, cm,, iln ll.,^.,. ,y, 496. 

huiii.iii ri.iiur-' if. Illy, 128. 
of fools, Hdtlery '•. the, 8io. 
of love, if music be the, 808. 
of love, smiles the, 204. 
Fool at forty is a fool indeed, 793. 
imagination's, 31a 
in fashion, 799. 
Life time's, 792. 
live a, the rest of his life, 939. 
motley, thuh morn' on the time, 810. 
noble. O worthy fool, 810. 
play the, because they're men of sense, 

right by chance, must now and then be, 
780. 

suspects himself a, at thirty, 478. 

Time's, love is not, 208. 

to fame, 107. 

wise enough to play the, 798. 

with judges, 724. 
Fooled with hope men favor the deceit, 793. 
Foolish face, tenth transmitter of a, 812, 

never says a, thing, 940. 
Fools, all our yesterdays have lighted, 79a. 

arc my theme let satire be my song, 
806. 

contest for forms of government, 397. 

flattery 's the food of, 810. 



for arguments use wagers, 803. 
1 laugh at, not fear them, 798. 
ink oT, nothing blackens lilcc the, 8ti. 



little wise the best, be, 708. 

never-failing vice of, pride, 799. 

o' the other senses, my eyes tlie, 882. 

positive persisting, 798. 

rush in where angels fear to tread, 798, 

so deep contemplative, 810. 

suckle, and chronicle small beer. 723. 

supinely stay in idle wishes, 798. 

thrive on, at Westminster, 8jo. 

who came to scoff. 688. 
Foot and hand go cold, 946, 

it featly here and there, 869. 

more light a step more true, 721. 

of time, noiseless falls the, 117. 

one, in sea and one on shore. 271. 

one, on sea, and one on land, 138. 
Footprints on the sands of time, 77a 
Footstep, leaden, of Care, 604. 

plants his, in the sea, 632. 
Fop, solemn. signifi'J.mt and budge, 721. 
Forbear dispute and practise love, 399. 

occasion to, fmd, 215. ' 

Forbiddancc, strict, 217. , ■ 

Force of nature could no further go, 907. 

overcomes by, 815. 

spent its novel. 2«. 
Forced gait of a shuffling nag. 807. 
Forefathers, rude, of the hamlet. 305. 
Forefinger of an alderman, 836. 

stretched, of all time, 80-. 
Forehand and vantage of a Icing, 559. 
Foreign aid of ornament, 795. 
Forehead of the morning sky, flames in th<^ 
490. 
strand, wandering on a, 563. 
Foreknowledge absolute, 808. 
wiJ] and fate, 808. 



H)68 



INDEX OK KiKlKAL VjllOTATlONS. 






ri.>iv .-, til ti»\^ wrlh tV''^ t.'iMIX^niU);. A-Ov 






- N-Uwc. fv*. 






:i^: 



• - ■'■-■■ ■ •. •■• -'s>* 

k^Mi is ^*>>l *U«th the Nxly UMtL«t 7.».v 

TV" 

. uivnI by art. e*.'^ 



A\t. Am. 

■ nvj. ^y. s»,v 

A;l-l {..• lAUW \inktKVlKtV. A yttMlh tv\ 



^'r 



inv r 



• ^ ^< astf^ 






.1 A»w I'im^, f tS. 






Avs. 

I .-ft. Av. 






(h*tr *trvNX(l JuNxtc. 






Kmwe, Mpuin- N!Miitc!v !'^1^ 



Av-s, (Sxv 






the hiOKiw htstit iuuit I'vtmUt^. ii6 






^is^ 



Htvts Ilis hvmt ujsw th« >t««KT, stnil* *iht 






ice A. til- 



•.^f aH who hi\vv iw t>{«ttvt. ,<»». 






ViiN.....! . .-.. i.-.w, tuu^hK with u\>-. 

FTK^\^U Alwi»>*!i, trMxunni aIw«»js. 7>j. 



*>»vi. 1 . 



^^C^^lK'^t. HI. 



;cn*is. r4$- 



i^kniH, tKV'>i''t pf. hcnet (oxT i>tK^U9nc«if»^ 



-1. liOJ' 



I'livki-vl t>«i(c«th the ImrvWn vm thrvvscot^. 

»'" .-.Ml. 



■■-^:'i' u\i'*m.i«j* 

bV^wux her. ai* \*\wt tu than !auU«>» i4 

Ft-^^-^ ■ ' ■..■■-■ uN 

1 
I ^ 

ftxMU Muh 4 •*<'«^l. &\\ 

likely"*', iliv't* mU' (hy m<.^h<r'^ lj»j\ tuv 

*,»l' »CU>C iK-Hv-Alh. S.VV 

iNaI i.\\n t.ill v*nh\H« shAkiiTj;. ».-^ 
tiuu" (h-*t Kn*(> lUN"'"*** 
whuh tho tstith hAv! >\vl\l, 44i». 
Kivdtttv. vi\'wi\. mvii «(>■ hvAO they ("Xxcif^l 
*. us- 

vvl iH\\»,v\ ^;»thcmX(; aU the. 541. 
F\iU vticvv. tUiuw in. S14, 

tAthvuit nsif thy lAlhri Iwpv Sp* 

iitAit^' A lK>wvt i> KMit to I'tu^ unsccix. 

><^ 
lUsiio * ■•■■"> ■' "^ -< <.\j- seirito. >*., 

ivf Ml i>ei. rtt. 

^^»■^^^v . >^». sw««t S>vfa\i:. 

^v 
t\i;i,>«ls»( i;Kny. >\xtHKt «»w<> (tiviu* ii^ 






\ hito. £.v 






»(\Nt-i u> uic j;t.*^v'. *7\\ 



nth Aua l\m fitvw. S4ik 

0. the l(*\ct. rii. 

• .>Mi -ti*\l shcAW, Sid, 



1 .N*. *i>7. 

Fututts tv>t i*f 1M\H**>*** vM' lh«, is the Ta^l 

jv^st tht\ t*\^ ctetuHh-*, rJ* 
trust «»\ hv»Vf*Vt i^ksAvAiit. 7Tv\ 



lUk-s uvvh. A«>1 
^iAUKvv t'u- >tATH 

0«UW hi- «tul not I 
V<4<stMiiv vM' the. 



M th,Ynw *H\l Ihtf. «4S. 



.-A<!.ot\ ihtf c«rvi, 7«Ml 



INDEX OK I'OKTICAI, f^UOTATIONS, 



1069 





'.., I wlllM.-cthe<:'l-ilfirbl. 


''''•I ":niM lliare (0 U-, Ma 




, ". 


'';-<. 


' <II'.<I of N |ll»ll, 7VI1 


< u Im! our Hiott/j, jo}. 


<„,., . ,f.'.. L'l- V 1.. .t l.l'l vIlCltlR*, *«, 


1 in'riil ilk it ftli:a, 7<«4, 


, 


1,,, 1 mlcMir 1'* M. M* 


' W4- 


'4 HMH. «W). 


i,-. ' "1, IV. 


^,r.. ■ M<-r, lovH, a-j^. 


r / niMii (lie t/;wfi, 679, 


1 ' / J 


Cl. /(h w;m l/y tJic, 7'yv 


' ■'tMi, niMy incd, 744. 




'•' ..'.bmiM/llili.a, 7V7 


■ ■ '■■ /.ly, 




((U<] iii« wiiii ii» »oii lilttck ay«, »^i. 


"'. "ly. ■tt4- 


1 , 


wnu^r^ lit iIki dark bluu <»<!«, o'er tic. 


(.•' 


Oa'y, 


' ' 1. iiiitur'-' up Uj, 


(,,M itt'l III, /*- 


Clu'tfl. iilifiilti'(iii;il>l':, jiy 

Clii'llk-r iif«w, I'/U'Jii-'f hy hf:r fair Un-l 




l,.i. 


"/. lotliea, '(71, 


O.,' ;. I'> llie. lU' 
i„i> I .^:4t yur, «M. 




'1'! work tor iiuin 10 in«rft 6ji, 
' v/.yfk of, ail hoiieu liwfl't l)»t. 


^. . 1. 11 iiiMi'i, l^. 




of^aUffiiik, fyjn. 


u IlititC.Ml It, 4V''' 


M'/wii 1'* /if, 'z?'/. 


f.-K 


'.( ' 1 ,wllK)it,4/>l. 


only, limy Iw hiut for llie Mkl|||f, 424, 


(,.< >'f iIk: rilifttl, 41'''' 


',1 .. ii.l. li . like «i/Hhs, »I5. 


,., .1, vii . ...... ,„^n wat, y>9. 


tliU, 107, 


''1 1 ■ffonn, 7». 


'(" 


(!!i. ' -.TV, 


i-r ili«, I'ji. 


>[e em>iii;h, Ix-lly, 941V 


i;^ ■ 1-. her wliiK*, 47^ 


'-).. ..- ■„'>/7. 


' ■<>■■■ yi-" ih \M/tU liioulh «il4 tbo 


' , llllH M lllC, 777, 


Cl< ' lit WUVK.WfJ. 


' t>4- 

■ 1 •!, wlJ '1on^, y/5. 




i,\. . <.-lt:,.,.., ..r.i ,., 4'yi. 


■ ( .' 1 ;tty, with hulf lh<: jee.tl, ^9». 


(,.. «l.tl'- yr iiwy, 754. 


lsU.,„. -tj../ ...'.,. . .. . ■ 


'.'/(.■; -^lit'it, imin'/Mul (^^n y/(. 


C.n , t.,ll '/, 1*07. 




Mi>(;'..-.<f turnk to h»;r, wh' 1. khe fccta. 


«,.- rl. 


'..I. ,1 text Bid |/r<-ii^)ie» ra-tt-tic:. 


■-■/■ 


f/lii itviiy, 794. 


ti;. i ..'lirrCo'J the H'/n, y,4, 


y fFtfi'-y f*"1, 771, 




tj(. /..ly, (iHf('(tii|*h Cyllio, 771. 


(,,, ' ■'■- ■-- - 


**ltiiii... . ■■.. ..>/ i.i'i.-i, ■■..■>*■ ffvrry Joy t/>. 


- •■ It'/t, 79a, 


lj> 


*-»•* 


1' your j'OwiUi flry, «o». 


0.. 


^/limiii'iitnf, liw;r<;, niul r|/'i-i»y*„ K74, 


«!'.. 


<,' 


b'luiirf, i.)ik>iMfictll ifrowftii, ji^. 


. t.TiUll'. 4,7. 


(,.;.. ;jl. 


U|fcr'» Jiiflii, ho|/« IJki: «, lyx/. 


fV^. 




t.ii|/«r» U> ih': will, hol't tJi''ir, 4'><. 
ihn/uKli the dreum ^4 thiiitfa thiU w«r' 


'. 797- 


lit, 491- 


■-■';. 


ttlMS W'/fC, 7VI, 


'^lUlcrfiiif ffrUrf, fteiltrA u(> In n, -^7. 




*,. .. lA 


<vK.- 1 ■ ■■.. \,um. T». 


1 ( iii/T'llurii knowi. i»- 


wild .Ifjw, y/.., 4«/i, 


will 1.' ■ /. 60a. 


nl-la.VlJ. 


i;UAn^. 'IkfriM.te'l, vul In tliib, ^y>i. 


wi.l,. ),. , , y/,. 


it--:.. ■'•■ »«/ol, fA 


/,!, 1... ,.,., ;,r(im)il viml o'';f ij.ic, 47a, 


i.u'S- -u... .,..,, .„y. 


<, 1 ' .':^,lhy,5»8. 


' • line ttwl iftrlfe thi^ Itviuikth ih-.. 


' ' ^,*'-.«i were, 453/ 


X wliiK, Wj, 




1 iiif eblraiiij</l, ^jj. 


0. -, 7iV 


'. .', fr^''Jf ..ti.-cll -li-vilvr, 8»i;. 


C-.'''- .,491. 

C'-'l' '^IMtis, 804. 
Co.: )/(l(ty iiJirl, **, 


t),c, 7'/J, 


Cl'.- 


, ■ ■^' , 4*/*. 


Cl'.' ■ i*/i. 


C'.M V7. 


y ■!■.■■, ;■;. 


10 .1 i-i].', .-14. 


i«4. 


Otmki.Mi., 4 fin. .-I'i litiiflUh, v» 


works, thiM! urT thy, ■y,'i. 


. no a, yj. 


i(r.iii'l 'fl'l iMtiJ': '/f, ;'/7, 


'Mry l>':voii'l ull i/t'/ry cv«;r w«rn, s/y?, 
t,ijt Ih'- 1.1./' '.( (1.1... Hit. 




.J 1 1.. 1 .-, 6v. 


. ;■ 


■ J, 


l.oUnu^ 


.'.. i.;;i,-ful eyes, y/> 


•'-. 5W- 


full 111' ' 


, j/r"^i'*«. 77»' 


'" ^ . . 


f«II'/rl. .. 'Ilvhbuifl. 4'/t 


, . 


(^.iiK/ 11'/- ,»..'ii>^ It, hsii'J ufHyii my Iienrt, 


ih*", |"f |», >74 

If ,t ..u'l .I'Llhr '/f the wwM, 79a, 


"■■-■■ , ."■ 'il'T yOUOJf. 07, 

'*fArth » t>'iif/wiuii, who ifoeln a XjnrtowUv/^ 


7V4- 




'M7- 


f,f. l..„.I.,r,. v.,.1, lih., y^>. 


CoM t-n'^J-t -m'l y How har-l and c//M, Sw, 


(,■ ' : 


-, the, 7'y7. 


"' IW, *(!, 


if ' ■■■/ tu«aii», *>■*, 


dii4, -jii. 


' ' whil luirinleM, 49S> 






C" ; 


■ ' grave, y/> 


, 7'9. 


CI. . 1. j/>. 


(, ,j|. 




''jif»'#f, t>u:re, 5™, 




r,i.. wtcn II, ')!«», -jio 


., , ., - -i/«|.|, /^, 7^ 


' 7^. 


«/ii ■ ■" '•— 1, «'-l 


' -■ *• -■' '''"y, 4r-'- 






\.«>iC^W.Ut. Jy-A 


(',<.]■■■ .V-; 


Cl ' ■ ' ■:r'-, >i'^. 


, i^a. 




C.f . , -,- -,., 7V>. 




r,M, ■ . .,m' to .Ju-.t, y,i, 
■»(•-, IJ15, 


■ ll-ltifivTII, ■>';(, 


Cl- ", l//vef;f (wiiUe, 811. 


. '.y^ 


■' ' th-i/rtily, jyS!. 


■•II.-. II, ijie tre'-t, 48';, 






CI-. ri^l tlwe, 1(4- 




07a. 




Co. ■ :'(• 


0*1.1 'f 1 '-.!i ^y.. 




Ci! V/7. 


C(i ' :,;t.»l,k ^Mi'l, «ij. 


*,. -Jk; arifoe/i of, ftyS. 


4^ k klull \AiPC *JV^. H16. 


'y'- . iniple Uy, «'/;. 


;.;ifi.^„ 


U^' ' -<i 


•' ' v«7. 


■1- -i4«. 


'Iwn, «!/. 


0.. /> 


"ill, »i. 


*< ' 1 '>ocaii, 4>i' 




U 


C'. ■ heaven, 765. 


- W 


/.V 


'W.4^,. 
|>'>'J. 771. 


/ w'/ri-l, r/J- 


iiJirt, 1'^. 




■ ^ 


C ■ 

if (^ 


f f evU, Ull thef/i, 


■ ■ tnir.x evl), 4i>'' 


l,'/-^/(i) '.f hit TatliT smj )ii», y/^. 


.Ij'nien's, ^(. 


■ rtty, 34*^- 


l.mi', .. 'Iiurdi, y// 

lyuil'Ji u 'Jiur^h u>, JM»4 not to Canie, 797. 


4JJ men k ii'- w, />;, 94% 


■ . - , 'y/j, fi'i. 




,»,((, ift'^ 


'OMv^^i'Mik water mw k*, aiwl IHukhcd, 


.;■ 


"i teeth of time, 91 s. 


y^>. 


•. ty> t>e ud, ^ 


' '«. 7»1- 


('. rri (^ y':ir'. 'if, ^^^ 


' -'.-rV^..,*,-, 




•it. Gtaruc 9n 


.. .f., i-y,'. 


'iiny morrow, >7i. 


,';. 


- ''■'. yA 




].A'<. „..,■]■ li.. „, ^/,, ,,j^. 


»irtF,'-. -in, f^-^ 


Ihcc all 1 can do more, 795. 


haih rtt«4e t)iU world m fair, yy/. 


iftaii'k »rfiUe, bharc ttie, ffiiX. 



1070 



INDEX OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS. 



Gooil name, lilches from me uiy, 8n. 
name in man or woman. Sii- 
nature anil ^ood seme must ever join, 

798. 
near to. is what is fair. 711. 
niKht, .1 fair, to each to all. 816. 
nit;ht. my native land, 338. 
nt^ht, say not. 304. 
iii^hc till it be to-morrow, say. 34i< 
nolilc to be, 't is only, 268. 
noltiin^ either, or batt, 808. 
Obscnrcly, content to be. 601. 
oM cause, homely beauty of, 814. 
or bail for liuman kiiul, i>^ues, 539. 
Parent of, 3^1}, 

present, or ill the joy or curse. 800. 
scrupulous, man. 7::4> 
sense, only is the gift of heaven, 798. 
some rteetmp. thai mocks me, 396. 
sworJ rust, nis, 531). 
the goi.ls provide, 772. 
the, lie scorned, 3«)0. 
the more communicated, 398. 
universal, 4*)- 

will bf the final Koal of ill. 393. 
tlooilliest nuin of men, Adam the. 712. 
Lioodiy outside falsehood hath, what a, 797. 
Goodness and greatness not means but ends, 
73* 
felt how awful, is, 398, 
if, lead him m^t. 395. 
soul of. iu thuii;^ evil, 802- 
Goon on pil);rim,tkiei. 695. 
Coosc. pampered. 405- 

sing by day when every, is cnckting. 
496. 
Gordi.in knot of it he will unloose, 733, 
Corgons and hydras and l:him.^:ra^ dire. 868. 
Gory locks, never shake thy. at me. 868, 
Gospell bookes, liiitMuionts ol. 904, 
Gt.'spcl- light hr^^ from Hullen's eyes, 396. 
Goths, arise ye, and <lut your ire. ^i. 
Govern thou my ^oni;. Urania, S07. 
Governess, whippiiii; virtue's, loS. 
Government, a land of settled. 603. 
forms of. fools contest for, 397. 
Gown, honors of the, 108. 

plucked his. 688. 
Grace, essential form of, 940- 

frce nature's, you cannot rob mc of, 489. 

tiving. S07. 

melancholy, 306. 

my cause m speakiDg for myself, little 

shall 1. 145< 
native, sat hiir-proportioned. 795. 
powt.'r of, the magic of a name. 810. 
pri'clainvs by maiiy a, 795. 
purity "f, 133. 
rule k>f courtly. 721. 
simpluily a, 713. 
swears with so much. 304. 
sweet attractive, softness and, 711. 
sweet attractive kinde of, 904. 
tender, of a day that is dead. 315. 
thv more th.ui Dcauty. thy, 790. 
w.is m all her steps, heaven in her eye, 

201;. 
what a, w,\s seated on this brow. 721. 
which love m.ikes for thee, 495. 
Graceless lealots fight, let, 397. 
Graces, shot forth peculiar, 203. 
Grain, reaps the bearded, at a breath, 376. 
Grampian hills, feeds his (locks on the, 650. 
Grand old name of gentleman, 797. 
Grandeur, old Scotia'^. 386. 
Grandsire. gay. skilled in gesiic lore, 332. 
Grant an honest lame or none, 811. 

me still a t'ricnd. 120. 
Grapple them to thy soul, i3t, 
Grasu it like a man of mettle, 800. 

the ocean with my span. SoS. 
Grass, an lil Uorado ni tlie, 495. 
Grateful evening mild, 206. 491- 
Gratulatlou. eartti gave sign of, 209. 
Grave, an obscure, a little little grave, 346. 
an untimely, 309. 
dark .uid silent, 745. 
dread thing, 310. 
Druid lies in yonder. 94^. 
earliest at his, last at his cross, 793. 
funeral marches to the. 770. 
glory or the. rush to, 513. 
hungry .is the. ?io, 
is not its giMl. 7Cv). 
low laid iu my, 34S. 
my l.irge ktngdo'm for a little, 346. 
lught of the, when shall daydawn oathe, 

737- 
or mellow, humors. 734. 
paths of glory lead but to the. 306. 
poet's sylvan. 940. 
rush to glory or the. 513. 
shall bear the chiefest prize away, 733. 
strewed thy. 311. 
sun shine sweetly on my. 493. 
• to gAy from lively to severe, 911. 



Grave, where is thy victory, O, 365. 

without a. unknellcd uncthucd, 607. 
Graves, green, of your sires, 582. 

of uiemory where sleep the Joys, 416, 

such, at his are pilgrim-shrines, 017. 

worms and epitaphs let 's talk of, 310. 
Gray, amice, moruiuk; came forth in, 49a 

t is gone and <dl ts. 490. 

mantled o'er with sober. 490, 
Cray-liooiled even like a sad votarist, 830. 
Great and small, all things both, 860. 

I'irst Cause. 370. 

lord of ,dl things a ptcy to all. 702. 

men .ill remind us. lives of, 770. 

none tliiuk the, unhappy but the great, 
347- 

vf old, silent worship of the, 68i. 

Original, proclaim their, 376. 

princes liave, playthings, 541, 

taskmaster's eye, as ever in luy, 395. 

though fallen, sSt. 

wits lire sure to madness near allied, 
909. 
Greatness, a long farewell to all my, 331. 

goodness and, not means but ends, 739. 

highest point of all my, 346. 

is a riueniiig. 321. 
Grecian cliisel, ne'er did. trace, 731. 
Greece. Athens the eye of. 719. 

but hving Greece no more. 303. 

fulmine<l over, 804. 

her knee in suppliance bent, 583. 

in early, she sung, 773. 

isles of. where ournmg Sappho loved 
and sung, 5S0. 

might Milfbc free, 580. 

sad relic of departed worth. 581, 
(ireek. small l..nin .md less, 905. 
(.".teek-s ioincd C.rcck-.. when. 541. 
Green and yellow luclaucholy. 351. 

be the turf above thee. 937. 

dances on the. iu hamlets, 303. 

grassy turf. 493- 

m youth, now withering on the ground, 

keep his memory, 931. 

making the. one red, 883. 

thy Iciif has perished iu the, 309. 
Green-eyed monster. 207. 
Creetilaiid's icy mountains, 395. 
Crecu-robed senators of mignty woods, 494. 
Greet, it gars me. 847. 
Greetings where no kindness is, 404. 
Greets the dappKd morn. 071 
lireyliounds in th.- slips, stand like. 503. 
Grief and pain, naught but. 4bS. 

bravery of his. 725. 

fills the room up oTmy absent chUd. 107. 

gave, but when he died, 130. 

glistering, perked up in a, 347, 

liLister ii. every one can, 345. 

no greater, th.in to remember joy. $46, 

(viicli. with proverbs. 313. 

silent manliness of. 6>k>. 

smiling at, s.it like patience on a monu- 
ment, 251. 

that does not speak. 313. 

treads utxm heels of pleasure, 314. 

what. I should forget. 899. 

^^ orni the c.mker and the. are mine alone. 

Griefs tliat harass the distrest, 345. 

what private, they have I know not, 876. 
Grieve for an hour, mourn for a year, 313. 

his heart, show his eyes and. 868^ 
Grieves, if aught inanimate e'er. 512, 
Grirtiih, such an honest chronicler as, 8n. 
Grim death in opposition sits, 310. 

repose, hushed in, 108. 
Grimace, life's, ^to. 

Grimes, old, is dead that good old man, 976. 
Grim-visiigcd war. «i. 
Grin, devil did. for nis darling sin, 396. 

every, so merry. 798. 

owned with a, that his favorite sin, 949. 

sit and, a sin for me to. 323. 

to see nobler nature vanquished, 558. 
Grind exceeding small. 747. 

the poor, laws. 809. 
Gripe, put a barren sceptre in my, 345. 
GrOvUi. bubbling, sinks with. 607, 

nature gave a second. 899, 

the knell the pall the bier, 5S3. 
Groaned and died, so, 794. 
Groans of the vlyiiig. ^10. 

scorn is bought with, 304. 
Grooves of change, ringing, 3^8. 
Ground, classic, seem to tread on. 807. 

holy, ay call it. ^'Sj. 

lets IIS sit upon the, 310. 

purple all the, with Howcrs, 494, 

solid, of nature. 4S.}. 

tract of int.uid. (131. 

what 's hallowed, rSS, 
Grove of Academe, olive. 720 

thick and lofty, Sttj. 



Grove, tufted, cast a gleam over this, 491, 
Groves, pathless. 310. 

were uod's first temples, 452, 
Grown by what it fed on, appetite. 205. 
Grows in paradise our store. 120. 
Growth, children of a larger, men are but, 
107. 

give it vital, again, 900. 

which some deem sleep, 807. 
Grudge, 1 will feed fat the ancient, I bear 

liim, 809. 
Grudges, hcie grow no damned, 311. 
Grunt and sweat under a weary life, 397. 
Guardian angel o'er his hie prcsi'.liug, 2i«. 

angels sung the strain. 570. 
Gudeman 's aw.i, when the, ^46, 
Guer<.lou, fair, yu. 
Guest, speed the p.Trting, 121. 

welcome, thou^ih unexpected here, 92. 
Guests praise it, um the cooks. 805. 
Guide j'atli motive, original and end, 394. 

iihilosi'pher ,iiid Itiend, 911. 

Wovideiice their. 121. 
Guid-willie waii^;lit, tak a right, 119. 
Guilt 'sin th.it he.in, 1 know not if, 183. 

only .irt her, can cover, 3361. 

or Tear ilisturb man's rest. 310. 
Guilty cre.itiires sitting at a v>lay, 804. 

thuii;, st.uted like a. 868. 

tliiiii; siirpristd. tremble like a. 759. 
Guinea. riUi^liiiL; ^.^i the. helps the hurt, 356. 
Guinea's stamp, r.mk is but the, 341. 
Gum, their nudicinal. 725. 
Guns, vile, a soldier bui tot these. 59& 

}I.ibit, costly thy, as thv purse can buy, jsx. 
Habitation, a local, anvl a name, 867. 
Il.ibits. ill. gather by unseen degrees, 493. 
llacknev sonneteer, starved. Sia. 
Hail Columbia happy land, 603. 

holy light. 407. 

to the Chief who in triumph advanceSj 
St9- 
Hails you Tom or lack, man that, i3t. 
Hair, ainber-dropi'iiig. Sc>9. 

beauty dt.iws us with a single, 303. 

distinguish and divide a, 945. 

each pariiciil.ir, to sl.uul on end, 735. 

every, a soul doth bind, soi, 

gems entangled iu her, 721. 

my fell of. 900. 

tangles of Nc.-vra's. 203. 
Hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly 

breach. 143. 
Hale green tree. 454. 
H.df a league onward, 517. 

broken-hearted. 341- 

his foe, overcome but, 815. 

man is but. without woman, 233. 

made up, scarce, 938. 

part of a blesstd man, 233. 
Hallo my f.uicy, 821.1, 
H.illowed ground, what's. 7SS. 
H.illsol death, silent, ,V7. 

Tiira's. harp that once through, 577- 
ll.une. whaur his. what his name or, 187. 
Hamlet, close of the day when the, IS Still, 

rude forefathers of the, 303. 
Hammer, no sound of, or of saw, 493. 

smith stand with his, 723. 
Hammers, busy, closing rivets up, 54a 
H.tmpden, some village, 306. 
Haml. death lays his ic);. on kings. 301. 

her 'prentice, she tried on man, 191. 

her rash. In evil hour. 899- 

1 see a. you cannot see. ?n. 

in thy right, carry gentle peace. 323. 

laid iny. upon thv mane, 007. 

licks the. raised to shed his blood. 496. 

may no rude, deface it, 311. 

mortality's strong, 309. 

nature's own sweet and cunning, X2«. 

of Douglas is his own, 648. 

of war, infection and the, 603. 

open as day for melting charity, 734. 

that gives tne blow, adore the, 312. 

that inade us is divine. 376. 

that rounded Peter's dome, 736. 

the kindlier, 752. 

Time's tieforniid, 799. 

touch of a vanished, 315. 

unlineal. wrenched with an, 345- 

rosy, unoarreil the gates with, 400. 

upon the ocean's inane, laid his, 919- 

very mould and frame ^^ft 107. 

waved her lily, adieu she cried and, 

with^my heart in *t, here 's luy, 303. 
wizard, lies cold, 940. 
Hands, bv fairv, their knell is rung, 563. 
idle, Sat.in'nnds mischief for. 108- 
iittlc, were never made to tear, 108- 
proiuiscuously apphed, S14. 
shake, with a King upon his throne, 
603- 



INDEX OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS. 



1071 



Ilanils ilial the rod of empire miifht have 



swayed, 106. 
two, upon uic brensl. aog, 
wasiiiiit' hi'i, with invfsiulc soap, 734. 



11,111^ out uiir buiiiicr>, <;4o. 

sorrow, care will kill a cat, 816. 

wflIcIios, lliat jurymen may dine, 810. 
II.uit;s .. l,il., t!i.;n.l.y, 7<)i. 
H.U1 . lU. itiii.iiiri t;ifi; .1 b.irty, looo. 
Il.ippici i^air, tilt- kiinlcst and the, siS- 
lljpi.iucss .iiul tinal niiNcry 8u8. 

coiisibts not in tlic multitude of frit-nds, 

130. 

distant views of, clinrmcd witli, 801. 

doinestic, thou only bliss, 333. 

(iresiile, aix 

hope iliou lir^it-fruits of, 800. 

meant to all men, 815, 

to., swifily llics, 108. 

MrliK .il'iUL- IS, below, 398. 
Il.ipi'y . .illfl, these be, 800. 

dcalli t" ihe, thou art terrible, 311. 

cartlilitr. is the ro^c diitiilcU, 495. 

Knrdcn-statc, 813. 

nilN, ah plcastti>f shade, 108. 

i<. lie born and uu^'lit, 736. 

linc^, let a lord once own the, 8i3. 

make two lovers, 305, 

mixtures of more happy days, 108. 

5oul that all tile way to lieavcn, 546. 

the man and happy lie alone, 793- 

the man whose wish and care, 225. 

thrii.e, tie whose name, 8ti. 

walks and shades, 3^1. 

with (itlRT were 'I other away, 134, 
Hara.sth.: distrest, k'"*-'*'' th.-lt,345. 
Hard, ii'iiliiiitj so, but search win Iind, 800, 
Matd'-iis .i' within, 396. 
Hark Irom the tombs a doleful sound, 3i>j 

the lark at heaven's t^atc, 474- 

they whisper, 365. 
Harm, brave the danger and brave the, 7>j5, 

win Us to our, 396, 
Harmless necessary cat, 496. 
Harmonies, concerted, we with nature's heart 

in tune, 24^ 
Harmonious numl)ers, 40?' 

sound, 309. 

whole, 417. 
Harmoniously confused, 815. 
H;irinonist of care on earth, 94c. 
Harmony, air and, of shape, 721, 

heavenly, 775. 

hidden soul of, 78c. 

like deep, 310, 

love is a celestial, of likely hearts, soO. 

not understood, 4^,1 

siK'hs f'lr, aii'l wrai-e, 814 

sucli, is 111 inimitrtal s.juls, 775. 

to behold ill wedded pair, 209. 

touches of sweet, 775. 
Harness, die with, on our back, 541. 
Harp of a thousand strings, strani;e that a. 

of^Iife, love took up the, 255. 

sings to one clear, in divers tones, 399. 

that once through Tara's halls, 577. 
Harper lays his open palm upon his harp, 
794- 

wind that grand old, the, 493' 
Harping on my daughter, still, 203. 



Harrow up thy soul, 735. 
"arry, Ood for. Eii| ' 



li 



igland and St. George 



young, with his beaver on, 671. 
Han ung-iUtd play, 671. 
Harvest, ripe, of the new-mown liay, 49V. 

»ee(I time and, 49^. 
Harvest-time of love is there, ao6. 
H^LsIe, hot, there was mounting in, 513. 

married in, repent at leisure, 314. 



k; 



now to my setting, 346, 
thee nymph and unng w 
Hastening ills, ill fares tnu land a prey to. 



' with thee, 785. 



68;. 
Hat not much the worse for wear, 961. 

the old three-cornered, 323. 
Hate, delicious lo, you, 304. 

iiiiiiiortal, 540. 

in like extreme who love too much, 307. 

of hate, dowered with the, &>7. 

of those below, look down on the, 913 
Hated, to be, needs but to be seen, 395. 
Hates (laitcrcrs, when I tell him he, 810. 



^^.-lth a part of being, 813. 

"lating no one love but only ncr, 300. 

Hatred, no rage like love to, turned, 207. 



Haughtiness of soul, rank pride and, 799. 
Ilauni, public, our life exempt from, 489 
Haunted me like a passion, the sounding 

ontaract, 4i>4. 
Having and his holding, finds all his, 215 

nothing yet hath all^ 737. 
Havock, cry, and let hUp the dogs of war, 

Hawks, between two, 810. 



Hawthorn bush with scats beneath Ih-- 
shadc, 686, 
in the dale, under the, 785. 
Hay, ripe harvest of the new-mown, 493. 
Hnziird of concealing, S'/t. 

of the die, 803. 
He for God only, she for God in liini. 711. 
he knew what 's what, 808. 
th.it comjjlies against his will, 803. 
th.il doth the ravens feed, 394. 
that loves a rosy cheek* 141. 
that runs iiLiy reatl, 3'jB. 
was the Word tli.it spake it, 398. 
who liglils and runs away, 540. 
Hrrad, all my iiiij^erlcctioiis on my. 310, 
and front uf iny ollending, i4.S- 
crown old winter's, with iTowers, 193. 
eternal sunshine settles on its, 088. 
fruitless crown upon my, 345, 

od gray, which all men knew, 65, 54c, 
re rests his, upon the lap of earth, 317, 
oil with his, 8'/>. 
one small, could carry all he knew, 688. 
jjensivc, cowslips that hang the, 494, 
plays round the, 781. 
prccicjus Jewel in his, wears a, 34^. 
repairs his drooping, 490. 
sacred, now wounde<l, 373. 
Uill the wise the reverend, 308. 
that wears a crown, uneasy lies the, 763. 
1 leads grow beneath their shoulders, 145. 
hide their diminished, 719. 
hills whose, touch heaven, 145. 
houseless, .iiid unfed sides, 494. 
Health and virlue, ^;ills,67^'. 

consists with ii iiiijerance, 815. 
tontentiiieiit springs from, 559. 
unbought, hunt in fields for, 67^. 
Health's decay, philosophy's reverse and, 

801. 
Heap of dust alone remains of thee, 311. 
Hear then the truth, 799. 

to see to feel and to possesst 415. 
Heard melodies are sweet, 718. 
H arings, younger, are quite ravishfcd, 723. 
lliarse, underneath tliis sable, 907. 
Heart and lute are all the store, 795. 

arrow for tlie, like .i sweet voice, 204. 
beating of my own, 149. 
binds tne broken, 809, 
by vanity drawn in, 799. 
comes not to the, 7:^1. 

cong''ni.il ( \, '. :■) 

deteel-r -I tin , .1 . l...ilh.bcd 's 3. 31O. 

did brr.il-., I'll! ■...111.., ^45. 

distrusliiin .islvs il tills be joy, 689. 

fantastic tyrant of the amorous, 204. 

felt along the, sei 

for any fate, 770. 

for every (ate, 9J0. 

fountain of sweet tears, 331. 

free the hollow, from paining. 116. 

give give me back my, 254. 

glows in every, love of praise, 810. 

grieve his, show his eyes and, 868. 

grow fonder, absence makes the, 348. 

guilt 's in that, 1 ask not if, 185. 

liath ne'er within him burned, <62. 

hath scaped this sorrow, 271. 

here 's my hand with my. In 't, 205. 

how is mans, by vanity dr.iwn in, 799. 

is as an anvil uiittj sorrow, 899. 

is in the coffin there, my, 870. 

leaps up when 1 behold, 43^. 

meet a mutual, 30^. 

Nature never did netray the, 404. 

nature's, beats strong amid the hills, ^. 

of a maiden is stolen, when once the, 

305. 
of endless agitation, 631. 
of hearts, wear him in my, 112. 
on her lips, 721. 

once pregnant with celestial lire, 306. 
or|)hans of the, 720. 
o'er-fraught, whispers the, 31s. 
p.iug that rends the, 347. 
prithee send nic back my, 146, 
responds unto his own, some, 345. 
rotten at the, a goodly apple, 797. 
ruddy drops that visit my sad, 206. 
ruddy drops that warm my, 206. 
sense to fix the, 209. 
set my |Joor, free, 263. 
sweet creation of some, Egcria, 869, 
that has truly loved never forgets, 174. 
that is humble might hope tor it here, 

328. 
that s broken, soothe or wouod a, 803- 
thc larger, the kindlier hand, 752. 
time has laid his hand upon my, 794. 
to heart and mind to mind, 203. 
tried each, 688. 
unp.ick my, with words, 735. 
untainted, what stronger breastplate, 706 
untravelled fondly turns to thee, my, 
348- 



H.arl with heart in concord beats, 3o6. 

with st^ili^i^ <if sleel, )'J9. 

will break yel limkenly live on, 513. 

whose softness harmonized, 133. 

would fain deny, but dare not, 794- 
Heart's core, wear him in my, 113. 

flag of the free, hope and home, 59a. 
Jleart-ache, end the, by a sleep, 297. 
Hearth^ cricket chirrups on the, 139. 

cricket on the, 787. 
He.-irt -stain, carrietf a, away on its blade, 940. 
Ill .iris, .1 tlii)U-„ind, b' .11 h,ippily,sii. 

, llr^llul, II. .v.- I. ml . [|, ;3l8, 

ilr,-.i iisi.Jh 1 1' \\: , ill, It love, 264. 

dry ..-. suiuiii. r ilir.t, ,j..yj. 

here bring your wounded, 348. 

kind, are more than coronets, 368, 

likely, love a celestial harmony of, 206. ' 

no union here of, 114. 

of controversy, stemming it with, 671, 

of kings, enthroned in the, 798. 

of oak are our ships, 631. 

steal away your, 876. 

that have sorrowed, 795. 

that once beat high for praise, 57-/. 
th.-it the world in vain has tried, 264- 

two, that beat as one, 305. 

with enual love combined, 141, 
Heart-throbs, count time by, 743. 
Heat, fantastic sununcr's, 346. 

of conllict, 540. 

promethean, 900. 
Heath, land of brown, 575. 
Heathen Chinee Is peculiar, 987. 
Heat-oi>press6d brain, 882. 
fleaven, all, and happy constellations, 309. 

all places hell that arc not, 396. 

all that we believe of, 133. 

all the way lo, hath a summer's day, 
546. 

alone that is given away, 434. 

approving, 214. 

beauteous eye of, to garnish, 726. 

break the serene of, 491. 

care in, is there, 373. 

commences ere his world be past, 687. 

each passion sends, 't is, 799. 

face of, make so line the, 134. 

farther olf from, than when a boy, 93, 

fiercest spirit that fought in, 348. 

first-born, off-spring or,4o7. 

floor of, is thick inlaid, 775. 

from, it came to heaven returnclh, 206. 

gained from, a friend, 307. 

gems of, her starry train, 491- 

gentle rain from, droppcth as the, 798. 

gives us friends, 120. 

fiercest spirit that fought in, 348. 

glorious Sun in, 395. 

God alone was to be seen in, 765. 

good sense only is the gift of, 7^, 

great eye of, 838. 

had made her such a m.in, 145. 

has no rage like love to hatred turned, 
207. 

hell I suffer seems a, 396. 

hides the book of I-ate, 793. 

high, fantastic tricks before, 813. 

hills whose heads touch, 145. 

his blessfed part to, 311. 

hues were born in, all thy, 59a. 

invites, hell threatens, 395. 

in her eye. 209. 

is love and love is heaven, 203. 

is not always angry when he strikes* 
347- 

kind of, to be deluded, 201. 

kindreu points of, an<l of home, 474. 

knell that summons thee to, or hell, 883. 

leave her to, 305. 

lies .ibout us in our infancy, 758. 

livery of the court of, stole tlie, 797. 

iiiaiuiscrii>t of, 494. 

merit, by making earth a hell, 396. 

more things in, and earth, 808. 

nearest km to, of all the virtues, 723. 

no sorrow that, cannot heal, 348. 

nothing true but, 399. 

of hell, a hell of heaven, 709. 

of invention, the brightest, 867. 

on earth, 719. 

opening bud to, conveyed, 107. 

points out a hereafter, 't is, 759. 

reflected in her f.ice, 106. 

remedies which we ascribe to, 793. 

saints who taught and led the way to^ 
910. 

serve in, belter lo reign in hell than, 795^ 

silent fingers point to, 39^ 

smells to, my offence is rank it, 900. 

so merciful in wrath, 559. 

steep and thorny way to, 809. 

succor of, d.awns from, 348. 

that points out a hereafter, 759. 

to be young. 490. 

tries tne earth if it be in tune, 434. 



1072 



INDEX OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS. 



Heaven, use his, for thunder, 813. 

verg^e tit", down from the, 501. 

vt-rtic of. quite in the, 309. 

w;is all Iranquilhty, 264. 

were not heaven if we knew, 801. 

will bless your store, 340. 

winds of, neleem the, 20& 
IK'iivcn'-. -ipi'lause, in confidence of. 540, 

be-,t tre Hires peace and hcultli, 559. 

brc.ith smells wooingly, 720. 

decree, Luxury curst by, 690. 

eternal year is thine, 311. 

cxtremest sphere, 125. 

first law, order is, 812. 

gate she claps her wings, at, 495, 

^ate sinijs, tne lark at, 474- 

lust balance equal will appear. 8jo. 

last best gift, 213. 

lights, earthly godfathers of, 8C14. 

own light, hide themselves in, 114. 

pavement, riches of, 803. 

sweetest air, 722, 

wide inthless way, 787. 
Ilf iven-born band, hail ye heroes, 603, 
Iliavcnkiising hill, 721, 
Heavenly blessings without number, 76. 

spirits, love in, 373. 
Heavenly-harnessed team, 816. 
Heavens blaze forth the death of princes, 

on high perpetually do move, 791. 

spanglea, a shining frame, 370. 

yon blue, above us bent, 2b8. 
Heaven-taught lyre, 806. 
Huaviness, pleasing, charming your blood 

with, 816. 
Heavy to get and light to hoId,8D2. 
Heed, bcudes, levere have at his, 696. 
Heel, one woe doth tread upon another's, 

345 
Heels, L.esar with a senate at his, 781. 

of pleasure, grief treads upon, 214. 
Height, built his mind of such a, 808. 

mind's, measure your, 808. 

objects in an airy, 730. 

of this great argument, 395. 
Heights, otlier, in other lives, 399. 
Heir of all the ages, 258. 

of fame, great, 90O. 

shiK k'* tli.it llesh is, to, 297. 
Heirs nt" iriith and pure deliglit, 42, 
Helen, like another, fired another Troy, 772. 
Hell, all places that are not heaven, 390. 

eates of, detests him as the, 797. 

has no fury like a woman scorned, 207. 

hoUww deep of, resounded, 540. 

I suffer seems a heaven, 396. 

injured lover's, jealousy the, 207. 

itself breathes out contagion, 491. 

knell that summons thee to heaven or to, 

182. 

loom of, prepare, 540, 

lords of, procuress to the, 397. 

merit heaven by making earth a, 396. 

myself am, 396, 

never mentions, to ears polite, 396. 

of heaven, a heaven of hell, 791;. 

of waters, the, 720. 

of witchcraft in the small orbof one tear, 
S04. 

quiet to quick bosoms is a, 912. 

reign in, better to, 790. 

threatens, heaven invites, 395. 

trembled at the hideous name, 310. 

way out of, to light, 395. 

which way I fly is. 396, 
Hell's concave, shout that tore, 725. 
Helm and blade, files arrayed with, 539. 

pleasure at the, youth on the prow, 108. 
Help aneels 1 make assay. 399. 
Hence all ye vain delights, 315. 

babbling dreams, 541. 

horrible shadow, 8t>8. 
Hender, no one nigh to, 942, 993. 
Herald, 1 wish no other. 811. 

Mercury, a station like the, 721. 
Heraldry, the boast of, 306. 
Herb^ and other country messes, 785. 
Herd, lowing, winds ^owly o'er the lea, 

reign o'er the. 813. 
Here bring your wounded hearts, 348. 

1 and sorrow sit. 345. 

in the body pent, J89. 

lies our sovereign lord the king, 940. 

will we sit, 775. 
Here's metal more attractive, 133. 

to the maiden of bashful fifteen, 131. 

to the widow of fifty. 131. 
Hereafter, Heaven that points out a, 759, 
Hereditary bondsman, 581. 
Jierita^'e, noble by, 141. 

of woe, lord of himself that, 346. 

the sea, our, 626. 
Hermit, man the. sighed, 204. 

weeping, 563. 



Hero and the man complete, 539. 

in the strife, be a, 770. 

one murder made a viUain, millions a, 
541. 

perish or a sparrow fall, 394. 
Heroes, hail ye, heaven-born band, 603- 
Herte. the seson priketh every gentil. 492. 
Hesitate dislike, just hint a fault and, 910. 
Hesitation admirably slow, 724. 
Hesperus that led the starry host, 413- 
Heven, t.lraw folk to. by fairnesse, So-^. 
Hew and hack, somebody to, 507. 

down the hardest-timbered oak, 802. 

him as a carcase fit for hounds, 900. 
Hie Jacet, its forlorn, 311. 
Hidden soul of harmony, 786. 
Hide the fault 1 see, 370. 

their diminished heads, 719. 

those hills of snow, 263. 

with ornaments their want of art, 807. 

your diminished rays, 797. 
Hides a dark soul and foul tnoughts. 796. 

reveals while she, her beauties, 795. 
Hiding of the fault, discredit in, 815. 
Hiding-place dark and lonely, 395. 
Hies to nis confine. 86S. 
High ambition lowly laid, 676. 

as metaphysic wit can fly, 808. 

characters from high life are drawn, 812. 

converse with the mighty dead, 806. 

gleaming from afar, 719. 

heaven, fantastic tricks before, 813. 

on a throne of royal state, 722. 

overarched imbower, shades, 494. 

thinking, plain living and, 814. 

though Ills titles, 563, 
Highland Mary, spare his, 915. 
Hill, breezy, that skirts the down, 493, 

customed, missed him from the, 306. 

cot beside the, mine be a, 225. 

heaven-kissing, 721. 

mild declivity of, ^2a 

over, over dale, 809. 

retired, apart sat on a, 808. 

which lifts him to the storms, 603. 

wind-beaten, wander alone by the, 578, 
Hills and valleys dales and fields, 157. 

beats strong amid the, 489. 

Grampian, 650. 

happy, at pleasing shade, 108. 

of snow, hide those, 263. 

over the. and far away, 493. 

that look eternal, 794. 

whose heads touch heaven, 145. 
Hind that would be mated with a lion. 

242. 
Hinders needle and thread, every drop, 

138. 
Hinges, crook the pregnant, of the knee, 

III. 
Hint a fault and hesitate dislike, 910. 

it was my, to speak, 145- 

upon this, 1 spake, 145- 
Hip, beat us to the, our enemies have, 900. 

I have thee on the. now infidel, 804. 
Hippocrene, the true tne blushful, 316. 
His, 't was mine 't is. 811, 
Hissed along the polished ice, 672. 
History, portance in m^ travel's, 145. 

read their, in a nation's eyes, 306. 

rich and poor makes all the, of, 797, 

strange eventful, 711. 
Hoard of maxims, little, 356. 
Hoarded bartered stolen and sold, 802. 
Hoarse rough verse, 806. 
Hoary youth, Methusalems may die in, 794- 
Hold enough, damned that first cries, 540. 

high converse with the mighty dead, 806. 

thou the good, 397. 
Hole in a" your coats, if there's a, 805. 
Holiday, butchered to make a Roman, 681. 
Holidays, if all the year were playing, 108. 
HollamI, deep where, lies, 632. 
Hollow ileep of hell resounded, 540. 

inurniuring wind, 816. 

murmurs, 773. 

pauses of the storm, 6w. 
Holy angels guard thy bed. 76. 

fields, those, 397. 

ground, ay call it, 587. 

wTit, connnnations strong as proofs of, 
207. 

writ, stol'n forth of, 396. 
Home, a day's march nearer, 389. 

God who is our, wc come from, 758. 

hie him, at evening's close, 232, 

his first best country ever is at, 229. 

is on the deep, 620. 

kindred points of heaven and of, 474. 

live at, at ease, 632. 

love of, poor consecrated, 601. 

loved at, revered abroad, 386. 

of the brave, 560, 593. 

on the rolling deep, 630. 

pleasure felt at, 2^. 

sweet home, 110, 225. 



Home, there 's no place like, 110, 335. 

warm wonted, 310. 
Home-bound I-ancy runs her bark ashore^. 

867. 
Homely beauty of the good old cause, 814. 
Homes of silent prayer, her eyes are, 399. 
Honest fame, grant an. or none, 811. 

labor wears a lovely face, 550. 

man's aboon his miglii, 341. 

man 's the noblest woik of Gwd, 76a 

poor but. my friends were. 790. 

tale speeds best, 803. 
Honesty, armed so strong in, 797. 

corruption wins not more than, 322. 
Honey, gather, all the dav, :o8. 
Honey-dew, he on, hatli fed, 835. 
Honeyed middle of the night, 177. 
Honied showers, suck the, 494. 
Honor and shame from no condition rise; 
781. 

but an empty bubble, 77a. 

clear in, 120. 

comes a pilgrim gray, 563. 

conscious, is to feel no sin, 796. 

cross it from north 10 south, so, 670. 

dangerous, 541. 

from the books of, razid quite, 540. 

hurt that, feels, 256. 

jealous in. 711. 

Keep mine, from corruption, 811. 

love obedience friends, 794, 

loved 1 not, more, 235. 

new-made, doth forget men's namesi 
812. 

pluck bright, from the pale-faced mooo,, 
670. 

pluck up droivned, by the locks, 670. 

post of, is a private station, 601. 

praise and glory given. 394. 

she was what, knew, 209, 

sin to covet, if it be a. 811. 

there all (he, lies, 781. 
Honor's voice provoke ttie silent dust, 306k 
Honored in the breach, more, 814. 
Honors, blushing, bears his, 321. 

fading, of the dead. 676. 

gave his, to the world again, 311. 

of the gown. 108. 
Hood, drink witfi him that wears a, 94G. 
Hooded clouds like friars tell their beads 

494. 
Hook baited with a dragon's tail, 672. 

or crook, 671. 
Hookahs, divine in, 814. 
Hoop's bewitching round. 134. 
Hoops of steel, grapple tlicin with, lai. 
Hope, all, abancion ye who enter here, 396. 

bade the world farewell. 583. 

balm and life-blood of the soul, 347. 

break it to our. 34=;. 

brightest when it dawns from fears, 204. 

constancy in wind, 806, 

farewell, and with hope farewell fear. 
3e5. 

first-fruits of happiness, thou. 800. 

flag of the free neart's, and home, 592. 

flies with swallow's wings, 800. 

fooled with, men favor the deceit, 793, 

gay, is theirs by fancy fed, 793. 

IS coldest and despair most fits, 801. 

is there no. the sick man said, 809. 

light of, leave behind the, t^oo. 

like a cordial, 800. 

like a glimm'ring taper's light, 800. 

love can, where reason w'd despair, 204- 

lover's heart doth fill, with fresh, 496. 

never comes that comes to all, 348. 

never to. again. 321. 

no fear where no. is left, 800. 

no other medicine but, the miserable^ 
have. 347. 

none without, e'er loved the brightest 
fair, 204- 

nurse of young desire, thou, 800. 

only cheap and universal cure, 8oo. 

springs eternal in the human breast, 801, 

still on, relies. 347. 

tells a flattering tale, 271. 

tender leaves of, 321. 

this pleasing, this fond desire, 759. 

though hope were lost, 800. 

true, is swift, 800. 

while there is life there 's. 794- 

while-handed, 830. 

with, farewell fear, 395. 
Hopes, humbly, presumes it may be so, 724 

like towering falcons, 730. 

total of their, and fears — empty dreams- 
791 
Horatio, in my mind s eye. 807. 

more things in heaven and earth, 808. 

thou .^rt e'en as just a man. 111. 
Horatius kept the bridge, how well. 568 
Horn, Pan to Moses lends his pagan, 396. 

wreathtd, Triton blow his, 403. 

yon moon had filled her, 491. 



INDEX OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS. 



107^ 



Humble discnrc], brayed, 500. 
(lurrur, biid iii.iu's death is, 311. 

inward, of falling into naught, 759 

horror horror, 900. 
Horrors, supped full with, 900. 
Horse, uearcr than his, 255. 

give nic another, 540. 

my kingdom for a, 540. 
Horsemanship, witch the world with, 671 
Horses, between two, 8io. 
Hose, youthful, well saved a world loo wide, 

711. 
Hospitable thoughts intent, on, 232. 
Host innuinerabTe as the stars, 492. 

starry, Hesperus that led the, 413. 

time is like a fashionable, 792. 

universal, set up a shout, 725, 
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood, 546, 

haste, there was mounting in, 512, 
Hounds, carcase tit for, hew him as a. 900, 
Hour by his dial, 810. 

childhood's, ever thus from, 251, 

closing, of day, 490. 

destined to that good, 899. 

foretold sorrow to this, that, 241. 

friendliest to sleep and silence, 816. 

her rash hand in evil, 899- 

1 have had niy, 792. 
improve each shining, 108. 

in their natural, have passed away, 49^. 

inevitable, 306. 

now "s the. now 's the day and, 573, 

o' night's black arch the keystane, 848. 

one self-approving, 781. 

pensioner on the Dounties of an, 747. 

to hour we ripe and ripe, 791. 

to hour we rot and rot, 791. 

time and the, runs through the roughest 
day. 791. 

when lovers' vows seem sweet. 491, 

wonder of an, a school-boy's tale, 792. 
Hours, chaseths glo wing. \vith Hying feet.sn. 

circling, morn waked by the, 490 

jolly, lead on propitious May, 496. 

lave reckons, for months, 248. 

lovers', are long, 205. 

lovers' absent, 248. 

mournful midnight, 348. 

of ease. O woman in our, 509. 

unheeded flew the, 117. 

winged, of bliss. 347. 
House, babe in a, is a well-spring of pleasure. 
107, 

clouds that lowered upon our. 541, 

handsome, to lodge a friend, I2i, 

ill spirit have so fair a, 133. 

little pleasure in the, 246. 

moat defensive to a, 603. 

prop that doth sustain my, 347, 

shot mine arrow o'er the. 131. 

there 's nae luck about the, 246. 

to be let for life or years, 214. 

you are very welcome to our. 121. 

you take ray, when you do take the prop, 
347 
Housenold laws, religion breathing, 814. 
Houseless heads ana unfed sides, 494. 
Houses fer a-sonder. 697. 

seem asleep, the very. 678. 
Housewife that 's thrifty, here's to the, 131. 
How doth the little busy bee, 108. 

happy could I be with either, 134. 

sleep the brave, 563. 

the devil they got there, 815. 

the style refines, 812. 

the wit brightens, 812. 

the world wags, 701. 
Howards, not all the blood of all the. 781. 
Hue. add another, untothe rainbow, 726. 

love's proper, 203. 

native, of resolution, 297. 
Hues of bliss more brightly glow, 346. 

were born in heaven, all thy. 592, 
Huge a_s despair, 720. 

Hugged by the old, spurned by the young, 
802. 

the offender, forgave the offence. 206. 
Huldy. there sol. all alone, 942. 993, 
Hum, a beehive's, shall sootlie my ear. 225. 

of human cities, 493. 

of men, busy, 786. 
Human creature's lives, you 're wearing out, 

/ ^A- ■ 

face divine, 407. 

hearts endure, small of all that, 807. 

kindness, milk of. 724. 

nature's daily food, 128. 

to err is, to forgive divine, 798. 

to step aside is, 784. 

willj left free the, 370. 
Humanity, aught that dignifies, 348. 

still sad music of. 4*4. 

su ffering sad . 345. 
Humanized a worfd, 806. 
Humankind, issues good or bad for. 1*1 

lords of. 603. _ ^^ 



Mumble, be it ever so, no, 225. 

cares and delicate fears, 231. 

livers in content, range with, 347. 
Humbleness, whisp"ring, bated breath and, 

724. 
Humility, modest stillness and, 503. 

pride that apes, 396. 949. 
Humor gay as firefly s light, 940. 

won, was ever woman in this, 796, 

wooed, was ever woman in this. 796, 
Humors, in all thy. grave or mellow. 724. 

long peace nurses dangerous, 539, 

turn with climes, 814. 
Hung clustering. 711, 
Hunger, glad that he had banished, 492. 
Hungry as the grave, 310. 

lean-faced villain, 722. 

makes, where most she satisfies, 711. 
Hunt half a day for a forgotten dream. 661. 

in fields for health unbought, 671. 
Hunter's aim, ta'en a hurt from the, 496. 

moon hangs white and calm, 719. 
Hunting is the noblest exercise, 671, 
Hunts in dreams, like a dog he, 256. 
Hurrah for the next that dies, 898. 
Hurt my brother, 121. 

that honor feels, 256. 
Hurtles in the darkened air. 540. 
Hurts not him that he is loved of me, 796. 
Husband cools, ne'er answers till a, 215. 

lover in the, may be lost, 214. 

my means, 559. 

truant, should return, 215. 
Husband's heart, sways leveFin her, 215. 
Husbandry, borrowing dulls the edge of, 

559- 
Hush my dear lie still and slumber, 76, 
Hushed in grim repose, 108. 
Hut, love in a, with water and a crust, 205. 
Hyacinthine locks, 711. 
Hydras and chiraasras dire, gorgons and, 

863. 
Hyperion's curls, 721. 

Ice, Fortune's, prefers to Virtue's land, 798. 

hissed along the polished, 672. 

in June, roses in December, seek, 806, 

to smooth the, 726. 

upon ice, 493, 
Icicle, chaste as the, curded by the frost, 

49''- 
Icicles, Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the, 722. 
Idea of her life shall sweetly creep, 801. 

teach the young, how to shoot, 214- 
Ides of March, beware the, 899. 
Idiot, beauteous, 713 

tale told by an, 792. 
Idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean, 
855 

hands to do, mischief for, 108. 

waste of thought, thinking is an, 808. 

wind, pass by me as the, 797. 

wishes fools supinely stay, in, 798- 
Idleness, pains ana penalties of, 724. 
Idler is a watch that wants both hands, 724. 
Idly spoken. Alone that worn-out word so, 

813. 
Ignoble use, soiled with all, 797. 
Ignorance is bliss, folly to be wise where, 
108. 

of wealth, his best riches, 687. 

our comfort flows from, 730. 
Ignorant, most, of what most assured, 813. 
Iliad, beheld the, and the Odyssey, 822. 
Ill, captain, captive good attending, 398. 

deeds done, sight of means to do makes, 

fares the land to ills a prey, 687. 

final goal of, good the, 392. 

habits gather by unseen degrees, 493. 

nothing, dwell in such a temple, 133. 

repressing, crowning good, 599. 

spirit have so fair a nouse, 133. 

the good are better made by, 348. 

will looking, prevail, 263. 

wind turns none to goon, 802. 
lUimitable air, desert and, 481. 
Ills, bear those, we have. 297. 

life's worst, ill cure of. 348. 

love on through all, 203- 

o'er all the. o life victorious, 848. 

to hastening, a prey, 687. 

what mighty, done by woman, 795, 
Illumination of all gems. 867. 
Illumine what in me is dark, 395. 
Ill-used ghost, like an. 396. 
Illusion, for man's, given, 399. 
Ill-weaned ambirion. 310. 
Image of eternity, friendship, i;o, 

of good Queen Bess, 802. 

of war without its guilt, 671. 

saw a twofold, 494. 

tiny, of myself, 93, 
Imaged here in happier beauty, 399 
Images and precious thoughts, 801. 
Imagery, fair trains of, before mc rise, 867, 



Imagination bodies forth forms of things- 
unknown, 8t)7, 
can, boast, 489. 
of a feast, bare, 346, 
of, all compact, 806. 
study of creep into his, 80:. 
Imagination's fool and error's wretch, 310. 
Imagined right, true to, 603. 
Imitate the action of the tiger, 503. 
Immediate jewel of their souls, 811. 
Immemorial elms, moan of doves in, 493, 
Immensities, all musical in its, 726. 
Imminent deadly breach, 'scapes i' the, 145^ 
Immodest words admit of no defence, 805. 
Immortal, grow, as they quote, 804. 
hate, 540. 

names not born to die. 583. 
sea which brought us hither, 7S9' 
scandals fly on eagles' wings, 811. 
though no more, 581. 
verse, wisdom married to, 80'^ 
youth, flourish in, 759, 
Immortality, born for, 809. 
this longing after, 759. 
Imparadised in one another's arms, 205. 
Impartial laws were given, just men by 

whom, 910. 
Impearls on every leaf and flower, 492. 
Impediments, admit, 208. 
Imperceptible water, washing his hands in. 

724. 
Imperfect offices of prayer and praise, 399. 
Imperfections on my head, all my, 310. 

pass my, by, 107. 
Imperial ensign from the glittering staff un- 
furled, 725. 
votaress passed on, 836. 
Impious in a good man to be sad, 348. 

men bear sway, 601. 
Important triflers, 558. 
Importunate, rashly, 335. 
Impossible she, that not, 192. 
Impossibilities seem just, 810. 
Impotent conclusion, most lame and, 723. 
Improve each shining hour, 108. 
Imprudent and shameless '\\'arwick, 938. 
Impulse from a vernal wood, 494. 
Inanimate, if aught, e'er grieves, 512. 

things, have moved, &x>. 
Inaudible and noiseless foot of Time, 791. 
Incarnadine the multitudinous seas, 883. 
Incense-breathing morn, breezy call of, 305. 
Inch, every, a king, 721. 
Incision, make, for your love, 722. 
Income tears, rent is sorrow and her, 214. 
Inconstancy is but a name to fright poor 

lovers, 271. 
Inconstant moon, swear not by the, 207- 
Increase of appetite grown by what fed on,- 

205. 
Ind, wealth of Ormus and of, 722. 
Independence be our boast, let, 603. 
India's coral strand, 395. 
Indian, like the base, threw a pearl away,. 
724. 
lo the poor, 399, 
summer, mild sweet day of, 719. 
Indifferent tn his choice to sleep or die, 3i(v 
Indignation, scarlet, 541, 
Inebriate, cups that cheer but not, 810. 
Inevitable hour, await the, 306. 
Infamy, praise or, leave that to fate, 803. 
Infancy, danced our, upon their knee, 308. 

heaven lies about us in our, 758. 
Infant crying for the light, 392, 
crying in the night, 392. 
mewUng and pufcing, 711. 
Infant's breath, eauable as, 739. 
Infection and the nand of war, 603. 
Infidel I have thee on the hip. 804. 
Infidels adore, Jews might kiss and. 128. 
Infinite feeling, then stirs the, 813. 
riches in a little room, 726. 
variety, custom stale her, 712. 
wrath and infinite despair, 396. 
Infirm of purpose, 883. 

Infirmities, friend's, friend should bear a, 121- 
Infirmity of noble mind, that last, 812. 
Influence, bereaves of their bad, 539. 
calm inspiring, 541. 
ladies wnose eyes rain, 786. 
shed their selectest, 209. 
Informed by magic numbers, 809. 
Inglorious arts of peace. 539. 

Milton, some mute, 300. 
Ingratitude, man's, 316. 

more strong than traitors' arms, 876. 
Ingredients of our poisoned chalice, 800. 
Inhabit this bleak world alone, 46s. 
Inhabitants o" the eanh. look not like, 868. 
Inhumanity, man's, to man, 332. 
Injured, forgiveness to the, does belong, 
798. 
lover's hell, Jealousy the, 207. 
Injuries, saints in your. 723. 
Injustice, conscience with, is corrupted, 796* 



1074 



INDEX OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS. 



Injustice, fear is affront and jealmisy, 795. 
ink of fools, nothing blackens like the. 8n. 

small drop of, fallinL,' like dew, 805. 

what sin dipped me in, 805. 
Inly bleeds, alas the bre.isl that, 271. 

touch of love, 203. 
Inn, gain the timely, 491. 

warmest welcome at an, 121. 

worlde's sweet, 311. 
Innocence and health his best companions, 
687, 

fearful, our, 814 

glides in modest, away, 794. 

mirth and, milk and water, 108. 

of love, dallies with the, 205. 
Innocent nose. big round tears down his, 495. 

sleep, 88i. 

though strong, like a cordial, 800. 

within, he 's armed without that 's, 796. 
Innumerable as the stars of night, 492. 

bees, murmuring of, 493. 

caravan, 307. 
Inspiring bold John Barleycorn, 848. 
Inquisitive attention, 810. 
Insatiate archer could not one suffice, 491. 
Insect of renown, 810. 
Insolence, flown with, and wine, 558. 

of ortice, 297. 
Insolent foe, ot beini? taken by the, 145. 
Instancee, modern, wise saws and, 711. 
Inspirits man's heart, and serenes, 800, 
Instil a wanton sweetness through the 

breast, 831- 
Instincts unawares, great feelings came like, 

740. 
Instructions, bloody, we but teach, 800. 
Instruments, mortal, 900. 

of darkness, 396. 
Insubstantial pageant, 867. 
Insurrection, nature of an, 900 
Integrity to heaven, my, 322. 
Intellectual power, 808- 
liit'-lligence, meek. 0/ those dear eyes. 93 
Intent and not the deed is in our power, 671. 

on hospitable thouglus, 232, 

sides of my, spur to prick the, 798. 
Intercourse of daily life, dreary. 404- 
Interest unborrowed from the eye, 404. 
Intimates eternity to man, heaven, 759. 
Intoxicate the brain, shallow draugiits, 805. 
Intuition, passionate, faith become a. 397. 
Invention, a weak, of the enemy, 539. 

brightest heaven of, 867. 
Inventor, return to plague the. 800. 
Inverted year, winter ruler of the, 492. 
Inviolate sea, compassed by the. 632. 
Invisible and creeping wind. 631. 

authentic tidings of, things, 631. 

soap, washing his hands with, 724. 
Inward eye, cleared their, 8i4- 

eye the bliss of solitude, 464- 
Ire, glui your, 681. 

headlong, hasty love or, 670. 
Iris, a livelier, changes on the burnished 

dove, 254. 
Iron bars a cage, nor, 147 

did on the anvil cool, 722. 

man that meddles with cold, 540. 

sleet of arrowy shower, 540. 

tears down Pluto's cheek, drew. 787- 
Is she not passing fair, i^?,. 

whatever, is right, 489, 911. 
Island, right little tight little, 602. 
Isle of beauty fare tnee well. 248. 

this sceptred, 603. 
Isles of Greece, 580. 

throned on her hundred, 720. 
Issues, awful moment joined to great, 539. 

fine, 79;. 

good or bad for human kind, 539. 
Isthmus 'twixt two boundless seas, 793- 
Itching palm, condemned to have an, 797. 
llhers see us, see oursel's as. 48I 
Ivy green, a rare old plant is the, 466. 

Jack, poor, cherub that sits up aloft for, 615. 
shall pipe and Gill shall dance, 8t6. 

iavan or Gadire, isles of, 631. 
angled, sweet bells, 808. 
aws of darkness do devour it up, 250. 
ealout in honor, 711. 
not easily, 724. 
Jealousy believes what phrenzy dictates, 207. 
beware of, 207. 

defend from, all ray tribe, 207. 
injured lover's hell, 207. 
injustice, fear is affront and, 795. 
ledge, on thet point you yourself may, 558. 
Jehovah love or Lord, 370, 
lelly, belly that shook like a bowl full of, 96 
Jerusalem, mother dear, 358. 
Jessamine, pale, 494. 
Jest and riddle of ine world, glory, 792. 
and youthful jollity, 785. 
life is a, and all thmgs show it, 79a. 



Jest, put his whole wit into a, 939, 

scornful, most bitter is a, 345. 
Tests at scars that never felt a wound, 345. 
Jet, pansy freaked with, 494. 
Tew. I thank thee, 804. 
Jewel, immediate, of ihcir souls, 8n. 

of the just, 274. 

precious, in his head, 348, 

rich, in an Ethiop's ear, 721. 

rich in having such a, 215. 
ewels five-words long, 807. 
ews might kiss and Infidels adore, 128. 
inglingof the guinea helps the hurt, 256. 
ocuntT day stands on tiptoe, 490. 
joint-laborer with the day, niglii, 559. 
Joke, gentle Dulness ever loves a, 803. 

many a, ha<l he, 688. 
Jollity, jest and youthful, 785. 
lonson, O rare Ben, 039. 
Jonson's learned sock, 786. 
Jot, bate a, of heart or hope, 735. 
Journeys end in lovers' meeting, 122, 
Jove, all-judging, 812. 

daughter of, relentless power, 345. 

lauglis at lover's perjuries, 207. 

some christened, Peter's keys adorn, 
396- 

the front of, himself, 7-'i. 
Jove's dread clamors counterfeit. 722. 
Joy but friendship might divide, ne'er knew, 

120. 

domestic, smooth current of. 807. 
cease every, to glimmer on my mind, 800. 
eternal, and everlasting love. 133. 
forever, a thing of beauty is a. 675. 
gleams of, intensely brightj 539. 
heart distrusting asks if this be, 689. 
heartfelt, soul's calm sunshine and the, 

796. 
let, be unconfined, 511. 
of youthful sports, 607. 
promised, 468. 

rises in me like a summer's morn, 492. 
smiles of, the tears of woe, 399. 
sorrows remembered sweeten, 346. 
stern, which warriors feel, 655. 
unutterable, choke me with, 725. 

Joyous the birds, 209. 
oys, circling, of dear vicissitude, 559. 

dep-iried, how painful the remembrance 
of, 346. 

of sense, 815. 

of other j^ears, 416, 

pa>; his wisdom for his, 800. 

society's chief, weed unfriendly to, 558 

that came do%vn shower-like, i?o. 

too exquisite to last, 801. 

we dote on, how fading the, 347. 
Judge, amongst fools a, 724- 

O wise young, 723. 
Judges alike of Uie facts and the laws, 810. 

all ranged, 722. 

hungry, soon the sentence sign, 810. 
Judgment, a Daniel come to, 723. 

book unfold, leaves of the, 186. 

defend against your, 120. 

man's erring, 799. 

reserve thy, 815. 

shallow spirit of, 810, 

thou art fled to brutish beasts, 876. 
Judgments, with our, as our watches, 799. 
Ju^B'ing fiends, 345. 
Juice, nectarean, 770. 
Julia, lips of, pointed to the, 134. 

when as in silks my, goes, ia6. 
uly, warmth of its, 108, 
ump the life to come, 900. 
une, leafy month of, 858. 

rose tnat 's newly sprung in, 234. 

seek ice in, roses in December, 806. 

what is so rare as a day in, 424. 
Juno's eyes, sweeter than the lias of, 495, 
Jurymen may dine, wretches hang that, 810. 
Just, actions of the, only the, 301. 

be, and fear not, 322. 

experience, 812, 

hath his iiuarrel, thrice armed that, 796. 

impossibilities seem, 810, 

i'ewel of the, 274. 
;eeps his glor>[ m the dust, 311. 
men by whom imp.^rtial laws, 910. 
Justice, even-handed, 800- 
in fair round belly, 711. 
mercy seasons, 798. 
temper, with mercy. 394. 
Justify the ways of God to men, 395. 

Keen discriminating sight, 806. 

encounter of our wits, 804. 

remorse with blood defiled, 899. 
Keep it out riow keeps it in, 632. 

probability in view, 805- 

the word of promise to our ear, 345. 

your powder dry, put your trust in God 
and, 602. 



Kepen wel thy tonge, 398. 
Key, in a bondman s, 7*4, 
Keys, Peter's, some Christian Jove adorn, 

396. 
Keystane o' night's black arch. 848. 
Kick their owners over, muskets, 671. 
Kill him boldly but not wrathfully. 900. 

princes were privileged to, 541. 

the time, their only labor to, 816. 

too apt before to, 795. 
Kills himself to avoid misery, 900. 
Kin, makes the whole world, one touch of 
nature, 811. 

more than, and less than kind, 724, 

nearest, to heaven, 723. 
Kind, b.ise in, and born to be a slave, 6oi. 

hearts are more than coronets. 268. 

less than, more than kin and, 724. 

of heaven to be deluded, a, 204. 

to my remains, be, 120. 

too, abroad, 215. 

wondrous, fellow-feeling makes one, 804. 
Kindest and the happiest pair, 215. 
Kindles in clothes a wantonness, 713. 
Kindly, loved sae, had we never, 233. 
Kindness, greetings where no, is, 404. 

milk of humaji, 724. 

tak a cup o', yet, 118. 

to his majesty, think it, 603- 
Kindred drops mingled into one, like, 594, 

points of heaven and of home, 474. 
Kine, beeves and home-bred, 493. 
King, catch the conscience of the, 804. 

every inch a, 721, 

farewell, 308. 

forehand and vantage of a, 559 

God save the, 603. 

God will be our, this day, 602. • 

grew vain, 771- 

he was a goodly, 721. 

here lies our sovereign lord the, 940. 

himself has followetf her, 949. 

in sleep a, but waking no such matter, 
240. 

long live our noble, 603. 

of day, powerful, 490. 

Philip my, 75. 

shake hands with a, 603. 

such divinity doth hedge a, 722, 

under which, Bezonian, 540. 

wash the balm from an anointed, 722. 
King's name is a tower of strength, 722. 
Kingdom, my, for a horse, 540. 

my large, for a little grave. 346. 

my minde to me a, is, 729. 

state of man like to a little, 900. 
Kings, bid, come bow to it, 345. 

breath of, princes are but the, 386. 

can cause or cure, laws of, 807. 

death lavs his icy hand on, 301. 

death of, sad stories of the, 310, 

dread and fear of, 798. 

enthroned in the hearts of. 798. 

for such a tomb wish to die, 906. 

it makes gods. 800. 

maybe blest but Tam was glorious, 848 

proud setter-up and puller-down of, 938. 

royal throne of, 603. 

the chase the sport of, 671. 

uncrowned, tread of. 603. 

war 's a game, would not play at, 541. 
Kiss at love's beginning, 185. 

colder thy, 241. 

come ana, me Sweet-and-twenty, 122. 

consume as they, 815. 

drew with one long, my whole soul, 205, 

gentle, to every sedge, 493. 

gin a body, a body, 187. 

leave a, within the cup, 125. 

of youth and love, 205. 

seal with a righteous, 899, 

snatched hasty from side-long maid, 67^ 

traitorous, not she her Saviour stung 
with, 795, 
Kisses, dear as remembered, after death, 

3'5; - ■ ^ 

my, bring agam, 263. 

Kitten, rather be a, and cry mew, 807. 

Knaves, untaught, 506. 

Knee, crook the pregnant hinges of the, iit 

Kneeling ne'er spoilt silk stocltings, 364. 

Knees, bow stubborn, 309. 

on parent's, a naked new-born child, 78 

weakest saint upon his, 398, 
Knell is rung by fairy hands, 563. 

of parting day, 305. 

signed at the sound of a, 738. 

that summons thee to heaven or hell. 
882. 
Knells call, heaven invites, 395. 

in that word Alone, 813. 

us back to a world of death, 308. 
Knew thee but to love thee, none, 937. 

what 's what, 808. 
Knife, war even to the. 541, 



INDEX OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS. 



1075 



Kni^jht. .T ijentle, was pricking on the plaine, 
8.7. 
a prmcc can make a belted, 341. 

a vtrray parfit j^eiitil, 696. 
Kni^lit's bones are dust, 539. 
Kni^jhts, armorers accomplishing the. 540. 
Knock, never at home when you, 803. 
Knocker, tic up the, say I 'm sick, 805. 
Knocks, .ipostolic blows and, 387. 
Knotliiii; a departed fncnd, siillcn bell, 346. 
Knot, Oordian. of it lie will unloose, 723. 

there 's no untying. 185. 
Knots of love, strong, 23a' 
Knotted and combined locks, 735. 
Know, all wc, or dream or fear. ^83. 

it. thought so once and now I, 792. 

not I asTt not if ijuilt 's in that heart, 185. 

not to, rae argues yourselves. 812. 

then this truth, 398, 

then thyself, presume not God to scan, 
792. 

what before us lies, prime wisdom, 798. 

what we are. not what we may be, 399. 

ye the land where the cypress and myr- 
tle. 45"- 
Knnwin^' dare maint.im, 599. 
Knowledge, against his better, 899. 

all our. is ourselves to know, 398. 

book of, fair, 407. 

her ample page did ne'er unroll, 306. 

price for, too liigh the, 911. 
Knows her bible true. 397. 
Kosciusko fell. Freedom shrieked as, 583. 
Kubla Khan, in Xanadu did, 834. 

Labor dire it is and weary woe, 816. 
ease and alternate, 214. 
from, health, 559. 

fjrievous. won. 204. 
loncst, wears a lovely face, 550. 

learn to, and to wait, 770. 

of an age in pilid stones. 906, 

profitable, follows the ever-running year 
with. 559. 

to kill the time, their only, 816. 

we delight in physics pain. 559. 

youth of. with an age of ease, 687 
Labor's, sore, bath, I1H3. 
Laborious days, live, 812. 
Labors, the line too, 806. 
Lack of argument, sheathed their swords 
fof. 503. 

of somebody to hew and hack, 507. 
Lacked and lost. 801. 
Lack-lustre eye, looking with. 791. 
Lacky. a thousand livened angels, hei, 796. 
Ladder of our vices, frame a, 399. 

young ambition's, lowliness is, 799. 
Lad\lic, every lassie has her, 187. 
Ladies like variegated tulips, 723. 

lords and, gay, 658. 



sigh no 

will 



. 271. 



iiose bright eyes rain influence, 786. 
Lads, golden, and girls, 301. 
Lady doth protest too much, 207. 

here comes the, let her witness it, 145. 

's in the case, 133. 

sigh no more. 138, 271. 

so richly clad as she, 721. 

weep no more, 138. 
Lady's chamber, capers nimbly in a, 541. 
Lags superfluous, the vet'ran, 804. 
Lamb, no flock but one dead, is there. 272- 

thy riot dooms to bleed, 496, 
Lame and impotent concUision, 723. 
Lamely and unfashionablL-. so, 938. 
Lamenting, he was left, 339. 
Lamps shone o'er fair women and brave 

m<;n, 511. 
Lancastrian, turn, there, 123. 
Lances, glittering, are the loom, 540. 
Land, broad ocean leans against the, 632. 

charter of tlie. 576. 

deal damnation round the, 370, 

first on this delightful, 4911, 

hail Columbia happy, 603. 

ill fares the. to hastening ills a prey. 6^7. 

know ye the, 451. 

my native, good-night, 238, 

my own my native. 563. 

narrow neck of, 793. 

of brown heath and shaggy wood, 575. 

of drowsyhed. a pleasing, 831. 

of just and true renown, 603. 

of settled government, 603, 

of the free and home of the brave, 560, 
S?3- 

o the leal, 296. 

of the mountain and the flood, 575. 

or cherry-isle, there 's the, 134. 

post o'er, and ocean, 366. 

smiling, scatter plenty o'er a, 306. 

sunless, from sunshine to the, 309. 

Virtue's, Fortune's ice prefers to, 798. 

where sorrow is unknown, 348. 

where the cypress and myrtle, 451. 



Landing on some silent shore, to die is, 309. 
Landlady and Tarn grew gracious, 847. 
Landlord's laugh was reaay chorus. 847. 
Lands, envy of less happier, 603. 
Landscape, darkened, scowls oer the, 494. 

love is like a, 204. 
Lang syne, dayso' auld, 118. 
Language, Chatham's, his mother tongue, 
575- . ^ 

nature s end of, 804. 

no, but a cry, 393. 

O that those lips had, 92. 

quaint and olJen, 494. 



Lap, gushing brooks on wliose fresh, 494. 
me in delight, 814. 
me in soft Lydian airs, 786. 
mother's, drop into thy. 310. 
of earth, here rests his ticad upon the, 

of"^legends old, asleep in, 177. 



various, she speaks a, 307. 
wlio 



Lapland night, lovely as a, 311. 

Lards the lean earth, 722. 

Large, abstract doth contain that, 107. 

discourse, made us with such, 808. 

was his bounty, 307. 
Lark, crow doth sing sweetly as the, 496. 

hark the, at heaven's gate sings, 474. 

no, more blithe than he, 559. 

rise with the, 495. 
Lass, drink to the, 131. 

penniless, wi" a lang pedig^ree, 200- 
Lasses, then she made the. U, 191. 
Lassie, every, has her laddie, 187. 
Last and greatest art, to blot. 806. 

at his cross earliest at his grave, 795. 

infirmity of noble mind, 812. 

love thyself, 322. 

not least in love, 120, 

rose of summer. 465. 

scene of all, 711. 

sex to the. 206. 

still loveliest, the. 400, 

syllable of recorded time, 792, 

to lay the old aside, 806 

words of Marmion, 510. 
Late beginning, long choosing and, 204. 

too, ye cannot enter now, 754. 
Lated traveller, now spurs the, apace, 491. 
Latin, small, and less Greek, 905. 
Laud, more, than gilt o'er-dusted. 811. 
Laugh a siege to scorn. 540. 

at all disaster, 631. 

Atheist's, 395. 

landlord's, was ready chorus, 847. 

long loud, sincere, 672, 

loud, that spoke the vacant mind, 688. 

sans intermission, 810. 

where we must, 807. 
Laughed his word to scorn, 396. 

with counterfeited glee, 6S8. 
Laughing, were 't not for, I should pity, 722. 
Laughs at lovers' perjuries, Jove, 207. 

lair, the morn, 108. 
Laughter holding both his sides, 785. 

when her lovely, shows. 123. 
Law, do as adversaries do in, 121, 

heaven's first, order is, 812. 

in calmness made, keeps the, 540. 

lawless science of our, 810. 

naUire's kindly, 107. 

nice sharp quillets of the, 8io. 

rich men rule the, 809. 

sovereign, that state's collected will, 599. 
Law's delay, 297. 
Lawless science of our law, 810. 
Lawn, nor up the, nor at the wood was he, 

rivulets hurrying through the, 493. 

saint in crape is twice a. in, 812. 

sun upon the upland, 306. 
Laws and learning die, let. 812. 

Cato gives his little senate, 602. 

curse on all, but those of love. 215. 

for little folks are made, 810. 

fri<.ndship's, by this rule exprest, 121. 

erind the poor. 809- 

nouseliold, religion breathing, 814. 

impartial, just men by whom, 910. 

judges of the facts and the, 810. 

like cobwebs in all ages, 810. 

or kings can cause or cure, 807. 
Lawyers are met, 722. 

have more sober sense, 809. 
Lay, deathless, deem not the framing of a, 
70. 

(o boldly forth my simple, 807. 
lis weary bones among ye, 346. 

like a warrior taking his rest. 920. 

me down to take my sleep, now I, 107. 

on Macduff, 540. 
I -azy lolling sort, 724. 
Lea, herd winds slowly o'er the. 305. 

staiiiling on this pleasant, 403. 
Lead kindly Light, 364. 



fili 



Leads to bewilder and dazzles to blind, 737 
Leaf, fallen into the sear the yellow, 794. 

has perished in the green, 309. 

impearls on every, and Hower, 492. 

my days are in the yellow. 250. 

vain as the, upon the stream, 813. 
Leafless desert of the mind, 816. 
Le^fy month of June, 858. 

since summer first was, 271. 
League, half a, onward, 517. 
LeaH land o" the, 296. 
Lean and hungry look, Cassius has a, 722. 

and slippered pantaloon, 711. 

fellow beats all conquerors, 308. 

unwashed artificer. 722. 
Lean-faced, a hungry, villain, 72a. 
Leap, it were an easy, 670. 

look ere thou, sec ere thou go. 214. 

with me into this angry flood, 670. 
Leaps the live thunder. 686. 
Learn to labor and to wait, 770. 
Learned doctors' spite. 814. 

Chaucer, lie more nigh to, 935. 
Learning, breast where, lies, 805. 

just enough of, to misquote, 804. 

little, is a dangerous thing, 805, 

love he bore to, 688. 

scraps of, dote on, 804. 

whence is thy, 804. 
Least, last not. in love, 120. 
Leather, faithless, feet through, 347. 

or prunella, 781. 
Leave not a rack behind, 867. 

the world no copy, 122, 
Leaves have their time to fall, 308, 

in wintry weather, fall like. 318. 

nothing but, 370. 

of destiny, shady, 192. 

of hope, puts forth the tender, 321. 

of memory, 801. 

of the Judgment Book unfold, 186. 

on trees, race of man like. 792. 

that strow the brooks in V allombr05(i« 
thick as, 494. 

words are liice, 803. 
Leaving in battle no blot on his name, 574. 
Leer, assent with civil, 910. 
Lees, the mere, is left, 346. 
Left blooming alone, 465. 

him alone with his gfory, 920. 
Legends, asleep in lap of, old. 177. 
Leisure, repent at, married in haste, 214. 

retired, 786. 
Lend ine your ears, 875. 

your wings I mount I fly, 365. 
Lender, neither alborrower nor a, b^ lax. 
Length, drags its slow, along, 806. 
Lengthened sage advices, 847. 
Lengthening chain, drags at each remove a, 

248. 
Lerne, gladly wolde he, and gladly teche, 

697. 
Less, beautifully, fine by degrees and, 721. 

happier lands, envy of, 603. 

pleasing when possessed. 793. 

than kind, more than kin and, 724. 
Lesson, cold-pausing Caution's, 108. 

heroic, thou hast learned, 799. 
Let, dearly, or let alone, 214. 

dogs delight to bark and bite, 108. 

the toast pass drink to the lass, 131. 

us do or die, 573, 
Lettered pomp to teeth of time, give, 913. 
Letters Cadmus gave, 581. 
Letting I dare not wait upon I would, 800, 
Level, sways she, in her husband's heart, 

215. 
Levy, foreign, malice domestic. 311. 
Lexicon of youth, no such word as yai/ in 

the. 802. 
Liar, doubt truth to be a, 206. 
Libertie, enjoy delight with, 489. 
Libertine, chartered, the air a, 723. 

puffed and reckless, 809. 
Liberty, angels alone enjoy such, 147. 

I must have, withal, 602. 

's in every blow, 573. 

make way for, he cried, 584. 

mean license when they cry, 601. 
Library was dukedom large enough, my, 

805. 
License and wanton rage, 539. 

mean, when they cry Liberty, 601. 
Lick absurd pomp, let the candied tongue, 

Licks the dust, pride that, 910. 

the hand just raised to shed his blood, 
496- 
Licour. bathed every veyne in swich, 695, 
Lids, drops his blue-fringed, 395- 

of Juno's eyes, 495- 

unsullied with a tear, 816, 

veiled, forever with thy, 204. 
Lie beneath the churchyard stooe, somt 
109. 

credit his own, 797. 



1076 



INDEX OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS. 



Lie down like a tireil child, 317. 
reclined, sijjhing, 8i6, 
still and slumber, 76. 
Lies to hide it, does one fault and, 395. 
Life a weary pilgrimage, 792. 
bivouac 01. 770, 
blight of, 396, 

calamity of so long, respect that makes, 

S97. 
common walk of virtuous, 309. 
cool sequestered vale of, 306. 
courses of my, do show, 812. 
creeping where no, is seen, 466. 

deatn and, my bane and antidote, 759. 
death in, 315. 

death of each day's, 88i 

dreary intercourse of cTaily, 404. 

elysian, suburb of the. 272. 

feels its, in every limb, 87. 

from the dead is iu that word, 389. 

grunt and sweat under a weary, 297. 

narp of, love took up the. 25s. 

has passed with me but roughly. 92. 

hijjh characters are drawn from high, 
81 2. 

I know not what thnuart, 303 

idea of her, shall sweetly creep. 8ot. 

ills o', victorious o'er .ill the, 848. 

intense, concentred in a, 813. 

is a fort committed to my trust. 900. 

is a jest and all things show it, 792. 

is but a means to an end, 742. 

is but a span, 308. 

is but a walking shadow, 792. 

is but an empty dream, 769, 

is in decrease, 30S. 

is long that answers . life's great end, 
794- 

is love, all that, 399. 

is real life is earnest, 769. 

is rounded with a sleep, our little, 867. 

is thorny youth is vain, 116. 

jump the, to come, 900. 

love of, increased with years, 756. 

many-colored, the change of, 905. 

map of busy, 810, 

my May of, is fallen into the sear, 794. 

new, into dull matter, 108. 

nor love thy, nor hate, 794. 

nothing in nis, became nini, 309. 

of care, weep away the. 317. 

of man less tnan a span. 330. 

of mortal breath, this. 272. 

o" the building, stole the. 900. 

on the ocean wave, 630. 

organ of her, every lovely, 801. 

set my, upon a cast, 802. 

single, fie upon thib, 232. 

slave of, thought "s the, 792, 

spice of, variety's the very, 815. 

story of my, questioned the, 145, 

sunset of, gives me mystical lore, 574. 

sweet'ner of, and solcfer of society, 120. 

tedious as a twice-told tale, 799. 

that dares send a challenge, 193. 

thin-spun, slits the. 812. 

third of, is passed in sleep, 310. 

this our, exempt from puolic haunt, 489. 

thou art a gaihng load, 345 

time's fool. 792. 

unblamcd though. lamented in thy end. 
724- 

useful, 214. 

variety 's the very spice of, 815. 

vital warmth that feeds my, 206. 

voyage of their, all the, 802. 

was in the right. 398 

we have been long together. 304. 

weariest and most loathfed worldly, 347, 

web of our, of a mingled yarn. 792. 

went a Maying. io8. 

wheels of weary, at last stood still, 65, 
309* 

when I consider, "t is all a cheat. 793, 

whfle there is, there's hope, 794. 

whole of, to live. 311. 

wine of, is drawn, 346. 

you take my. 347. 
Life s common wny, travel on, 907. 

dull round, 121. 

feast, chief nourisher in. 883. 

fitful fever, 311. 

gre.it end, lilc is long that answers, 794. 

grimace, 310. 

morning march, 520. 

vast ocean, diversely we sail on, 793, 

worst ills, ill cure of, 348- 

young day, the luve o', 243. 
Lift her with care. 335. 
Light as air, a something. 264. 

as air, trifles, 207. 

awakes the world, 490. 

common as. is love, 206. 

dawn's early, can you see by the, 560, 

,S9=- . 

dim religious, 787. 



Light, excess of, blasted with. 939. 
fantastic toe. 785. 
fled in. away, 309. 
gates of, unuarred the, 490, 
glancing in tlic mellow, 491, 



glimm'rmg taper's, hope like a, 800. 
great awakcmni 
hail holy, 407. 



p-e.it awakening, 350, 769. 



heaven's own, hide_ themselves in, 114. 

infant crying for the, 392. 

inward, 822. 

lead kindly, 364, 

of a dark eye in woman, 686, 

of common day, fade into the, 758. 

of hope, leave behind the, 800. 

of love, 133, 

of love, purple, 205. 

of other days, fond Memory brings the, 

of settmgsuns, 404. 

of smiles, 743. 

of truth. 797. 

peerless, unveiled her, 413. 

put out the, 900. 

source of uncreated, 357. 

streaking^ of the morning, 592. 

swift-wingfed arrows of, 739. 

teach, to counterfeit a gloom, 787. 

tender, which heaven to-day denies, 

130. 
that lies in woman's eyes, 203. 
that visits these sad eyes, 206. 
thy former, restore, 900. 
unconsuming fire of, 807. 
way out of hell to, 395. 
will repay the wrongs of Night. 489. 
within his own clear breast, 796. 
Lighten half thy poverty, 231. 
Lightning and the gale. 620. 
as, does the will of God. 604- 
in the coUied night, brief as the, 250. 
Lights are fied. whose, 318. 
heaven's, godfathers of, 804. 
that do mislead the morn, 263. 
Like angels' visits, 347, 396. 

figure to ourselves the thing we, 867. 
I shall not look upon his, again, 721. 
Liked it not and died, 312. 
Likeness, woful, if true a, 811. 
Lilies of our land, ye, 747. 
twisted braids of, 869, 
Lily, paint the. 726. 
Limb, feels its life in every. 87, 
Limbs, cold sweat thrills down all my, 725, 
Limit of becoming mirth, 724. 
Limned soul, 309. 

Line a cable which ne'er broke, his, 672. 
lives alom; the, 496, 
radiant, tliat girts the globe, 631. 
stretch om to the crack of doom. 725. 
too labors, the, 806. 

which dying he could wish to blot, 54, 
806. 
Lineaments of Gospell bookes, 904. 
Linen, it is not you "re wearing out. 338. 
Lines and outward air, our senses taken 
with the. 711. 
dry desert of a thousand. 807. 
happy, let a lord once own the, 812, 
slanting, dismal rain came down in, 493. 
where "beauty lingers, 303. 
Linger out a purposed overthrow. 271. 
Lingering and wandering on. 809. 

longing look behind, 306. 
Lining, silver, turn forth her, 491. 
Linked in one heavenly tie, 203. 
sweetness long drawn out, 786. 
with success, 812. 
Linnets sini^, pipe but as the, 807. 
Lion, beard tlie. in his den. 648. 

hind that would be mated with a. 242: 
rouse a, blood more stirs to, 670. 
tawny, pawing to get free, 496. 
Lion's, wingid, marble piles 720. 
Lions, two, littered in one day, 899. 
Lip, coral, admires, 141- 

pretty redness in his, 145, 
reproof on her, but a smile in her eye, 
197- 
Lips, closed, seem to smile at death, 69. 
drew my whole soul through my, 205. 
from coral, such folly broke, 713. 
had language, O that those, 92, 
heart on her, 721. 
O you the doors of breath, 899. 
of Julia, pointed to the, 134, 
reluctantly apart, 105. 
take those, away, 263. 
that are for others, 315. 
truth from his. prevailed. 688. 
severed, partea with sugar breath. 122. 
smile on her, and a tear m her eye, 176, 
steeped me in poverty to the very, 725. 
steeped to the, in misery. 345. 
were red and one was thin. 21X. 
Liquefaction of her clothes, 126, 



Liquid notes that close the hour of day. thy, 

496. 
Liquor, here 's yet some. left. 811. 
Liquors, hot and rebellious, in my blood, 

546. 
Lisped in numbers for the numbers came, 

107. 
Listen, angels, when she speaks, 134. 
Listens like a three years' child. 354. 
Litel gold in cofre, 696, 
Little fire is quickly trodden out. ^13. 

here to do or see, 495. 

learning is a dangerous thing, 805. 

life is rounded with a sleep, 8167, 

love me, love me long, 141. 

love me. so you love me long', 207. 

man wants but, nor that little long, 794. 

man wants but. here below, 139, 

month. 207. 

more than kin and less than kind, 724, 

more than little much too nmch, 815. 

nameless unremembered acts, 404. 

print be. although the. 107. 

said is soonest mended. 803. 

senate laws. Cato gives his, 602. 

senate laws, like Cato give his, 910. 

thing to give a cup of water. 770. 

to earn and many to keep. 621. 

wanton boys that swim on bladders. 321^ 

wise the best fools be, 798. 
Live, all that, must die. 295. 

at home at ease, 632. 

brokenly, on, 512. 

in peace — adieu, 810. 

in pleasure when I live to tliee, 794. 

laborious days, 812. 

long, our noble king. 603. 

not in myself. 493. 

one day asunder. 134. 

so may st thou, 310. 

taught us how to, 911. 

thus let me, unseen unknown, 235. 

till to-morrow the darkest day will pass^ 
793- 

to fight another day, 540. 

unblemished let me, 811. 

well what thou liv'st, 794, 

while you live the epicure w'd say, 794. 

wish to, when he should die, 9oak 

with ine and be iny love, 157. 

with them is far less sweet, 248. 

without cooks, man cannot, 814. 
Lived and loved. I have, 207. 

in the eye of nature, 480. 

to-day, to-morrow do thy worst I have, 
793- 
Livelier iris changes on the burnished dove, 

, ■ . -s-*- 

Lively to severe, 911. • 

Liveried angels l.icky her, a thousand, 796. 
Livers, liuniole, in content, 347. 
Livery of the court of heaven, stole the. 797, 

shadowed, of the burnished sun. 722. 

sober, all things clad in her, 413. 
Lives a peaceful tenor keep, 743. 

along the line, 496, 

he most, who thinks most, 742. 

human creatures'. 338. 

like a drunken sailor on a mast, 723. 

of great men all rtmind us, 770. 

other heights in other, 399. 

sublime, we can make our, 770. 
Living Greece no more, ^3. 

no, with thee nor without thee, 724. 

plain, and high thinking, 814. 
Living-dead man, 722. 
Lo the poor Indian, 399, 
Load, galling, lite thou art a. 343. 

of sorrow, wring under tlic, 345. 
Loan oft loses both itself and friend, 121. 
Loathe the taste of sweetness. S15. 
Lobster, like a boiled, the morn Irom black 

to red, 490. 
Local habitation and a name. 867. 
Locks, curious, so aptly twined. 203, 

hoary, played familiar with his. 919. 

hy.icintnine, 711. 

knotted and combined, 725. 

never shake thy gory, at me. 868. 

pluck up drowned honor by the. 670. 
Lodge in some vast wilderness. 593, 

tnee by Chaucer or Spenser. 905. 
Lofty and shrill-sounding throat, 868. 

and sour to them that loved him not, 723, 
Logic, a jn"eat critic in, 945. 
Lone motner of dead empires, 720. 
Lonely, I 'm very, now Mary. 292. 

so. that God scarce sek'mM there, 866. 
Long choosing and beginning late, 204. 

has it waved on high. 6;o. 

is the way out of hell to light. 395. 

may it wave, t;93. 

love me little love me. 141. 

love me little so you love me, 207. 

nor that little. 794. 

or short permit to Heaven, how, 7^ 



INDEX OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS. 



1077 



Long-drawn aisle antl fretted vault, 306. 
i-on^.ni; after iiniiiortality, 759, 

lingering look, cast one, 306. 

more, wavering, 215. 

yet afraid to die, 343. 
Look down on the hate of those below, 912 

ere ihoii leap, sec ere tliou go. 214- 

erected, men met each other with, 725, 

lean and hungry, Cassius has a, 722. 

one longing lingering, behind, j»- 

swcct, that nature wears, 41)0. 

upon his like again, I sliall not, 721. 

upon this picture and on this, 7-:t. 



Looked on better tlays, 347. 

„ „■ dagai . .. 

unutterable thingN, sighed and, 204. 



sighed and, and 



'am, 772 



Looking before and after, 808. 

ill prevail, will, 263. 

well can't move her, 263. 
Looks, bashful, conceal, 724. 

commercing with the skies, 786. 

dcspatchful, turns with, 333. 

Iier modest, the cottage might adorn, 
6vo. 

puts on his pretty, 107. 

sidelong, of love, 687. 

through nature up to nature's God, 80S. 

with a threatening eye, 801. 
Loom, glittering lances are the, 540. 

of hell prepare. 540. 
Looped and wmdowed raggedness, 494, 
Loon-hotcs of retreat, 810. 
Lota, forever with the, 38). 

tjreat, of all things. 79J. 
el a. once own the happy lines, 812. 

of all the workes of nature, 489 

of himself, that heritage of woe, 346- 

of the unerring bow, 726. 

of the winds. 686. 

of thy presence, 346. 

of wantonness and ease, 626. 
Lord's anointed temple. 900. 
Lords and ladies gay. 658. 

if htU, procuress to the, 397. 

of human kind, 003. 

of tlie visionary eye, 868. 

princes and, may flourish, 687. 
Lore. Cristas, 647. 

skilled ir. gestic, 232. 

mystical, 574. 

skilled in fegendary, 139 

volume of forgotten, 852. 
Lose good by fearing to attempt. 800. 

it that do buy it with much care, 803, 

the name of action, 297. 

this intellectual being, who would, 794, 
Loss of the sun, tears of the sky for the, 491. 

of wealth is loss of dirt. 34;, 
Losses and crosses. 348. 
Lost, count that day, 398. 

in the sweets, fly that sips treacle. 205. 

in the womb of uncreated night, 794. 

in wandering mazes, 808. 

loved and, belter to have. 311. 

what lliough the field be, 540. 

woman th.tt deliberates is. 796. 
Loud, curses not, but deep, 794. 

laugh that spoke the vacant mind, 688. 
Loudly publishing neighbor's shame, i^ii. 
Love a bright particular star, 242. 

a simple duty, 796. 

again and be again undone. 796, 

alas for, if thou art alt, O earth, 311. 

all, is sweet, 2uc». 

all she loves is, 796. 

all the world and, were young. 15S. 

and sweet comphance, 209. 

beggary in, that can be reckoned, 206. 

bcguis to sicken and decay, 306. 

bow before thine .iltar, 1, 203. 

brief as woman's, 207. 

but her forever, 233. 242. 

but only her, hating no one, 206. 

can die, they sin wno tell us, 206. 

can hope where reason w'd despair, 204. 

comely, bashful smcerity and, 204. 

common as light is, 206. 

conquer, only they that run away, 205. 

could teach a monarch to be wise, 397. 

course of true, never did run smooth, 350. 

dame of Ephesus so mourned her, 1:04. 

deep as first, 315. 

divine all love excelling, 392. 

ecstasy of. the very, 203. 

endures no tie, 207. 

evcrl.xsiing. eternal joy and. 133. 

expelled by other love may be, 207- 

feeling and a, 404- 

fervent not ungovernable, 206. 

fight for. as men may do, 795. 

fire of, quench with words, 203. 

first invented verse, 204. 

flowers and fruits of, are gone. 250. 

foe to, fortune an unrelenting, 205. 

free as air, 315 

freedom in my, 147. 



ive, Gotl is, 394. 
harvest-time of, is there, 206. 
hasty, or headlong ire, 670. 
hate in like extreme who. too much, 207. 
he bore to learning, 688. 
humble low-born thing, 215. 
1 could not, thee dear so much, 235. 
idly burns as fire in Roman urns, 205. 
in a hut with water and a crust, 205. 
in heavenly spirits for creatures base, 373. 
inly touch of, aoi. 
innocence of, dallies with the, 205. 
in vain the greatest pam, 204. 
is a boy by poets styled, 108. 
is a celestial harmony, zo6. 
is a sickness full of ^^oes. 136. 
is a torment of the mind, 136. 
is blind, 203. 
is flower-like, 120. 
is heaven and heaven is love, 203, 
is indestructible, 206, 
is like a landscape, 204- 
's not Time's fool, 208. 
's the gift which God has given, 203. 
is to be all made of smiles and tears, 204, 
last not least in, 120. 
levels all ranks, 203. 
life and, shall follow thee, 796. 
life is, all that, 399. 
light and calm thoughts, 739. 
light of, 133. 

lightly, who can show all his love, 204- 
live with me and be my, 157. 
looked, to eyes which spake again, 511. 
looks not with the eyes, 203. 
loveliest embalmed in tears, 204, 
make incision for your. 722. 
man's, is of man's life a thing apart, 796. 
me little love me long, 141. 
me little so you love me long, 207- 
mighty pain to, it is, 204. 
ministers of, 162. 

mixed with, and sweet compliance, 795. 
music be the food of, if, 808. 
my whole course of, 145 
never doubt 1, 206. 
no rage hke, to hatred turned, 207. 
none can, none can thank, 797. 
none knew thee but to, thee, 937. 
not man the less, 607. 
now who never loved before, 207. 
O, O fire ! once he drew with one long 

kiss, 205. 
obedience troops of friends, 794. 
of God and love of man. 808. 
of home, poor consecrated. 601. 
of life increased with years, 756. 
of love, 807. 

of man, love of God and, 808. 
of praise howe'er concealed, 8to. 
of the turtle, 451, 
of women, alas! the, 203. 
office and affairs of, 121. 
old, change for new, 207. 
on through all ills, till tliey die, 203. 
pains of, be sweeter far, 145. 
pains of despised, 297. 
pity melts the mind to, 772. 
pity swells the tide of, 794. 
pleasant enough to, you, 204. 
prove likewise variable, lest thy, 207. 
purple light of, 205. 
reckons hours for months, 248, 
rules the court the camp the grove, 203. 
seals of, but sealed in vain. 263. 
seldom haunts the breast, 805. 
she never told her, 251. 
sidelong looks of, 687. 
silence m, bewrays more woe, 204. 
smiles of, the food, 204. 
sought is good, given unsought belter, 

spirit of, 492. 

sjiring of, gushed from my heart, 857. 

success in, portend, 496. 

such, as spirits feel. 206. 

sweetest joy, wildest woe, 204. 

tell me my heart if this be, 137. 

that tempests never shook, 204. 

that took an early root, 271. 

thee whatever thou art, 1S5, 

thoughts of, 254. 

thyself last, 322. 

to see her was to. her. 233, 242. 

took up the harp of life. 255, 

tunes ttie shepherd's reed, 202. 

which alters is not love, 2i>8. 

with all thy faults I, thee still. 575. 

woman's, of all paths to, 204. 

woman's whole existence, 'tis, 296. 

words of, then spoken, 318. 

works of. or enmity. 868. 

worthy of yout, love him ere he seem, 

-05. 
younger than thyself, let thy. be, 215, 
ive's devoted llamc, 121. 



Love's majesty, 938. 

proper hue, 203. 

wound, purple with, 836. 

young dteani, nothing so sweet as, 262. 
Loved and lost, better to have, 311. 

and still loves, 311. 

at home revered abroad, 3S6. 

but one, sighed to many, 134. 

I not honor more, 235. 

in vain, I only know we, 238. 

lived and, 1 have, 207. 

needs only to be seen to be, 398. 

none without hope e'er. 204. 

not wisely but too well, 724. 

of me. hurts not him that he is, 796. 

sae blindly, had we never, 233. 

sae kindly, had we never. 233. 

three whole days together, 124. 

who always, now love the more, 207. 

who ever, but at first sight, 203. 

who never, let those love now, 207. 
Love-in-idleness, maidens call it, 876. 
Lovelier there if in death still lovely, 794. 
Loveliest of lovely things are they, 309. 
Love-light in her eye, 129, 
Loveliness in death, 303. 

majesty of, 720. 

needs not aid of ornament, 795. 
Lovely and a fearful thing, 203. 

as a Lapland night. 311. 

in death the beauteous ruin lay, 794. 

in your strength, 686, 
Lover, an angel appear for each, beside, 185, 

fond, why so pale and wan, 263. 

give repentance to her, 336. 

nappy as a, 539. 

in the husband may be lost. Z14. 

lunatic the, and the poet, 806. 

of the good old school, he was a, 795. 

sighing like furnace, 711. 

to listening maid, 494. 

woman loves her, in her first passion, 
796. 
Lovers and madmen have such seething 
brains, 806. 

cannot see the pretty follies, 203. 

love the western star, 491, 

make two, happy, 205. 

name to fright poor, •271. 

whispering, 686. 
Lovers' absent hours, 248. 

heart dost fill with fresh hope, 496. 

hell, jealousy the, 207. 

hours are long, 205. 

meeting, journeys end in, 122. 

perjuries, Jove laughs at, 207. 

vows seem sweet, hour when. 491. 
Loves, faithfull, fierce warres and, 670. 

nobler, and nobler cares, 42, 

suspects yet strongly, 307. 
Love-sick air, wantons with the, 133. 
Loveth, prayeth best who, best, 860. 
Loving, most, mere folly, 316. 
Low descendmg sun, day whose, 398. 
Lowering element scowls, 494. 
Lowest deep, a lower deep in the, 396. 

of your throng, 812. 
Lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, 305. 
Lowliness young ambition's ladder, 799. 
Lowly born, 'l is better to be, 347- 
I-ucent syrops tinct with cinnamon, 179. 
Lucifer, falls like, never to hope again. 321. 
Luck in odd numbers says Kory 0'^fore, 
197. 

nae, about the house, 246. 
Lunatic the lover and the poet, 806. 
Lungs began to crow like clianticleer, 810 

receive our air, 594- 
Lust in man no charm can tame, 811. 

of gold, ring out the narrowing, 75*. 
Lustre, shine with such a, 398, 
Lute, heart and. are all the store, 795. 

lascivious pleasing of a, 541. 
Luve 's like a red, red rose, my, 234. 

's like the melodie, my, 234. 

o' life's young day, 242- 
Luxury of doing good, learn the. 398. 

thou curst by Heaven's decree, 69a 
Lydian airs, lap me in soft, 786. ' 

measures, 772. 
Lyre heaven-taught, 806. 

waked to ecstasy ihe living, 306- 
Lyve, how that his sheep shulde, 809. 

Mab. Queen, hath been with you, 836. 
Macbeth does murder sleep, 883. 
Macduff, lay on, 540. 
Macedon and Artaxerxes' throne, 804. 
Mad. anundevout astronomer is. 492. 
Madcap Prince of Wales, nimble-footed, 793. 
Madden round the land, rave recite and, 805. 

to crime, 451. 
Maddest merriest day. 327. 
Madding crowd, far from the. 306. 

wheels of brazen chariots. 500. 
Made glorious summer, winter, 541. 



1078 



INDEX OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS. 



S?s.5.=. 



Madness, t;rtMt wits arc to, iicnr allied, 909. 
iiioody, l;uij;hiin; wild. Sjj. 
lUin'iLslriKk. ^40, 
Ih.n «,iy. hcs. ^46. 
1.^ .1,1,1. lu- \\isc lo-day 'tis. 74S. 
will, li 'shoviM poi^sc^ a. poet':^ brnin. 

work like, In the brain, 116. 
Mndri^ats. melodious birds sinf. 157. 
Ma^tc number^ and pcrsuiiuvc sound, 809. 

of i\ name, 810. 

of the mind, Sis. 

potent over sun and star, sway of, 203. 

wh.it mighty, 145. 
Mai;iiiticent ami ,i\vml causi 
Ma^jnin, vntly ^teIna^^rty, b 
Mii^iiitu.lo, sl.ir I'l smallest. 49s. 
Miiui, lovt-r to listoninij. 494. 

Music iio.ueiilv, 773. 

Music sphcrc-iicsccildcd. 774- 

Of Athens, cic V.C r>.>rt, 3^4. 

sidc-loiii:. ki-.s Mi.it> Iir 1 Iroin, 672. 

SWCCtCM i;.iil,inii !>' ->^ i-ftCSt, 134. 

thiit p.'»r.»i;i'Us il, ^, npu^'ii. 73a. 

where .irt.- you t;,llll^; luv pretty. 95S. 

whomoiK'>tly lOiict-.tK her beauties, 795. 

whom ^h^■rL' \\cr<: in'iio to praise, 104. 
Iklaid-pale pcKe, ciiipIoMon of her, 541. 
Maideit herself will steal alter it soon, 305, 

mctlit.itum taiicy free, in. 836. 

of b.isliful lilleen, licrc 's to the. 131, 

sh.iuic, her Lliish of, 401. 

with the meek brotvn eyes, 104. 

younj; heart of a, is stolen. 305. 
Maidens call it Love-in-ullencss, 636. 

fair, shcpliervls all and, 469. 

like motlis are caught by glare, 315. 

smiles of other, vj^ 
Maid>, fairest of the rural, 130. 

in modesty say No, 796. 
Main, azure. 576, 

:ikims alon^ the, 806. 

sunk in the ronring, 6ys. 
Maintain, know their riiihts and knowing; 

dare, 5,>j. 
Mijesty, attribute to awe and, 793, 

clouded, moon rising in. 413. 

looks in boundless, abroad, 7x9. 

love's. 938- 

obsequious. 209. 

of loveliness, yso. 

rayless, nit^ht in, 491. 

this earth of, 603. 
Make assurance doubly sure, 793. 

it your cause. 794 

two lovers happy, aos- 

way for Liberty he cried. 584. 
Maken vertue of necessiie. 8o3. 
Klalice. deep, to conceal, 396. 

domestic, foreign levy. 311. 

nor set dow» au^ht in, ^J4. 
Maumion le,ist erected suint that fell, 803. 

wins where seraphs despair. 315. 
Man, itpi^rel oft proclaims the, 733. 

assurance of a, give the world, 731, 

before your motlicr, 107, 

better spared a better. 312. 

breathes there the, with soul so dead, 

llimiisis.mhoii..raMo, 875. 
chit. ill. .>>,! sli-^vsthe. i,.;. 
Clin-.ti,iu is tlic Iut;lie->t style of. 399. 
crossed witli ad\crsUy. 1 am a, 345. 
dare do all m.iy become a, Soo. 
delii-htsmc not, nor woman, 546^ 
diapason closink; full in. 775. 
dyini^. to dyinj; men, 395- 
exireuics in, 7m~ 
father of the. the child is. 43a. 
fittest place where, can die, 6o3. 
frail a tiling is, so, 30S, 
>;cmlv scan your brother. 7S4. 
^l.'^'d easv. when he thinks. 321. 
^;>^,>d great. 739- 
[•i>ik1 name in, or woman. 811. 
gondlicst. of men since born. 713, 
li.ilf p,u-t of a blcsstd. 233. 
happy, 's without a shirt, 347, 
happy the, and happy he .done, 793. 
happy the. whose wish ari.l care, 535. 
he was a, take him for all m all, 731, 
heaven had made her such a. 145. 
her 'prentice ban' she tried on, 191, 
hero and the. complete. 539. 
honest and a perfect, 793. 
honest, s the n-blest work of God. 780. 
Horatio thou art e'en as just a, in. 
how poor a thitii: is. 808. 
impious m ,1 >^ood. to be s.id. 34S. 
in the bush with God may meet. 7+4, 
in wit a. 7-24. 

is but half without woman. 233, 
is his own star. 71)3. 
is man and master of his fate. 777. 
is one world and hath another, 793. 
,'s the aowd for a' that. 341. 



Man. let no such, be trusted, 776. 
life of. less than n sp;in. ^-x), 
liviujij-dcad. 733. 
love not. the Icvs. toy. 
luve of Cod and love of, 808. 
lust in, no charm can tame, 811. 
made the town. God made the country, 

makes a death nature never made, 310. 

makes his own stature. 39S. 

marks the earth with ruin. 607. 

may last but never lives. 797. 

tiiav rant'e the c^urt camp church. 796. 

nuiid s the standard ol the. 808. 

nature lornied but one such, 940. 

never IsalwayNto be blest, 8v>i. 

not moved at what he reads, 601. 

<.^i mettle, i^r'asp it like u. 800. 

nt' wisdom is the man of yciu-s, 794. 

oUI. elo.juent. 919. 

1. 11,-, j^tays many parts, 711. 

.'Illy, is vile. 305. 

IMtlMuieiuor, 357. 

IHu.liihuu betwixt asmilc and tear, 793. 

pl.on blunt. 876. 

i»','r inlirm weak despised old, 346. 

pr^ss not a falling, too far. 345. 

proper study of mankind is. 792. 

proiid, drest in a little brief authority. 
813- 

race of. like leaves on trees, 793. 

recovered of the bite, 949. 

remote from. 394 

savUler and a wiser. 860, 

scene of. expatiate free o'er all this, 793, 

scrupulous Rood, 734. 

so various. 909, 

spirii of, all is divine save the, 451- 

state of, like to a little kingdom, 900. 

stale of. this is the, 331, 

striit;^ling in the storms of fate, 6o3. 

Ill, It ti. Ills you Tom or Jack, isi. 

ill, It hangs on princes' favors, 321. 

tli.it liatli a tongue is no man, 133. 

that hath no music in himself, 776. 

that meddles with cold iron. 540- 

the hermit sighed till woman smiled, 204. 

there lived a. 308. 

to all the country dear, 688. / 

trust not a. 233. / 

vile, that mourns. 394. / 

wants but little here below. i'^9. /. 

wants Init little nor that liltlelong. 794. 

wavs of ticil to, viiulitate the, 807. . 

well-bred, will nm iiisuU me, 7i(o. 

where ho dii s fnr. tittesi place is, 602. 

who much receives nothing gives, 707. 

who needlesslv sets foot upon a worui,783. 

within, lookest on the. 813. 

World without a sun. a, 795. 

wiTili makes the, 781. 

worthy, my foe. ;8i. 

would die when tne brants were out, 868. 

yon friendless, 8o3. 
Man's best things arc nearest him, 741. 

cheeks, stain my, 340^ 

criiiiL; Uidt;ment, 709. 

lirst ilisobedience, 395. 

illusion given, lor. 399. 

ingratitude. 316. 

inhumanity to man, 33s. 

love is of man's life a thing apart, 796. 

mortality, eye that kept watch o'er, 759. 

most dark extremity. 34S. 

true touchstone, calamity is, 348. 

unconquerable mind. 933. 

wickedness, method in, wg. 
Mane, brinvled, rampant shakes his, 496. 

laid mv hand upon thy. 607, 
M.inhood better than his verse, his, 57. 

bright. 803. 
Mankind, all. is one of these two cowards, 

QOO. 

all think their little set, 812. 

proper stuily of. is man, 79a. 

sum u|' half; 791. 

iurpas.ses or subdues, 912. 

wisest brightest meanest of. 938. 
Mankind's, all, wonder, 134. 

concern is charily, 39S. 

epitome, 9og. 
Manliness of grief, in all the silent, 690. 
Manly foe, give me the, I3i. 
Manna, though his tongue dropped. 734. 
Manner born, to the, S14. 
Manners, catch the. living as they rise. 807. 

gentle, of. 734. 

saw the. in the face, 940. 

with fortunes humors turn with climes, 
814. 
Mantle, silver, threw. 413. 
Mantled o'er with sober gray. 490- 
Manuscript of Heaven, read nature like the. 

494- 
M.\ny, sighed to, loved but one. 134. 

who depend on, rarely tind a friend, isi. 



Many-headed monster of the pit, 804. 

monster thing. 813, 
Map of busy life, 810. 
Mar what 's well, striving to better. 802. 
Marathon mountains look on. 580. 
Marble, dull cold, sleep in, 331. 

mark the, with his name, 797. 

wastes the more the statue grows, Sc^i 
Marbled steep, Sunium's, 5S1. 
March, a day s. nearer home, 3^9. 

droghte of, 695. 

Ides of. beware the. 899, 

is o'er the mountain waves, 629, 

life's morning, when my bosom was 
young. 529. 

stormv. has come at last. 495. 

take tlie winds of, with beauty, 495. 
M.irchcs. riincral. to the grave, 770^ 

our .Ire.ullul. 541. 
Mariners of Imgland. ye. 639- 
Mark. ..ould man outlook that, 374. 

death loves .1 shining, 309. 

miss the, they aim at. C>7i. 

the .ircher little meant, 803. 

the marble with his name. 797, 
Mark Antony, who lost, the worldt a ivo- 

inaii. 795. 
Marmion, last words of. 510. 
Marquis iliike and a" that. 341. 
M.irriage of true ininils. 20S. 
M.irriaijcbell. all went merry as a. 511. 
Married in h.iste repent at leisure. 314. 

to immortal verse, soft l.ydian airs, 786- 

to immortal verse, wisdom, 8o6« 
Marrowlcss, thy bones are. 868. 
Marry, proper time 10. 315. 
Mars, au eye like, to threaten and commantW 

this seat of. 603. 
Marshal'st me the way tliat 1 was going. SS:. 
Martial cloak around hitn, with his. 920. 

swashing and a, outside. 733. 
Martyr, thou fall'st a blessed, 33a, 
Mary. Highlaiul. spore his, 915. 
M.-iry-lHKU. wmkiiie, 474- 
M.isk. seniors, sliallow brain behind a, 724. 

tired dissimulation drops her, 310* 
Mast, bends the gallant. 636. 

drunken sailor on a. 723. 

nail to the, her holy nag. 62c. 
Master a grief, every one can, 345- 

the etern.d. 395. 
Master-passiun in the breast. T99. 
Master-piece, confusion now nalh made lis 
900. 

nature's chief, is wxiting well, 606. 
Masters, noble and approved good, i45- 

of their fates, mea are men ami, 795. 
Mate, pri>per. choose not alone a, 315. 
Matin oell knells us back, e.ich. 30S. 

glow-worm shows tlie, to be near, 49& 
Matter and copy of the father, the whole. 
107. 

new life into dull. 108 

no, Berkeley said there was. 808. 

waking no such, 240. 

wrecks of. 759. 
Maturest c.mnscls, perplex and dash. 7;4, 
Maw. blessed his. 809. 
NJaxim in the schools, 't is an old, 810. 
M.axims, little hoard of. 356. 
May. first pledge of blithesome. 493. 

tlowery meads in. 103. 

I be there to see, 963. 

merry month of, 136, 480. 49a- 

of life is fallen into the sear, 794. 

of youth, 141- 

propitious, the jolly hours lead on, 49^. 

queen o' the, I m to be. 327. 

wol have no slogardic u-night, 49a> 
Maying, life went a. 108. 
Nlay-ti'mc andthe cheerful dawn. 138, 
Nlarc. mighty, but not without a plan. 793, 

niirthuil. 232. 
Mazes, wandering, lost in. 80S. 
Meadow, r.iked trie, sweet witli hay. 158. 
Meadows, brown and sear. 466. 

trim with daisies pied. 7i?5. 

unseen, odors blown from, S-.'7- 
Meads. Ilowcrv. in May. 19*. 
Meal, by minutes, the hour doth steal away, 

791- 
Mean, golden, holds fast the. 813- 
Meaner beauties of the night. 134' 
Meanest llower that blows. 759. 

floweret of the vale. 489 

of mankind, wisest brightest. Q38. I 

thing that feels, scrrow of the. e>63. 
Means, .All appliances and, to boot. 703. 

husband my. 559, 

sight of, makes ill deeds done. 815. 

to an end. life is but a, 7+3. 

whereby I live, when you do lake the. 
347. 
Measure your nund's height. 80S. 
Measured phrase, choice word and. 807. 



INDEX OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS. 



1079 



Measures, clclJKhtrul, 541. 

Lydian, 77a. 

not rnci) my iimrk, 813, 

sliorl. life iriay perfect he In, -jt^. 
Meat, I c^iimot c;il but little, 946. 

mock tlic. It ftjfils on, 207. 

mouth ami the. ilod sciulcih botli, 394. 

one man's pnisi-n is ailollicr's, 815. 
Mcccasof tlic iiiinil, '/ly. 
Mcclinnic sUivr-i wild j^rcasy aprons. 723. 
Meddles with cold iron, man tliat, 540. 
Mcde, floiircs in the, of all the, 462. 
Medecinc, miscr«ble liavc no, but hope, 347 
Medicinal i^uiii, 72^. 
Meditation, in maiden, fancy free, 836. 
Medium, cold, friendship knows no, lao. 
Meek brown eyes, mai<len with the, 104. 

nature's cveninv; connneiit, 4^i- 
Mcek-cyed inurn mother of tlcws, 490. 
Mcctin)/. lovers", journeys end in, ia2. 
Melancnoly days arc come, 466. 

grace, 306. 

jrccn and , 

cindly mood of, 735. 



BTccn and yellow, 951, 

kindly mood of, 735. 

marked him for licr own, 307. 



moping, 34''- 

most, moht mu&icali 786. 

sweetest, 315. 

waste, old Ocean's gtay and, 307. 
Mclodie that "s sweetly played in tunc, 234. 
Melodies, heard, arc bwcct, 718. 

of morn, 407. 

thousand, unheard before, 213. 
Melodious birds sink' madri^'als, 157. 

sound, eflsoons they heard, Ba^. 
McK'dye, smalc fowelcs niakcn, 6)5. 
Melrose, fair, if thou wouldst view aright, 

675. 
Melt and dispel yc spectre-doubts, 743. 

into sorrow, 451. 

O that this too too solid flesh would, 31 1. 
Melted as breath into the wind, 808. 

into lliin air, 867. 
MelliniT charity, liancl open as day for. 7.;4. 

mood, urnised In the. 735. 
Melts the mind to I'nc. pity. 772, 
Memory, bitter, of what he was. 396. 

dear son of, 906. 

fantasies throng into my, 8^o. 

fond, brink's the liyht, 318. 

graves of, wtiere sleep the joys, 416. 

erecn, keep his, 021. 

holds a seat, while. 801. 

leaves of. 801, 

pluck from, a rooted sorrow, 347. 

silent shore of. 801. 

sinner of his. made such a, 797. 

table of my, 801. 

wore my lieart away, 348, 
Wen. all honorable. 875 

and women merely players, 711- 

April when they woo. 214. 

arc men and master-, of their fates, 7'>i. 

below and saints above, 203. 

best of. was a sufferer, 723, 

betray, find too late that, 336. 

busy companies of, 719. 

busy hum of. 786. 

rhecrful ways of. 407. 

children of a lar^'cr growth. 107. 

cradled into poetry by wrong, wretched, 
806. 

crowd of common, death calls ye to, 308, 

December wlien they wed, 214. 

entirely great, rule of, 805. 

evil that, do lives after them, 775. 

fair women and brave, 511. 

fraud of, was ever so, 271. 

friendless bodies of unburied, 495, 

happy breed of, 603. 

have all these resources, 796 

have lost their reason. 876. 

hearts of oak are our, 6^i. 

just, by whom impartial laws, 910. 

like butterflies. 121. 

hves of great, all remind us, 770. 

look like gods, it makes. 723. 

may come and men may go, 446. 

may rise on stepping-stones, 399. 

measures ni>t. 813. 

must work and women must weep, 621. 

my brothers men the workers. 35'>. 

nobleness that lies in other, 796 

not two strong, the weight could raise, 
794 

of other mmds. 632. 

of wit an<l social eloquence, 940. 

of wit. now and then your, 8ia 

old, if you ilo love. 794- 

oniy flisagrce, 815. 

ordinary, above tnc rcich of, 807. 

propose, why don't the, ax4- 

pursue as, 867. 

roll of common, 8t3. 

schemes o' mice and, gang aft a-gley,468. 

tliocic of. 4x5- 



Men, such, arc dangerous. 733. 

such, as live in these degenerate days, 
794. 

talk only to conceal the mind, 804. 

tastes of. so variouit are the, 814, 

think all, mortal but theinsclves, 748. 

thoughts of, (ire widened. 257. 

tide Ml the alTaim of. 802. 

tongues of dying, enforce attention, 310. 

twelve honest, liavc decided the cause, 
810. 

uidniried, friendless bodies of. 495. 

ways of. far from gay cities and tnc, 489. 

ways of God to, Justify the. 395. 

were deceivers ever, 138, 271, 

who their duties know, 599- 

whose heads grow beneath their shoul- 
ders, 145, 
Men's, names, airy tongues that syllable, 830. 

oliice to sjiealc patience, 't is all, 345. 
Mend, lacks time to, 348. 
Mended, soonest, little said is, 803, 
Mends their morals, 107. 
Menial, pampered, drove mc from the door, 

340- 
Mentions hell to ears pohte, never, 396. 
Mcrcie, who will not, unto others show, 

398- 
Mercury, a st.ition like the herald, 731, 

can rise, Venus sets ere, 805. 

fcathere<I, 671. 
Mercy, how can he, ever hope to have, 398. 

I to others show, show to nic, 370. 

is above this sceptred sway, 798. 

lovelier tliin^;s have, shown, 367. 

of ."» rude stre;un. 321. 

quality of, is not strained, 798. 

seasons Justice. 798. 

shut the gates of, on mankind, 306. 

sweet, is nobility's true badge, 798, 

tempirr justiii: with, 394. 
Meridian, full, ol my glory, 346. 
Merit, .li-,tiii;;iiisln'd, displays. 812. 

heav(.'ii by making earth a hell, 39$. 

raised to th.it bad eminence, by, 72a. 

sense of your great, 121. 

S|>uriis that p.itient, takes, 297. 

wins ihe soul, -^^3 
Merit's pniud pri-..-minenc'..', 940. 
Merits 't l.iults tn s-.au. tarcli;ss thcir,688. 

seek his. to disi.l'ise, 307. 
Mermaid, things done at the, 939. 
Merry as a marriage bell, 511. 

as the day is long. 724. 

month of May, 136, 480, 493. 

therefore let s be. 816. 

when I hear swccl music, never, 775. 
Message of despair, waft home the. 397. 
Messes, country, herbs and other, 785. 
Met. never, or never parted, 233. 
Metal more attractive, here's, 133. 

sonorous, blowing martial sounds, 725. 
Mctaphysic wit can ny, high as, 808. 
Mete'T tlag of England, C»29, 

hlioiie like a. 72^. 
Method in man's wickedness. 395 
ML-ihiisak-ms may die in hoary youth, 794. 
Metri- ballad-mongers, 807. 
Metlk-, man of, ^rasp it like a, 800. 
Mew, (.ry, be a kitten and, 807. 
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms, 711. 
Mice, best-laid schemes o', and men. 468. 

iVshL-rmen appear like. 445, 

like little, slcile in ;inil out. 311. 
Mi.id.iy siin.l.eiiii;liti-.| w.ilksuii.|,_-rlhe. 796. 
Middh- ..^,o^ '■" his |...Mvis,.^e, '7,,, 

(k-ad vast .Hid, o) the night. 491. 

honeyetl, of the night, 177. 
Midnight air, cool cisterns of the. 416. 

brought on the hour friendliest to sleep, 
816. 

dances and the public show, 313. 

dead of, is the noon of thought. 431. 

dreary, once upon a. 852. 

her woes at, rise, 495. 

in his guarded tent, the Turk at, 582. 

mournful, hours, 348. 

oil. hath tod o'er jjooks consumed the, 
804. 

revels, faery elves whose. 491. 

stars of. shall be dear, 103. 
Midwife, fairies'. 836. 

Mien, vice is a monster of so frightful, 395. 
Might, aboon his, honest man 's, 341. 
Mightiest in the mightiest, 't is. 708. 
Mighty contests rise from trivial tntngs, 815. 

dead, high converse with the. 806. 

ills done by woman. 795. 

maze but not without a plan, 793. 

minds of old. 806. 

shrine of the, can it be, 581. 
Mild declivity of hill, 720. 
Mildness, ethereal, come gentle Spring, 493. 
Milk and water, mirth and innocence. zoB. 

of human kin<lness, 724. 

of Paradise, 834. 



Milk-white rose, «5. 

Milky baldric of tlic skies, 592. 

way, solar walk or, 399. 
Mill, willowy brook that turns a, 335. 
Miller, there was a jolly, once, 559. 
Milliner, purfumid like .a. 506. 
Millions ..( j.iiiiiLil r 1, .itiircs, 868. 

yet r., . , ■!, 1,1 . .,1, 583. 

Mills ol I . ■ I I ■ '. I ■ I ■.^ly. 747, 

Milton, fii'), <i..l ,,,,,,,], which, held, 602. 

some mute inglurious. liere may rest, 
306. 
Mincing poetry, 807. 
Mind all unincorporate, 794. 

alone keeps men free, 1x1, 

built his. of such a height, 808. 

conceal the. men talk only to, 804. 

dagger of the, 882. 

diseased, minister to a. 347. 

diseased of its own beauty, 867. 

farewell the tranquil, 723, 

fits and stirs of his, 241. 

frugal, she had a. 959. 

glance of the. 739. 

glimmer on my. cease every joy to, 800k 

goes against the, of man. 310. 

IS its own place. 790. 

is the standard of the man, 808. 

last infirmity of noble, 8t3. 

leafless desert of the, 816. 

love is a torment of the. 136, 

love looks not with the eyes but the. 303 

magic of the. power of thought the, 8i«. 

man's unconquerable, 922. 

Meccis of the, 917. 

nobler in the. to suffer, 297. 

philosophic, years that bring the, 759. 

pity melts trie, to love, 772. 

poet's, vex not thou the, S06. 

ouite vacant a mind distressed, 815, 

snore where, survives, 794. 

smooth and steadfast, 141. 

spirit of a single, 812. 

suspicion always haunts the guilty, 735. 

that builds for aye, 489. 

think and ne'er disclose her. 723. 

to mind, heart to lieart and, 203. 

torture of the, 311, 

unincorporate. 794. 

untutored, poor Indian whose. 399, 

vacant, laugh that spoke the, (jSS. 

virtue the, matures, 794. 
Mind's eye Horatio, in my, 867. 

height, measure by the shade. 808. 
Mindc forbids to crave, my, 729. 

to me a kingdom is, 739. 
Minds, balm of Tiurt, 883. 

cement of two, frientlship, iso. 

different, to different objects, 814. 

marriage of true, 20B. 

men of other, 632. 

mighty, of old. 806. 

powers which our, impress, 397- 
Mine and yours. Providence secures both^ 
394- 

bc the breezy hill, 493-, 

is yours and yours is mine, what 's, 205. 

't was, 't is his, 811. 
Mines to swell that boundless charity. 797, 
Minister, one fair spirit for my, soO. 

patient must, to himself. 347- 

thou flaming. 900. 

to a mind diseased, 347, 
Ministering angel, 509. 
Ministers of love, 162. 
Minor, brisk, pants for twenty-one, 793. 

warped, holds its, 804. 
Minstrel, feathered, of the sky, 210. 

raptures, 563. 
Minutes by meal the hour doth steal away, 
791. 

what damntd, tells he o'er, 207. 
Mirror, holds its warped, to a gaping agc» 
804. 

the admired, 938. 

thou glorious,where the Almighty's f< jrm, 
607. 

wit's false, 911. 
Mirth and fun grew fast and furious. 848. 

and innocence, milk and water, 108. 

how, can into folly glide, 395. 

limit of becoming, 724. 

of its December. 108. 

sympathetic, 139. 
Miscnici, Satan finds some, still for idle 

hands. 108. 
Misdated on their flattering tombs, 794. 
Miserable have no other medicine but hope, 
347- 

what more, than discontent. 799. 
Miseries bound in shallows and in. 803. 
Misery, gave to, all he had — a tear, 307. 

happiness and final, 8-'^ 

MlTsh- ■' 



kills himself to avoid, 900. 

round engirt with, 799. 

sharp, had worn him to the bones. 80^ 



1080 



INDEX OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS. 



Misery, steeped to the lips in. 345. 
Misfortune made the throne her seat, 347 
Misfortunes book, sour, 345. 
Misjiivinys. blank, 75y. 
Misiiko ine not for my complexion, 722 
Misquote, just enoug'li of learning to, S04. 
Miss the mark they aim at, 671. 
Mist dispelled when a woman appears. 7 j^, 
mortal, 540. 
obscures, no. 491. 
resembles the rain, 313. 
Miitjok reverse of wron^ for right, 8o3. 
JMistrcss of herself thouijh China fall, 231. 
Mistre-is' eyebrows, ballad made to his, -11. 
Misty mountain-tops, jocund day stands tip- 
toe on the, 490. 
Mixed, the company is, 814. 
Mixture, mortal, of earth's mould, 726. 
Mi\tiinj,. li.ippy. of more happy days, io3 
Miiiii i.f doves in immemorial ehns, 493. 
Ml n Icfensive to a house, 6oj, 
Mjcli tiie mi:;at it feeds on, 207. 
Alijckery of woe, bear about the, 312. 

unreal, hence, 868. 
Mocks the tear it forced to flow, 899. 
Model of the barren earth, small, 310. 
Moderate thy transports. =o^. 
Modern instances, wise saWi ami. 711. 
"Modes of faith, let zealots li.;^ht for. 397. 
Modest pride and sweet reluctant ajnorous 
delay, 711. 
stillness and humility, 503, 
Modesty, bounds of. 733. 
Molten graven hammered and rolled, 8>2. 
Moment, awful, joined to great issues, si) 
enterprises of great pith and, 297. 
give to God each, as it flies, 794. 
Moment's ornamsnt, a, 128, 
Momentary bliss bestow, 108. 
Moments, make an eternity of, 241. 

make the year. 815. 
Monarch hears with ravished ears, 771. 
of all I survey, I am, 73S 
of mountains, Mont Blanc. 493 
throned, mercy becomes the, 798. 
Money, get, still, 801, 

so much, as 't will bring, 803. 
Mongrel puppy whelp and hound, 949 
Monster, green-eyed, jealousy the, 207. 
many-neaded, of the pit, 804, 
many-headed, thing, 8ij 
of so frightful mien, vice is a, 395. 
Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains. 

49)- 
Month, a little. 20;. 
leafy, of June, 858. 
merry, of^May. 136, 4'in, 493, 
Monum-'nt, patience on a, smiling at grief, 

wicnoiit a tomb, 905. 
Monuments, our bruised arjui hungup for, 

541. 
Mojd. kindly, of melancholy, 725 

mrlting. unused to the, 725, 

that blessed, 404. 

when pleasant thoughts bring sad. 4^2. 
tMoody Madness laughing wild, 899, 
-Moon had filled her horn, 491. 

hunters*, hangs white and calm, 719. 

inconstant, swear not by the, 2U7. 

's an arrant thief. 485. 

looks on many brooks, 491. 

one: revolving, in the course of, 907. 

pale-faced, pluck honor from the, 670. 

resolves the, into salt tears. 48^, 

rising in clouded majesty, 413, 

sits arbitress, 491, 

sl.ir close by the, 412, 

sweet regent of the sky. 4)r. 

swelling tides obey the. 716. 

takes up the wondrous tale, 376. 

the ample. 867. 

this fair, solemn bird and, 49:, 

to behold the wandering, ;8;. 

walk by. 206, 
Moonbeams play, above their ranks the. 451 
Moonlight sleeps upon this b;ink, how sweet 
the. 775 

visit it by the pale, 675;. 
Moons, some nine, wasted, 145, 
M'jonstruck madness, 346. 
Moping melancholy, 346, 
Moral evjl and of good, 494. 

on the time, motley fo .1 thus, Sio. 
pomt a, or adorn a tale. 909 
Moralist, teach the rustic, to die, 306. 
Moralize my song, 670. 
Morals hold whicli Milton held, 6d2. 

mends their, 107. 
Mordre howe that thou biwrcycst. alway, 900 

wol out. 900. 
More ii ineant than meets the ear, 787. 

smoke than tire, 558. 

than kia and less tnan kind, 724, 

than painting can express, 134. 

the marble wastes, statue grows, 809 



Mure thmgs in heaven and earth, 8uS. 
Morn, blushing like the. :^'>g. 

breath of, when she ascends, 206. 

breath of, sweet is the, 400. 

eyelids of the, 490. 

fair laughs the, iq8. 

greets tne dappled, 671. 

her rosy steps advancing, 490. 30 

incense-breathing, breezy call of, 305 

joy like a summer's, 49J. 

lights that do mislead itie, :;(>3. 

meek-eyed, mother of dews. 490. 

melodies of, 407. 

melt into, vapors, 490. 

not waking till she smgs, 49.';. 

of toil, 530. 

sorrow returned with the dawning of. 
529. 

sweet a])proach of even or, 407. 

to noon he fell, from. 72> 

trumpet to the. the cock that is the, 868. 

with rosy hand unbarred, 4'X) 
Morning came forth with pilgrim step&, 490. 

dew. ch.iste as, 106. 

face, the days disasters in his, 688, 

how plea-sant in thy. Life, 108. 

hle's, inarch, 529, 

like the spirit of a youth, 490- 

never, wore to evening, 345. 

shows the day. childhood'the man as, 
107. 

sons of the, brightest and b.st of, 397. 

star, hast thou a charm to stay the, 376 
Morning's beain is glancing, when, 539 
Morrow, give not a windy night a rainy, 271. 

no part of their good. 193. 

say good-night tiil it be, -.;4r 
Mortal coil, shuffled off this, 297. 

crisis to portend, with, 309. 

fr.inie, quit O quit this, 365. 

instruments, 900. 

mixture of earth's mould, 726. 

murders, twenty, 868. 

raised a. to the skies, 772. 

think all men, but themselves. 748. 

why should the spirit of, be proud, 303. 
Mortal's share, beyond a, 813. 
Mortality, eye that kept watch o'er man's, 

. 759 

s too weak to bear them long, 347. 
Mortality's strong hand, 309. 
iMnrials, not in. to command success, 802. 
Murlify a wit, 804. 

Mo-tts, I'an to, lends his pagan horn, 396. 
Moii-tovcred bucket that hung in the well, 

l'>3. 

Most ignorant of what most assured, 813. 

musical most melancholy, 786, 

unkindest cut of all, 876 
Motes, gay, that people the sunbeams, 786. 
Mother. Dacian. 681, 

dear Jerusalem. 35S, 

lone, of dead empires, 720. 

man before your, strive to be a, 107. 

meets on high the babe she lost, 30J. 

mighty, did unveil her awful face, 939. 

of arts and eloquence, 719, 

of dews, meek-eyed morn, 490, 

so loving to my, 206. 

tongue, Chatham's language his, 575- 

who'd give her booby for another, 232. 
Mother's, all the, from top to toe, 107. 

lap, drop into thy. 310. 
Mothers' sons, bloody crowns of, 541. 
Mother-wit and nature. 939. 
Moths, maidens like, caught by glare, 215. 
Moiion and a spirit, 404 

in his, like an angel sings, 775. 

of a liidden fire, 39S. 
Motions looks and eyes, a third interprets, 
811. 

of his spirit are dull as night, 776. 
Motives, those precious. 232. 
Motley fool thus moral on the time, Sio. 

's the only wear. Sio. 
Motto, this be our, In God is our trust. 593. 
Mould and frame of hand, 107. 

fragile, of that, 309. 

mortal mixture of earth's, 726. 

Nature lost the, 127. 

of form, 722, 

rose above the, 323. 
Mouldering urn, when shall spring visit the, 

737- 
Moulds another's weakness to its will, 812, 
Mount Abora, singintrof, 834. 

I, I lly, 365. 
Mountain, he is gone on the, 283. 

height, freedom from her, 502 

land of the, and the flood, "575. 

like the dew on the, 283. 

small sands the, 815. 

the melancholy, yawns, 720. 
Mountains, all the craggy, 157. 

t Greenland's icy, 395. 

high, arc a feeling, 493, 



Mountains look on Marathon, 580 

monarch of, Mont Blanc the, 493, 
Mountain-tops, misty, jocund day stands tip- 
toe on the, 490. 
Mountain-waves, her march is er the, 629. 
Mounting in hot haste, 512. 
Mourn, countless thousands, 332. 

for a year, grieve for an hour, 312. 
lacks time to, lacks time to mend, 348. 
without a witness, truly mourn that, 312. 
Mourned the loved the lost, 271. 
Mourner, only constant, o'er the dead, 312. 
Mournful midnight hours, 348. 
immbers, tell nic not in, 769. 
rustling in the dark. 801. 
Mournings for the dead, 272. 
Mourns, nothing dies but something, 414. 
the dead who lives as they desire, 312. 
Mouse, not even a, 96. 
Mouth and the meal, God givelh both, 394, 
nay an' thou 'It, I "11 rant as welt as tnou, 

804. 
ope his, for rhetoric, 804. 
Momh-honor breath, 794. 
Mouths of wisest censure, 811. 
Mi'vc easiest who learned to dance. 806. 
Moving accidents by flood and field, 145. 
MM\iii^.-clelicate, more, 8oi. | 

MulIi I want that most would have, 729. 
may be said on both sides, 803. 
more than httle is by much too, 815. ' 
receives but nothmg gives, 797. 
Muddy ill-seeming thick bereft of beauty, 
725. 
vesture of decay, 775. 
Multitude of friends, happiness not in, 120. 
Multitudinous seas incarnadine, 883. 
Murder, a brother's, 900, 
ez fer war I call it, 541. 
most sacrilegious, 900. 
one, made a villain millions a hero, 541. 
one to destroy is. 541. 
thousands takes a specious name, to, 

541. 
will speak tliough it have no tongue, 
900, 
Murderers, gods fix revengeful eyes on, 

900, 
Murders, twenty mortal, on their crowns. 
Murmur, current that with gentle, glides, 

493- 
Murmuring fled, 490. 

of innumerable bees, 493. 
Murnmrs, hollow, died away in, 773. 
hollow, my ears rang with, 184- 
mutual, 581. 
Muse, chaste, employed her heaven-taught 
lyre, 806. 
heaven-bred happy, divinest Spenser, 

938- 
of fire that would ascend, 867. 
Music arose with its voluptuous swell, 511. 
be the food of love, play on if, 808. 
beat his, out, 397. 
breathing from her face, 133. 
creep in our ears, 775. 
dwells lingering and wandering on, 

where, 809. 
hath charms to soothe a savage, 809, 
heavenly maid was young, when, 773. 
in its roar, 607. 

man that hath no, in himself, 776. • 

never merry when I hear sweet, 773. 
night shall be filled with. 816. 
no, in a voice that is still the same, 271. 
no, in the nightingale, 134 
of humanity, still sad, 404. 
passed in, out of sight, 255. 
sea-maid's, 836. 

soul of, shed through Tara's halls, 57;. 
soul of, slumbers in the shell, 213. 
sphere-descended maid, 774. 
vibrates in the memory, 776. 
with the enamelled stones, makes, 493. 
Music's golden tongue, 176. 
^Iuslcal in its immensities, 726. 
most, most melancholy, 786. 
Musician, nightingale no better, than the 

wren, 496- 
Musing in solitude, 867. 

on companions gone, 248. 
Muskets kick their owners over, 671. 
Musk-roses, sweet, and eglantine, 495. 
Mute inglorious Milton, some, 306. 

insensate things, 103. 
Mutiny, move the stones of Rome to rise in, 

877. 
Mutual murmurs. 581. 
Myriad, codeless. of precedent, 810. 
Alyriads of daisies, 495- 

of rivulets hurrying through, 403. 
Mysteries do lie beyond thy oiist. 274, 
Mysterious cement of the soul, 120. 
Mystery, burden of the^4o4. 

of mysteries, 397. 
Mystical lore, 574. 



INDEX OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS. 



1081 



Naji, stiuflliiig, forced jj.iit of ,i. '■■'■.<-. 

N.iiad or a Grace. 721. 

Nail, care adds a, to our coHin. 798. 

lo tlie mast her holy lla^, 620. 
Naked beautic:^, more admire thy, Si ;. 
every day he clad, the, 948. 
iiaiurc, 807. 

new-born child, on parents' knees, 78. 
thoujjli locked up tii ^teel, 790. 
to mine enemies. 322. 
villany. clothe my, jjo. 
NakcdnebS, not in utter. 75S. 
Name, a loual lK)bitatt<>ii and a, 867. 

at which the world i^rcw paL-, 909. 

be Georijc. if his. Sis. 

Ben Adiiem's, led all the re-.t, 350. 769. 

blot on his. in battle no, 574. 

cannot conceive nor, tlic-e, yoo. 

ftlches from me my Ljood, Su. 

frailty thy, is woman, 207. 

friendship hut .1, what is, 139. 

friendship is but a. like love. 121. 

friend->!ii].S, speak to thee in, 121. 

eood, in man or woman. S:i. 

hideous, hfU trembled at the, 310, 

his tools, teach nothing but to, S04. 

inconstancy is but a, 271. 

in print, pleasant lo see one's, 805. 

is great in mouths of wisest censure, thy. 
811. 

is Norval, my. 650. 

king's, is a tower of strengfth, 722. 

magic of a. Sio. 

mark the marble with his, 797. 

of action, lose the, 297. 

of Faith's defender, 002. 

of gentleman, granii old. 797. 

O Amos Cottie, Phajbus ! what a, 94c. 

proud his, 563, 

ravished with the whistling of a. 939. 

to every hx6d star, give a. Sc'j, 

well spelt, happy he wJiose, 811. 

what a wounded, shall live behind me, 
811. 

whispers of thy, not a wind but. 24.3. 
Named thee but to praise thee, none, v37- 
Nameless charms, 133. 

unremembered acts, 404. 
Names, bright, will hallow song, 512. 

few immortal, not born to die. 583. 

new-made honor dutli forget men's, 812. 

tongues that syllable nieri's. 83a 

whom love of God had blessed, 350, 769. 
Nap, taken out Itis, in lap of Thclis, 490. 
Narrow neck of land, lo : on a, 793. 
Nation boils, scum that rises upmost when 
the, 813. 

courts o' th", 395. 
Nation's eyes, read their history in a. 306. 
Nations, make enemies of, 594. 

the Niobe of. 720- 

world doth but two. bear, 796. 
Native charm, one, 689, 

grace sat fair-proportioned, 795. 

here and to the manner born, ii^. 

hue of resolution is sicklied o'er, 297. 

land, my own my, 50^ 

land good-night, my. 238. 

shore fades o er the waters blue, 238. 

wiles impart, every good his. frfj. 

wood-notes wild, warbled his, 786. 
Naturahsts observe a flea has fleas. 496. 
Nature, accuse not, she hath done her part, 
795- 

appalled shakes off her firmness, 310, 

binding, fast in fate, 370. 

cannot miss, art may err but. 489. 

compunctious visitings of, 900. 

course of, is the art of God, 489. 

cunning'st pattern of excelling, 900. 

death which, never made, 310, 

debt to. "s quickly paid, 309. 

dissembling, cheated of feature by. 938, 

extremes in, 799. 

eye of, lived m the, 480. 

force of. could no further go, 937. 

formed but one such man, 940. 

formed by, and refined by art, 209. 

fortress built by, 603. 

from her seat gave signs of woe. 899. 

gave a second groan, 899. 

m hir corages, priketh Iiim. 605. 

in silence bid the world repose, 490. 

is but art, all, 489. 

is subiiued to what it works in, 722, 

't is their, to. 108. 

looks through, up to nature's God, 80S. 

lord ol.ill the workes of, 489. 

lost the mould, 127. 

made thee to leniptT man, 133. 

mother«wit and, 939, 

naked, 807. 

never did betray, 404. 

never lends the smallest scruple. 797. 

of an insurrection, 900. 

one touch of, 811. 



Nature, paint like, who can, 480. 
pa^>sing through, to eternity, 295. 
puyiny, signs the last release, 804. 
prodigality of, framed in the, 721. 
sink in years, 759. 
slower, art of, 939. 
solid ground of, 489. 
swe.irs the lovely dears, 191. 
sweet look that, wears, 490. 
the young read, 494. 
tone of languid, restore the, 493. 
true wH is. 10 ailvanlage dressed, 807. 
unassuming commonplace of, 495. 
vicar of ihe almightie Lord. 4^- 
voice of, cries e'en from the tomb, 306. 
whose body. Is and God the soul, 489. 

yet do I fear thy, 724- 
Nature's chief masterpiece is writing well, 
8ci6. 

end of language, 804. 

God, looks through nature up to, 808. 

fresh from, hand, 603- 

hean beats strong amid the hills, 4.^9. 

heart in tune, we with, 243. 

human, daily food, 128. 

human, highest dower, 539. 

kindly law, 107. 

meek, child. 940. 

raeek. evening comment, 491. 

own creating, noble of, 812. 

own sweet and cunning hand, 122. 

rob me of free, grace, 4S9. 

second course, 883. 

soft nurse, gentle sleep. 762. 

teachings, list to, 307- 

tired, sweet restorer sleep, 816. 

walks, eye, 807. 

works, universal blank of, 407- 
\aught a Irirte, think, S15, 

but grief and pain, 4^. 

cared this body for wind or weather, 1^.3. 

falling into, inward horror of, 759. 

in this life sweet, 315. 

is everything. 81:^. 
Naughty world, shines a good deed in a, 797. 
Navies are stranded, 518. 
Ne^era's hair, tangles of. 203. 
Nearer clearer deadlier than before, 511. 

mv God to thee, 373. 
Neat but not finical, 142. 

still to be, 713. 
Neat-handed Phillis, 785. 
Necessary cat, a harmless, 496. 
Necessite. maken vertue of, 802. 
Necessity, from a beautiful, God is love, 394. 

the tyrant's plea. 6or. 

turns his, to glorious gain, 539. 
Neck of land, lo I on a narrow, 793. 

that made that white robe wan, 721, 
Necks, trust our. to gripe of noose, 793 
Nectarean juice. 770. 
Need of a remoter charm. 404. 

deserted at his utmost, 771. 

of blessing, I had most, 883. 
Needle and thread, every drop hinders. 33S. 

true as the, to the pole, 796. 
Needless Alexandrine ends the song, 806. 
Needy hollow-eyed sharp-looking wretch, 

722. 
Neglect, such sweet, more taketh me, 713, 
Neighbor's shame, loudly publishing, 811. 
Neither rich nor rare, Sis- 
Nerve, iron, to true occasion true, 940. 
Net. all \ fish they get that cometh to, 672, 
Nettle danger, out of this, 671. 

tender-handed stroke a, 800. 
NVver ending still beginning. 772. 

loved a tree or (lower, 2^1. 

loved sae kindly, 233. 

met or never parted, 233. 

mind the pain, 107. 

nursed a dear gazelle. 251, 

shake thy gory locks at me, 863. 

to hope again, falls, 321. 

too late for delight, 205. 

wedding ever wooing, 144. 
Never-failing friends are they. 806. 
Nevermore, quoth ihe-raven. 833. 
New, fantastic If too, or old, 806. 
New-born babe, soft as sinews of, 399. 

gawds, 811. 
Newest kind of ways, oldest sins the, 

395- 
New-made honor doth forget names, 812. 
News, a tailor's, 722. 

first bringer of unwelcome, 346. 
New-spangled ore, 490. 
Nice admirer, 723. 

conduct of a clouded cane, 799. 

makes, of no vile hold, 79S. 

sharp quillets of the law, 810. 

tenets, some, 39S. 
Nicotia dearer to the muse than grapes, 

238. 

Night, amorous bird of, 209, 
at sunset blackest, 720. 



Night, atheist half believes a God by, 4^1. 

azure robe of. 592. 

before Christmas, 'twas the. 96. 

chtjck of. beauty hangs on the. 721, 

colliL-d. brief as theliglitiimg in the, 250 

congenial with the. 491. 

danger's troubled, 629. 

darkens the streets, when the, 558. 

dead vast and middle of the, 4yi- 

dull as, motions of his spirit are. 776. 

dun, has veiled the solemn view, 940. 

empty, nor sink those stars in, 114. 

empty-vaulted, 726. 

endless, closed nis eyes in, 939, 

eternal, sung of Chaos and, 407- 

fore-spent, of sorrow, 193, 

give not a windy, a rainy morrow, z'l. 

has a thousand eyes, 135 

honeyed middle of the, 177. 

how beautiful is. 491. 

infant crying in Ihe, 592. 

is the time to weep. 416. 

joint-laborer with the day, 530- 

lovely as a Lapland, 311. 

meaner beauties of the, 124. 

of cloudless climes and starry skies. 1301 

of the grave, day dawn on the. 737. 

of waking, 5^0. 

oft in the stilly. 318. 

O pilot 't is a fearful. 632, 

peaceful, from busy day ihe, 555. 

reign of Chans and old, 725. 

sable goddess, 491- 

say not Gooil, 304, 

shades of. were lalling fast, 777. 

shades of, with him fled the, 490. 

shall be filled with music. 816. 

silent, with this her solemn bird, 206. 491. 

silver hning on the. turn forth. 491. 

soft stillness and the. 775. 

sound of revelry by, 511. 

stars of, innumerable as the, 492. 

steal a few hours from the, 205. 

the black bat, has flown. 152. 

the watchful, 309. 

the world in love with, 134. 

trailing garments of the, 416. 

train of. last in the, 363. 

uncreated, wide womb of. 704. 

voices of the, 273. 

wiriys of. darkness falls frnm the, 490. 

witching time of, now is the very. 491. 

wrongs of, light will rep.iy the, 489. 
Night's black arch, keystane o', 84S. 

candles are burnt out, 490, 
Nightingale no better a musician than the 
wren, 4^. 

no music in the, 134 . 

ravished, 495. 

that warblest at eve, 406. 

wakeful, 413. 
Nightingale's high note, 491. 

song in the grove, 737. 
Nightly pitch my moving tent, 389, 

to the listening earth, 376. 
Nights a'e wholesome, 397. 

dews of summer, 491. 

profit of their shining 804. 

short as are the, 315 

twenty watchful weary teilious, S04. 
Nile, worms of, outvenoms all the, 811. 
Nimble-footed madcap Prince <>f Wales, ■j<,^ 
Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself, the 
air, 720. 

capers, in a lady's chamber. 541. 
Niobe, like, all tears, 723. 

of nations, 720. 
Nipping and an eager air, 491, 
No, maids in mudesty say, 796. 

matter, Berkeley said there was, S08. 

more of that, 348. 

sorrow in thy song no winter in thy 
year, 472. 
Nobility, betwixt the wind and his, 506. 

old. leave us still our. 812 
Nobility's true badge, sweet mercy is, 798. 
Noble and approved good masters, 144. 

by heritage, 142. 

of nature s own creating. 812- 

to be good, t is only. 268. 
Nobleness that lies in other men. 796. 
Nobler in the mind to sulfer, whether 'tis, 
297. 

loves and nobler cares. 42. 
Noblest passions to inspire, 806. 

work of God, an honest man's the, 780, 
Nobody cares for me, I care for nobody anci 

816, 
Nod, aff'ects to, .\ssumes the god, 771. 

ready with every, to tumole, 732. 
Nods and becks ana wreathed smiles, 7S5. 
Noise and giddiness, nothing but, 108. 

eternal, and scolding, 215. 

like, of a hidden brook, 858. 

of conflict, dire was the, 500. 

of folly, bird that shun st the, 7S6, 



i08'i 



IMOKX OK rOKTlCAL QUOTAllONS. 



Nkxisir t\ir»s up luv i^^l<'tv hrnin. S^n. 

t. , \>l, -#i. 

Nob. . --N^ 

41. V 
bm inc IvAv* \|«fserws the ftur. ^71. 

c.\a '.'* ,- ti. ;'.,■ , in !ln:iV, wh<«n. ^g; 

.0. Sjft. 

t' t4j. 



tX-ik. hanicsl-tiiHtvrcvi. hew dv^wn ai\^1 felt 



Niv.v 



• ^'>me. 4:^ 



■■. 4.H- 



N>x'->c. ^i^^^: .■•11 i\,-. k^ u- fci'i'v' '■'. -J,:. 
Ni>rmAn Nvsnt Minj^e fAim is nuwe Ihan. 

N\vth«nt stAT, cvMv\t:»ut a* the, 49*^ 
Korth'winvt's brcAth. rtoww* wither at the. 
*.^ 

Nt.wv.li, my ttAinr K 6to. 

Nos^. . " -' i liK fvce hU own, v4 

li' : m p^U^M^^ oKlso, 49^ 

^ . ^ i ,iw.\> ,vi;.*it>. fv-O. 

■«.■. ; ^HMivli on st\lr. 'n. 

Nt>sv- - .iS they lie <*sieei\ S.sv 

N«c, .1. 9A>. 



Note- 

d. 

tr 

Noil 

I', 
I- 



.. lie. jSi* 
., I ;-.\- >w'eet. 77,;, 
: ikm. A.'S. 

he e)-* ^,^f *Uy. 41A 
^> the >trii\^, 7S>7. 
Mevl. 7*x 

\ .\nd the i.vcAi\. 6si, 



.1' .; uu'uiixs. 4U- 

ci; V ; .«X &.^S. 

h.*lt' SO sweet as love's >vunjt vlre«iit, 

1' . h .i temi'le. IJ^.^ 

-.-> \v*il. T^M. 

>> .'.Sj^Ast. rAs- 

. .ind. 90SI. 



^. ;> will lind. &XV 

t.> iUL, ; ,,,^ i..:.> tvr tooUte, Tftj. 
tiur I'lit iieaxtrn. «M. 
N«hmi;nev< tir>t ^Urit vUy ivi", joj. 



N\xi: 



No> . 

Nuiii 



.INt. -I?. 



ti^ uiuberscviie. 107. 

Ill .- '-Ux-e svHMut ;*.■»»• 

m.>;i:v.iii:. i.-.i ■.vK'n^»tia, :**. 

s.tnciiQe\l the cittitr. 541. 

there's hick in t.HKt, na>'s RvvyO'Mon*. 

'■ ^ ,'.":^w- 

01" cvc:> \iUUv-, .>jo. 

of jvuinj (icMtr^ hoi^. !^v\ 
Nurse's ontis. mewhn^ aiul pukinc in the. 

?n, 
Ntirsevi A t,ie*r Korelle, 1 i\e\-er. ki. 
Nursui^ her wtAth to keep it vnuiit, S47. 
Nymph ■. \Ai.\.l . r ,» I'tA.-.- ».-i. 



O fw a Kxl^. <5ftv 

Oib. beiul .-k kttottr^l. ^xi. 

bni\-« i^vt. A s^^w tv> the. 454. 



M.U>, 


4'i4 


iiow. 


?*4- 


-'v'4. 





v^Imi>:)11^, >.>. t.ut tu- iw'er oMj^jwl, 910. 
t.>Mi\ u«i. Atu\s for. 70J, 

mfre. 711. 

r.tjutx- of, :*n. 

MK'WN th.tt f.v. t.*ke their birth. 44i> 
i.M*livt.^is, Anii.l.'tc. sweet. 34?. 
v^lvvvxue ttiivc^ >.«hiV); on.'jNis. 
v>Uvv-urvIy fc;\x*.l, v\mtvi« to W. ^>i. 
OhscrvAiue. rnorv honorevi in the breach 

(h^n tho. Si4. 
OKserv.-tti.M>. ^T;\min(st with. A.\st, 

>>Mith .tn*t. v'oiiivM (here. *.\l. 
Obs\Tv..»tt*M\s whix,-h v'ursolves »v nMke. 70* 
(.ibyerx-erN oK-^er^tst of .ill. r<tA 
OK-.tin.ite -mesUiwinxjfs i^l" >cuse .imi \Hitw.irvl 

things, 7<>i. 
vVvMsion, v\»*ir.n;e nuninteth wltlt. ^1. 

ne^MO-L.t tin '.lu-m. 5^». 

I,. ■ ■■■. I. «i5. 

i,Vvi;: ■'. is not rest. Sis- 

".Vcf w-iiust the Kind, ftyj. 

il.ii'». ;l;iH'.-■,v■^Uv^l ^.«-esv< jotv 

»)eep .iiul lUrfc bUie. cv7- 

lire p Nvs\«m of the. bnrie\1 in the, 541. 

vircviil. uuiluUtini; wnU-, 6,*i. 

1 h.*\-e lo\-e\i thee. txt?. 

hfv-S v,\st. *li\^i>«eiy «e naiI ^m. tsjj, 

iviiiuevi ship v>iH\n a (viintevl. li^. 

JnW o\t I,hu\ .mil, ,?». 

swell, ambitions, 6,41. 

the |SMil, &,;-". 

to the ti\-er ol his thiHights, 7^5. 

M,\\o, A lite on the. <'*\ 
»Vo.»iis S'-*y •*"'' mel.*iK'h*»ly w.is*c, :io7, 

iiiAne. UiJ his h.ini.1 ninm the, 919. 
vXl.l mnnbers. there "s luck in, i47- 
tXlvK uoiiij; l"eArt\il. s^j. 
vVlt.'iis. comiv*MNv*ns are. she nnd, 705. 

in w-.'.'M^;i ' "T w.nilvl a >Aii\t pr\»vv«e. 77* 
».\!oi.-- ' ■ , 

St. ,,*.>& 

^" ;ne» 4i>J' 

t.Mot- on n\eavlow"s A'7 

. t . , stitl. s^S. 

ti:: y shniK ^^Si- 

OiTxV;; . 
.Shi, 

Ortenv-e, dire. fK^n miiKMxMts c»«ses *'$. 
fi»rj;ave the, hnssevi the offender. 006k 
is rank it sinells tv^ hea\-«n, 9>.v\ 

Ottender, hiigse\l the. l\yrs»\'e the offeiwe. 

JOC*. 

OrtViuli'ii;, h.Mvl .»i;,I frvwt ^\f twy. 145. 

> ■ l" .- lUiVst, Sll, 

t'llV: : the. be. 7^15. 

OiRv . . ik i^-uience, 345. 



t-. 



Ortiv.: 

Orti.. - 
Oifsp; 



:-! the. «OJ!. 

' ,!sh an^Tej. 
.'id jTAise. 59>. 

Ust. ^S7. 



Oft IX 

i;t : ;iS, 

th.Hij^'i: lu' .-r ^.' well exj^nwwevl. St.". 
Oil. midnt^ht. toil o'er bot'iks consumcvl the. 

Old .icv <.-r^Tt.- i-.l Krii*ht. ?tt. 

-u ' >nld acconuwiy, 794, 

\ 



-.'rds trusted, tai. 

■^hipof the. «*i. 
• '\.it can 8in, .;m. 

■ --pised. 546. 



t'Vd not\ihty, Umx-* us sXiW our, Sitf. 

ivtkeu Wukel which hunjj in the wcU, 
uw 

Tinw is still a ftyiivj;. 754. 

wine todnnk, lis. 

»\«»M to tntrn, iiS, 
v'>ldt-n lime, ^tU i^' the, uftt. 
vM.leNt sin-, the newest wa>-*. commit. »\, 
v^n SiAuU'v, on. ^tvv 

«uh the ii.\n\"\-. 5H 

\-e brAVv- who rush to j-lon-, !;i> 
Once in vioiibi is ,m\. v to U- ics>»l\'nl. wy. 

mx'iv vinto the brx-.xch devir tVtcnvls, J»> 

»iiv>n .1 midnight dreAiy. $53. 
».>1K- .is ihe so,\. cv>{s 

tVII >«v^..]., ^.sj. 

tV>i soum- .ind one for rhyme, di.'7. 

lovi,>l but. Mi:ht\t to nwtny. i^u. 

liunS tHvsvMi Aiunher's lueAt, SiJ, 

mi*re unCottunAte. _i,yu 

sin.dl heAd c\m)d cArry mII he knew. 6$$. 

t\\ ihiiVj; c»Mist,int ne\Tr, uS, j-?!. 

txHich cif iviture nukes the wx'tld kia, 
Sii. 
OnwArxl j»iui dil\»;enily slow, o^i, 

susT li^ihi. ;<c 
t'^\*c .»nd N>uon» of the se^t. ^ w. , 

0|v the purine testament *^" war, 541, 
Oi>cn AS d.i,v fw me)lin£ Charity, « hand. 

r^ 

0|>eniiu; bud u^ heawn cxwvtyeti, jo;, 

ej'endv of the niorti. 490. 
0)vmn^s. ^l>^>^s of sunny, 40J. 
Opinivw, vM' nis own, still. S.V^ 
OpnixMis. gAilden, Sw. 

siitfin, alw.iys in the w-r\M\|», qoq, 
Opivvs^t in.ij' IvfWAre i^ thee, I'ear t the. 

OpiHvai\j; eiul them, by. at. 
^''pivvation, in, Mts ctim death. ^10. 
<>pprevo,«n. r\imor of, and deceit, yjj. 
^^l'i>rTssor"s wrv»nK, a^^. 
v^r.ulc of i.«sl. fast I'y the. 59*. 

within an empty cask. 7-^4. 
Or.»t,«r. 1 Am no, as HtmIus is, 8761. 
i>fAt\'rs, f.tnH>us. reivAii to. !4^\|, 
i.*il\ citvlin^. monthly changes in her, oo|. 

siimU, ot one iv*rticulArte*r, 004. 
v'*r\let in \ .xnely wt s^f, S15, 

Is he.iven's lirJ Iaw, Si*. 
Orxlcrs. pleases! the .\lmi(;hty's. tv> i>erfonn, 

^^rdiiMiy men. aNnr the reach of. So;. 

t>te. new-siv\n^ie\l, «.\ 

v*t>::in of her hie, exvry K'»ve>>", Soi. 

s|«<.ik with ini.\>i nnr.icuKHis, goOk. 
».>ieni l>e,u«s, spre^»vls his. 4gi\ 

(vatI, a ilo*ible t\»w of. ist 

|vrArl, sow^'d the earth with. 490. 

|»eArlx nt rAndi.\in str\ti\j;, S.'?, 
v^rikjiu-d And end. ,>)4. 

their ijreAt. prwlaim. ^to. 
lotion. liTcAt. slopnii; slowhi- K^ the west. 054, 
l^rnui>, wc,»Uh of. and of Iml, rw. 
v^rn.inient. a moment's, rj*i. 

fi'rvi^n ,iid of. -gs. 

of be.uitv is Mispes't. Ti-A 
virnamcHtN Thide with, want v^art. !^7. 
t>tph.ins ot the heart, t-jo, 
\,Viih.ins'. wr\Mige\l. tears, «l4i* 
t">Tpheu.s bid the svhiI ot". sTi^. 787. 
l■'l:^,•,l. \, ii.>vs- th.-ir dwlttne, i*;. 
■- i^'^ne. 7*9. 

l^V-eS. .939. 

- see us. 4!te* 

.( tiiiu' .111.1 li u'-!!. ;ft>S. 
Outrat^xus fv'^rture. slinjTS and arroKirs of. 

i97. 
l>ulsa\le, A sw,ishinc ai\ii a n>.irtiaL 7*^ 

her. foiine»i svMAir. a.'^ 

wh,»t A jivvsiUy. fiilsehvHxl hath. 7^. 
0»«\-c*;«yn-s ,»ll the w-vMnvs of Nile. Sii. 
Outwarxl thiit|;s. t^uestionimri of setvseand, 

0»-er hut owt d.ik. Sei>. 

thehirs ,01.1 f..r .iw.iv. 405 
Ox-er- " vVKllune. 495. 

i.»\er. 

Over\> 

vVerinfon;i.s tlu- ^v:;.;; aikI the (Kit. Ai?. 

0^-eisiMvn\ent ot delight. >». 

Overthn^w-. liixj^cr wit ,1 purjHvsed. «7t. 

Over-viv»lent iw ovcr-civu, sv\ ocv. 

Owest deiirest thiit^ he. throw away ttW^ 



v"»»le! \ 

Ott1\ v^> 

Owm i 

(.^wnci^ - ■ their, over, 671. 

Otenl'oi-V .1 vKiV. t'l.r w-astif, OoCw 
OvHps antl the r^vlding: viiilet, *i^. 

iK^d. and the crown iu\(>enai. 495- 
0>-ster, "I was a fat, Stw 



INDEX OF I'OKTICAL QUOTATIONS. 



1083 



a'.-ii:L*, ■fc'-pii In iliUriclty, 793, 
I'.K.CD, twu, of tliL- 'flc^l '-urtli, -)io, 
I'ltnan U'irn. I'«n tf» M«v* IimkIh hit*, y/.. 

KULkled In a creed Kuiwoni, fr^- 
l'»l[-\ nmplc. rkh wltli the «|iOlU ot time, 

t'r>'n< rWivii, nil tiul Die, 793. 
I' K" lilt. till'. liiMibKlniilial, W^. 
\ ,'■■ .. f-.lio ..((our, 8i'j. 
I' 'I'l, w'll, ili;il '• writ MlUfiC'l, fi-rj. 
I'.iiii. n fttrAtiirer yet to, tu4. 

iiklii 10, gi I. 

imkI [iiij^iilOi wrInK the brow, jr^j, 

tliJtiiKC ihc pldi.t lull keep llic, 799. 

<l»i)iiic<I to ii<i In c«iiiii>jiiiy with, 539, 

f^ml |ilcn»ijn: cml In. y/j. 

tiill{l>iy. to love it In, 304. 

in-v«rr riilful 1I1C. 107. 

[iliy-lcH, l(il/or wc <lcllylit in, 559. 

jtl'iiiiirc .iflfrr, i»wr(!t fw, 771. 

mull" In, fi">w!i ;it i>)(-ntiirc, 799. 

H'. ■■■"4. 



Ill 



of I. 

[K.rt 



.'■ |ioct«, 807. 

' tICHtl, 734. 



UicrplenhureH, 145. 



..Id, 4«9- 



I'alntllk': iMi'ir 
tlic Illy, j'jfj. 
I'alnic'l hliip iij>on a painted ocean, Idle il^ n, 

I'alntcrN, poet*, like, unikilled to trace, hf/j- 
J'almlnt;. more tlun, cjin cxpreiM, 134- 
ofyiiir fciir. ilili it lli« very, VA 
I'.ilr, l<)ii't'-.t -tij'l tlj-- ti.ii-plc»t, ais- 

I'.Ii Imnif, j'jo. 



ii.,il.,w....^ .,1, 



f,jt,. 



I'.ll .• r ,, |i||.| l,|r.,-,Hf<-, ,i||d, no, 335, 

JMl.', ..ill It f-.ir j.'.t, 7V1. 

L.lVt ''f tll'i1l^,'llt, vrjj. 

f[trw thy 'tick -md (.old, 341. 
lU uii';(rc',lu.il fire, 4*/^- 
pa»ion luve«, |i1;icch wlikli, yO. 
why vj, :ind wun fond lover, -jAi- 
I'.ilf.fffrfd fii"'!!!, ftliick lionor (rom the, 670. 
I'-n M " • iKidy iiidcof, B14. 



r . 



'.bed upon a, Hyi. 

1' riin.-d to have an, 777, 



it In. K- 

.pl.li ■ 

a5- 



ilnji irie. 4f/>- 

c from tlic door. 



r.in to Monc» Icndu hit pn^an horn, >5(6. 
I'.inif ,1% (frent ux when .'i iflant dica, :3io, 

each, imbiicn with ,'i new color, 49a 

fecU no t.itiinf, ^yj. 

that rcfidMhe heart, 347. 
fanu* 'ind fury of denpalr, vxt. 

irilcnM:, every unite oerxtnin;; by, 899, 

kccneki, the wretche'l find, 8i6. 

rnore, and fear* than wars or women, 

J'. I ■ r ihoii(fh's4^5. 

(' ''> J-t,4'M- 

I' I'l ■.Iipi.crcd, 711. 

y • > V 1 ■ 1:1 after hint In vain, f/>;. 

J'.iiit. h>i LMviity-onc, when the brUk minor, 

/9T- 
I'aprr, uncertain, certain imrtlon of, 811. 
J'ar.Kbkc, blUiful, of Oou the KAtdtn wa«, 
719. 

heavenly, I4 that place, 123. 

how beautiful beyond compare, y/j. 

how (frown in, our mtorc, iv*. 

milk of, Hyt. 

niuit I ihuK leave thTff, yjt. 

of our dckpair, the unreached, fiOj. 

only blUn of, that survived, 333, 

openintf, 4Ji';, 

uifiiyhf would d'-Mroy their, inH. 

•'■-'■■* ■-■' "'■'•■:1th, 347. 
I' • Hi}. 

I' > lid that, 73?. 

' I' i( '4n be hi*. 8i3, 

I'.iriii.'.ur , ,*.-'iy mhh; to call forth, 493. 
I'.trd, bearded like the, 711. 
J'.irdon, ne'er, who have done the wronjj, 

7Vi. 
or to l>car It, lai. 
farcnt of yo«>d the« arc thy ({lorlou» 

work*, y>3 
rarenm, b^jii of, p.-iitMd into'the Hkle«, 91. 
I'arcnt*', on, kncet a ruked new-born cliild, 

78. 
I'arfiulii i>ractlK(tir. a verrcy, 800, 
l'.-irKfi church, plain as way to. 803. 
I'ariv%)ie, wyd wav hl», 697. 
P,irlianii;nt of man, 357, 
I'arl'.ii* boy, *> 't It a, lor. 
faririeccil for an Inward Viruite, yj6. 
I',irvin, forty-power, O for a, 809. 
owned hi. •.kill. 6W. 



fart, (I i>oor cold, n' tli' lilood, 89(1, 

act well your, jht. 

few ithull, whcr»; tn.'iny meet, 513. 

of belli^, liJilli a, >ii i- 

so lie iifiiyti tiU, 711. 
I'art.ike tlH' if'ile, 911. 

cd, w 
341. 
I'firthenon, Harth proudly wearn the. 7.36. 
i'lirllul, ifrow more, for ine observer' <» hake, 

7'/l- 
I'nrtlrular, eai:h, hair to fttnnd on end. jj'j. 
I'lirliiitf day, curfew lolK lliu knell of, yi't. 
diiy dleii like the dolphin, 4'/>* 

L[UChl, hpccd the, 131, 

K such nwcrt fcorrow, 341, 

way be went ill, 34H. 
I'arlition*, thin, rio llieir bound* divide, i/ry, 

thill, ^ente from thou^lit divide. Hiii. 
I'art«i ({'■■".lou%, rcmemlaTH iiic of hn, i'*7, 

if. allure thee tliink how Uacon whined, 
;j» 

tidtiu: Htupcndoitt whole, tf^j. 



one man playo many. 711' 
ny to yet free hit IiIik 
the well-iKlJiiited, 41/3. 



\iitvtU\ii to i/et free hit hinder, 4'A 



I'arys. lr.riiv.h of, <//,. 

l'u%s by III'- as ih'r IdU; wind, 797. 

into ijNtlinj«ii'-v., f.r^ 

myiMjj.ffrbctior.'ilry 1^,7. 

iiiiti-.!' b.ilwarl'.'. o( the, 719, 
I'a'.'.ai;':, -mj ' ■.■> and. to remorM;, 900. 
I'av,c, JiiaUifrr: tliee will, or dy,540. 
ruMetli fJiow, I have that within which, 393, 
I'aiMlnif fair. It iihe nr/t, 133. 

'twuK, Mran|£e, 145. 



ricli with forty iioiindn a year, OiK, 
tribute of a iiit;1i. y/>. 
f'ait^lon, firnt, woman lovet her lover In her. 



7'A 



hnunied me like n, 404- 

lic.ivirn each, fceiidt, 799, 

iq the K^lc, reiiMHi tlie card, 773. 

pla'.'-H which pale, lovct, 31*1. 

riillntf, conriuer* rcavm, 799. 

rulln;f, btrontf in death, 7^/1. 

ftlmllliave »pc-nt Its novel force, 355. 

towcrlnif, T*5- 

\ijwh with i»o much, »}A. 
I'ait«lon'H iilavc, man that '% not, ii3. 

wuywitrd birlli, 333. 
['.iHsioiialc intuition, fiiilh became a, 397. 
rassloii'i, .■im;fy, rj-.'-, nM. 

fly with life, all olli.:r, aoO, 

noblest, lo jnsjiire, '•H/i. 
I'asslvvncts, wise, y/]. 

fast, best of proptieit r>f the Future U the, 
7V3- 

Ict the dead, bury lis deatJ, 770. 

power upon the, not heaven ittclf hat, 
793. 

the Future, two elernitlct, 793. 

uiihltfhed for, v/i. 
I'ustc and cover to our l>/me«, 310. 
I'aktimc and our hap|iiriess will j^row. 805. 

of a drowsy Mimmer <lay, 70. 
I'asl'ir^, vini'- un^;r.i' loii-,, Hun}, 
I'atch iffief with provi.rb., 313. 
Cat*. he, wl upo;i a liltl-r bre.icll, «i'[. 
I'alti inoiive tfuide original and emf, 394- 

itf MiTtow and that path alone, 34^, 

jfcnury's barren, furj. 

primrote, of dalliance, Srj). 

thorny, of norrow. 313. 
f'atlile^s L;rf/ves, fiAint^tlit-hcadt and, 316. 

w'rofhi, there Is a pleasure In the. (x/j. 
I'adi-. as unto sin decoy, such. 7*/*. 

I' .id to woman's love, of all, vui. 

of t;!r,ry t<:,id but to the crave, 3/.. 
I'ati..-i.. .:, .ill men's offire to ^j» ak, >i^ 

• \ri>\i€,f ill fconic part of my w*iil, ;:<; 

(lour of^widy, 331. 

he standH wailinjf, though with, 747- 

*t is tlieM^fUl of peace, 733. 

on (t monument smlllnj; at KtM. 351 

prea^-hcth, (iod takes a te«t and, 364. 
fat lent mutt minister to himself, 347. 

-K.u,-1, ..,r;l/ tried, 345- 



• .■■M. 775: 
uili 



^uilelevs hcM, 794. 



I'l' -mIi fires the inoul of, 601, 

fa'f' r '<f {!(<; r ijii upon the r'jof, 97. 
Pattern, cunnlnjf'tt 'W excelllnif nature, <yit,. 
fau|/er, he's only a, whom nol>ody owns, 

M'- 
f au'^, must (five UH. 397, 
I'au'ien, hollow, of tlic Monn, 6)3, 

of the sfKrech, thou fill'tt the, aa^. 
I'..v- Id' Tit, richetof heaven'*, trodden ^old, 

'i' ■ :. 
J'.tv/iri,; If v;et free hit hinder parU, 49'''- 
l'i:.i' ■ iri'l health, hcavcn't iiett treasures, 

art'* of war and, 5S0. 

carry ffeniW, In thy rtjfht liand, 393 



feaci-, f.entral, tulisittlinif at the heart, 631, 

Iniltsof, ui: 

h-tlh her victorlet no IcM renowned, 909. 

iri,;|orlou!i arts of, vy). 

M , leii lliousaiid'i slays, 5^, 

^• ' p, between the etleci and It, ^1, 

lotii;, nurses ilaiiKerous huiic/rs, 539, 

Mi-ild-pale, compKxlon of Iier, 541. 

iiiake« a solitude iiiii! ealls it, 541. 

nollilnif so betome'i u man In. 303. 

I'lpintf time of, *,»«, 

nii;< ill tlie lliom.iiid yeartof, 753. 

w;iil to, lo i;alii our i>ea<,o, 311. 

hellled, j/iefe liU, iJoft. 

Wfft i.hravf o(, ia',. 

solid, Ad.im < oiild fmd lio, 333. 

Mini of, ),aii' n' e 't Utile, 733 

source and soul of inti.hu life. 541. 

thrice my, w*t» t.lalii, 4-/1. 

lo be found In this world, 'JsH- 

your valor won, enjoy the, fjrn, 
fe.ik ('. prak, from, fAV,. 

Ill iMri'-ii. hil'tit ui>ona, 805. 
f'-.il iijioii j/e.il rrdoiiMuiK all orouild, 403, 
f'.irl, b.rbarl.., i.i..l j;old, 733, 

li'ini' ii, in everv > ow%li(/» car, ftSj, 

If .ill ihclr sand were, twenty ki:as, 31$. 

ilk..- the base Indian threw a. away, 734. 

'/fl' rit, a double row of, laa. 

orient, v*wed the earlli willi,4vj, 
feurls, mornlntf, dropt In the lilyt bovmi, 
796. 

orient, at ranfwni siruiiif, 807. 

that were his eyes, 869. 
I'easant. Irclated, vjiiic, 491. 
feanfintry, bold, their country'* pride, (ASj. 
Pedigree, penniless las* wi' alanif, w^/. 
fcep of day, in Its neKl at, H/i. 
fetia-.u*. fiery, turn and wind a, 671, 
f eilu' Id slrrams, more, -gio 
I'eioj.'s Jffie, presenting Tnelies or, 787. 
I'dtiti;; of thr* pitiless storm, 494, 
J'' iiibfoke''! mother, <//;. 
I'm .tw'i ink, what mca({re profits from, 940. 

feather whence liie. was hhaped, t/^, 

Kloriou» by uiy, I 'U niale thee, 150. 

]■> mightier titan tiie sword, »»$. 

o'crinfunnitthe jjcncil and the, 867, 

toiiifuc or, of iUJ kiid words of, lyj, 
f'-naliie<,, pain* and, of Idleness, 734. 
Cetn il, o'erlnfornts the, iind the i>en, 867, 
i'etid' til bed and procrcaiit cra'Ilc, 730- 

world in bi^fness as a ttar, 4//V, 
I'endiiliitd betwixt a tmlle and tear, man 

tl.ou, 793. 
J''-iiii,:d It <l/(wn. and v I, H>i^. 
J'eniiile\-» Jasi wl' a Janif pedi(jree, »ft. 
i'':n;, 'juirks of bI>i/oiiln^, 733. 
fcnaoner on the bounties of an hour, 747. 
fcnslve poclK painful vigils keep. Hoy. 

ihouj^i a linpity phicc, l/rouj^ht front a, 

fent, here In the nouy, 3^9. 

f eiiiiry and iiiipn'.onnieiit, ajre ache, 347. 

chill, ref.rev^rd their noljlc raac 306, 
feiiury's) barren p.ilh, H/z-j. 
f<.ojji<;, all w<rlsof, H(o. 

comnioij. of tin itklcs, 134. 

that dw':)l up ill the klecplc. 714. 

til'; sunl>eams, VAy lii'/les that, 784}. 
feoplc'ri will, broa'l-based uifjii her, 63a. 
J'erched and ft^it and n'ithinj^ more, 8$a, 
I'erfe<.t whole, 4>/j. 

woin;tn nobly planned, 128. 
I'erfection, fulness of, lies in him, 33a. 

till". ri;;l>t i>ra)s« and, 4r/>. 
I'l tin tions, willi sweele, caui;iu. 904. 
i'erfume, amber fvccnt i>t oflorous, Oji. 

throw a. on the violet, 73'), 
Ivrliinit'l like a milliner. 500. 
i'erilous, dim and, way, &>8, 

edfic of l/attle when It ratted, ^>. 

stujf, cleanse the tiullc'l i/osom of that, 
347 
i'crils do environ, what, S4o. 

h'.w many, doe enloU) the riffhtcout, 

ps- 

Perjurie-;, Ii^vrr-,', Jove laUfflis at, 307, 

f- r! ■ , ' tfrrlnjf K'icf. W- 

]'■' ■'.. 

y. ion. 758. 

f' 'u.iturcst cmtnsclt, 734. 

I'' ' !"ii pure In dccdt, 397, 

, 7'4. 
)'■ - in, 14a, 

('■ r I. lied Iniofalth, 397. 

I'' ' itiuM bctcan with, 734. 

iiiinberb aii>l, 8'//. 
fit t, 311, 

fci,' - I'l --,-.:. els, purlriins the inalii... 



f-'stcred with a popinjay, *f/t. 

f ■.-stilencc »caU thai clotc the, 582. 

I'rtard. conjui^al, 315- 

I'cter nenyed lit* I^ird and cryed, 397, 

i'cter'* dome, harcJ that rounucd, 730. 



10S4 



INDEX OF rOETICAI. QUOTATIONS. 



Peter's koys >oinc love «(iorn. 5g6, 

I'etriiics tUe fcelniji. 396. 

lN;ttkoat, Icet beiKMitt her. like little mice', 

jii. 
retticoate, tempestuous. 713. 
Petty pace, croe|is in iliis, 7^. 
PhaLiiix, I'V"*''*-'- S**'- 
PI);ii)tAsiu;i or a hi•.1e^'>us dreAm. like a. 900. 
HiAiUoiu of dcli>:lu. she was a, laS. 
Philip .mil Mary 011 a shiUiiig. »S- 

inv kinji. ;s. 
Philiis. iie.it luiuied. 7S5. 
Philosopher aiul frienil, iniiilc, Qit. 
Philosophers, hot, stood bmulin^ factions. 
S08. 

sftj-uigs of, 547. 
PhiU^sophic miiul. years that bring the. 759. 
Philosophic. Aristotle and his, 090. 
Pliilusophre. al Iw that he Wiis a, O96. 
Philosophy, divine. 397. 

dreamt of in your, SoS. 

f.\lsc. v.\ii» wiisdom all and. S08. 

pT\>ud, 1 .isk not, 4i>4. 

sweets of sweet. S,\|, 

will clip an angels win^rs. 808. 
Philos^'phv's rcvcn-c an^l lio.ilth's decay. 801. 
PhiiiW. Doctoiir ot. tlicr w.i-. a. A^^. 

[fold in, is a cordial, ivv- 

speke of, and of surj^cryc, &>». 
Phucbus. bright, in hisstrcnt^h. 495. 

'|rins arise, 474- 

what a name, O .\mos Cottle, 040. 
Phtcbus' fire scarce tha^vs the icicles. 732. 

wain, hindmost wheels of, S^\ 
Phosphor, sweet, bring the *l.iv. 4ttj 
•Phrase, measured, cluwce word and, 8^7, 

soft, of peace, us- 
Phrenzy dictates. Jealousy believes what, 

Phj-sic. t.ike. pomp. *■«. 
Phj-sics ivain, the laln^r we dcli|jht in, 559. 
IHcturc. look on this, and on this, 731, 
Piciun.d urn. scatters from her. 867. 
lectures, my eyes make, when they arc shut. 



out of doors, 733. 
Piece of scripture. 396* 



Pierian springr. drink deep or taste not. 835. 
Piljfrim (rtay. l\onor comes a, 56,?. 

' step*, morning came forth with, 4v\ 
Piljlii I liaise, ovcrtaketh in his. cv-ery sedge 

he. 4-j;. 
P«larin>.ii;cN. lonffc" f''"i l<^ goon on. 695. 
Wlgrims, r^'st for weary. fiHi'nd. 794. 
I'ili'rim-shrincs, sucli jjraves .is his are, 917. 
Pillow hard, sloth tinds the down. Si&. 
Pilot, careful, of mv pnt|»cr woe. 233. 

"tisii fearful nicht. Oj^, 

that weatherctl the storm, 6?:. 
Pin. with a little, bores through. ^v< 
Pinch, one. a hungry lean-faced villain. 732. 
Pineal in th«'Ui;ht, 251. 
Pines, proud tops ot the eastern. 710. 

silent sea oi, 370. 

the uuinnuring. and the hemlocks 4S3« 

thundtT-harp of, sniote his, 4^3. 
Pinions, downy, swift on his Si6- 

treiublinj:. s»xir with. Soi. 
Pink of courtesy. 1 am the very, 734. 
links that gT»w on whose tojis. 263, 
Pinnacle. tViundcT>splin;ere^l, 719. 
Pious action we do sugar o'er tnc devil, with. 
.*» 

frauds .ind holy shifts 39*. 
Pipe but as the hnnets sing. 837. 

for fortune's linger, lu. 

glorious in a. S14. 

of h;ilf-aw.ikciiird binis, earliest, 315. 

to the spirit 'tiuics of no tone. 718. 
Pi|H's and wllistll.•^ ill his sound. 711. 
I'iping time of peace. ciS. 
I^t. nuiny-headcti monster of the, ft-vi. 
Hteous chase, big round tears in. 4A. 
lith and moment, enterprises of great, 39~- 

these aniis had se\-cn years", 145* 
Pitiful, 't was wondrovis US- 
Pity and i>erhaivs fv»r^\-c. 215. 

challeni^c double. ao4. 

pave ere charity began, 6S8. 

ne hath a tear for. ;j4. 

1 should, wcrc't not for laughing. ~^. 

love^l her that she did, 145, 

niellN the mind to Io\-e. tT>- 

straightest jvith to woman's love. 204, 

swells the tide t^f love, 704. 

th.it villainous s.%itjvctrc, sv*. 

thest'vmiwsof a iv>r old man, tid 
Place and time, tlaining Ixmnds of. 03^ 

Ch-inge the. but keep the (viin. 7^^ 

fittest, where ra,m can die. wj. 

is dgiutiod by the d\*er's deed. 81;. 

lonely, with plcisures digiutied. 493- 

of Tc-t, where to chi.K*se their. 331. 

j^nM\e thoiikjh a happy. 209. 

still rciuortd. ;S7. 

sunshine m the snady. $2& 



I'laco, there's no. like home, no, 025. 
Places which pale pav.ion loves. 310. 
Plague the uivcutor, return to, 800. 
Plagues, of all. thy wrath can send, lat. 

that h;uiut the rich. 815. 
Plain as «.iy to parish church. 803. 

blunt man that love my friend, 876. 

liviiik; and high thinking, S14. 

loveliest vill^c of tile, sweet Auburn, 
ftSo. 

nodding o'er the yellow. Autumn, 493. 

smokeii along the sounding, 403. 

struck eagle stretched upon the, 800. 

swift Caiuilla scours the. S«». 

prickmg on the, a knight was. 8*7. 
Plan, mighty iu;Lre but not without a, 793. 
I'lancts.'all the. in their turn, 376. 

then no, strike. 307. 
I'lant. a rue old. is the ivy green, 466. 

fame is no. 813. 
i'Luits. aromatic, bestow no fragrance, 548. 

suck in the earth. 404. 
Plato thou reasoneit well. 759. 
PUilo's retirement, 7ai.>, 
Play i' III' plighted clouds 869, 

is the thing. S04, 

the devil, seem a s.-iint and. 396. 

the fool because they're men of sense. 
7-*S. 

the tool, wise enough to, 798. 

the woman, thou hast forced nie to. 331, 

the woman with mine eyes 34^ 

to you. death to us, tho . 10& 
I'layevl at bo-peep, as if they, 721. 

fainihar with his hoary locks, 919. 
PLiyer. poor, that struts and frets (lis hour, 

Pla>xrs, men and women merely, 711. 
PUymatcs. I have had, 274. 
Pl.'Xj's round the head. 7S1. 

such fantastic tricks, Si3.' 
lt.iythings, i;rcai princes li.ive gre-il, S4I. 
Pica, necessity the tjTant's t>i't. 
Plead hke angels, his virtues. 900 
Ple.isiint in thy morning, how. loS, 

thought, we meet tliee like a. 493. 

to see one's name in print, &J5. 

to think on, 134. 
I'Ie.ise. the certainty to, that cliflrm, atx 
Ple;vsci.l to the last he crops the Ilowcry food. 
497- 

with a rattle, tickled with a straw. 107. 
Pleasing dreadful thought, litemity thou, 
75* 

dreams and slumbers light, 8t6. 

heaviness Sio. 

lascivious of a lute. 541. 

less, when possessed. 793. 

shade, .di. loS. 
Pleasure alter pain, sweet is. 771. 

at the helm. >'»uth on the prow, ic8. 

blend our. or our pride. 663. 

end in p;iin, 736. 

felt in home. 2J2. 

friend of, wisdom's aid. 774. 

frown ;\t. smile in (win, 7>J9, 

heels of. grief treads upon the, 214. 

in poetic LViins J*^*' 

in the patliless woods, 007. 

hnle, in the house, J43. 

live in, when 1 Uve to thee, 794. 

of the game. 730, 

praise, all his .^4. 

reason's whole. S15. 

she was bent, though on, 959. 

shock of. 7TO. 

sweetest, chords that vibrate, 204. 

well-suring of, 107. 
Pleasure-aome. a stately. 854. 
Pleasures all the. prove, 157. 

*mid. and palaces tto. »3$. 

are like poppies spread, 84S. 

digniiievl. a lonely place with. 493, 

doubling his, -r*. 

of the present ttay. seixe the. 794. 

soothed his soul to, 77-j. 

these preitv, might ine move. 158. 
Pledge, itrst. of blithestime May. 495. 

haint never signed no, 558. 

of day. sure. ;ft3. 
Plenty, scatter, o'er a smiling land. 306. 
Flighted clouds play 'i the. So* 
PK^vidcrs continual, small have \von. 834. 
Plot, this blessed. C03. 
Ploughm;in homew.mi plods his weary way. 

Ploughshare, stem rum s 463. 

unwilling. 495- 
Plover, muskets aimed at duck or. 671. 
Pluck bright honor fn^m the niiv*n, 670. 

frv>m mcmorv a rvx>lc\l sorrow, 347. 

the amarantfiine tlowerof laith. 398. 

this flower s.Afcty. 671- 

up drowntd honor by the locks 670. 
Plumes in the gay wind dancing, f^ 
PlungM in. accoutrevt as I was. 670. 



Pluto's - lufk. drew iron tears down, 7S7. 
I'oeiu round and ^lertcct iis a star. S^j, 
I'ocsy, sacred and soul-moving, 800. 
I'oet in a golden clime was born, dnj. 

hmatic the lover and the. 800. 

seems bcsiite the man. 57. 

this is truth the, sings 355. 
Poet's brain, madness wliich should possess 
*■». 93S- 

car. tiattery ne'er lost on. 8n, 

eye in a tine frctuy rolling. 733. 

mind, vex not thou the. 806. 

pell turns them to shai)cs. 867. 

sylvan grave. 940. 
Poetic child, meet nurse for a. 575. 

fields encompass me, 8)7. 

nook. O for a seat in some, 489. 

(Mills, olcasure in. S06. 
Poetry, call the llowcrs its. 494. 

cradled into, by wrong. Sod 

luincing. S07. 

of e.irtli is never dead, 485. 

tender charm of. and love. 495. 
Poets like painters unskilled to trace, 89f^ 

lose h,df the praise. S06. 

pensive, ixtinful vigils keep, S07, 

three, in three distant .igcs. 907. 

who on earth h.ive made us heirs, 42. 

youthful, dream, 7^. 

youtliful, fancy when they love, lu- 
Point .1 moral or adorn a tale. *.>ij- 

higlicsT. of all uiy greatness, 346. 

his slow unmoving liuger. 735, 

of his owni (.incy tails on the. 31a. 

on thet. you yourself may jcdge. 558. 

swiin to yonacr. 670. 
Points, kindred, of heaven and of home. 

Poison, one man s, another's meat, 815. 

sweet, of misusid wine. 558- 
Poisoned chalice, ingredients of our, 800. 
Poisoning of a d.irt. like the. 795. 
Poke, drew a di.d from his. 701. 
i*ole so tall to reach the. were 1, 80S. 

to pole, beloved from, 857. 

to pole, spread the tr\uh trom, J76. 

true as the needle to the. 79d 
Poli<:y, any cause of. turn him to, 723, 
Pom(\ contingencies of, S67. 

Sive lettered, to teeth of time. 915. 
ck absurd, let the candied tongue, tix. 

of dress, beyond the, 795. 

of jwwcr, 30tv. 

pride, .ind circumstance of war, 733. 

sepulchred in sucli, 906. 

take ph>-sic. Sea. 

v.un. and glory of this world, 321. 
IVinpey's statua, even .it the base of. 876. 
Pomps, leave, to those who need 'cm. 60a. 
Ponderous woe. 312, 

Pot>ls, smooth dark, of deei>er thought. 33iv 
Poor a thing is man, how. SoS. 

but honest, my friends were. 790. 

cold |K\rt o Ih blood. 899. 

farthings to the. Sov 

have cried, Ca,'sar Kith wept when the; 
S7S. 

intirm weak and despised old man. 346. 

laws grind the. S09. 

nuke no new friends. 292, 

m.ikes me. indee»1. 811. 

none so. to do him reverence. 876. 

old man. sorrows of a. 340- 

simple ann.ils of the. 306, 

though, the ottering be. 795« 

without thee we arc. 394- 
Popinjay, i»cstcrcd with a. 506, 
Poppies picisurcs .ire like, spread, 848. 
Porcelain, precious, of human clay. 309. 
Porcupiuc. quills upon the •'-^{ful. 723. 
Port of rest from troublous toyle, 311. 

pride in their. C03- 
Portal we cill death, whose. 273. 
Ponance in my travels' history. 145. 
Portcullises of e.irs. 315. 
l\irtcnd success in lo\-e, 496. 
Portentous sight, 395. 
Portion, certain, ot uncertain |viper. 8tk. 

of th.it around me. I occome. 4-;3- 

wales .1, with 'adicious care. 3^^. 
Ports commerce opens .ill her. 541. 
Posies a thousand fracrant. 157, 
i\>sitive persisting foots 798. 
Possessed, tirst I have, 207. 

less pleasing' when, 793. 
Possessing, too dear for my, 23* 
Possession, beauty fadeth oy too much. 19* 

virtue that, would not show us. &^>i. 
Post of honor is a private si.it!oii, 001. 

o'er land and ocean. 36c>. 
Postcrirw obligation to. 795. 

wh.Vt has done for us, 79?. 
Posting winds, breath rides on the, Sii. 
Pvisv ot a ring, ao?. 
Potent gTa^-e and reverend signiors most, 

us- 



INUICX OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS. 



1085 



I'ouncel-box 'Iwkt hU fiiiKcr ami thtimli, 

506. 
Poverty, (lUtrcHt hy. no more, fr>3. 

iioncKl, is Uktc for. ^41. 

huritfcr and ilirt, 314, 337. 

llKhtcri li.ilf thy. 331. 

fttecpcd iiic in, to Uic very lljrt, 7^$. 
I'ovcrty » iinct>n<|iicr,il>lc bar, 8i3. 
I'owiicr dry, tru'.l (lo<l and keep your, 60a. 
Power, cvcr-fltirini;, 6ji. 

fortune's, not now In, 347. 

forry-pnr^on, (> for .1, ftjg. 

Cioti'h <lcnr, loviny. 807, 

of cTiiCc the nwt:ic of ;i riniiif, 810. 

of tlioujjht the iiin^'it of tlic mind, 810, 

[>onip oi, 300, 

relentless, 345. 

Ihxit (.w.iys the lirca^it. 809. 

to ch.irni, itor witch holli, 397. 

w.-i<l !ionic, Ihc ^iftic ifie U!», 486. 
Powers rcKoivtd, frame of hi>, 808. 

tliat he, C03. 

that will work fir thee, ^J7. 

upon the p-'isl. not heaven Itself has, 792. 

which our miiuK iniprcu, 397. 
I'racllcc taiiKht. mk h .is. 798. 
J'raciNcd riifseltood under saintly shew, 396 

wlhit lie |irc,iclieil, Bog. 
Practisour, vcrrey p.-irli^ht, 809. 
Praise, all his pIcaMirc, yj^. 

antlicm vwclls the note of, 106. 

bliiiiie love kisses tears anu bInilc^, 128. 

<lxtnn with faint, 910. 

cn(nii;li to fill the ;iinbiti'>ii, <;7S. 

hearts that once beat liieh for. 577. 

love of, howc'er t<ini:'_Mied. Hm. 

maid whom there were none l<j, 104. 

named thee but to, nonf,937. 

no small, to be dijipraised, 811 

or infamy, le.ivi.- that to f.itc, 8^3. 

poclii lose half the, B'A. 

riL'ht, and true perfection, 496. 

seller's, to ihiiiijs of sale. 810. 

ftcveralprui-se on several viarls. 721. 

take the 5tront;est. on trust. 810. 

the Frenchniiin. i;--). 

undeserved ^c.indal in distfulsc, 81 1. 
f'r.tisinif makes the remembrance dear, 3ts. 

the rose th;it all arc. 005. 
J'ratc of my whereabouts, the very iitoncs, 

883. 
Pray, remained to, came to scoff, 688. 

the lord my soul to keep. 107. 
Prayer, a^ony of. by thine. 358* 

all his business, 399. 

imperfect ofhces of, and praiiic, 399, 

is the soul's sincere dcnirc, 398. 

silent, her eyes are homes 01, 399. 

swears a, or two, 836. 
Prayelh best who lovctii bc-t. 85o, 
l'reachc<l as never Mirc to preach a^nln, 395. 

practiM:<l what he, 809. 
Prcacheth patience. God takes a text and, 

Precedent, codeless myria<l of. 810. 

from, 10 precedent. 1S03. 
Precincts, warm, of the cheerful day, 306. 
Precious diadem stole. 813. 

Jewel in his head, wears a, 348. 

»ccinj; to the eye, adds a, 3-^3. 
Pre-eminence, merit'ii proud, 940. 
Pretfnant hini;cs of the knee, crook the, iti. 
Prent it, faith he'll, 805. 
Prentice ban' she tried on man, 191. 
Preparation, dreadful note of, 540. 
Prepare for rhyme. 8or>. 
Presence, fell, of the Deity, 491. 

lord of thy. 34O. 
Prc^cn^ i;ood or ill the Joy or curse, 800. 

in desires, lhou(;h alment, 248. 
Prcienlmenl, counterfeit. 721. 
PrCM not a falUn^ ni:in loo far. 345. 
Prcst oughtc ensampic for to ylvc, 609. 
Presume not God to scan. 792. 
Pretty Fanny's way, call it only, 134. 

in amber to observe. 815. 

to walk with, 134. 
Prey, eveninir. exiJects his, 108. 

lord of all thin^^s yet a, to all. 79* 

to dumb fori;el?tilnesi a. 306. 

to h.ist'niiii; dls a. 687. 
Price for knowledge, too hich the, 911. 

of many a crime untoluTdoz. 
Prick the sides of my intent. 798. 
Prickinff on the plaine, a gentle knight was, 

8m. 
Pride, blend our pleasure or our, 663. 

fame ambition to (ill up his heart, 796. 

fell with my fortunes. 347. 

hl^h-blown, broke under mc, 331. 

In their port. 603. 

like 'in ca(;te, 799. 

modest, 711. 

nevcr-failini^' vice of fools, 799. 

of former days, 577, 

pomp and circuinstAncc of war, 733. 



I'ride, rank, and haughtiness of soul, 79). 

reasoning, our error lies in, 799. 

stands tn his, alone, 454. 

tall vampire's artificial 633. 

that a|>es humility, 396, 949. 

that liiks the iliisl, 910. 
IVimal duties shine aloft like starn, 308, 

eldest curse a brother's murder. 900. 
Prime, virtues of a tcnip'ratc, 794. 
I'rimeval, forest, this is the, 453. 
I'rimrobe, a yellow, was to Itim, 495. 

by a river's brim, 495. 

p.ith of d.illi.iiicc, ft-y). 

peeps beneath the thorn, 690. 

rathe, tluit forsaken dies, 4r;4. 
Primroses, pale, that die unmarrted, 495. 
Prince can make a belled knight, 341. 

duty sublect owes the, 315, 
Princes and lords may llourisn, 687. 

and lords the breath of kings, 38>'>. 

death of, the heavens blaze forth the, 

finu few real friends, women like, 70.^- 

have great playthings. 541. 

sweet as))ccl of, 331 

were privileged to kill, 541, 
Princes' favors, 111. in tli.il hangs on, 331. 
Principles oflciier (.h.iiiged thiui shirt, 347. 

with times, 8i4' 
Print be little, although the, 107. 

pleasant lo see one's name In. 805. 
Prison, palace and a, on each hand, 720. 

stone walUdonoi a, make, 147. 
Prison. house, secrets of my, 725. 
Priv.itc man. ambition of a, 575. 

ends, the d<)g to gain his, 949. 

station, post of honor is a. On. 

what, griefs they have I know not, H76, 
Prize not to the worth what we have, 801, 

o' death in battle, gret, 539. 
Probability, keep, in view, 803. 
Proceed ad tnjinitiitn, and so, 496, 
Proceedings, subseijuent, interested him no 

more, 988. 
Process of the suns, 257. 

such was the, 145. 
Proclaims by many a grace, 793. 
I'r..( r.i'.tiii.itioii i , ill' Ihief of time, 748. 

l-t-'iir-',', IM il,,. |,„,|.. ..f hrll, VJ7. 
lTH.||^..,liiy <,i h.iKu. , rr.iTiie<l III the. 71.-I. 
I'rotl'jrL-r lowAtw- Ay, wouhl luive the, 7f/j. 
Profit, no, grows where no pleasure, 804. 

of their sinning nights, 8'j4. 
Profits, what meagre, (rom pen and ink. ijy>- 
Progress, golden, in the cxst, 8i6. 
Progressive virtue and approving heaven, 

314. 

Prologue or the posy of a ring. S07. 
Promethean fire, sparkle still the right, 133. 

heat, 900. 
Promiscuously applied, hands, 8i4- 
Promise, broke no, served no private end, 
1 30. 

keep the word of, to our car, 345. 

of celestial worth, there buds the, 398. 
Promised, I was, on a time, 938, 
Promises, fails most oft where most it, 801. 
Proofs of holy writ, confirmations strong as, 

307. 
Prop that doth sustain my house, 347. 
Proper study of mankUiu is man, 790. 

stuff, O, 868. 

time to marry, 215. 
Prophetic r.iy, tints to-morrow with, 134. 

strain, 787. 
Prophets of the Future is the Past, best of, 
793, 

perverts the, purloins the nsalms, 397. 
Proportion, fair, curtailed of tnis, 938. 
Proportions, eloquent, 736. 

Just beauties see in small, 739, 
Propose, why don't the men, 214. 
Prose or rhyme, unatteinpted yet in, 947. 
Prospect, every, pleases, 395. 

of his soul, eye and, fioi. 
Prosiiecls brii'Iitening to the last, 687. 

(listant, please us, 801. 

shining, rise, 807. 
Prosper, treason dmh never. 813. 
Protest, lady doth, too much, 307, ' 
Proteus rising from the sea, 403, 
Proud, ever u\\t and never, 733. 

his name, 563. 

num's Contumely. 297. 

of parts. 798. 

phiioso|>hy, I ask not, 494- 

science never taught his soul to stray, 
399- 

setter-up .ind puller-down of kings. 938. 

why should the spirit of mortal be, 307. 

world good-by. I 'm going home, 744. 



Proud-i)ie<l April, 49a, 
Prove false again prov 

I'rovcd by the ends of being to have been, 
797; 



gain proved true before, S-^j. 



true before prove false again, 809. 



Proverbs, patch grief with, 31a. 
Proves by thumping on your back, lai. 
Provirlcnce, assert eternal, 395. 

foreknowle<lge will and fTite, 808- 

God's, seeming e.trangcd, 335. 

secures both mine anu yours, 394. 

their guide, 331. 
Prow, youth on the, pleasure at the helm. 

Prudence, some dispen<te with, 798. 

Prunella, lenlheror, 781. 

Psalms, purloins the, perverts the prophets 

and, 397- 
Public haunt, our life exempt from, 489. 

speak in, on the stage, 107 
Publish right or wrong, 1 "11, B06. 
Publishing loudly our neighbor's sliame, 811. 
Pucb., thou hltle tricksy, 93. 
i'lidding. added, 803. 
f'ulti-o and reckless libertine, 809, 
I'uking, mewling and, in the nurse's arms, 

711. 
Puller-d<iwn of kings, setter-up -md, 938. 
i'uiiished most who most obey, 204. 
Pure, grow, by being purely .shineil upon, 

120. 
Pure-eyed Faith, 830. 
i'urity of grace, 133, 
Purloins iTic psalms, perverts the prophets, 

397- 
Purple all the ground with (lowers, .\-j\- 

and gold, gleaming hi, 501. 

light of love, 205. 

testament of bleeding war, 541. 

with love's wound. 836, 
Purjjose, flighty, is never o'eriook, 797. 

infirm of, 883. 

one increasing, runs through the ages, 
257. 

shake my fell, 900. 
Purposes, airy, execute their, 803, 
I'urpureal gleams, fields invested with, 399, 
I'urse, who steals my, steals tr.ish, Hji. 
I'urses, others', be more fat, KiO. 
Pursue as men, conceive in boyhoofl and, 867. 

the triumph, 911. 
Pursues the vast alone, 814. 
Push u& from our stools, 868. 
I'uts on his pretty looks, 107. 
I'uzzles the will, 397. 
Pygmies are pygmies still, 398. 
Pygmy-body, fretted the, to decay, 908. 
F'yramid star-y-poiiitiiig, f>o6, 
I'yr.iiiiids are pyramids in vales, 398, 

virtue alone outbuilds the, 396. 
Pyrrhic dance, 581. 

Quaint and curious volume, 8$^- 

enamclled eyes, 494- 
Quality of mercy is not strained, 798. 

true-fixed and resting. 493. 

8uantum o' the sin, 1 waive the, 396. 
uarrel. beware of entrance to a, 540. 

Just, thrice anneal that hath hi>, 796. 

sudden and quick in, 711. 
Quarrels, best advantages of others', 809. 
(Quarries rocks and hilLs, 145. 
Quarry-slave, scourged to his dungeon, 308. 
Quean, flaunting extr.ivagant, 131- 
Queen, apparent, 413- 

Bess, image of good. 802. 

Mab hath been with you, 836. 

o' the May, 327. 

of the world and child of the skies, 588. 
Question, dreadful, asked that, 794. 

hurried, of despair, 309. 

that is the, to be or not tn be, 397. 
Questionings, obst:n.Ue, of sense and out- 

warcTthings, 759. 
Quickness, too much, ever lo be taught, 8^j4. 
Quiel to quick bosoms is a hell, 912. 

what may, us in a death so noble, 794. 
Quietness, give me worshijj and, 541. 

of thought, 707, 
f itiif tiis make with a bare bodkin, 297. 
'Jiiill. !>; nf tlie law. nice sharp. 8ia 
I tiiiil , upon the fretful porcupine, 735. 

• niiijiF^sscnce, wit's dec|), 938 

' *u\\<\ itid cranks and wanton wiles, 785. 
' i.Miiiii; lo the y..iing-cycd clicrubims, 775* 
'hijrl . 'jf bla;:oning pens. 733. 

• '-lut ilii, mortal frame, 365. 

Quiver's choice, devil hath not In his, 204. 
Quote, grow iminorlal as they, 804. 

Race, a simple, 8ri. 

fori^et the human, 206. 

following Spring supplies another, 793. 

generous, lives to build not boast a, 81X 

rear my dusky, 257. 
Rack, leave not a, behind. 867. 

of a too easy chair. 734. 

of this lout'Ii world, 346. 

the value, 801. 
Rage, impatiently doth, being stopped, ^93. 

license and wanton, 539. 



ilK^O 



INDKX OV rOKTU'Al. (^n'OTATIONS. 



R»jr», luv liko »«w iti ItMiwl tum«tl tft^ 



R*ii', . w. *i\' 

til wliiU't wliru the iliMU.tl, 4pH, 

hlllii.-.u »-, I,i,tios, wUivxp U(j;h| cyr\ j<|B. 

It i.iin.iti .stiv .liv. ^-^t. 

miv( Ivs.'lilMt-y \\\\\ tilt. 

(VUtOI v»r lllf. upon ttiO UHvftOrt 

Miu\tit»o .\iul, .\t itiutr. l^H< 
xuitvlititr t'\i|Ki\v> ittc milt, iii^<tt 

\\w tKliAtv tMilli \i\»ks 111' the, 494, 
RaIu)»(»\v. rt»M rtiuvthi't hue hh|*» the. ?J^. 

»,-*vlnt\ .v| th.-, \l\v m thf . Stsj, 

t»«tlu'sUvvmM>llilV. (U. 
Rrtlno in %W niw H\«» csaiiIi 10 vkio, 4AJ. 
KtiUvil « iu»vn«Uo lilt' sVic\ "J. 
K.tm, MttiW'whiU'. oil II ^i,(v<.v Kuik. 4i><l> 
K.»iiils»»I shAki's liix lutu.K'sl nwn.\ 4jc». 
KAiiuuirV. nil. rtHirtv Ul i»ruli.\ (v,»* 
KaihIoiu. vU,\U rtt. w»t, .Vi, 

»lniiv^ -tt. otloui I'l'Arts, »»», 

KiiU|;o Milti liiimlN- Im.mxIh lonii'iit. !*-. 
K.»n»;uxi; I'-' •'■kf'S'"' ^ ■»■*-<" '^ >|'iHt. ytvj, 
Kitltk It I'lil lln' f;ni". .«> tliiims tjt. 

iiV,v oiU'Un- u. II stiiclU to Iu-.»*c». *vv 
KA»k<i «t'(tl M]\i,t<h<>iiv ^'U'J' 

K*v* loxtpU <\\\, .\-t. 

mtvllt>«^tlll^ )v|.\v (tl^ovo their. 4oi> 
K^tiil AN \wI1a\ ih<Hi. it.vv«» 1 ')1. !^v4. 
K.x|>i veni'h, jvij. 

««»1 \iitiUi; ill ihiHr c>T»» ;»6» 
KA|>(iiie »t i\'i>.'Nc, f>t 

*«» iho 1.»ii.-Iv >1u>u*. fr»;, 

t\> the »liv»»i V vol.1, SiN 
Km'tMfvs 111' niiiislTvl. »w«U IW him, 5ft*. 
RuiMHit^xHimeH rt%»me, Siv\ 
Kfti* «t\' M*UiArv xw'ov xwH-s clu*t*r, .wj. 

AN A vKi' ui f uiir. wiMt U 9>A 4<H> 

II. M ■ 

l>. 1 \. 

Krttitv 'Uit^-, ii\. 

KavIiIv iiiipoUmuto. 1,15. 

Katho ^'lm^^^•^^■ t)\.y\ rorM\kflt »ll<"«, 4^4. 

KAttle tti\ IsMU's own ihc M^^U'S .-Ml 

l^l(s»Nv-\l with .1. lO", 

w«i\ whciv im»i;Ws 5ivv 
Raw if*ite .tiul m.tU«lcM umml |h» UnU. 

R«v\-it \loHit v^ \Uti.u«M<,~ MiKHHhhv: thr. 



R«>v 




■ L 


R«v..' 




. ^^muv*;. 


K^,; 






K 

,.i,.i 







RA.YV 



vhCvl, "Of. 



R.'»*c oiu «niKM \i.kiM.^>;»vt' ihr txmhv 14f. 
R.»»\'r. vdiiv hi,r .» |svli\hr\l, keen, S\A ' 
KAr»vrx »'iiv^l. vip .»iul tlowH. 1^54. 
KAmr* of oUh^h^v Sn. 
K<s*vh ol" o»\ti(mT\ »He»\, Atw-e th«, A'*. 
Rcul. he th.-»t niH'. uuyv, nti* 



RmI ^ 
Realiis 



KfAlV 

KeAi C- 
ReAn< . 

ReAio: 



I.-, here. ,s\v>. 



' !. til 4. 



»ti*\-\mr»rol. a 1hs*m th«l wAntf. r**h 
»«*vt ^M. .*IU1 rt*'« .■!" vx>*lU SU- 



Mtl. I«& 



RenM^n lh« c«rvl. I<ni )K(m1o» U the ifnte, yNW. 

why, Iheii* uol toJ si?, 

WA«i*e .•n>l'e^^I tho I'lttir. iiwtke ihe, r.'4, 

wohM tlosiviu. love inn hw\w wKvio, (.w*. 
Reiivou's euiiij:. -.('itt". 4fV 

whole (JoiiMiiv, «ij, 
ReitNoiietl Inch. {^>S. 
Keivsoiu-vt wvll, rirtto thou. Tja 
Rei^^^>l^* «lu wo vmlle i\\\\\ nIi;!!, *\x 
Ke^eiM^.. miKli,l>u( iii'iliiivt; i;'>v^, >ir. 
Ktvo^M V .-t .»lo«lv si'iiil. :,•^, 
Ki^k \\u lo.l.. lu.vv \o» boilei. ■^J(^ 
Kcsl.li-.> hl'iimie, piirlWl iiuil. 14^ 
Ke\ Woiiliii^ O vUMiy. tf4C> 
Rev W^ norhtii own ivvie, A.v>. 
Revlinevl, M^hliii* he, »t|(v 
Rfv'xvllevtion, I'oiivt, )>ivmiU» them Iv> vlow, 

Ivxv. 
Revs»rvl. weep tvsA'tv) tvhtKh IxvuK-e It hi, °t95. 
Revvirvlevi lime, lrt\t syllrtMe o(Vn» 
Re\-oi>|s .lortr of n>*nN|Hvif< |Vi»>t, ,:^ 

ttlviAl (oiivl, wipe A\v,\v all. »ik\l. 
Kevl an » i\»Ne IN she, Sj4. 

velevlwl rvVN|i, ..vj, 

m«Vhv»; the t;iven-- one. &S:;^, 

Te\l iWNe, nv,v l"^** * hWe a, i)14. 
Revie, rev^. the, nwy >-\>ii li<tlei, ;v(v, 

reek* «ot hiN ovvn, a-v 

ve tent It, I, !\\*. 
Kp%hwvN, i'ivn\, (uhlH H|v. 14S. 
Reeil, love tnnes the shrphcrvl\ ixvd. 
Kennes hi'w the nuIo. (tid. 
Relation. rtMueinlviAiwe Atul. how Allievl, 

Keftevhes m Ihe Ivtectr, nATim m the >«n. 

^^ 
KelVexhment* «lr.\vi»:ht v\f CvhvI, r^\ 
Rej-eiil iif the "kv, the m^nvn mvah'I, 49t. 
Re^iTVI, «iM with .ill. ,<i5. 
Retuu, ttiitiem sv'Jlirttv, vy 

l*eitet tvs ill hcU ihAit serve in heaven, 

v*f iTiAvVi AUti oK» Nijjhi. t«j. 

o'er the hetxl, Sii 

tw, iK v%\vtth AinW'lion, yv» 
RelAievt to whvvni. 01 1'v whom befiwi. ^11. 
R»liv, vi.l. .vf a<-i\ute\l woilh, jSi. 
Keh,;ion I'lwtUuHi; hi'iisehoM Iawn 814. 

viAii.K on tiptoe III our Um), toj. 
Kehci.niv Uchl. .Itin, :*■, 
Kelivti oi vVlv.vtOMi, tM^. 
Keliu lAiit AHi»M\ni\ vlol.*\ , *ii. 
KenwiiuUi l.4>.mt.vliv .w At. 
Kenwvtmsltori M , . i!». i- ^. .vi). n^ 
RenwiHs In* v 
RenKsiics **>" . !.• Ii,-. mj 

wvwk fvjv . \ ^, %^i 

Relm■^^ '■ \-i. -..•J 

Remn nv, I d^s A^ 

I I . . . s< 

.lov . I ihAn ^^ «n 

■.u.'i I'lii'.;^ ". u I v.iniiol Imt, .SI*. 

ttuv T vv A ti.vm mv iiunioiv. Avt- 
Kenuiul-eivo l.ix>e\ .iftvi .Uwth. vle«T AS, Jl?- 

N.viu'WN vw^vun U'Y. ,*4ft. 
Keuu-i»tviii\j; hAi'ou-r iMn^is •■*^^> 
RemcmKrN me v'f Iiin t;i.t\ii>itN iniU-., w«, 
RemeiulMiOue ,uul rertx^vtion how Alh(st,9.il 

iu.ike»t!u-, ih***!, ^w 

.■I thini;> |v»n(, I vvimnvMt «IS l»^. 

lON.-m.ov itiAl ^fi^-. ♦iit- 
Keiuois.-, ,»,^\-v\ «nvl !*««.;*(;« t\\ >tvvp up 

th\ vWS 

t^rew-ell, fr« 

keen^ with 1'^vh»*1 iiet\le\l. !**>. 
Remote Irwin m.»n. tjo. 
Rettiovf, vlr.t4;> ;\t e.*v-li, a leixntheninji chain. 

Renown. cNAmjvles wf, a1) the ftth-. ,14*. 

in\eNt i»f, Sk\ 
Rent .i\tmttv the winter** .hit', mv 

K \\vrr\>w rtini her lnv^vn^e teArs, iif 

the enviivns v'avva nu\le, S*tv. 
Re(v.\\t, >weei, uml e.ttm lejHvxc. et* 
Recent At leiNnrv-, mArrivsl in h«ste. *i4, 
RepeniAn^e, ftetve » rertr> hct iitMK)' crest, 

tx> ^. . ' ;^■s 
KepoM .■ Aright. Sit. 

Rej^'v . ,»st An^l. K^. 

hu ■ 



Re^vrv-v 
Rei«tv>«> 



( A uvttte in her eye. 



Reput*i\on .heN ai ex-err wAMvt Sn. 

thv- iMi'.'Me, NeekiliiJ, *»\, 
Re>t.o\;>.^, .ltN'|\ \-e\ the tvi«in wilh MK 

KeNeu>l\oi,,-. vtith Ihwse streAnu he no, 

■• one, i*v\ 



ReNijinAtloit i^mly i^lopes the wa,v. r<l;. 

KesiNtert. know mn wliAt V ?(44 

Re>iNtle« cUHinciue. Ihivo Antlcnl whose. 

Av4- 
ReMvUnhni, nAth-e hue «f, t^j, 

MvKlier .\ruu'.i with, .\\i. 
RoMvlve i(Mtf Into .1 .lew. ih.iw luul. in. 
Resolved, moN( tn >loul'i wli.-n tK-Nt, 140,, 

ome to Ih\ oiwe in tlonbi iv, *.>> 

tv» inhi 01 iiile the Ntiite, tv>i, 
ReNpevt that makes vAlAuiity vvf >o ton£ lir<^ 

lv>o unuh, upon the w>vrUI, ft>4 
Rest, .-ilvNciue ol ov.ni-rttion is noi. Sin, 

IW wo.uv I'ilKitmstomi.l, ,V4 

fh*m tu>ul'loiis t\'\le, p.vri oi, m. 

unilt \^ te.n vllsitiiti m.in's, luv 

her soul, she 's ili\ul, j^v 

perluilHsi sptvit. :^it, 

i'lAce or, whero i«'« choo-ve their. )4i. 

WAtiloi lAkiiiL; his, Irtv like a, .mjk 
Restive sl.vtti tin.ts viown jvillovv h«r\l,|i6, 
kestlovs e*st.ivy, lir in. ^u. 
kestoivi,llie\l n.Atuie'sNweel. sleejv. 8iN 
Kestifine Aiul krpen wet thy tousle. ^,8. 
Kestx iin.l (-\isHi;ites mn tite lo lomc. K>». 
Reilretl lull. Ai-iiH s;n on a, -i.*. 

leisiiie, rtil.l to these, ;iStv. 
Retlremem, ri.vtN''s. :.>v 

rnr.vl .imet tiieii.Uhlp Iswks, 1114. 

>hoit. iin;rs vvveet retuilt. S14, 
Ketre>it, hvp li.'U-s ..f. Siw 
Ketie.Hs, l>e;uitv tlwolls m ileej*. eeft. 
RetUMi, t thou);)it ihAl she Kikle nie, 941 

rr-tiivinem ini;ev sweet. Sn, 

l»» pl.u;v>e the nueuloi, S.\v. 
Kevel, I'tilsevevv (vivsion. or he sUlI. S^v 
Keveliy, vmul of, l>v niwiil. ^ii. 
Revels umlnii;lit, tA^rv elves whose, 4^1. 

onr. now Ai-e eiulevi, 8M, 
Reveiwe, ciHuhevl with, ip6t 

fi^eil m.v, s^ 

tAi\^ii\(; fvvt, CwsAr'j. »i»tiit, jjj. 

Mnily ot. j4t.\ 

>vvcet In es(veelftUy to wvmen, loy. 
Re\■en^;eI^ll .-v os ,->» ni\ii.l,-T.n>. ^.'.l^riv, v** 
Rcv^nii, ■ ■ ^ " 



Keveiv. A 

phiK'v-'i-liv'-. ,ui,l K. .li^iv,^'. ^>. ^r>( 
Kev»>lt wlien ttinh vvo<iM set ir.-- , r\>i, 
RewAivl, (htHi);h a I.vie a sure, su. . ewls, ^tv 
KewAtvIs lortune's t-iiltcts An^i. Hi. 
KhetoiK , ope his mouth Ivvr, *,>4. 
KheUMi.-iAii's niles J^M 
Khiiu-. viwelleih hv the CA»llexl. 4<»4> 

the ri\-rr, vloih wa:Ui yvvur city (4 Cl>> 
K>jne, vi,u. 

whAt ivvwvi jihAll wAih the river. 954. 

wi.Ie .01.1 wiiikHiii;. *^^ 
Rhj'iiio ■ I ' .'!>!. itt. 

epi. 



re«3i»*u txvr my, ^W 

the niiUKr is ol verses, ft.^, 

thvvse thAt write in. !k>:. 

turn v>'ei some ivlle. Sir- 

nuAttemptevl vet in prvw* w, ^j. 
RiM»oii, cive me Init wlwt this. KvmM. iij. 
Rilvs vvf ileAth. eivAte a soul mulei the, !?«. 
Rivh .Aiivi iHH>i niAkes .\ll the hivtiuy iaJT, j^fL 

AUil i,-»re the jjems she note, r.-i, 

ftvm very wAUt »vl' weAlth. j5* 

in hAvini; such «,ie»el. n^.' 

men rtile the Uw. Se**. 

neither, n^vr r«re, Sif. 

not t;AUtly, fa, 

sxmtethinj;. Anil Mrdune, Sp^ 

temi^ts hv m.Akinfi, not pv'tvr. Av^, 

the t^e^\Mue sweet the (vleAsure, *tt, 

with f vity )s>mivls A \eAr, .N^ 

with the sjsvils of tune. >-<\ 
RichArvl. AW.' the soul ot, 541 

Nhimse't AfAiit. 541. 

»>ul ivi". sWil 
Rkher thAU a11 his tritse, •c4. 
Rkhev Ivsi. iiiui'TAUve ot wvAlth. eSr- 






Rules III tin- vtlnriwui-l. x** 

nivn the st,vrm,c^*. 
Ri^^ht hv » hAu» e, tv^v] must now *tul then b^ 

fuiilwillie w«i»;ht, ii» 
see the. An>l rApprwee it UW, (95. 
Kttle tvi;ht little isiAUvt. Nv 
mistot^ reverse oi «riMV»: ft*. SnS. 
there is mvne to tlis|viite, n\,v, '.»S. 
Hue to mvAi^incsl, cv.t 
wtvAtexxt i> is 4!>«> 4ti. 



INDKX OK I'OKIKJAI, QUfJl'ATIONS. 



1087 



Kluhli, kiiiiw tlitrfr, iitiil itnru iiiuliilniiii y/j. 
KiH, aiiiuliliKi Itrokni In llir, ^aH 
Kliitf. Iifliflil K"M, on hur waiiif, 7''i- 

Til tliii ' liil.l ih.ti I-. t<. |j*i, y^^. 

oiil '.I.I.ImI". "f fo.il<ll.'.i'.". T,». 

(Mil llt< i|,irl'n<i^r, i,r ()ir> l.iit'l. f,j. 

out tlin rilil rlin; lit tlli> linw, '/;j, 

i.iit wIM tx'IM., Di'i wll<l oky, 7',j 

Ttliit{l«lM, Miiwliikf llir, rrniii lli<- lir<il<l. r^i. 

mid rl|»i!, from Imiir trj hr>iir w, vji 
ttUe, crcjitn'l lifilf I", and Imlf (•< full, 7'/v 

tiiccriitlvn, full miLcaHlvti mid, Tfi. 

will] l)io Inrk, HW 
ftUliit; wmld "f wiilir*. 407. 
Klvnl 111 llir wri>tit(, (-tiiiii"t hear a, 799, 
Klvil tlir kixiiiy "iilo, i,\t. 
klv«r, AI|.li 111- .... (rd, (if4. 



nl ritv c it'l' Mu <^ii'l, mi. 

triJMK ilDil, lIMTl, t<i^. 



Dcff, llvnl oil (li<% y/}. 

Klldolli lit tila Mwii kwcet wlir, <'j7M. 
ko thfl ro.iii|(.iit1iff, vMf 
nf liUlli'iiitflit*. occuii tuttio,76;[. 
KliliH) d'titi wii«li your city uiColoi^nc, 

«now-r.ill In tlir. H48 
Klver« mil i» «r-ii>>, l>('»/k« mnko rlvora, 4r/'|. 

tli.ill'tw, In w)i>r«<i r.itU, I',;. 
KlvrlK, ItU'-v liiiiiiiii''r>. • l<«.Int(, u|', ^4". 
l<lvul''K •ItiiH 1 l)i( Ir wJiywiird r" md, ui\ 

iiiyrl>iit<t •>(, lhiri/nit{ lliri>n^li, \-j\. 
K.md, ..loi.K .1 r-ii^li .1 wMiy, ji-, 

trIiiKlitu iln- 'lu.ly, with K'i|i|, ,tjv 
K"tini. iil/>."nt from IpIiii 1. ^,. 

dnnco ihnt liu* l/con Hiin'. to, t/^, 

wlinra'or I, j^H. 
koitr, teiitiokkit, 6)1. 

iiiunl': In Iih. fffj. 

*rf wntnri, tlio, ya-j, 

wMrlwInd'H, loud torraiK iind llic, 601. 
JKttMX Itncf of old I'.htfliind, 375. 
Kohfl, ii/nre, of nl((lit, y/t, 

dr-w on hU tlilti, ^7H, 

of (lou-l-t, 40 J, 

V';llr-d Ml II t.ini|>|ii, l>r'>,t fltllfO, n^. 

Kot'CH 'Hid Itirt'il i,".wh-i hidn <ill, hu, 

lliiiniliniy, of .Jii, Hi |, 

lo..i< ly (lowlnn li.ilr .II frnc, 713. 
Rohln r'-.llirintM 'ttnl tliu wren, 49J. 

IIUIQIt lllH thpi'll. 4//V 

RoIjh Ilia of that w'ii not nnrlclioi hltn. Hii. 
Rock ino to ulrrp iii'iMinr. ijj, 

hliiill My from lt>i hriu l>ii<ir, A^J. 
Rof k-ljoiinil (oiiHi, '.I'^rii i\w\. yt;. 
Ko< kx. d"»<'rt, iind llrrihr,; iilr, t^>i. 

|iiiri- K"ld, lliii wiiif-r tiM.lnr, jic 

boft'ii, or IfCiid ii knoltc<l oak, 609. 

Iliroiif of, ^,\. 
Rod. r.lilff JHii, jfH-* 

of rini'lro nil^ht liiiva nwa/Rd. y/i, 

«|inrr the, iiiid tiioll tho c hild, loH. 
Kodrrl'k, whrro wjik, then, sii< 
Roll of "inini'm inrii, Biv. 

oil llt'in d«roo iinil dork Idin' oicnn, Oij, 
Kollliiif ymtr l« full of llicr, 417. 
Rotiiiiii liolldjiy, hntLlirrcd to niiikc ;i, (Mt. 

iiiorr ;in 4iiti'|iin, lliuii n Iliinr-, Hii. 

^pii.iti- I'MiK d'-ltiitp. can n, ^70. 
Roiiuiot • .ill l( .I'll' iMu, T/t- 

frl< ltd., ' 'iiiiilryoi. o, ft/5. 
Rom.inll' , ir folly ^o>w, K'l';. 
Kouir, .il'.l>-n of riirKll.iii. groined the, 7/>, 

my ' oonlry r||y i,f tlin Honl, 7^1. 

move Uh: »loiic>» (if, to rUfl, 1*77, 

w)i«n, fill* -(hn world. <Ulg. 
Roof, iiflllT of the rnin ujiori llm, 97- 
Kooin, KrlcfrillH I lie, of my Jil'vrnt cliild, 107, 

InflnUc rhdiok lii a lllnr', r^'i. 
Root, love tliiit took tin f.i\t\y, ■^^l. 



uifc, n worm I4 n\ (hr, yA. 
tree of d«r|ir*iti, 



nUi« liU, \i\. 

of aye, II V 

tree of d«r|ir*iti, ^r/,. 
Rooind horrow, plui k ffoiii iiirtnory i\, -J47, 
Ki/w- .it>i.vr tlf mould, stq 

dMIIIcI, fjirthllff )ij|.j.y U (Iir, 4.^5, 

U fii)nM wli<-n 'I U l.iidi|lin{ ii«;w, ao4. 

f[o loviy, la;, 
nM, of •lUliimer, 463. 

milk whM(>, tft*p 

rny Invn \ llkr a red r'-d, »i4. 

'iffriid Ihy Ui(ht, If thU fair, \t\ 

r«d n« 11, U till;, H*,\. 

ahould unit mid lie a hud atfiln. 179, 

tumiii'-r's 4"? 

• wrr(, ■,! Wii-Jinl witll dow, >^ 

tliiil till If- |>r;il',lnK,v>5. 

tlml llv >. Ml JiMir hour, y^x 

wlirii I hiv jilu'krd thy, f/w. 
Rrrt'-iilr I .tiiooy, ^^. 
Rotehiidy.ud<n of irfrU. 151. 

•.<-( wltli lltllr wilful lliorni, 721. 
Rotrhndu filfrd wllli know, faj. 

K.ittii-r yr, whllr yc mny. 744. 
koMiiMry lljMl \ iut retfiemhrunco, 495. 



Ko%o«. hffd* of, I will innko tlinf, 117. 

full of BWriil diiyco tind, yju. 

In I)t^i "inlii^r, iit boon brnk, Vuifi. 

01 •iii( of till', will liitii^ round li itUI, ^4'j. 

vlr^lnn iin' oolt iii llii', llnry twlin^ 4*1. 
Roity I"'], Mil<>tll>il. Mill. 

I<"i .Old rol, ft hoiii to hour wn, 71JI, 

KolU-n .11 Ih^' Ik ,i/t, .1 yooilly iijipli:, 707, 
H'liik/ti with I'll' k woi'I'. iitid Moriin, Usi. 
Kou^li hi'W iIk'iii how wr- will, 71/j, 
Kound Iind jh rki.l 111 11 ktnr, Hoy, 

))i(o|>\ li(twltiJilii|/, 1)4. 



iiliviiniUhi'd tain, 143. 
iipiiioHl, iill.iln* Ihr, ^•fi. 



iipiiioHl, iill.iln* llir, ^•fi. 
wluTn f lvulr-t<» iliiiii n tiintr wayward, lo-], 
indri'l Willi .1 ilrcii, our llttl': llfo U, Wn- 
\Kit\\\ on roiil. ji',. 



wh'iff iii'Tt a jiiilillc, aii. 
K'/iifd .ill 111'. fof-H, ttirico III*, 771. 
Kiili, ay lliifi' '■! iIh , ^/}, 
I'lil.j'' . i;f' w, irikr.l Jill' wll«ro tllO, 134. 
I'li'M. (, ihyiiH' flu-, I'" ol Vermeil, Ho?. 
K[id< .1111 1 III my •ijif':i h, M). 

forcfatli(.'r» of III': Intliil. t, '105. 
Kulli hnintvouii, lay, lovrly In doutll the, 

mini mnrkii Iho irartli witli, 607, 

or lo ml'- lllfl ittillr, fy.i. 

kyikii-iiKt Into, linrlcd, y>4. 

uiiori fiilii,7Jii, 
KolnS m-.n, |.loiii;l,-.lMifr, 46^ 
Kuir MrllJiiiiilii mil- Iin wav;--, 571. 

.1.-. lar.'d l.l.^ohll'. 711. 

of 'oiirllyi/r^p"-, 7.11. 

of men .iitir'-ly v,ut\\. Hov 

ruin or lo, ttir il.ilr', l*>\. 
KiiIfT 'if Ihf^ Invcji'd yrar, winter, Ifri. 
kiilf-1,, iifV'T -iliowi -ilf, If itlic riilc« liiin, HI5, 
RuHiim; hy oli'-yliiK iiaUin-'i |»ow«ni, 541, 

jfHO«l'iii < 'aiijiiiT') r'Hvai, 799, 

ifiiii^ion iitroni; In 'I'lilli) ylvii 
I(,.moiofo,,i.r''v,ioniiiidd.'.i;ll, 50-1, 

1' riiiiik and till at all I lil'-r.-l, IklO. 

I'liiil' fliyiiif, a >ioM o(, 714 

Kiiii'i away, \w wh'> lii;hl<. mid, 540. 

hi diat, limy XfMi\, (9*), 

th'? tfrcat I Iri.nll, Mm, 

thn w'lrld awiiy, lliiin, (it\. 
Klllirrt of d'rhiili-, r*\ 
Ktiriil life, nc'iiictt'T'-d valff of, 794, 

iiiih^t fdcniMili' hookH, ai4' 

hWIiIi iilonn hut rural •I'fiiiidd, 49;}, 
kii«li liit't llir; hkiro, 7</j. 

I'. Kt'.ry 'ir llm yravi-. m j. 
r<iiiilM->t, wmitoii. lay yoa down on liie, 816, 
Ktmlilm^ of tlir hliitt, 1 Inar llic, 49a. 
kii^l, lih t{'iod HW'ird, 5 cy. 
Kiirttir inorallitl, y/>. 
ku^th:^, ijii/lll|{. raii((r-il aroilfld, '^SH. 
KiiMhii/, mournful, in thr dark,^'!. 
Kiinty f^.f want of fiKlitliiK, v>7' 
kye, c'linln' tlirouifh ili<', iB;. 

Snhhnth fiiipRnrrd, •tiiill'-d wlion ii, •) ^. 

ordal)i<-'l til'-, hi; who, ■\k-}. 
Hahic (Jiaid liirii forth lirr niivor llnliitf, 491. 



tfoil'lruH, IIk'iii, 4';i. 
Mf"-i\s, no fr)'rii'|ii n\i\y 
T lint 
inn fn 



i{icjir III, liv. 
HiihlT l!iit>* of woe, yJi. 
Sahriiin fnlr lUtcn wli';ro thou art iilttlili;. 



Sacrf-ii lira'l now woundfl, ■J73, 

bhadr and Mililo'hr, Hfix. 

■tonhiii'ivlni/ po'-'iy, HoO. 
Sa(rlD( c. turn di:llKhl inl'i », y>4. 
Kd' rllctfloiin iiiiit'It liath hr'ilc o|ir, ifg}. 
fiad (i» anifcln for Ihr K'.od iiian'h »ln, ^95. 

hy lltt hy •larli *t wan wll'l. 77 (, 

liucl'iii'^ In a ({"od man lo he, ^fi, 

t.hi'''rlly, wr'ait{lil tn a, 71^* 
' iv>ll>id':'> 'if Ihlnj 



w'tr'U of faiK'"^ "r ja-ii. nx all, 539. 
Sii'ldrr mid a wi<i"r man, W*i. 
Snddnit 'if llio year, tlni molanclioly dayn, 

4V.. 
Sailin-nn, fccllnif of, aii'l lontfltitf. Ki-j. 

wlili no nil I ana dint;, mlirfd. W/j 
Safr and wmiiu yiur Iront k, nlim-, 79',, 
Sif'ly, flowr, out of li'-Mlr 'laiiCT, */}*. 
'.. .;:' i.lvl'<%. how liionl'- Irnttthrnf.l. H47. 

ili'«i^;)it '1% a. f'lt ii« a iiimi, ■/ 17. 
'..1^"' . h.iv- v-rii In thy fai.n, L.hariii<i, 7 |fl 
'in .itl tiiii'-. .cvcrl, ^7. 

',f nil' I'ht tliiK, H-A. 
SnI'l, llirlr. K -.'loiir-.i nicndpd, ttov 

iniK )i may he, 'ui hotli Hld'*«, Ht)-^ 
Sail, hiirk attriiduni, oil. 

divcrwiy wo, on life'n vnM ocflan, 79a 

'|iilct. K iiH a ii'iUrlckH wlii|{, Mj, 

nrl cvi'ry llirrii'lh;irc, 6x1. 

white and riiMlliiK, 6ii6. 
Sflll'ir, drnnkrii, 'iii n tiwiil, 79a 
iiallfe, lliffl<ideii,6ji, 



Halm, hy, hy iiavmko hikI hy aoifc, 170. 
Ill '.rapn twko 11 biiliit In luwn, t)iJ. 

It, *.lnii';r It or, lio,',, 

jirovoke a, 771/ 

M;<.'ni II, (ilay lli^ 'h-vll, ^, 

weak':--l, ii|<'ai I1I4 klieet, yjH, 
flallitly ' hanll'y, Mo dfar |o lir'rtvcn ll, 796, 

.>l.. w. (al.. hood iiii.l'-r. W>. 
Hiiint;. .iliov , 111' a h> low mi't, wi. 

Iil>, v.•ltl^ Willi Ih'-, I truM, 519. 

In your h,)iirl.i, y>|, 

who t-iuuhl Ihr way to lionvtrtl, alft. 
Hfthitiihlo, ftu. h, lo li.-hold, ft.,. 
Hal'!, Ihfri)f» of, a null, r'n j.riilwj !o. Kio, 
Mrtllp'-lr'-, vllIalnoiiH, y/>. 
Halvallon, ii.> rrll'.li of. In 'I, 193. 

tool'. '.1 working 'an. -y/, 
'laiii'-. .iway you 'n all lli'r, ^71, 
fi.i/ni.liln , t:..lliir-,,.lr' a-lfiil tfa.h , 445. 
r,aii<l.<ii'llii' Wll'l ti|.r'.ar, A"''- 

i;..|.|. ti, roll down lln*lr, yj'.. 

If all th'lr. wer.- pearl, ai', 
Saii'U mid nhor'n mid 'Invert wlldqrnette*, 
«V'- 

of lime, f'cjtprlnU In !h«f, 77'j. 

yr;ll',w, f.oim: niilo llicw;, H/aj. 
HiitiH td'Mli hniiH cyok Mita tnnta unna evtiry* 

thiiiu, 711, 
Siipplilre hl«/c, 939. 
S>ip|ililr'-», llvlni^, firmnmcnl iflowd witti,. 

Sappli'i, hnniliiK. '^■o. 
Hatmi 'italleil uat 7aa, 

fiiid»waiie mivJilef mill, ir^, 

Iremhie'. when he neen, -j.>8 

wker than *•( ynf, ft/.j, 
Half hel, whlnliiif >.' hool hoy with hU, 711. 
Hrttire Ii my weajcai. M./1, 

let, hi; my f>aii;, */.. 

Ilki; a (lolluhed ra/or keen, B06. 

or neime r.an HjairiiH fci;!. ayj. 
Hatlnnnd, welt jrald Ihiil 11 well, Hin. 
Hnlurdiiy and Momlay, 'lay ttiiit coiiicn ho- 

Iwlxt. i9«,, 
Hmiry ihaihlh mi'l fear<i, H/ni, 
Hiivnit*-, iiiiibi' lialh (Jiariii^ to oootltfj a, ^n^ 
Have me /r'an llie 'undl'l frt<;n'l, t'Ji. 
Havlouriiluiiii wllh ir.iltofoin. kliiii, 795, 
ttiivlour'u I'Irlli i-. " I- hrm<i'l, 397, 
Hawi. '*f hook-., all, K-.i 

wlie, aii'I iiiod'-rii InUmitjeN, 711. 
.S«y 1 dl'I It. Ilioii ' aiiiil ii'jt, WM, 

It'll ijood iiltjhl, v>4. 
.Say'iil an (indKiaite'rihlnn, 4K3, 
SiiyliiK'i of (.hlloMipliT'., (47, 
Hay,, never, a looll'ih thiiin, 'tV). 
Hi.ah)iar<), nwor<l ^hied lo my, ',41. 
Hi.aii, K''"i'v. yiir hrolhi-r man. 7K4 

j.r.MUn. ii.,t (,odlo 7'/.,. 
H' mi'l.il I.I dlv'ilM-, j.raUe iifid.-nrrved, Hii. 
;>';.i.'l.il .Iiiiiii'.rl.il.f1y'ilieat{l<:\wlli^*,ftll. 
S'.iiii till . I'f .ilhirn: '.oiiite'-.y, ut. 
U- arf^, rival, of mi.. .| einhr..!'!' ty. yj',. 
H'Hr<.,J.ritiiil, ili.it ii'vr ('I' .. v..,op,'l, 14J. 
Sr.alt'T all her ti|,|.. on th. •,!" .im, '. j.^ 

Iilcnly o'(;r a i-milliu: land, yy^, 
Hccne, cuiinlnu of the, H04. 

iu%t, of uir7ii. 

of limn, exfiAthitc- o'er nil ihlt. 79:1. 
Srcnci, K«y (flMcl, mi'I fclilnhiji pr'/niiffctd, 

new, of woe, ^yi, 

'.f my<:Mhlliood. i'ir>. 
.Stnnt, amher. '.f '.'I'.o.ii . ].'rfuiii<-, Ou 

of the roHo will li^iiii; round II ^liil. ^40. 

Ilie niornlnn air. ni' iliinV . I, 4**-'i 

wee'l wli'Mie, tin- lnii .itinov.. y'a. 
Scciitilhe evciiln;; tjah-, yjv 
Hcci'lrn iind < rowii niu'il tiimhle down, joi. 

barren, In iny Krl|.e Ml; , , 

Ica'Imi, miflil htref he-- f'.rth her, 4-^1, 

nhowvtlie forie of lemporal iiower, 7.^ 
ScKptred jiall, Korttrou-, I ra^edy In. 787. 

hway, rncrcy la ahove lIiK, ?'/(. 

thlu, file, 'A), 
flchcmc*. hc»tlald, o' inltc iind men, 4f-8. 
Hcholnr, lie wax a, and n ripe and i(""d "iia^ 

7»3- 
Scliool, ( rer|.iiit; imwilliiiKly to, 711 

lover of th- j/oo'l'.ld,7'.(V 
School-lioy whlrmii;, wlililih mI'IiA. 711. 

wllh lii'i i.at' lid In liib linii'l. iw. 
Hf:hool-hoy'i. l«Ic, the wonder of an hour, 

77a. 
H' hool hoys, frUk owiiy like, vA. 
S'. hool. day*. In my, (Vrj. 
SrhooK. old maxim In llie, Bkj, 
Hclein e, fair, frowned not on liU liumhle 
hirlh, vyj. 

f;tiire of itihie, 717. 
lardevt. to foryct, a4fl, 
hln vlf-wfi enlnrifeii, Mi. 
lawless, <,f our fnw, Bio 
prou'l, nrvi:r tiiuifnt hlu unil to Blr/iy, 

T>9 . 
Aliir-oycu, 397. 



ll^ 



M. 



IXDEX OK lH3EnCAl. (^LOJATIONS. 









S<* her w*s (>> K''v<' h«s «]t4. ft»a. 



: ^:. St-* 





St*m>, 


< 'rssv*. tcS, 






Sccnb 


-5r> 


OB. 

to : 
Sees O 




^ 




u» ;> 













;tx its nAtN«, ^.%K 





r*«* 


of .: 
«■-,■ 


n, ntv 




>»■ 



-^ I AW by, ,U-*- 



^ -^^S 

Setf<t)>(>rv.>Yin£ hour wiH^v y«an out««%^ 



Senates. A^-; 



- .Wpth. v^r. 


CUT 


SlVV 


h>^ 




ol" 


A. rs*. 


of 


."\\ 


Sha^Wx. 


. 


frjL 


AV.N 


b* 


. w v'vxununvf . 






Kfv- 


W^htY wvvvls^ 


S'O.l 




ShshK'" 


-*. 


Cvv. 




O,'^- 




U;.i 


■■. A-, S.>^ 


trv-; 




j*»; 


tKi *>> 


V. 



It a'l". » .1 ■:. ^-^ 

TOTS of, Si?. 

asrn im\ vJat the Rwi because they Yc. 



'. thin^r** 'S*- 



- 'ucy is, Saj. 

- :t' uuto vHit fentle. 






^h:. SSt 



• , ivy. 53^ 
watch ta the &ty. 






i.'^'Jf, 



S' 

S-- 
Oa:.^ - 

mersrua r 

rai^ «tth Nacc wiKb. (^.:». 

tht MMikilwlmous incuwtJme, S$%. 

c«ciiqr. lichiasatchajewel JLS, ttj. 
Seuoft, ever V^uast tiuit, cv-«aes. ^-. 

aun> tV-ir.^^ Vv, ^<jtscae%i are. ^gcw 
S*i&.'r^ -* • .. h»nffe, A-c 



t' . c«s.t.nt, -.la. 

» . . &•& 

S^v\S . .0, ^S1C^, 

- -.fs* .\ad tttcte oWifioa r»'- 

.. ; risott^hoose* r^S" 

Scvljpe. gentle kiss t;> ewry. #35. 

See etc thou £0, look ere thou le*p. ft* 



utKt aS> 

-■a witfci where. ii«spur. svj. 



-.J huu who a. ttie^ 

acrrc ut htr*T«>. l-ettrr t\' reij!!* io heU thut, 
;^,;^ ?.'s\ M>.-^ -"S vv, • \:ui w«t. 366. 



■■;.■. ♦^.-^ 
ittiiakuKl. S;& 



».^ 
Setting m hv<^ wrst^ra skK^behuM hui\ 4»> 

1 hi'ste th^w to i«jr. jrtft* 
Seven A*;\-v his acts V<*miJ, Ht. 

" "^ ■ "'■vs.of wtnehml. wc 
■- ■. se»eril (vatts *«»- 



-•es ours. S5S. 
l>,s.-vh o«t country aikI 
"nttiTwtty oC !V^ 
^ .\ihe. ySv* 



- :» the. AJJ, 
C »u^.^ siMKle, 4Xt- 
'■- N. whis5>ets ol'. 41^ 



.1 the. «».v 
:Ately ettu. 4-£> 






^t*t. #>*. 
Aivya.^3- 



H»v tell »Hin>^«<'. «w 

the >; >,.r; ■.. s.x"r.s t.\ 
thv , 
ShAke^ 



Shkinc. 
het 



; hr> thrvtae^ 



th.1 



.^Ate-'Stooe. ta« ej^ 



ot" (o*U ^^;5««se. tin« out oKl. 7 



oKirje. 
til>- CAll $S 



V tvx>th. hv^W. .^♦S. 
nc tt' you Wilt. eJB 



.:rr with. Sr* 

>.- lack v»t" *F^weot. 



Shevi their xrlectest iaftueiKe. a«\ 
Shee(\ how thMt hist shulde lyw. so«j. 



INDEX OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS. 



1089 



Slic<;r o'er III"- ' ry.f.l l-.iii|iriin-iiU, 7^5, 
bliect, M.iii'l.ir'l. I 'F' :• f ll'Mi that. ^/j. 

wd, aii'l .1 Jt'miiii; ■^•:^i. ir^i. 
Shrll, corivolutiuiia of u itiiux/lli-ll|rjK:i|, 6]l. 

viul of mu«lc uluriiber* In the, kij. 

Like ye each a, Kto 
blieitlicrJ, every, tdU >iU tale, fi^. 

Miir iliiit bi']« the, fol'l, ^)t. 
Shej'lirrd'b reel, lovr liiiio the, am. 

t'iiiijuc, Irutli 111 RV'-ry, i5». 
Sli'j.l.rr.h.ill iiiKl iiMiil.-ii-, f.iir.V/^; 
.■il.. H1I.111, hP-k^ Ihr .11': lit iii..u).|int;, v+, 
Sh. w. '...Ii.lly, f..Kcli','y'l iiii'I'V, f/> 
• hhicjil, sikJi ^Iciiiiit ill from ihy pKliilie'l, 

53* 
f Shlflt, [duui fruuit* aii'l holy. y/>. 
Shllliiit;, I'hilli) ami M.iry oti ;>, wj. 
hliinc, cictcilful, (IcccJlUil How, 399. 
Shines II i{oo(l ilcc^l In a naughty world, 797. 
Shiiiintf iii'ifk, 'Irath love* a, yf^. 

|(r'>^|>cclh rl%c, *>7. 
Ship, A.% ^bw our, her foaiiiy track, 737. 

KSKTi cLiy t>rin^ii », 74O, 

i'lli; at» s paJntetl, upuii a painted ocean, 
«55- 

M«l'--1y, of T«r»ui., 6-ji. 
ShlpH, hcartk of 04k arc uur, 631. 

like, Ihey ftlrcr llielr cjuriietii ^/J. 

that have tfoiie 'lown, like, 964. 
Shirt, happv inaii \ without a, 347. 

princi{jlcb ofienef <:Iian;f(;(l than, 347. 

vnif of tlic, ibttii; the, ^14. 337. 
Shiv<rr, when thxu 'rt tiamed, (iicn, 310. 
Sho.il, h;tiikancl, of thtie, yj>. 
Kho.iK, (kj/thb and, of honor, 33^. 
Shoi.k of men, 415. 

of pl'^kurr*, 770. 
Shotkk that (tr^h u heir to, 397. 
Shoe ha* power to wound, her very, 134. 
Shoes, or ere thf^c, were old, 7^ 
Shoe-%trinn, carcleM, in whow: tie, 713. 
Shoot foUy as it illei, •'^n- 

te.icli the youii^ idra how to, 314. 
ShrKitinif-btars .ttt'.-ml (he, 1^ 
Shore, control -.toirs wiili ihc, tj^rj. 

fant hy iheir ii.ilive, <>%2, 

landing; on w^iiie litenl, to die U, 'jrx/. 

left their Ijcautv on tlic, 406. 

my boat U on tlic, 9vj. 

tny native, fadeti o'er the waters bhjc* 
338. 

of nieiiti'^ry, Micnt, 3oi. 

rapture on the lonely, 607. 

the dull bfimc, 625. 

unhappy folk» on, 630. 

usurpit the, <t\i. 

where mind %ufvfvc«. If there l>c a, 794, 

wild and willowed, aionj; thy, tf^^. 
Shores, undreamed, unpatlied waters, 9xyi. 
Short and far between, y/t, 

and simple arituld or the poor 

retir«;Mi'-m nr;;- ■.w.-et return, 
Shot fori' . 303. 

hc;i'' . 1, fired the, s*> 

mill' ' itise, 121. 

Should.f. >•!, 

Shoulders. Ii-; >'l . ^fw l.cneath their, 14^, 
Shourc-., Aprillc with his. 67?;, 
Shout ttwt tore hclJ'i cjncave. 725. 
Shovel anil tonjfs l<Jifcthcr belonifs, vxi. 
Show, flcetinij, this world \% all a, yn. 

his eyes and jfricve hU heart, 868, 

niidni^it d.-iii' r- -ind (hr public. 31^. 

vimple, hart..r ■ M ,, ^24, 

that within v, 
Showed how fir; 1 ^ 

Shower, afl1icti"fi ,'^.. 

Showers, fraifr.iii' •• ilt-r, :r/i, 

lionied, suck (hr, 4f^ 

sweetest, will ne'er iiuke|frowa{{ain, 138. 

Sydncian, of sweet di-vcounu:, 193. 
Show». cveninif comment on the, meek na- 
ture's, ^fi. 

that for oblivion Uke Ihcir birth, tfti. 
Shriek, a -solitary, 63a. 
Shrine of thr mij/hty can It be, 581. 
Shrinks to no cMe or creed f:'.nfine'l, 'y(7. 
Shrub, rtunij odors from tlie *picy, vn. 
Shrutf^ and ivtrantfc contrrftlonn of his face, 

793- 
Stiuffled off thif mortal coil, 3>>7. 
,Shufllinjf n^itf, forced tcalt of a, ^yf. 
Shun. v^i.it t„ >Wl. 
Shuns ih': ,;.xfj- of oiher men, aoj. 
Shui the 'l'««r vty I m kick, »>5, 

the Kiiles '.f mercy on manltind, y/i. 
Sick, uy \ 'm, I 'rn dead, 805. 
Sicken, appetite may, and fj die, 8o3, 
Sicklied oer with ttic |i«le caUof tiiouifht, 

397. 
SickneM, love it a, full of woes, i}$. 
Side keen, with hl%, 376. 
Side, 'twixt vuth and kotith'we\t.94S, 

virtuc'%, failing* leaned to, M8. 
Side-lonif looks of love, bafchful vij|fin'», <<i^ 



■Xt 



Hide-lont; iiuild, kith krutchcd from, 07^. 
Sidi-s, laughter holding br;ih liin, ^H'^. 

much may be HJitd on \nA\i, 8>j^ 

of my int'rnt, ^pur (o iirlck the, ^</,. 

unfed, houscl'vts hrMif« and, 4ffi^. 
Siege, Uugh a. lo v.orn, s*"- 
Sigh 110 m-ire laille-,, 1 1«, ^71, 

pa^tting tribute u\ .1, y/>, 

|K:rhap» 't will m>sI a, >i tear, yt^ 

the al>«ent claims, '^n. 

to those who hfve me, ifi»,. 

yet feel no pain, 'M>i. 
^ilfhnd and looked and ttighed atfuin, 773. 

and lookrd uiiuUerabTe thingfc, S104. 

at the v>und of a knell, 738, 

for hia o/unlry he, «fJ, 

from all her caves, hell, 3to, 

to many, loved but one, 134* 
Sighing, farewell goeb out, ^^t, 

like furnace, llie lover, 711. 

through all lier works, fi>j). 
Sigli!) an'l t'rars, lo love is to be iimde of, »u4. 

bridge of, in Venice on l)ic, 7ao. 

for harmony and ({r;f.c, 814. 

the west-wind's summer, 71'y. 

world of, for my p^inft, 145. 
Si;;lit, cliarnib !>(rike the, -Mr^, 

• nlrancing, 'J the, 539, 

faints into diinncM, tjo. 

gleamed upon my, vA. 

keen discrtmlmiting, 806. 

l(jved at firkt, none loved but, 203. 

of incanii nuikc« ill deeds done, 815. 

ul tliat Immortal bca, 75^, 

of vernal bloom, 4'.i7, 

portentous, j)^ 

spare mv acliing, 'iVM,. 

hplendi'l, to ve'-, tj'^ 
Sights, nor rural, .ilojic- out rural bounds, 493. 

itucli, 'U> youthful |fje(s dream, 7^6. 
Sign of gratulation. earth gave, 209. 
Signet sage, presMMl his, 670, 
Signilj'.aiit and budge, 734. 
Sigmfying nothing, 793. 
Signiorb, luobt potent grave and reverend, 

»«. 
Sign* of woe. Nature gave, 899. 
Silence accomtHinied, 413. 

and eternal bleep, 311. 

envious f^ngueu, ya. 

cxpresftivc, 418. 

ffrttcr-child of, and slow Time, 71a. 

in I'we l>cwrays nvnc woe, 304. 

parted in, and tears, 341. 

tenable in your, 8j^ 

was pleased, 413. 

whcrcbo'er 1 go, 635. 

wiiigs of, 7a6. 
Silent migcrb point to heaven, y/t. 

in a labt embrace. ^55. 

irtan can \ii\iin^ wlio the, 7:^4. 

manliness of grief, 6'/>. 

fjrayer, her eyes are homes of, yf^. 

sea of pines, 376. 

shore of meriwry, S^.i. 

bhore, to die is landing on some, yx). 

thought, sessions of sweet, 115. 

u[Km a peak in J>aricn, gkjj, 
Sil'rntly as a dream the fabric rose, 4f>3' 

steal away, 816, 
Silk stockings, kneeling ne'er spoilt, 364, 
Silks, enrobe the watf-rs with my, 633. 

when as in, my Juli.-i goes, ia6, 
Siloa's br'^fik ttiat Ihwcd, 399. 
Silver lining on the nighl,turn f<.4lh her, 491. 

iiLintle threw, 411 
Simil- that vtliUry sfiincs, 807. 
Simpl" race, a, 811, 
Siiiipticity, a cliild in, 724. 

a grace, makes, 711, 

simple truth miscalled, 108 
Sin. and death abound, world where, 399. 

btij«vyrns of my, cut off In the, 310, 

by that, fell the angels, 332. 

conscifius honor is to feci no, 796. 

could bli)(lit, ere, 107. 

darling, is |mdc tliat ajtes humility, y/i. 

fav^rrite, is pride tlut apes humility, 
■>*>. 

fi'iunting rot>es of, 813, 

^ood man's, 395. 

I know it is a, vtt metosUand grin, 333. 

'juantum o' the, I waive the, 390. 

to covet honor, if it be a. 811. 

wljat, dipi*ed me in ink, 805- 

who tell us love can die. they, aoO, 
Sincerity, bashful, and comely lovc, v>^ 

wr'jugtit in a sad, i-^i. 
Sinews thought and y^An. 9>4. 

Ifuffet it with lusty, 671. 

of the ncw-lwrn oabe, soft as, 39^. 

sLicken with tlic fright, 735. 

stiffen the, ^>\ 
Sing because 1 must, I do liut, 8'j7. 

more safe f, with m//rtal voice, 34%. 

swan-like let me, and die, 581. 



'1. ' I ■ I ■• . Ihey shine, 376, 

♦>5- 
• mess of, 810. 

.. , ... .., ... :;.!,, •JJ3. 

i..k.a *.-il ci..i,loved, 395. 
Sfngs yet <l<><-.% v, nv.hI, 495. 
Sinking in iliy l.is( l'<ng sleep, 78. 
Sinks with buhblJir,; groan, &ij. 
Slnmr it or ^.iinl It, iV/j. 

of his in'riintty. UMilc Such a, 797. 
Sins, commit the oldest, ilic newest way«, 

they are incline'] lo, compound for, 387, 
Slon hill delight thee more, if. 399. 
Hire, bc(|ueatlied by bleeding, Uj btjn, j8x 
Sires, green graves-'/f your, 583, 
Sist^-r spirit come away, y>^ 
.Sister's, erring, shame, ■j'/j. 
Sit attentive Uj his own applause, 910. 

here will we, 775. 

studious let me, fk/i. 
Sitting in a pleasant stiadc, 4^>. 
Six liundrea ijcvunds a year, 121. 
Sixpence, give llice, 1 will see tlice danmed 

Skies, chitfo? the, 588, 

* ommcncing with the, I'>'jks, 786. 

common peojde of the, 134. 

niilky baldrii. of the, y/K. 

odor of the, 3'>4. 

raised a mortal lo tlie, 772. 

rush into tlic, 799. 

vtn of parents paMicd Into the, 93, 

starry, cloudless cUiucs and, 130. 



^uniiy as her. 731. 
watcher of the, *>5. 



I ?.!■,, 490, 

I'uta. 795. 



"J I a, 7 

. 73"- 

>wned his, CeS. 



west': 
Skill, iMii.r.. 

simj/' 

m .ir/ 
Skilled iii,: 
.Sklmi along tuc ii.-iui, ->/>. 
Skin whiu:r than sm.iw, 721, 
Skirt the cU-rnal fr'>sl, flowers tliat, 377. 
Sky, admitted] u> that c4|ual, 399. 

banner in the, r.>9D. 

blue ethereal, 376. 

canopied by the blue, 765. 

cliarni from the, seems lo hallow it. iro, 

did never melt Into his heart, 490. 
fated, gives us free sc^pe, 793. 
feathered minstrel of the, 210, 



forehead of the morning, I 



i in the. 



girdk-d wiili the, like the r>cean, ^ji- 

go forth under ine o|fcn. y/;. 

is ch;inged and such a cb''inge, 686. 

v,-miner stars set their watch in tlie, 519. 

sweet regent of the, tlic mo*.»n, 491, 

tears of the, for loss of the sun, 4^1. 

whatever, 's aU^vc mc, 990. 

witchery of tlie vAl blue, 472- 
Slain, thrice he slew tlie, 771. 
Slander whose edge is sliarper tlian tlic 

sword, 811. 
Slaughter, vr;uli: through, to a throne, yA. 
Slaughterous thoughts, familiar to my, yx». 
Slave, Ixjrn U* be a, 601 

I would not liave a, Ut till my ground, 

ofnfc, thought 's the, 793. 

passion's, man (liat 'sik^, its. 

to no sect, 808. 

lo thoui»ands, has l><:cn, 811. 
Slavery or death, 570. 
Slaves, Unions never will be, 576- 

tann'jt breathe in hnglaiid, 594- 

meclianic, with greasy ajtrons, 722. 

libit crawl where nK>narclu lead, 60a. 
Sleavc, ravelled, of c^trc. 883. 
Sleep, a king in, but waking no such m^ter, 
740. 

balmy. Nature's sweet restorer, 8ii5, 

birth is but a. and a forgetting. 758- 

care-cliarmrr, 414. 

care -charming, 816. 

iJcaih ..nd t.i l,r'''?ic-r, 714. 

dc-itK I'-r, 310. 

g.^„r 

hour '.■ ■ 

Jiow, t: ,k to rest, 563. 

in duU'.'jJ'l n\-iThi-:, si/i- 

is a death, 310. 

it Is a gentle thing, 857- 

Macbclh d*«rs murder, 883. 

my little one sleep my pretty one, 8x. 

nature's v/ft nurbe. 7'/2. 

no more, tneth'/ugnt 1 heard a voice cry, 

883, 
now I lay tne down to, 107. 
of death, in tlut, 097. 
percliance to drcaiu, 097- 
rock me to, rootber, 333. 
rounded with a, our little life i«, fi^' 



1090 



INDEX OK POliTICAL QUOTATIONS. 



Sleep, iilcijcc and eternal. 311. 

sinking in thy l.iM l(>n£. tS- 

softly lie ana sweetly, ;^ 

some must, some must wntch, 6;i. 

th.1t knits up the ravelled slcave of care, 
885. 

that knows not breaking, 530. 

the fricnii of woe. S16. 

the innocent, 8S3. 

third of life IS passed in, 31a 

wake and. dilfcrcnce lictwixt. 816 

was acry-linlit, 490. 
Sleeping spirit, one sound doth wake the, 

795- 
Sleepless themselves, S07. 
SIcct. irun, of arrowy shower, 540. 
Slcpe. out of his. to stcrte, 493. 
Slepen al the ny>;ht with opcit eye, 695. 
Slew the slain, thrice he, 771. 
Slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, 

397. 
Slippered pantaloon, lean and, 711. 
Slippers falsely thrust upon contrary feet, 

73a. 
Slippery place, he that stands upon a, 798' 
Slips, t;rcyhouiul« in the. stand like. 503. 
Slits the thiii-spiin life. 812. 
"lo^-ar.lie. May wol Iw 
Slotli. restive, finds down pillow hard, 8: 
Slovenly unhandsome corse, god 
Slow unmoviiii; tinker, point his. 7^5 
Sluiw-ard. 'I is the voice of the. 815. 
Sluniber, I must, again, 8t^. 

lie still .ind, hush my <fear. 76. 
Slumber's chain h.is bound me. 518. 
Slumbering '^gt;^ w.ikens the. Sia, 
Slumbers in the shell, the soul of inus c, JI3. 

Iij;ht. pka>ini; dreams aixl, 816. 

soul is de.i.l tint. ;6j. 
Smacked "f noy.incc or unrest, 831. 
Sm^U beer, chronicle, 733. 

L;»tin and less vlreek. 9^15. 

of all th.tt hiinnn hearts endure, So? 

proportions just beauties see in, 7-^9. 

sands the mountain, 815. 

service is true service while it lasts, 89. 

thong^h it. appear, 815. 

vices do appear through tattered clothes, 

Smaller, these have, still to bite 'ein, 496. . 

Smallest n-orm will turn. 79S. 

smell y>( bread and butter, they always. 107. 

sweet, only the actions of tne just, 301. 
Smells to heaven. 900- 

wooini;ly, the heaven's breath, 730. 
Smels, thniw her swccte, al arowiul. 494. 
Smile and be a vilUiin. 7-ja. 

from nartial beauty won. 795. 

gh.istly, death grinned homble a. 8)9. 

fii hcre>"e, 197, 

in i>ain. frown .it pleasure. 799. 

on her lips .ind a tear in her eye, 176. 

pendulum betwixt a. and tear, 793. 

reasons why we. .imi sigh. 309. 

share the good man's, 088. 

social. 3V- 

tear may be followed by a. 464. 

that jjlowed cclc>itial rosy red. 203. 

th.\t W.vs childlike and bland. 987. 

to those who h.ttc. 9a.\ 

x-ain tribute of a. 8it. 

we would aspire to, 331. 

when ,ill .imund thee weep, 78. 
Smiled when a Sabbath appe.iren, 738. 
Smiles at ihc drawni dagger, the soul, 759. 

eternal, his emptiness betray. 91a 

from reason flow, 204. 

of joy the tears of woe, 399 

of other inaidais, her frowns fairer than. 

the fight of. 743. 

the tears of boyhood's years. 318. 

welcome ever, 793. 

wreathid. 785. 
Smiling at grief, 351. 

be>*onil the, and the weeping, 296. 
Smith stand with his hammer, 7^. 
Smoke. I knew by the. that so gracefully 
curled, =^ 

more, than tire. «S. 

tobacco, thus thfriK and, 814. 
Smokes along the sounding plain. 493 
Smooth and steadf;ist mind, 141. 

.-vs monumental alatxister. ?2i. 

at a dist.ince rou^h at hano, S04. 

dark pools of deeper thought, 33S. 

runs the water where the &ook is deep. 
^734. 

the ice. 736. 
Smoothing tnc raven down of darkness. 736. 
Smooth-lipped shell, convolutions of a. 6^1. 
Smoothness, the torrent's, ere it dash beiow. 

Smote the chord of self, 355. 
Snail, creeping like. 711. 



Snailes, her pretty feet like, did creep. 731. 

Snake. like a wounded, drags, 806. 

Snaky crest, fierce Repentance rears her, 

?»■ 
Snapper-u'.i of unconsidered triiles, 724. 
Sneer, teach the rest to, without sneering, 

910. 
Snore upon the flint, wxariness can. 8x6. 
Snow, curded by the frost from purest, 49^. 

diadem of. 493. 

driven, whiter than the, 708, 

hide those hills of. 163, 

kinilU' tire with. 203. 

ro^<lMias lilled with. 123. 

sh.ilt lii_- lluir win ding -slieet. 513. 

wallow ti,ikt..l in Pecember, 340. 

winter sVini >y( tiers than, 731. 
Snow-l'.ill m ihe river. 84S. 
Snow-ila^cs. a weapon still as. fall, 604. 
Snuff within the very tlamc of love, 271. 
SnulT-box. of amber, justly vain. 799. 
Snug little i-ilaml. 00a. 
Soap. w.islung his hands with invisible. 704. 
Soar but never roam, wise that. 474, 
Sober coloring, take n. 759. 

sense. law>xTS have more, 809. 

state, 794. 
Sobers, drinking l.irgely. us again. 805. 
Society by the deen sea, 607. 

is ruile to this aelicious solitude, 719. 

soUior of, svN-eet'ner of life, iso. 

solitude is sometimes best. S14. 

where none intrudes, 607, 
Society's chief io>'s weed unfriendly to. 558. 
Sock, Jonsotv's Icirnid. 786. 
Soft as her clime, 721. 

eyes looked love. 511, 

is the strain when zephjT blows, 806. 

Uydian airs, lap me \n, 7S6. 
Soften rocks or l>end a knotted »v»k. 8i>o. 
Softening into shade, shade unperccivcd, 

*»'■ 
Softly bodied forth. S69. 

he and sweetly sleep. 7^4, 
Softness and sweet attractive grace, 711, 

heart whose, harmonized tlie whole. 133. 
Soil, freedom's, beneath our feet, 59a. 

mortal, plant that grows on. 8i3. 

whore lirst thiv trC^d, 587. 
Soiled with all i^ii.MiIe use. 797. 
Solace of his wo.-i. toil the, ^19. 
Solar walk or nnlky «ay. far .is the, 399. 
Solder of s^viety, sweet'ncr of life. 1=0. 
Soldier armed with resolution. 304. 

but for these vile guns, been .1. go6. 

full of stranee ivitTis. 711. 
Soldier's sepulchre, turf shall be a. ^13, 
Soldiers bore dead bodies by. 506 

substance of ten thousand. 8&8. 
Sole judge of truth. 793, 
Solemn fop si.^iiiticant and budge, 724 
Solitary shines one simile that. 807, 

shriek. 6i3. 

wander, there. S13. 

\vay. thro igh Hden took their. 521. 
Solitude, bliss of, that inward eye the. 464. 

deliciou-s, society is rude to this. 719. 

how passing sweet is. laa 

m.\kes a, and calls it peace, 541. 

musing in. 867. 

sometimes is Wsi society. 814. 

where are the charms 738. 

where wr .ire le.ist alone, 813. 
Somebody to hew and l\ack. 507. 
Something, a. light as air, 364. 

after dcith. dread of, ag?. 

better than his dog, 255. 

dangtrous have I in me, 7-^3. 

't is nothing. Sii, 

rich and strange. S69. 
Sometimes counsel take sometimes tea, 814. 
Son, bequeathed by bleeding sire to, 5SX 

of memory, dear. 906. 

of ivarents i^ssed into the ^kies, 93. 
Song bright names will hallow, 51a. 

burvien of his. 816. 

burden of my, 141. 

charms the sense. S08. 

govern thou my. IVania. S07. 

kt satire be my, 806. 

in.T.vhjf my, Ori'^ 

necvlless .-Vlcxandrine ends the, 80& 

ni|;hting;ile's in the grove, 737. 

no ^or^o^v in thy. 47a. 

of tlie shirt, sang the, 314. 337. 

rounded fitness of his, 56. 

still all my. shall lx^. 373. 

to the brave old oak. 454. 

what they teach in.ftx.' 

whose breath may le.id ro death. 539. 
Songcs could, make and wel endite. 096. 
Sonne, up rose the, .ind Emelie. 490. 
Sonneteer. star\'ed hackney. 8i3. 
Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds, 735. 
Sons, mothers', blooiiy crowns of, 541. 



Sons of Belial flown with insolence. 558. 
of reason valor liberty and virtue, 812. 
of the morning, brightest and best of 

Soon as the evening shades prevail. 376. 
Sooner lost and won. 315. 
Soothe a sav,igc breast, 809. 

distraction and almost despair, 809. 
Soothed his soul to p'easures soon he. 77a. 

with the sound, 771. 
Sore labor's bath, 883. 
Sorrow, anvil unto, my heart is as an. 89* 

bread in. ate, who ne'er his, 348. 

but more closely tied, 264, 

calls no time that 's gone, 346. 

cra.'V. ?.o. 

earth h.is no. Heaven cannot heal. 34S. 

fade, sin could blight or. 107. 

fore-spent night of, 193. 

give, words, 312. 

iTolden, wear a. 347. 

n.ing. care will kill a cat, S16. 

heart h.ith scaped this, 371. 

her rent is 214. 

in thy song. Hiou hast no, 473, 

"s held intrusive and turned ouU 348' 

is ill \ain. thy, 138, 

land where, is unknown, 348. 

inelt into. 451. 

nac, there Jean, 296. 

never comes too late. 108. 

of the meanest thing that feels. 662. 

parting is such sweet, 241. 

[xtth of. ,ind that path alone, 348. 

resembles, only .is the mist the rain, 813. 

returned with the dawning of morn, ja^ 

rooted, pluck from memory a. 347. 

steep inv frowsy couch in, 346, 

tales of.done, 688. 

that hour foretold, to this, 34X. 

thorny p.ith of, 313. 

without the door let. lie. 8>6. 

wring under the Ic-ad of. 345. 
Sorrow's" crown of sorrow is remembering, 
255* 

keenest wind. 398. 
Sorrowing, gcieth a. 347. 
Sorrou-s come not single spies. 345. 

here I and, sit. 345. 

of a poor old man. pity the. 34a 

remembered sweeten joy, 346^ 

transient. ia8. 
Sort, a I.izy loUing. 724. 
Sots what can ennoble, j-Si- 
Soul bruised with adversity. 345. 

cement of the. friendship mystMou^ 
120. 

city of the, Rome, 73a 

condense thy, 736. 

crowd not on my. 86S. 

disturbance of, through no, 797. 

drew my whole, throii^h my lips, 90^ 

eloquence the (charmsl, 808. 

eye and prospect of his. 801. 

eye w.is m Itself a. 133 

faculty abides within the, 867. 

fiery. 90S. 

flow of. fe.-ist of reason and, S14. 

genial current of the, 3<.'«. 

grapple them to thv, I3i 

happy, that all the way 10 heaven. 546L. 

harrow up thy, 725. 

haughtiness of. prido and, Tog. 

hides a dark, and foul thoughts 796. 

is de.id that slumbers. 7(19. 

is form and doili the body make. 73a 

N in arms eager for the tray, 541. 

is wanting there, 303. 

is with the saints I tri 

limned. 399. 

listened mtcnsely, his very, 631. 

measured by uiy, 80S. 

meeting, 786. 

merit wins tJie. 303. 

most offending, ahve. 811. 

of goodness in things evil, 8o9. 

of harmony, hidden. 786^ 

of music shed, 57;. 

of music slumbers In the shell, 313 

of i.>rpheus. 787. 

of patriots, spiirk which fires the, 601. 

of peace, naticnce 't is the. 733. 

of Kichara, awe the, Qi. 

of Richard, struck more terror to the, 
S^S. 

of social life, peace thou, 541. 

of the age, 905. 

of wit. brevity is the, 8oj. 

pray the Lorct my. to keep.,107. 

rapt, sitting in thine eyes, 786. 

raptured, sweet to entrance the, ?o6 

sailed on. how slow his, 341. 

secret, to show, 34S, 

secured in her eiustence. 75O. 

sincere, his 307. 



I trust, 539. 



INDEX OF rOliTICAL QUOTATIONS, 



1091 



Soul <>incere, of, lao. 

hiiillcs at the drawn datfi^cr. 759. 

su dead, brcAthus there tlio iii.in with, 

sootlK-d Ills, to pleasures, 773. 

Mrcain which ovcrllowcd tiic, Uoi. 

sweet and virtuous, icw. 

tell mc my, cm this be ileatll. 365. 

that rises with us, uur life's star, 758. 

to d.irc tlic will to do, 670. 

tumult of the, 3i'6- 

uneasy nnd confined from home, 801. 

was llKC a it.ir, thy, 007. 

why shrinks the, hacK on herself, 759. 

win^s (he, 735. 

witlilii her cveN, 731. 
Soul\ cahn sunshine and heartfelt Joy, 796. 

dark cotta>'e. 755. 

sincere desire, prayer Is the, 398. 
Soul-movint; poesy, sacred and. (y>6. 
Souls, crowded with despulriiit;, 63J, 

h.irini>ny is in iiniuortal. 775, 

h.iv.' -.^:lit >i{ th.it iiiiiiinrt.ii scii, 759. 

imijuvlMlf )i-wi-l of iliL-ir, 811. 

of fr-irlul -idv-rsarius, 541. 

sc-e further than our eyes, 218. 

sit closely antl silently •vithin, 203. 

to souls can never teach, 731. 

two, with but a single thought, 205. 

virtuous, abhor. 1^0. 

whose sudden visitations d.-ize the world. 

8l3. 

Sound, beauty born of murmurlnn, lo?. 
doleful, li;irk from the tombs a, 31'^. 
every, is sweet, 493- 
fireaat the, my genius. fo3, 
full of. ami fury. 792. 
harmonious, more erateful tlian, 209. 
most melodious, eftsoons they heard a, 

839. 
must &eem an echo to the sense, 806, 
of a knell, never sighed .it the, 738. 
of a voice that is still, 315. 
of hanuner or of saw. no, 493. 
of revelry by ni^;ht. 511. 
of the churcti-noing bell, 738, 
persuasive, m.ijjic numbers and, 809. 
pipes and whistles in his, 711. 
southed with the, 771. 
the slcepint; tpirit wake, so doth one, 

which makes us linger, 341. 
Sounds, by those deep, 8bs. 

concord of sweet. 7713. 

ever after as a sullen bell, 34(5. 

m,irtial, sonorous metal blowing, 735. 

nor rural sights alone but, 493. 

of music creep into our ears. 77c 
Sour, lofty and, to them that loved liim not, 

misfortune's book, 345. 
Source and soul ol social life, peace, 541. 

of all my bliss atiii alt my woe, 6go. 

of uncre.ited li^itil, 3=;7. 

sacred, of sympalhcui. tears, 939, 
South and south-west side, 'twixt, 945- 

beaker full of the warm. 316, 

came o'er my ear like the sweet, 808. 
Sovereign, here lies our, lord the king, 940. 

law that state's collected will, 599. 

reason, noble and, 808. 
Sovereigns, dead but scciJtrcd, 69i. 
Sovereign'st thing on earth, 506. 
Space, aiiiiiliil.ite but, anil tiiiiT, 305. 
Spacious lirin.iment on high, 376. 
Span, life is bui :i, jjg, 

hfc of man less than a, 320. 
Spangled heavens a shining frame, 375- 
Sparc my aching sight, visions of gl-ry, 8 ■$. 

the rod and spoil the child, 108 
Spared, better, a better man, 312. 
Spark, inextinguishable, 601. 

of be.iuty s heavenly ray, 730. 

vital, of neavcnly flame, ^65. 
Sparkled, ihe, was exhaletl and went to 

heaven, 106. 
Sparkling with a brook, 489 
Sparks of fire, liltJe eyes glow like, 134, 

that kindle fiery war, 539. 
Sparrow fall, hero perish or a, 394. 

providently caters for the, 394. 
Speak in j)ublic on the stage, i07> 

me fair in death, 313. 

of me as I am, 734. 

right on, I only. 876. 

something good, the worst, 364. 

tears that, words that weep and. 804. 

to thee in friendship's name, 121. 

with most miraculous organ, 900. 
Speaker of my living actions, 811 
Speaks, angels listen when she, 134. 
Spectacles on nose and pouch on side, 711. 
Spcctrc'<loubts, inclt .ind dispel ye, 743. 
Speculation, no, in thos*- eyes, (K& 
Speech, pauses of the, thou fill'st, 3s8. 

rude aiD I in my, 145. 



Speech, thought could wed itself with, ere, 
US- 
thought is deeper than all, 731. 
thought is, speech is truth, 108. 

Speed ofmy desire, 186. 



the parting guest, isi. 
' nhisiK .1 ' ' 

. '>38-, 



Speke of nhisik and of surgcryc, 809. 
Spenser, aivinckt, lieaven-breu happy muse, 



lie a little nearer, 9^9. 
Sperit, all is I never druik no, 558. 
hi>hcrc. heaven's cxtremest, 125. 

quit their, all, 799, 
Sphere-descended maid, music, 774. 
sjtheres, seems to shake tlie, 771. 

stars shot m.-idly from their, 636. 

start from their, like stars, 724. 
Spice of life, variety 's the very, 815. 
Spices, sc.itter all her, on the stream, 632. 
Spicy fragrance, 348. 

nut-brown ale, 785. 
Spider's touch how exquisitely fine, 496. 
Spies, single, sorrows come not, 345. 
Spires, airy, and wayward whirls, ii'^8. 

whose silent fingers point to heaven, 
396. 
Spirit, a fairer, or more welcome shade, 910. 

Cxsar's, ranging for revenge, 539. 

clear, 8ia. 

drank repose, 416. 

drew his, his great Creator, 309. 

ere my fainting, fell, 930. 

exhilarate the, 493. 

extravagant and erring, 868. 

fiercest, that fought in heaven, 348. 

ill, have so fair a liouse, 133. 

le,ist erected, that fell, M.immon, 803. 

motions nf his, arc dull jl^ night, 776. 

no, dare stir abro.id, 397. 

of a single mind, 812. 

of a youth, morning like the, 490, 

of man is divine, all save *he, 451. 

of mortal be proud, 302. 

of my dream, a cliange came o'er the, 

of youth in everything, put a, 492. 

one fair, for my minister, 206. 

pipe to the, <litties of no tone, 718. 

recesses of a lowly, 375. 

rest perturbed, 311. 

sister, come away, 365. 

soft meek patient humble tranquil, 723. 

stronj^est and the fiu-rcest, 348. 

that impels all thinking things, 404. 

yet a wom:m too. 128. 
Spirits are not finely touched, 797. 

can either sex assume. 868. 

from the vasty deep, 1 can call, 812. 

good, no revenue but thy, iii. 

hght, from toil he wins his, 559, 

love in heavenly, for creatures base, 373. 

of great events. &X). 

of habitual unrest^ 494. 

rule our, from their urns, 68t. 

such love as, feel, 3')6. 

twain have crossed with me, 292. 
Spiritual creatures, millions of, 866, 
Spite, death aims with fouler, 309. 

in erring reason's, 489. 

Icarne<l doctors', 814. 

of spites, 868. 

the world, 347. 
Splendid sight to see, 725. 
Splenctivc an<l rash, I am not, 723. 
Siilendor falls on castle walls, 440. 
Splendors unfold, ages on ages tliy, 588. 
Spoil the child, spare the rod and, loS. 
Spoils of time, rich with the, 306. 

treasons stratagems and, 776. 
Sport an hour with beauty's cfiain, 816. 

as tedious as to work. 108. 

of kings, the chase, 671. 

of mocking fiends, 558. 

that wrinkled Care derides, 785. 

with Amaryllis in the shade, 303. 
Spons, joy of youthful, 607. 

no man their, must eye, 8<W. 
Sporus. satire or sense can, feci, 909. 
Sji'its of sunny openings, 493. 
Spray, bloomy, nightingale on ym, 4^^. 
Spread tlic truth from pole to pole. 376. 
Spreads his light wings, 215. 
Spring another race supplies, 792. 

come gentle, ethereal mildness, 492. 

companions of the, 472. 

from thee we, to thee we tend, 314. 

full of sweet daycs and roses. i"2. 

in the, a young man's fancy. 2^4. 

lusty, all dight in leaves of^llowers, 49;;. 

of love gushed from my heart, 857. 

of love rcscmbleth an April tlay, 492. 

Pierian, flrink deep or t.isie not, 80^. 

visit the mouldering urn, when shall, 737. 
Springs, his steeds to water at those, 474. 

I 01 Dove, beside the, 104. 

Spur, fai )e is the, 813. 



S]iur to prick the sides of my intent, 798. 
Spurned by the young hugged by tfie old, 

803. 

Spurns that patient merit takes, 397, 
Spurs the lated traveller apace, now, 491. 
St|uadrons, thick-])luined, 631. 
Square, glimmering, casement grows a, 315. 
Stabbed with a white wench's black eye, 

7^1. 
Stag, a poor sequestered, 496. 
Stage, .ill the world's a. 711. 

earth a, tlie world \ a theatre, 792. 

frets his hour upon the, 792. 

lags the vet'ran on the, 804. 

poor degraded, 804. 

speak in public on the, 107. 

well-trod. 786, 

where every man must play a part, 804. 

wonder of our, ^i^. 
Stagers, old cunning, fJoa. 
Stitle flat and unjjroii table, 346. 
Stalked off reluctant, like an ill-used ghost. 

Stamp, guinea's, rank is but the, 341. 
Stamped with the image of good queen 

Bess. 802. 
Stanch and strong a goodly vessel, 631. 
Stand and wait, they also serve who, 366. 
Standard of the man, the mind 'i the, 808. 

sheet, forever float that, 592. 

unfurled her, to the air, 593. 
Standing with reluctant feet, 104. 
Stands upon a slippery place, he that, 798. 
Stanley, on, on, ^lo. 
Star, bright particular, 242. 

constant its the northern, 492. 

dropt from the /cnilh like a falling, 735. 

fair as a, when "njy oni: is shining, 105. 

lingering, with lessening ray, 288. 

lovers love the western, 491. 

man is his own, 793. 

morning, charm to stay the, 376. 

name to every fixftd, give a. 804. 

of smallest magnitude, 493. 

of the unconquercd will, 8o3. 

our life's, the soul that rises with us, 758. 

round and perfect as a, 807. 

that bids the shepherd fold, 491. 

that ushers in the even, that lull, 49r, 

world in bigness as a, 4</j. 
Starers, stupid, aufi loud huzzas, ;8(. 
St.ir-'yed science, J97. 
St.irlii.'lil, K'htteriiig, 206. 
Stirry (jalileo with liis woes. 938. 
Stars, all the, aroimd her burn, 376, 

beauty of a thousand, clad in, jj4. 

fairest of. 363. 

fault is not in our, dear Urutus, 79^. 

forget-me-nots of the angels. 492 

f;lows in the, blossoms in the trees, 48;- 
lave lit the welkin dome, 592. 

hide their diminished heads, 719. 

hide your diminished rays, ye little, 797. 

high fiost of, 813. 

nor sink those, in cm|ty night, 114. 

oaks branch-charni6d by the, 494. 

of glory there, set the, 593. 

of midnight shall be dear, 103, 

of morning, dew-drops, 492. 

of night, iiinumcrable as the, 492. 

sentinel, set their watch in the sky, ^^g, 

shot madly from their spheres, 836. 

start from their spheres like. 725. 

that in earth's firmament do sninc. 494. 
Star-spangled banner, 560, 593, 
Start, straining upon the, 503 
Started like a gudty thing, 868, 
Startles at destruction, 759. 
Starts, everything by, and nothing long, 909. 

wild by, 773. 
Starved hackney sonneteer, 812. 
Star-y-pointing pyramid, 906, 
State, falling with a falling, 602. 

in sober, 794, 

of man like to a little kingdom, 90a 

of man, this is the, 321. 

ruin or to rule the, 601. 

storms of, broken with the. 346. 

throne of royal, 722, 

what constitutes a. 599. 

where Venice sate in, 720. 
State's collected will, sovereign law that, 

599- 
States can be saved without the sword, 541. 
Statesman, yet friend to truth, 120. 
Statesmen out of place, 814. 
Station like the herald Mercury, 721. 

private, post of honor is the, 601. 
Statua, base of Pompcy's, 876. 
Statue grows the more the marble wastcSi 

809. 
Stature, man makes his own, 398. 
Steadfast coral-stems arise, 807, 
Steal a few hours from the night, 305. 

away your hearts. 876. 

from tlic world, 335. 



/ 



lOi)^ 



INDEX OF FOKTIOAL QUOTATIONS. 





^ -s 


S»>w**. 




■\*sr*<))wv»»* 


f^ 




■■A 




>;vv^ 


'«t> 


U'. 


m .- 


■ -^-flX «M 


« 


t^.v 




KVl 


S*vnnK 






V 


. ^ 




SH*!.. 


^.^^ibOMXMi^ 




K-- 




.•- 


h. 


\ W4 


w 


k-. , 


. \ ^Vi". 


VJ 


Skv.^ 


, vv. 


>t*'^ 


tUt . 




t-M. 


V- 




:^(a^ 


1*^ . 


.<\* 




SW«?i'v-' 


- .^ -xs 


■ "^ 




• ■.•4«i' 4k t)^ ^M. 




::iiv^- 


iVVtf»9JK» »?X. 








St«|^ tvi^Aiim; ««fei tei^ys t^ >»«!>. A««,V> 


















. .^M antetfSi 7M 









1+ 









'.■5*^N- 






»M UMHHIjrv WW>«I^ tW>. 






S", 






1 «£Mi ^ ««4iClJtM> 





















lAbX* vW-41 tKdltt |>JKHkK-<« 






Nil ■ 



iJwti.a 






INDEX OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS. 



1093 






r.^ie lie, ?«<•- 
' wcork, js^ 



'. '*i^ t3t 






.4j. 















e tj«, 495 






Lis Wl . »«^ 

. •:w liLc dK, Sag 






' r »uii iuid >La/, ao). 



. V" 



.... ;v^. 



1/ j'J- . 




Swcir not hy »lir I 


K'rfiwanl rrw*!!, x*;. 


Swear ' • 

II ' 




\»it 


■ «4- . . 


Swc^i 


/■ri iriy IliniM, 7'^- 


K' 


, wc4ry life, w/7 


Sw^;' I 


wi«y, ly? 


hWC^' 






:, >„,< f..\^U^A. 7V'. 


„,,. 


■ ■f.ct-.i'l'-r.Urj 


■'<' 


'fWII, jyv. 


H''' 


' rn bCd, Hi. 


JIJ. 




Iir: ' 


/■'i- 


Mil 




Mr 


■^■ 


»t,(-n,:ji-,., -.1. 


.,ij..j Hi...... licr, Tdi. 



iu vj'iimcr, 7^^ 
fttlfii' tiVT Kfii":, 7)1. 



_. ;ya u(>oo diis tault, 

aa, riv«-r ididccli *t Im own, *r8- 

.^,.J-'«. i.tv ■jy.ur ar:-* kiss ll»e, IW- 

;,'.v d/^two tNil, 7®ti. 



•-ft air, yjfi. 



ntn l'fv<:lkt»t vlUiHfc of the \iU\u, 






i<rlntf full of, jca. 



\7i\ 

|. Mil, 771. 

. illy to women, 167. 
li v-li''.'l'', I."" i-1-.MriK, lao. 
It. Ilir |,rr,iili of in'.rri. 4'/>, 
lltlk ' lif-ri)ti lh:ii ^ll^ ii]/»U>ri. 6l( 
iif-r. y K noMlliy'si tr up bsflifc, 79^. 
ii.tii;ffi( In fills Itfr-, 31s. 
iir^flecl twre Ukclfi ine, 71J, 



iij sOI. 4y3- 
5"- 






'-•3 tari, 733, 



■>^ lovers, ««6. 

i JfT'^W, 107. 

^racKHii, 8«7 

.eruijf, to cbe sua, 
.': throu^, 577. 
'. ' .»: tender tbcu^bl. 






never, 1 

o* f- 
of ;« 






•iie, 815- 



f.ajjt'^us t'y my. iy>. 

^J.j,-:. .. ,,,v ...>l.bar<I, 541. 

hh ;■ 

j>^,i tlie, 80^ 

UK- .. . 



, .„ ., -y/j. 




Hif*. 




, *s too slow, 815. 








.^»»l, 739 


Teach 






ifwy, <ri^ 


'A 


r;,':f ttJAD tile, bUjwUrr 


cv 



Swords, ''»'J '"■ "■;. 1"-^. trusted I>e!j1, i«i. 
b)u:iUlM:') iiw,-Ji-, ('>r lack '^ itfi^uwem. 



Symjrtlliy, vret, »> . ^ ^ , , , 
Sy(«i:'t>^iii. (irst, of a luiiid In liealui, a^. 
Syro|A lu'xiit, (ina with ciiiiiamon, 179 
>>fiAK%ni>, M/jtu-i or, iiito ruin huricJ, 31/4- 

Tal/lc '/f my wKUUtry, 801, 

I ii/.kii: trim, Oji 

I 41) ^rid (iwnr useJ Instead of rem, <^i. 

'Jraii'"">i '''*'''' tditc'I will! a, 672 
Tailor's nt-Mn sw^ll owing a. 7K. 
I ..i(it of eiirtfi, y*4. 
I jiiile-l weilwrr */ the flock, 34K. 
I 4kr -t imn'i of l*'»te, 7'/> 

tfwiiyltic sword, 541. 

ea<;h iiian's '.rriiure, 8x5, 

Iter uiJ tenderly. 'J35- 

lijm ^ff all III ail. 7^1. 

lK*ROt<; of time bol from (ts loS4, 747 

Wdlm-ifi tJiri'.e tliy fee, vfi. 
I^liysk \ftui\t, y/r* 

the turreiit wlird it fcerve*. fc"2 

ilic vu'>'\ thr K'>'K i/rovidc 772 

th'/^r: lij/s away, -A^ 

ye e«'.li .i alipll. 8l''. 
Takes <,\fM\ swallow*, 8»o. 
T»kiit' notes, a chiel 'b amanif >":. *>5^ 
TakiiiK-^Wf. deep danmatioii of his, yw. 
Talc, arlorn «. p'fj"' " moral or, y>>. 

Ilatteriiijf, hojM: telU a, aji. 

honcsl, b|>ced!. l>ciit. 8»> 

1 r'juUi a. unfold. 725. 
of Troy divine, 787. 
round unvarnished, 145- 
s-;hoollK>y's, the wonder of an hour, 

buspecl your, untrue, 805. 

tell Ills, ijntrcwe,(^. 

that I relate, ais^ 

thereby han«s a, 791. 

told hy an idiot, ?'/■' 

told Ins bofi, U"*' 

twit e-Io!d, tcdiouh as a, 799. 

wondrous, niooii take* uj* the, 376. 
1 aleril, sinttlc. well cmpU^ycd, 395- 
Talc», buhbtinK. the wave still tells \\\ 720. 



^ are Uie, 814. 
--^ her, fao. 



laogiwe but hrst ttK toiwcd it liyiu stiver 

T.= «.■./!:'.). j.-iviLn^ to zetCree, 4/j. 

' v./iuetijjues, 814- 
' 1 v^, 370. 
■er, 73L 



for,' ■It'^V 

gav - l»Ad a. 3rji7, 

her ■ own, 620. 

I'o 'da, 321. 

in i . - iicr bps and «, 176 

lidi -.-----. ,«i^ 

mocks Hit, It l^.xi.c'l to &07f. ^. 

(>e»dulum l>etwixt a suiUe and a, 79a, 

biualJ orb of oae particular, »4. 

syiopathetk, 232. 

that ii> wiped with a little a-Mr^im, 464- 

the gr'jsui Uie knell the lalJ. ^2. 



tlu/ugl. 
Tears, .'^ 

big r. 



roIJi, s 






lie another. 49A> 

, yet, <iax. 

drop, as fast as the Arabian trees, 725. 
fiaitcred to, 176. 

fountain of sweet, a heart tl»e, aji- 
from the depth of some <ljviae dcepui; 

idle tears, 315, ?ys, 

if you have, prepare to shcxl thetn now, 

576. 
iron, down Fhito's clieek, 787- 
U/rc is loveliest cmbalnxed in, aoi. 
my, niuit stop for every drop, 338, 
Dothinif IS Ikere f'fi. 794- 
of boyrK>'>"J's years, 3*8. 
of the sky Ua loss of the sun, 491. 
of woe. tnc smiles of joy the, ':99. 
rctolves the moon into salt, 489. 
so obstruct my words, 725, 
some natural liiey dro|rt. 321. 
such as anjfels weep. 34<- 
sympathetic, sacre'l source r4. 939. 
ifial si>cak, words tliat wee(« And, yj*. 
thouglits thai lie too deep for, 759. 
wei with unseen, 416- 
wronKed orpluns'. 54*- 
Techc, gladly Icrne and gladly, 697- 



Tcchstonc, war's red, 539. 
Tedious a* a twice^xiUl " 
Teeming earth, syi. 



Teeth, drunkard clasps hts, 558. 

of time, give lettered pomp to, 915. 

on ed^e. ^et my. 807. 

sans, 71J. 

white, struggling mto sight, 105, 
Tell a talc after a m^in, <>ff 

his talc unircwe, 6^. 

me my s'^ul can this be death. 365, 

me not in mournful numbers, 7O9. 

think one ihin^ and another, 797. 

truth and shame the devil. 398. 
Temper, blessed with, whow: unclouded 
ray, '.132. 



1094 



INDEX OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS. 



T«miVT justice «Tth nwrvy, ^^ 

T. - ■ -■ .:vps with. 815. 

1 ' -.1. r»» 

.'IS- 









■":;.T; 



; AntWvl the, »*. 



A'M tho. ?a4. 






VcstARicnt, v^'n**^' '^' Wcc\iii\(; ««r. 541- 

Tc\!. vi^vi i.\k(-s -v *nvl v»T*Achcth jw-H-onc*. 
-«^ 
msnv A h.^v. Ar»uni) she NtrewN, >36k 

1 K- v'Ati, none c*n Ktx-c, ?>?. 



^cn I "m IH>*, *t 


ntUr^: 


i-i (iro 


-'■■.^..«S-* 




nwc: 


• ^*9- 




n^xwi 


-«-ii. Sby. 




00 f ■- 


'!o A dew. 


«ii> 


,v,lo 


.. ;he e*nh 


Jt st.V:>^. 





Theli*s vV »*e*»'HVi.' line. ?:^ 
Theirs b«t W 1,K^ An^l vlic. s»r- 



wvirfcs rarcnt of 



- -a. 4A4 

e.u"'. t^i;\i; ■> A. «'V 

eAnh *s K 4^ 

in either e>"e, !*& 

nivVMi *« *n AtrAttt. 4$^ 

(tf tin>e, p(v>cra^tiiuttk>n is the, ;4& 

scA S .1. 4S* 












; ■; .Vie sw rhyme. 5*7. 



ThinaTN. uniitten^Wv'. •ii);h<N.l and ^'^^k;c<l, 904- 
V him so, :«!>. 

lell. ;*», 

- • th,»t toil. S«fl. 



iv»a Kit. 



ol" the <l*ys llwi *Te no nh'vc, siis .'^S* 
things spirit thAt tmvKU *X\. m. * 
tvx-< luiicn IV* hax-e thvHUiht, ».\|. 
Thinks nnvst feels the n*>Ncs« *cts the l*e>t. 



> iih. r«<. 



All ol>.iC\:tS vM' All, 4v^4, 






•!r.;|'<e\l, A», 
. > S. -SI. 

i;h. »&. 

*:■ 

VhvHIj^ht, lljl 

:t:ht is the. 43i< 
vjwesseil, »>?. 
• r with the, c^;. 



-It'ul, eternity thou, r*^ 
HASTC «M thenumi, Sia 



simv , .i^-i^er. OS&. 

s«-e«t jaicm. NOiSJ^ins v4l 115. 
the vIenKMi, >oe». 



ive, 636. 
....;h. :.*». 



'v-S x*t. 



ni\w . ..^--.i. . x.-. 

»M" K-'v-e. ^i;4. 

v^f men Arc »-i.iene<,i, 457. 



,vx1 «-hen, 40i. 

trie. 765, 



,; vHit of suilcrin);. 



thJw Arise in me, ^15. 

th»t hresthe sn^ wvrrts th»t Wra, 36?. 

that '■:■ ■ ■ '■■•"- :-Ars» rs* 
thai ■-■ 



Thv«sAr.,is «i htslk.U.iid s\»ee\l. jj&S. 
to munler, mkcs « srteovms iMme. 541. 



ThrsM.Mw si»mie» or double strife, ^ao. 

ThroA.l. tcets *t each. «g& 

ThrcAivnii^ c>-e. kv*s upon them with .\ 

ThreAts, l^l^ ten\^r in >-\M»r, 7^. 

Vhr.o -I ■'n,\ 5*1- 



■ \ her hvtm. 4^ 



»M" rwyAl stAtc, 7*». 
royaK *'*'" kiiijjs, 003. 
the lix'.nc. ^1^^ 



: ,-r to A, .X»6. 

. Wvxyncs the. :>^ 

. l*e&. jfJ9. 
;!tii\C. CTi. 



US he owed, 50*. 
loves by, 181. 



.^te h's, 4'aii. 
u-et. t*w. 



Thj-^eli. k]Kiw then, [mvm 

>i-An. "SM. 
T.VK-.l«iiri.vv:ri«. I.". 



■■>• 
not Crol to 



^■vi\hnu the, As ihcj l^ I., .i,"^ 
disnwl, when he ttK^wne^l, «S. 
Tie, li«)sc>i in one h*N«»-enlv, *>^ 



Tv 

Tniii-. 



, k Ana. Soft. 
V er |:l^ cs, goo. 



AfK* the hvHir r\ms iKr\Hiuh the rvMi)^est 

d.\J-. 7M1, 

AnnihJiAtc Kit sl^Ace ami 205. 
bAnk An<l shoAl ttf. o.x* 
be\x\n»i the At£ht of. ii4- 

..... .^.. V... .... .. -^, 

-4fl. 
: with. 6s. >>» 

- <^f >4»c< .\nd. 9JSK 



~ 1. •AJ'tt. 

60* 

■ 'U r»4. 

v^ A. gjS. 
-.MseleNS fool of, 7»i. 



..,^;,v> u>vii ;hu.N Sio. 
1', iivAudibIc an^t, 7^1. 



INDEX OF POIiTICAI, QUOTATIONS. 



Klilf) 



TIrrie, uM, h Mill n nyliiif, 754. 
old. iimki'r. til- ■. ikxiy. 141. 
iiiiiiltii/ iMilr-,| -iff-r )tiin III vnln, gris. 

pIplK,. ■ ■ 

p„M, , (lil.-f ..f. 74H. 

1""!' ' 

r..l|.. iH M ,«, 7^1 

-.uitl'. Ml, i .ill III.-. 77M. 

iflllt lififnri- IIIV, y)H. 

otiiill llimw H <l<ut i*l tlifi', vi;. 

«l'>w, ro«lpr«:ltll>l '>r •.Ihnci) nixl, 7'H. 

«(i IidII'iwimI uihI ur"i'"'<i'> i<* t'<('< .197' 

«(>rr(iw cdIN ii'i, iliut '•> K'"'"* i4^'- 

HpolUot, ilcli wllli tlio, (OO. 

tnkc ii'> iii'to nr. Itut rriHii lt<i Iom, 747. 

KT'Jtll rif, tflvo lollorod [iniiip to, VI5' 

tlint l>cnr<i no fnilt deaorvod nu nninc, 

7V4. 
I'lm^'iiil, I'likv H'* 

Id IIIMUril, 1)1' tilill liir'tc, hH. 

KiiOi of. f<Tt"'l t'<.i'l<' k:-ilii»l, Kii, 

If;lllM)"r('-'I *vllli rmv. 'I-. 

(urn full kwaril ■ >, In your llliflit. 9a7> 

wlilft* iiii'l M oriis 111, J9J4 

wilrliliii;, of iilk'lit, 4JI 

wfltv* n<» wrinkle* un lliinc nxiif hrow. 



I liiiff' 






irni6(l Iiiinitt 799. 



f.Mtl. llfr. v,j. 

fdol, lovf U not. aoH 

n<>l)i<-st riiNprlnu K inc Imt, jH; 
Miii-H li »v.- birii, til". 86H. 

I>rnir liili'o Willi. »n. 
1 liii'itliy, viunK, IrtiriH iln to Ily, y^, 
I 111! I Willi ' inihuiinii. liM rill ^yro].... r;-/. 
I liiti, «al>l<-r. •>( wi>r. Mfj, 

trinimriiw witli pfjilirllC rny, in. 
'II[.|.imI Willi nnilur, H14. 
rit>|ile In llio <I(.'pn, fi'.lic* tlml. 147 
'l'l)>loo, Jiictiiid (liiy mIiiikK, on iiiDiintnln 
liiiw, 4'/^ 

trWuion tUtmU fit\. In niir Innd, m 
Tlrod imtiirff'ii «wi'ol rt'slorcr, iik-e)), 616, 
I'ltlr, tfiilliril no. lotil no frlcntl, fjo. 
Tlllrx, tiltflillionijli hksr,,, 

iiiiwor (iml [H-lf, ^''1, 
To Itc t.r not tu \n\ *;?, 
TmihII iiylv iiml vcndtnmii, ^4". 
'I'tast. I't tlir, |>ii>i<i ilrliik to \Uo Inui, 1 \i. 
Tol.i. .... Milillnir, Hi,i, 

lliii^ lliliik >iii<f ^in'ikn, Hi4< 
'1 o (lay. 1)0 wlie. 't \% mmliiiivii to dorer, 7.lH, 



liU own, ho wild mil citti, 7ot' 

I liiivn llvod, to-niorrow tin tliy < 



iir<)l. 



to-tiiorrow nlrcn<ly wMlk<t In, fto'). 
.'lyl". 
'I'r>c, lltflit fiiniiiHtlc, 7ri3. 



iifi)ifi|i[>y (liiy too Into. 799. 



10(> to, I'r7, 

Toll and U'lutil", wnr It. jp. 

tfovi-rn iho^i' ili.it, Itiofic Ihnt lliriu, flij 

morn of, «)". 

*»( Kulliorlntf oncrKlc*, H'7, 

o'nr ttuok* 4:on%iiiiiod (lie nil'Initflil oil. 
»04. 

vcr*c ^wrrtrn*. lyj, 

wlmlliitc dp dayn with, %yi. 

wln^ lilo iplrlls lliflit from, y//. 
T'lllrd. 111! fortfot Tor wlikll lie, ',.l<i. 
'I'"lli,. nil. lire ^Wfol witli tlirc, v/j. 
I "111 liiit lo iirr iiintiml bren<it, aoj. 

l)h«ort liilf. ^04. 

thr *c«lon, ,/t.i. 
'\'-\- •{'! inisiy, Ui(! trniclianl l»Iad<-, y-j. 
I..l|f:,r thr l.r.w--, t.tj 
I '•rii, in.iii lliiil Ixills you, or J.f k. ui. 
I'lnili. lifinKy itiitnortal iiwiik<;s Ir'ou ili'', 
7i;- 

cf.idtc^ rock im nearor to the. \<h. 

klii){4 for «uch n, wUh (o die. go'*. 

niofiiinipnt without a, 903. 

tlirrf'-fold four-fold. tfyf. 

vtUr lit nnliiro crii;* from III'-. fj'>. 
Totnli*, fliittcrllltC. liow nilMlttlnd on tlirlr. 
794. 

Imrk rroin Ihc, n doleful wound, y>. 
Tornorrr.w. drfcr not till, lo l.j wiv<-, 704 

do thy worM for I li/ivc Uv.d lo-rl.iy, 7 , , 

In lo day iilrr?iidy w<ilk«. »• •, 

U fiiUrr tli'in the fornirr <l.iy, tu- 

live till, thr diirkeM ilny will pii'... 7'^ < 

iiiiiki;, ' tu-rrful a% to>dny, -lyj. 

iltui. wlih proplictlc tny, 1 )4. 



will lie dyliitf. 754, 

T'. Io...f',-V-: ri.riiotfi 



hfo mny never rf«.r. ftj \ 
' "■: 718- 
it'ir«\ rrMfire tlic, .i<>i. 
I thy, i9>t. 
mI, to^jcthrr l.plon;,"i, v -■. 
■ k'li' .!■ ' nr . '.f lliJll iMlkliowll, 777 
if'iiird hiiti »ilh unlioly, not Oi.-. 77, 
dr'.|.p*-i| iniriiiti. thoiifc;li his, 7j,i 
In rvrry wutnl "I *_i<'Mr, H77. 
let the (Anilled, lick absurd lionip. m. 
iiinnlhnt IiaMi «, 133. 



I onuiii', iinir(li<r thoutili It hnvv no, vrlll 
nponk, Iff. 

tiiiKik'n guidon, 17^. 

nor iK'iirl (iiimol cnncolvQ nor itunto 
llit'o, 9011. 

of rirc (Hid hvnrt of Dtoel, 794, 

of BO |ivrpk'K<.>il n, B'"). 

or piui, 'ii fill mill wnnU of. tjM. 

oiiUf'tionn nil tlif woiuic> of Ntli?. Sii. 

iiliiy the iTiiL'k'iirl Willi my, uO. 

\ ih.i'WiMiiirn t.rll. Hf., 

lliiil Mmki'ip'iirc «.iitiki'. Ckw: 

iMJili lu'wirvhc-iifmrd'tt. i^». 
liilly\v:Ml.I..t., y|H. 

iindirHlxii'lliit,' I'lil II", H19. 

win II wiiiuiiii with hl>i. i )). 

would llirii my, coiiM uttur, ii'i. 
Tonuucn, iiiry, tluit ^yllllblo niuii t nniiint, 
Bp. 

Ill tri-ri, (Ituk. 4»h. 

of ilyintf nicii oimirco (ittvnll'in, 310. 

nllcrii o '■nvloiiii, ■^j-j. 

wliKiirrlii^, ciifi iioU'in truth, iiO. 
Tooiiptl.rfr.ri- IM kill, 795 

l.ilc I "itiiyrd, fiirtilvL' llip i.fini'.'. 117. 

lalfj yr t utiiiot fulcr now, 754 

many yet Iiom' f(.-w, J71. 

swift t.irily aq too slow. Bin, 

|oooolliin"Ui woiiM inch. in. 
I iioU, niimr liK. tv>ii li iiotlilii|j tint lo, ffu4. 

ol worklntf out stilvitlloii, y/i. 
Tooih of iliiir. an, 

<ilinrpi>r tliiiii n >;cr|)Clit'it, ^4H. 
r<tp to tof. frniii, ifi7. 
lopi,. iirond. of the raitorn pine!!, yio. 

ilriiilt r, W(?f(* f loqp nunliinl the sky, 'j\ 
I iiiniriil of the iiitiid, lovo In 11, tjfi. 
lorronl, loud, aii'l Ihr whirl wlu'li roar. '„,. 

liililKhl l>ni Ihe. k hriird on the hill, 

lorrcnt 1 •mioothncjifl t-rc It (lush lirlow, 4i,i. 
'roiroiit«. iiiotlmilcis 377. 
Torture, lioil hi endlcHS, 7110. 

of the niliul, HI. 
Torliirlnn hour. 141. 

I o-,ii I1I111 |o my liieiint, wcnrllirii limy. 39^. 
I "hil i.f 111. Ir hopimiiid fnnri. 791. 
I r.it.fliiL' ^|.■|l;^llll iilt»W, H16, 
r<>u'hi.(ihi'lli-d, H'9. 

ilitret Mill pill It to thf, igo 

feel ihe leridt:rent. JOi 

Inly, of love. JO). 

of n viinUtted tiiiud, 31 j. 

one, of ii.ilure ni>)kr'i llii.- world kin. Hit. 

Noft, liiitli ^avcd her tioy. 706. 

the iplder'i. liow ex(|urHltely fine. 4«/l. 

wound with <i, that '■) flciirccly felt, HoO. 
Touched by her fHlrtun<liiiii:o ^ladllor ^'rew, 

V05. 
Toiirtn-i, of-iweet liiiriiiony, 77« 
I r„H IhIoik-, iii.iii''* true, < aliinilly K 34^. 
I oil. h> !.■ ,tv phii-i.int fellow. 7'.f4- 
lower r>f ^treiiijlh, til' kiiitj's imiiie Uh. y^v. 
r.-werhin pii'i^iion, Jj^ 
Towrri aloiiLf ihe wtCfp. (rjq. 

and lfattfenK'nt<i It hoos, 785, 

(:loud-i:app(id. Wrj. 
Town, iimii iiuide the, 71/3 
Toy, a fooIUh tlilni; wa« but it, 494 
Toyin. troiibloim. 311. 
Ir.i' t of liil.ind t;rouiid. 0(r. 
1 r,ii|-, dr. (idful. yatlieri s.imphfre, 44', 
I riik!' dy, loiryrous In stej.lred pull. 7«7, 
1 rill! iif^th- -.irpeiu h f.vc- lliem nil, v/-- 
rraltliii; .toinK of ^lory do we ( ome from 

'•od,75« 
rrahiof nlt^ht, hml In the. Vr). 

of (hy nmb'-r-dropjihii/ lialr, f/f,. 

^inrry, yeiii'i of heaven her, 491. 
Trains of Inmircrv, fair, 867. 
I'raltorou<« kl^a fier Saviour ^liintj. not •ihe 

with, 7',<. 
Traitors, our doublit nre, 8"0. 
Traitors' nriin, liiKralltnde more stroity 

thiin. H76. 
rrammrl iiji the coii'.p'iuepi. e ^n 
rr/imph- or. my, wIiom- liyht doih, 'vr,,. 
rramiiiitllfy, liniven was all, -j'.^ 
Iraii'i. rii.l our wonted theiiirs ^74 
I fiirr.ltloii, what serins v Is. j^j. 
I r,ii< .iiiittir of a foot)>>h faro, tenth, Hti. 
1 r.iii'.uiiilt's bereaves of bad Inllucnte, 539. 
I f.iu'.porls, moderate thy. soG. 

ri-i.ordsdrar of, pnit, irfJH 
rrapiilnici and the stilts of woe, a-jg, 
Tra'.h, wlm ■.teak my purse «leak, Bii. 
Ir.ivrloii life's foTimioii way. 9'r7. 
I r,'ivel\ hlMory. porlaiiie In my. I4*^> 
lr.iv.-lledIifi'sdiiU roun.l, lai, 
I f.ivell.T leapliiij o'ff thot,c boiUKlfl, 8"5. 

tip.vv •piir'. the lated, apafe. 4't1. 

I t .V lit 111. } .1 Swrrtheart, ^.C*. 

1 f I I- . Mvllitit sips, is lost. 205. 
I r-jii'l 'ill (1 other's heel, woes. 343, 

of uncrowned kln^ti 603. 

on classic Kroiitnl, Ho?. 



Ifason lilooily, (tiaifUherl over IJ«, )*7G, 

.an buipeej., 7". 

Motli Piovpr juositer, tin. 

haibors. In Ills »lni|>lo «li(>w, 714. 

has ilone Ills wornl, 311. 

here lurks no. 311. 

none dare call It, if It prnviiei, Hia. 
Treasons nlratnifeiufl niid spulN, fit for, 9;ii, 
I fasiire of liii cyo«li{Iil loBtt proLioii^ 
W>- 

rlth the, V7I. 
Tronsiires, always, always frlchd*, 739. 

fetihed Itiy si a born, hoiil". 4'/. 

heavin's bMsi, p.-ai .> and In allli, 559, 

three, low." light taliii IhoiiKhls. 73-^ 

lip a wroiij/, fti/^. 
Treasuries, Aimless, frij. 
Treatise, dismal, my fell of hair rouse al a. 

900. 
Treble, thildlsh. 711 
Tren. foflildd.ii. Imii ..filial, vr. 

half «ti en. 4-14. 

In. lirir.l )iisl asihe twii; Isbml, H-^. 

I" I'll' y rhns.-li, 491 

ii.-vi r [oved II. or flower, v',t. 

'.( .1' .p- si r'.ot, 70 

th..rnsorthe, I planted, f^n. 

woodman spare that, lor. 

/alliens he did .limb Ihe. m. 
Trees, Arnblan. drop (ears ■» iiisl as the, 

Rt sprhtif ilo vield forth tnitl, 0o7. 

blosvrins In llie, 4Hq. 

I.rollif rhf.od t>f veiinrnblo, 494. 

li..'l.l'an;iM sin, 4*;, 
Vut hid w.,]i. 4»lo. 

tuff. I. b..M.me.rhl«h In, 785. 
I rombh; like a Kiillly ihlnif <)(trprl4od, 7^. 

slave Id, when I wake, r^i. 
'I r'-mblers, boding;, karneif lo trfice, (AH. 
I remblliiK I'lnions. soar with, Hrn, 
I lerif h^Mil blade Toledo Irtiflty, 507, 
I lib'-, badi^e of alt our, siifTarnnco the, 346. 

niay Ills, In. rease, jfM. 

rl'her than all his. pA. 
Iflbule, pnssliiy. of a sluTi, 3fiG, 

vain, ofa <iinll'', Hit. 
Trl. k of his frown. 107, 
Till V'., foihisHi , plays siiull, H13, 

hi. I" illllS, ,}./., 

• 1. pi. On and simple faith, v/i. 

iliiii jir.; vain, ways that iiro dark and, 
9M7. 
'Tridc, without coiincnt bin only, 33a, 
Tried eat.li nrl roprtrvcd eacli dull dolny, 
fMH. 

to live without him. |iw. 
Trifle, careless, n« 't were a, yK/- 

think naiiifht a. Hik. 
TrIMers. Imporlaiit, 55^. 
I rin< ^. I St, win 1)4 with, (96. 

lii:ht a^ air. ■j'^. 

iiii.onsid're.l, a snapper up of, 784, 

If April dr.ss.d h. nil liU. 4./^ 

I rip it as you ,:o. 1-1,785. 

'\ rippiiii/, (.at'li hliii. If yn 1 an, 7,^4. 
I riton blow hi . wreath^.l horn, 4'r^ 
I riomph a'lvaiiie';. chief who In, V9> 



I'll 



" thi 



sl-if ■ipaniile.l banner In, shall wave, 593. 
rriunii'hal an h thai filTsI tl>e sky, 494. 
Trivial fond records, wipe iiway all. Hoi. 

mlijhty contests from, things, H15. 
Trod the water, f.TJ. 
Tror.p. farewell the plnniAd, yasi. 
Troops fif friends, honor love oliodlonce, 

794. 
Trope, out there flew 11. *»*. 
Trojihics, memory o'er thoir tomb no. raUo, 

Trouble, a Joyful. JM- 

*Mir dnys l»rnin witli, here, 308, 

war Is toil and, 77a. 
Troubles, sea of. take armn nifnhiBt n, »/f. 

written, of the brain, j47. 
Troubllnir, wiiked ' case from, 330. 
Ir'.y divine, tale of 7«7. 

fired ai.otlter, like another Helen, 77a. 
Truant. iit;ed ears nlny. at lih tales, 7»j. 

huslmiid should return. 71*,. 
True as the needle to the pole the dial l<r 
the Sim. 796. 

love, the course of, »y>, 

t'l Imayineil rli/ht, ff'i. 

to thine own self i.e. 7W 
True-fined and r'Mini; <|Ualily, 4V. 
Trump, speaklm;, of fufure fame, 940. 

Ihe shrill, far. well. 7" 
Trumpet, the shrill, sounds, w. 

to Ihe morn. (:o(k that Is the, «f* 
Tnirnpel-tdnyucd, nica'l like iin((cls,900, 
Trust In (Voffnml keep your powtlcr dry, 

in fiod Is our, 593, 

nnl a man, 23:1. 

Hafe and tound your, 79$. 



1006 



INDEX OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS, 






1 









l'ttcv>n\;«crc\i !ttt\«a. sooa sfkiU thy Ann, 
will sr,« (^" ifet. *e. [ 












. . "gists f^ vmI* hfei «». 



I'lK-xjinrsaax* s^. the uic Mic chjtsc tfcc. 



'--• wUvT. ♦Xw 



^^s^vffNl vv Ktiaaited boss, vcv 

",, i-;.-,' K- :v,L-; ere ijft. jl^?. 

their, (SJt. 






ViCAn: 

Vain is tbe IcAf up^>a the :iXre<u». Sx> 






Vj(fc/v 






^ 114. 



"CAr.%, :,v- 



Turf : 



T\:rt . 
T*«- 



-vi iii. . 






• • .'»«. OCT- 









T««c;v^«^. b«A SRinvX- pit** f.-*. -; ; 



v^r*. iit. XV. 






-1 su=sa»er se«» t^t. 
- T«ag by, 5^i. 



• v^d iavi a^t 3». 



x-Jtevl. so*. 









;.; «v«kl J. » sweet. 
o*' >ie<itb. 517. 

Valor, ■ 

b> ^-i-en-saa 






I Vxawige. o-y^^Tse oJ", rax 



, be cottivi u^^u 



X'jsar. yv« saA\->«sik y^jc cjay sJuiter the. 



\"sfe«acoce, oerr, «' yoi:;*x. ^^.\ 
Vet:5e>Aaot ?o Ovxi aJcctr b>A.-«g5i S(ji 






•4. 

? oAec"^ site. *». 



INDEX OK POETICAL QUOTATIONS. 



1097 



Vcrnc, married tii imiiKirtal, I.ydi.iii iili'., 786. 

iiLirrictl to iiiiuiuri.il, wisiluiii, «i>0. 

iiiity liiul liiiii Willi .1 !>crnioii llics, )04. 

siiUjccl of .til. 907. 

swciicns lull, ^s'f- 

\'irnirs, iiikI I iiHy's trutli <li> say, -j'^i. 
V.rscs, rliyiuo Un; riuldcr iri of, H07. 
W-rUiu c-ii^ciiilrcd is tiic Hour. ^j^. 

first. In roMrciilf, vA 

more, thiiii (loth live, 007. 

nf iiucrssitc, Tii.il:ili. Ko.v 



,,r t,. 

Ill'', A 



V.-MUt. , 

\'i-tft,in 



.■■l.'. 



Iimi. Ill" (-.sfiiti.il, 7^:.'. 
KTlluims l.ti-s, 8u4. 

wlinsi: i,isl .u I on the M.i^.'c, So.]. 
\'cx not liis >;li"St. \.\li. 

nut tin- poets imnil, 8)6. 
V'cxinn llu: ilull e.ir of n itrowsy miiii, 709. 
V'i-yiic. li.iilicii every, in swicli litour, tij^. 
Vibrate, i bonis lli.it, sweetest pkMsure, -j)4. 
Vibrates in tlie lueiiKiry, imisii., 7;o. 
Vieiir of llm ;ilinit;litio lord, nature. 4HQ. 
Vice is ;> monster of so frightful mien, vt^. 

of fo.ils, pride tlie never-failjiin. jtjt,. 

pr<.-\,iils, wlun. tioi- 
\'iL:cs, fr.iiue ,1 l.idder nf our, 199. 

hiiiall, ,ip|je.ir through tattered ck<tlies, 



Vicissitude, circlinjfjovs of dear, 551), 
Vicissitudes, sad. of tuliiL's, 559. 
Victories, foiled after ft thoiivind. 540. 

peam li.itll licr, 900. 
Victorious o'er all tlie ills of lift-. H48, 
Victory, O Krave where Is thy, jOg. 

't was ii famous, q^B. 

distance leiufs enchantment lo llir 
348. 

mc with .1 critic's eye. duii'l, 107, 

outward, she is n<n fair to. r.vj 
Vicxved his own feather on the f.il.il d.irl 



Vi. 



Views, science his. eiilartjes, 541 

Vi^il, paiinit se.irch and, loiu', tiw. 

Vij.;ils. pensive jjoets painful, keeji, 807, 

Vi.'or. <:heer of. born, 7:,^. 

Vile, call him, thai w.is your i;arl.uid, Hi |. 

dust from whence he s])riuij;, 561, 

^iiris, a soldier but for these, 506, 

111 dnr.mce, ^.i(, 

..nlym.mis.i^v 
Vill.,-.- Il.iiupd.u. some. J06. 

Ii>\rhi-.t. <>( the ]ilaiii. 080. 
Vill.im, huii,;ry leaii-fatcd, j-js. 

omr murder made a. 541. 

Miul.- ..nd be .1. TJj. 

with .1 Minhn^ clieek, 797. 
Villaiiuus saltpetre, 506. 
Villany, clothe my n.iked, i</j. 
Viiulicatc the ways of (iod to man, »v7. 
Vine. i;addini,', wild tliyine .iiid the. .10^, 
Violence. iiUlulion's. 34H, 
\'ioleiii <t<li^;hls have violent ends. 81c. 
Violet b...trcwn. here and there .1. 4^), 

by a inossy stone half hidden, io=i. 

nlowinn. 494. 

nodduii:. 4.;5, 

of his ii.itive land. 311. 

tlir<jw .1 perfume on the, 7.16. 
\ioIets, bre.ithes upon a bank of, 80H. 

dim but sweeter than Juno's eyes, 495. 

odors when sweet, sicken, 776, 

plucked. I iH. ,4^,, 

sijfmn from lnr f lir (lesli, ■jii. 
\'iriiirs verse ami Tully's truth do say, 7^)1 
"iri^jin thorn, wiiheriTu; on the, 405. 
ir^'iu-,l,.,l.r,,l, ■,,.l.|..,,irlooks..riove.687. 
hey twine. 451, 



Virgin thorn, wiili 

Vir^,'' 

Vir^; 

Vim 



al'.JK 



L.'li.i 



. 105. 



.11.1.1. tlie pyramids, ).,«. 

assume a. il you have it not, I'j'- 

fillid till- '.p.i< 1: between, 7.^7. 

in hiT shape how lovely, saw. i/H. 

is to fiold as Hold lo silver. 8o}i 

make .nnbition, bly wars llial, j-jj. 

jv> man's, nor sufficiency, 345. 

nurse of every, 690. 

■ Illy makes our bliss below, 398. 

p'.ss'ssii.n would not show us, 801. 

pr'^:f<:ssive. and .ipprovini; heaven, -i 

sirek. lirst, B03. 

she fiiMls loo p.iinful an endeavor, :■-. 

s|)cakini', 187. 

the mind m.itures, 794. 
Virtue's governess, wfifpplne. 108. 

land, I-orttine's iee prefers to. 79'). 

side, e'en liis fatlines leaned to, 6HR 
Virtues did not ^n forth of us, if our, 797. 

nearest to heaven of all the, 733. 

of .1 teinp'ratc prime, 79A. 

we dare conceive in boyhood. 867. 

will j^lciid like ani;cls, 900. 
Virtuous actions are but born and die. Hn 



Virtuous souls ablior. i:-,u. 

Visaj;e, ilevoli-ni's. ,ind pious nctlon, 196. 

on Ins bold, luiildle a^.'e, 670, 
\'ision and the t,u ulty divine, jt>6. 

baseless fabric ot this, H67. 

beatilic, 80 



faery, I look il for a, 869. 
fai.il, sensible to feeling; 



HH- 



iLs to sijilil, 



\'isionary eye, hirdsof the. 868. 

Visions of j^lorv spare my aching sluht, 808. 

^■'■■'l.-'"" ■''< rlh.-nl..l)e, 47a. 

h.r 1,1. •■ IniiTuut'hlv, ■-■irfj. 

I' I'V III.- p,il.- 11 ilinlil, o?";. 

\ I, It, .11. .MS, Ml. 1(1.11. .|,./.-ihe wort.l. 81;/. 

\ (-.itiiij^s, compuiii 11011S, uf nature, 900. 

Visits, like anijels', jijo. 

Vital s|iark of heavenly llame. 565. 

Voice, arrow for the heart like a sweel, 'J04, 

!<' manly, 711, 

can honors, provoke the silent dust, -vjO, 

try sleej) no more, inethoui^lil I heard a, 

factious, no, 601. 

lleartl oft in worst exlreines, 540. 

I hear a. y.m eannot hear, 311. 

in inv drfaniin^; ear, 5:^9. 

is still for war, my, '570. 

low ami i;emle, woman's chicfest charm, 

7'>S. 
no music In a. that is but one, ^71. 
of doluroiis pilch, P4. 117- 
of i.u.l. Duly sleiiidaiinliter of the, 797, 
of nature cries e'en from the toiiih, j'ifi. 
of the sluffffard, 815, 
sint: Willi in.irlal, more safe I, 3.18, 
sound of a, that is Mill, jig, 
ivaridrrlnn, 47V. 
w,c. rv.-r soil, her, r-i- 
nil. h-.|..c''s, that b.iyed the wind. Om. 

\ ><!< rllll ...M, H.-J. 

V'lU's, .in. estral, propllesyin^; war, X\a. 

of the iilnhl,-J7.l. 

two. are there each .1 ini|;lny voire. 471. 
\'-<i'\. dreary, rapture to the, 816. 
\'oliibIe, sweet and, his discourse, jai. 
V..lume. bo.ik and, of my brain. 801. 

brief unto as lar^je a. 107. 

of forgotten lore, H^a. 

within th.it awful, lies. ^97, 

Voluptuous sw.ll sic with its, (;ii. 

Votaress, imperial, HYj. 
Votarisi, like a sad. in |>almer"s weed, 830 
Vote. kiiiHliest act u{ freedom is the, 6'.3 
Vows, Livers', seem sweel, 491. 

much In our, litlh- in our love. 351. 

with so much |i.issi..ii, 104. 

wreck of sober, c^=,H, 
Voyatre of iheir life, all the, 8oa- 

rein.iiiider biscuit after .1, dry as, ft.3. 
Vulfjar, be familiar but by no means, i-.-i. 
Vulture, rage of the, 4^1. 

Wad some power the I'lftlc ^ie us, 4H6, 
Wade thr.>iu:h slam.-hler to a throne, v>'.,. 
W.ift me fr..Nidistr,., li,,ii. 085. 

thy iiaiiK- luyon.l the sky. 238. 
Wan without .1 fee, could 1101,807. 
Wa^jers, fo.iK for ari'iiinents use. 801, 
Wai's.howtheworl.1,791. 
W.ul. sings yet does so, 40.;. 
Wailiiii' winds ;ui<l iiake<l woods, 46O, 
Wain. Phiebus*, liindmosl wheels of, 830. 
Waist, round the slitdil, 814. 
Wait, l.-.irn lo |,-,bor ,.iid 1... 770. 

only ■.i.iin! and, yiO. 



1. 1 ■ 



V. i-'A 



df I., lor. I. i( I ■,lioi.|.!, 107. 

<lillererii e b. iwixt, ,inil sleep. 81O. 

my hearl to nrn,-s of llaiiie, -.t,:-. 
Waked me I. .0 s.>.,ji. you have hi'-, 
W.tkefulni;'hiim.,,h., 4,,. 
Wak.o Im,.!, ,u,.| L.diesg.ay, 65H. 

Waken. II,. .1,,, nun ages, g.2. 

W.,k.-,U„. I„n,, inrm..ry,39',. 
\V,iklui;.ii,^:IUoi. :,^„. 

no such m,iii'-r, ^mo, 
Wales a portion with judicious care, 386 
Walk by moon or rliueriiiK starhcdit. ir./>. 

Loruinoii, prui(it,'''d beyond tlie, 3o<j. 

far .IS the sol.ir. or iiiilky way, 399, 

pr.-tly lo, with, 1 ,4. 

th'. e.irlli iiii.^.'ii, 808, 
Walkiiu' in an -iir of glnry, I sec ihem. 274. 

sh.i.low, life's but .1, 70V. 
Walks abroad, whene'er I lak,- my, 398. 

benighted, under the midday sun, 7.;'.. 

happy, and shades, yji. 

she, in be.nilv like the nigllt, 130. 

studious, anil shades. 710. 

to-morrow in to-day already. 800. 
Wall, close the, u|) with our liiiglish dead. 

serves il in the office of a, 6'y\. 
the whiiew.ished, OH.j 
W.\llace, Slots wlia hae wi". bled, 570. 



Wallet, TImr haUi a. at his back. -r-yj. 
Wallow imke.l In 1 )ecember Miow, 540. 
Willis, banners on the oulward, 540. 

caslle, splendor hill . on, 449^ 

sl<nie, do not a prison lu.ike, 147, 
Walnuts ,tnd the wiiie. 814 
\V,ind, a bright gold rin|- on her, 7^1. 
Wjinder alone by the wind-beaten hill. 57)!. 
W.mdered east I 've w.milered west, ■j4-j. 
Wanderers o'er I'ternity, 397, 
Waiiilering nia/es, lost in, 8o'J. 

on a foreign siraiid, '503. 

on nsloatli to die, 8(kj. 

steps ami slow. i-ji. 

voice, callihce bird or but a, 47a. 
Want, mill h I. that mo.,i would have. 719. 

of .in. hi.le with oin/immls, 807. 

of .Iccemy is walil of sense, H05. 

of lighting, grown rusty for, 507. 

of sense, waiil of dei em y Is. 8.).;. 

of thought, evil wrought by. 796, 

of wealth, rl< h from very. 559, 
Wiiiiling M'lisibillly, jHj. 
W.iiil.ai ambling nymph, strut before a, 938. 

nisli.-.. I,iy you down on tin.-, HlO. 

r,we.liii...s ihroiigh llie breast, Ilislll 11, 

wiles, i|iiips and cranks and. 785. 
W.-ni|one<l with thy breakers, t^rj. 
\V.iii|tiimess. kindles In clothes a, 713, 

v.on li-.id of, and ease, 6jO. 
\V;in(.ms iviih llie lovesick air, 133. 
W.iiii.. .ill ihy. are well sni)pHed, 76. 

ih.it piii.li the poor, 815. 
War, ani.(-slral voices jjrophesying, H 14. 

arls of, and peace, 580. 

blast of. .,03, 

.lii.fsoui of. 814. 
( in imislaiice of gli>rioiis, -jj-j, 
.May., ire dangerous in. 5)9, 
do^;s.if, let slip the, 519. 
- th.- knife. .^41. 



<■/ I.T, I .allH murder, 541 
llinty .ni<ls[...-l .oiidi 017539. 



. ' I loll and the, 603. 
I 01. 1 trouble, 773. 

iili'.iii lis giillt, 671. 

iiKs wouhl nol jitay at, 541. 



Ids slays, 539. 
els for open, 539. 
■.still for. 570. 
. 7S9. 



j.'i.|.t. i.M.imeut of bleeding, ui. 

"K' nu.-f. 89'J- 

sparks tli.il kindle fiery, 539, 

lug of, ilifii W.IS tlie, 541.' 

unsucccsfiil or successful, 593, 
W.ir's glorious .art, ^41. 

rattle, where mingles, 510. 

reil teclistone, 539. 
Warble his native wood-notes wild, 786, 
W.irbled to the string, hiicli notes as. 787. 
W.irin woniifl home, 310. 
W.irmest welcome .it an Inn, lai, 
W.irms in the sun refreshes in the brce/c;. 

Warmth, dear as the vit.d. X06. 

of iis July, 108. 
W.irn comfort and conim.ind, il'8. 
W.irning, schoobboys at th' exfreclcii, loH. 
Warpeflinirror to a gapnig .age, Ht/j. 
Warres, fierce, and (aithfnll loves, 670. 
Warrior, i;aiiifnl. famcms^;d for finlit, 540. 

taking his rest, lay like a, 9^0 
\Varrior's sUed, in w.irhe mounts the, ■.■oj. 
W.irriors, fierce fiery, Hi/). 

stern joy which, feel, 655. 
Wars, more jiangs and fears than, 3ai. 

the big, r---'- 
Warwick, inipudeni .and shameless, jieace, 

938- 
Wash iier (juilt away, what art can, 336. 
W.ished with morning dew, rose swecte'tt, 

204- 
Washing his hands with invisible soaj), 7:^4. 
Waste its sweetness on ihe desert air, 3i>(>. 

Ocean's gr.iy and melancholy, 307. 

of feelings miiiiiphiyed, 816. 

of Tliouidii, thinking ail Idle, «o8. 
Wasteful .111.1 li.li. iiloii', excess, 7'j6. 
Wa..t..s .ind wilds ..I man, 8r.8. 
W.istiiig 111 d.-s)i.iir, shall I, 193. 
Wat. h o'er man's inortahly. 759, 

s'jine must, some inusi slct-p. fijt. 

that wants liotli hands, an idler, 724. 

with more advlstd. Ho;*, 
Watch-dog's honest bark, 166 

voice that bayed the wind, CUB. 
Watcher of the skies, felt like some, 805, 
W.iiches. with our Judgments as our, 799 
VV.iichful night, 309. 

wirary tedious ni^jhts. 304, 
W.iier, a little, dears Uh of this d*red, 88 j. 

bright, (oT nie, 545. 



KW 



iNOi.x OF roKruwi. quotations- 



^,.^^^,.1^ vftv stfir '<*»*^ **■* v***"**- 



hi:-.- ■' 



tvn- 



^n;. 
<<>-- 





















U.i^uwt .l^* 









^v^. 



5«' 






: ^^ %*«» »$» 






.k.».H. 



H «v <N.-, 









[vtts in hix «».v 











»M m.v. 






^ 







. )t *U\t th«k t>>\«^ 



,^^^^^» winvK *A4* 






iSc) 



f. >-*. 



, , , -.... .*«* 









V >)umlt.ru. 






, .N»it\-i«. r*». 









^' 


Vu K^vvt.N-* 


^' 










Ssv 



INDICX OF I'(;K'nCAL QUOTATrONS, 



]<m 



>t(ll lnw ()l«l, '//> 



Mllty. vA 



.'':'t Oil* U^ljr tnt. 









tlte ',li;(ft, I, 












4 mitmri'tf \,Uint, -/yi, 



»/ (J«f«r, 74'! 









/''(((, 7V4. 



*, 7'/' 



f /NMlktfl't, '/^, 



• tti", '^( 






tiitic 



v.,/ 



■■•'7. 

n»M '/f nifftit, 'I r« »//w tti« v«f /, 



■ '.■ '■ III lf/V», v,t 

■■ f,\nUn, 'Mtq. 

■'4 hiiti^U ihut, W»- 






t(^/n iMfAimf't ticfl, i4i 



■ ip/f '*< wry, ftw^ 















t (/*4«^/», ^, 



'I. ?>^ 









■■"M* ¥ttr«, Vii^ 



/■ 

!'<*« Ut, 7V4- 
'.!(,' I, -.». /(.,; ■•••,, ^/., M ftM I^UmM, 



'■"rti kM, <*r 









. f^r/*'* w/t/fy ptenfKt^, I^OS. 






.7/.. 






■"-.', V/4. 









^/rf,,,,M»^ ,,. 



•- '-vr, t/. 






i™^y it, yA 



1100 



INDEX OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS. 



Word, life from the dead is in that, 389. 
no man relics on, wliuie, 940. 
no such, as fail, 802. 
of CjEsar might have stood, 876. 
of promise to our ear, keep the, 345. 



reputation dies at every, 811. 
tale ■ ■■ ' 

725- 
teaching me that, I thank thee for, 804. 



whose lightest, would harrow up, 
725. 



that must be, FareweJI a. 041, 

too large, temjjted her with, 204. 

unkind or wrongly taken, 264. 

upon the, accoutred as 1 was, 6711. 
Woraes fearen babes, 540. 
Words, appear in other ways than, i;i. 

apt and gracious, 723. 

are like leaves, 803. 

are things, 805. 

pive sorrow, 312, 

immodest, adrnit of no defence, 805, 

last, of Marmion. 510. 

move slow, line labors and the, 806. 

of all sad. of tongue or pen, i^g. 

of learned length, 688. 

of love then spoken, 318. 

quench the fire of love with, 203. 

same rule in, as fashions, 806. 

seldom spent in vain when scarce, 310. 

so nimble aad full of subile dame, 939. 

tears so obstruct my, 725, 

that bum, 867. 

that weep and tears that speak, 804. 

unpack my heart with, 725 

wut's, to them whose faitfi, 539. 
Work, God never made, for man to mend, 
671. 

in close design, 815. 

honest man s the noblest, of God, 780. 

sport as tedious as to, 108. 
Workers, men the, 256. 
Working out salvation, tools of, 396. 
Works, nature's, to me expunged, 407. 

of admiration, 348. 

of love or enmity, 868. 

sighing through all her. Sqq, 

these are thy glorious, 363- 
World, Academes that nourish all the, 
>33- 

a theatre the earth a stage, 792. 

amphibious, 632. 

anywheri* out of the. ^35. 

blows and buffets ot llie, ^47. 

brought death into the, 395. 

contagion to this, 491. 

daffecl the, aside, 733. 

daze the, sudden visitations, 812. 

dissolves, when all the, 396 

doth but two nations bear, 796. 

dreams books are each a, 805, 

ere his, be past his heaven commences, 
687. 

falls when Rome falls, 682. 

federation of the, 257. 

fever of the. 404. 

give the. assurance of a man, 721. 

glory jest and riddle of the, 792. 

God hatli made this, so fair, 399. 

good-by proud. I 'm going home, 744. 

nold the, but as the world, 804. 

how the, wags. 791. 

humanized a, 806. 

I have not loved the, nor the world me, 
271. 

If alt the, and love were young, 158. 

inhabit this bleak, alone, 465. 

's a bubble, 320. 

"s a stage, 71 r. 

is all a fleeting show, 399. 

is too much with us. 403. 

kin. makes the whole, 811. 

leaves the. to darkness and to me, 305. 

let the, sink, 398. 

light awakes the. 490. 

man is one, and hach another, 792. 

naughty, so shines a good deed in a, 797. 

name at which the, grew pale, 909. 

now a bubble burst and now a. 394. 

of death, knells us back to a, 30S. 

of sighs for my pains, 145. 

of waters, rising, 407. 

peace to be found in this. 228. 

queen of the, and child of the skies, 
58S. 

rack of this tough, 346. 

shall be in love with night, 134. 

shot heard round the, 589. 

spin forever, let the great, 258. 

spite the, 347. 

ileal from the, 225. 

itood against the, word of Caesar, 876. 

:hat nf*w, which is the old. 174. 

this bank-note, 677. 

this breathing, sent before my time into, 

918. 
this little, 603. 
this pendent, in bigness as a star, 492. 



World, thus runs the. away. 671. 

tuuch of nature makes tlie whole, km. 
811. 

unintelligible, weight of this, 404. 

uses of this, all the, 346 

vain pomp and glory of this, 321, 

was all before them, 321. 

was sad the garden was a wild, 204. 

will disagree in faith and hope, 393. 

witch the, with noble horsemanship, 
(171. 

within our arras, our, 206. 

without a sun, man a, 795. 

work-day, everydayness of this. 215, 
World's broad field of battle, 770, 

tiled denizen, 415. 
Worldly, be wisely. 798, 

stuff, vanity of, 814. 

wise, be not, 798. 
Worlds, allured to brighter, 688. 

conquer twenty, 30S. 

crush of. 759. 

exhausted, and then imagined new, 905. 

not realized, 759. 
Worm i' the bud, concealment like a, 251. 

is in the bud of youth. 308. 

needlessly sets foot upon a. 782. 

the canker and the grief are mine alone, 
250. 

will turn, the smallest, 798. 
Worms and epitaphs, let 's talk of, 310. 

of Nile, outvenoms all the, 811. 
Worse, change for, 207. 

for wear, a hat not much the. <i6i. 

future views of better or of, Soq. 

make the, appear the better reason, 734. 
Worship, freedom to, God, 587. 

give me, and quietness, 541. 

of the great of old, 681. 

to the garish sun, pay no, 134. 
Worshippers, dies among his. 534. 
Worst speak something good, 364. 

this is the, 347. 
Worth a thousand men, one blast were, 
5" 

conscience of her. 209. 

departed, sad relic of, 581. 

makes the man, 781. 

prize not to the, what we have, 801. 

promise of celestial, 398. 

what is, in anything, 803, 
Worthy of their steel, foemen, 655, 

of your love, love him ere he seem, 205. 
Wot not what they are, 804, 
Wound, earth felt the. 899, 

love's, purple with, 836, 

never felt a, he jests at scars that, 345. 

of Cssar, put a tongue in every. 877, 

shoe has power to, 134- 

willing to. 910. 

with a touch that's scarcely felt, 806 
Wounds, bind up my, 540. 

wept o'er his, 638. 
Wrack, blow wind come. 341. 
Wraps their clay, turf that, 563. 
Wratli, anger no higher than may sweeten, 
141. 

heaven so merciful in, 559. 

infinite, and infinite despair, 396. 

nursing her, to keep it warm, 847. 
Wreathed smiles, nods and becks and, 785. 
Wreaths, brows bound with victorious, 
541- 

that endure affliction's shower, 398- 
Wreck, fierce o'er the. 632. 

of sober vows, 558. 

sunken, and sunless treasuries, 632. 
Wrecks of matter, 759, 
Wren will fight against the owl. 232. 
Wrenched with an unlineal hand, 345. 
Wretch concentred all in self, 563, 

condemned with life to part, 347. 

error's, 310. 

needy hollow-eyed sharp-looking, 722. 

once conscious of the joy, 800. 

whom every friend forsakes, 311. 
Wretched in his conception, 320. 

keenest pangs the, find. 816. 

the only, are the wise, 730. 
Wretclies. feel what, feel, 802. 

hang that jurymen may dine, 810. 

poor naked, 494 
Wring under the load of sorrow, 345. 
Wrinkled Care derides, sport that, 785. 
Wrinkles the d— d democrats won t flatter, 
794- 

Time writes no, on thine azure brow, 
607. 
Writ by God's own hand, scripture, 489. 

holy, strong as nmofs of, 207. 

holy, stol'n forth of, 396. 
Write in rhyme, those that, 807. 
Writing, ease in, from art not chance, 806. 

well, nature's chief masterpiece is, 806. 
Wroghte. first he. afterwara he taught'^. 
697, 



Wrong, always in the, 909. 

brother we are 'ootn in the, i^i. 

can't be. whose life is in the ri^'iit, 397. 

condemn the, and yet pursue, 395. 

cradled into poetry by, 8o6- 

ns'er pardon who have done the, 798. 

once, will need be always so, 798. 

reverse of, mistook for right, 808. 

rival in the, cannot bear a, 799. 

the oppressor's, 297. 

treasures up a. him who, 899. 
Wrongs of night, hght will repay the, 489. 
Wroth with one we love, 116. 
Wrought in a sad sincerity, 736. 
Wut 's words to them whose faith, 539. 
Wyd was his parisshe, 697. 

Xanadu, in, did Kubla Khan. 834. 
Xerxes did die and so must 1 , 397. 

Tfaller-pines, under the, I house. 493. 
Vam, web of our life is of a mingled. 792, 
Yawn, heard thy everlasting, confess. 72* 
Ye mariners of England, ' &), 
Year, ever-running, 559, 

heaven's eternal, is thine. 311. 

moments make the, 815. 

no winter in thy, 472, 

rolling, is full of thee, 417. 

ruler of the inverted, winter, 492. 

saddest of the, melancholy days the 
466. 

seasons return with the, 407. 
Year's dull circle seems to run, 793. 
Years, eternal, of God. 534. 

flight of. unmeasured by the, 399. 

flood of, a never ending, 750. 

joys of other, 416. 

live in deeds not, we. 742. 

love of life increased with. 756, 

none would live past, again. 79^. 

that bring the philosophic mind. 759. 

thought of our past, 758. 
Yellow primrose was to him, a, 495. 
Yesterday, call back, bid time return. 792. 

the word of Caesar might have stood. 
876. 
Yesterday's sneer and yesterday's frown, 

214. 
Yesterdays, have lighted fools, and all our. 
792- 

look backward with a smile, 792. 
Yielded with coy submission, 711. 
Yoke, how hard thy, 204. 
York, this sun -^ made summer by, 541. 
You meaner 1; -ries of the night, 124. 
Young and so lir. 335, 

barbarians ail .it play, 681, 

both were, one was beautifnl, 764. 

desire, bloom of, 205. 

desire, hope thou muse of, 800. 

die, whom the gods love, 10^. 

Fancy's rays the hills adorning. 108. 

idea now to shoot, teach the, 214- 

man's fancy lightly turns to love, 254, 

Obadias David Josias, 397. 

read nature, the, 494. 

spurned by the, hugged by the old 
802. 

very heaven to be, 490. 

when my bosom was, 529. 
Young-eyed cherubins, quiring to the. 775. 
Yours, what's mine is, and yours is mine, 

205. 
Youth and I lived in 't together, 108. 

and observation copied there, 801. 

bud of, a worm is in the. 308. 

dear amiable, adieu, 796. 

fiery vehemence of, 670. 

hoary, Methusalems may die in. 794. 

immortal, flourish in, 759. 

in, it sheltered me, 101. 

's a stuff will not endure, 122. 

is v.iin. 116. 

lexicon of, 802. 

my May of, 141. 

oflabor with an age of ease. 687. 

on the prow, pleasure at the helm, 108. 

perpetual, 602. 

spirit of. 492. 

that means to be of note, 490. 

they had been friends in. 116. 

to fortune and to fame unknown, 307. 
Youthful poets fancy when they Inve, 134. 

poets dream, sights such as, 786. 
Zaccheus he did climb the tree. 397. 
Zeal, served my God with half the, 322. 
Zealots. let graceless, fight, 397. 
Zekle crep" up quite unbeknown. 942. <»3- 
Zenith, dropt from the, like a falling star. 



Zephyr gently blows, soft the strain when. 

806. 
Zones though more and more remote, 3P&- 



5 Ag '06 



